When they arrived at the Art Store, the first thing Heck did was clean up the back alley area.
“Why?” Marion asked.
“We have to earn the paint,” Heck said.
“If we get caught, they won’t care that we cleaned up for them,” Marion said morosely.
“Don’t worry, Marion. I’ll pay him back, in cash too, once I get some.”
“Are you sure?”
“Would a superhero do anything else?”
Marion started helping.
“Besides,” Heck said, “I know the owner. I don’t think he cares about those paints.”
Heck worked faster than Marion, but Marion picked up the heavy stuff: a box of rained-on paper, some discarded pipe.
“There. I think that’s worth a canvas,” Heck said after a while. He slipped a finger into the warped window and found the broken latch, and a moment later they both eased in.
Marion was vibrating. “Can we hurry?”
“You can’t hurry art,” Heck said, rummaging in the dusty art supplies. He was in the zone, he already knew his painting, the heart of it.
It was like entering the Speed Force to play with those paints. Heck felt FVF, fine very fine. He knew he wanted his painting to reflect the fact that quarks came in three colors—red, green, and blue. He glanced at Marion weaving among the paintings, and remembered that they came in six flavors, too. His favorites were Up, Down, Strange, and Charm.
Heck mixed quark paints. A moment later he was NM, near mint. His teeth felt tiny in his mouth, whimpering quietly.
Marion wandered among the displays of artwork while Heck found the paints and a palette and a canvas. As he mixed the colors, he could hear Marion talking to the spores. Heck set up the easel just as Marion emerged from between two paintings as if through an interdimensional portal.
“Just stand there like that,” Heck said. “That’s good.”
At first Marion looked pained and afraid. “It’s getting lighter out,” he said.
“It’s still dark.”
“But not as dark. I’m tired.”
Heck got him a chair.
He fidgeted and Heck had to remind him several times to sit still.
“What time does the owner come?” Marion asked.
“It’s all right,” Heck said. “We’ll be gone long before he comes.”
Heck remembered simplicity. There was nothing simpler than space strings falling like ribbons and confetti, nothing simpler than seeing the real essence of Marion Ewald burn through the membranes of higher dimensions. Heck didn’t forget he was painting Marion in the hopes of finding a small mother in a big city, but it became good for its own self. He was uber-painter, he was the maker of the perfect Good Deed. Maybe it was changing the world even now, curing the sewer-dwellers driven to evil by grief, feeding Froot Loops to the flesh-eaters … It was as if a hundred hands from every part of the multiverse were helping him, and he was pretty sure he was experiencing the Theory of Everything.
Marion nodded off for a while, and Heck painted from memory. When Marion woke up, he leapt out of the chair.
“It’s morning!”
“I know,” Heck said. He was sweating, exhausted, but he felt good. “I’m almost done.”
“Almost? We have to go! Someone’s going to be here …”
“Okay, okay. It’s done.”
Heck signed his name and set the painting among the others. He gazed at it. In it, Marion was both a particle and a wave, bending space and time. Reality had responded to the artist’s touch. Everyone in the world was art if you just looked at him hard and long enough.
“Is that me?” Marion asked.
“That’s you,” Heck said.
“That’s not me. That guy’s not fat.”
“That’s you,” Heck said.
“But I’m not ugly in this picture.”
“You’re not ugly,” Heck said, gazing at the picture with pleasure. It said all the secret good things about Marion, and all the sad things, and something beyond sad, something that Heck couldn’t name.
Marion peered at the painting, got closer, moved to one side and then the other.
“I look … nice.”
“You are nice.”
“How do you make that light come out of my eyes?”
“Yeah,” Heck said, “how do you?”
Marion stroked his pockets. He seemed to have forgotten about people coming to open the gallery.
Heck studied his face. “How do you feel, Marion, now that you can see the way you really are?”
“It’s good, but …”
Heck held his breath, waiting for the whole world to change for Marion.
Marion shrugged. He said again, “It’s good, but …”
Why wasn’t it working?
Marion said, “It’s May 5. I have to release the spores.”
Heck’s heart went flat as a valentine. What did the spores have to do with it? “But you’re supposed to see … Can’t you see your quantum self, how unique you are?”
Marion looked at the eyes in the painting. Heck saw that he’d painted them too bright. No. They’d been that bright before, but they weren’t that bright now, like the battery had run down on them.
“I’m hungry,” Marion said. “Let’s eat first.”
“But you’re never—! All right. Let’s get out of here.”
“Don’t leave me. It’s May 5.”
“I won’t leave you,” Heck said.
On the way to the mall, Heck figured out the Very Important Thing.
All the Good Deeds he’d done so far had been about him.
The lost little girl had been about possible doughnuts. Being nice to Marion had been about getting rid of him, at least at first. Painting him had been about finding his mom.
But he knew now. A Good Deed had power only if you did it for someone else. Pure. No hopes attached. No reward in mind. That was where he’d gone wrong. He couldn’t think of a time he’d done that—the pure Good Deed, something completely unselfish, something that proved true supergoodness.
The painting came close. He could feel it. Something was going to come out of that painting. It hadn’t done what he’d hoped. It hadn’t made Marion want to live in the same microverse as everyone else. But Marion was hungry. That had to be something. And the painting … Well, it was beautiful.
Once at the mall, Heck sat on a bench. “You go ahead, Marion,” he said. “I need to sit for a bit.”
“I’ll get you a burger,” Marion said.
“No. No, thanks.”
What would he do now about his mom?
“I have money.”
“I made a vow. I don’t take money from my friends anymore,” Heck said. He was out of ideas. He’d just have to go to the police and bust the whole family.
“Well, welcome to the land of answered prayers,” someone said behind him.
Heck leapt to his feet. “Spence!”
Heck stared and Spence grinned and Marion just stood nearby like a big navy blue cloud.
“Look at you. You’re dirty,” Spence said.
“Maybe I’m just not fashion-conscious,” Heck said, smiling.
“Maybe you’re just not conscious, period,” Spence said.
They both laughed and knocked knuckles.
“So,” Heck said.
“Yeah … so …” Spence held out a small white pill.
“Thanks,” Heck said. “Just one?”
“Shove it right into the hole in your tooth and hold it there. That’s right. As it dissolves, pack it firmly into the hole.”
The bitterness of the aspirin filled the back of Heck’s throat, but in seconds his teeth felt better.
“Ahh. Thank you.” He sat down. In a minute he asked, “How did you know I was here?”
“Cosmic awareness,” Spence said.
“Serious,” Heck said. “How did you know?”
“I am serious. Cosmic awareness is a guide to wherever you are needed most, remember?�
� He shrugged and leaned back. “Yesterday I went to Mr. Hill’s T-Bird, but it was gone. Then this morning I remembered you came here to wait for your mom when you lost your key once.” He crossed his arms and shoved his hands into his armpits. He looked at Marion and shifted uncomfortably.
“This is Marion Ewald, my friend,” Heck said.
Spence said a weak hello, and Marion nodded. Heck’s teeth had gone to sleep.
They were silent for a while. Then Heck said, “She hasn’t called yet, has she.”
Spence shook his head. “Heck, what if she never calls?”
The superhero strained his huge shoulders and managed a small shrug.
Spence imitated him and shrugged too. “What? What does that mean?” He shrugged again. “Does it mean yes I don’t know anything take me home and take care of me? Cause that’s what I think you should do, Heck. Just come to my place for a few days.”
Marion nodded.
“Your hair is greasy and you’ve got these shadows under your eyes … Splashpage, Heck. Atomic radiation might turn comic book people into superheroes, but in real life it just turns you into a shadow on the wall.”
Marion nodded at everything Spence said, as if he could bring about world peace by agreeing with everyone.
“You’re right,” Heck said.
“And besides that, you—what did you say?”
“I’ve tried everything, Spence, but I just can’t find her. I’ve got to tell … somebody, I guess. But I have this guy to think about.” He inclined his head toward Marion, who was stroking his pockets and looking worried.
“This guy needs help,” Spence said.
“I’ve been taking care of him,” Heck said.
“Heck, you can’t take care of a goldfish,” Spence said.
That was low, Heck thought. He should never have told Spence about his goldfish.
Spence sighed. “Look, maybe both of you can come to my house.”
Heck looked at Marion. The dimples from his cheeks had teleported to his forehead. He was going to cry this time for sure.
“It’s May 5,” Marion said weakly.
Heck said, “I promised him I’d help him release the spores.”
“Spores?”
“It’s kind of hard to explain. I promised,” Heck said.
“I’m afraid you won’t come,” Spence said.
“I’ll come. I just can’t leave Marion.”
“He might never come.”
Heck wanted to explain about Marion, about how you could play and play until playing was all there was.
Spence swore. “None of this would have happened if your mom—” He stopped.
Heck looked into Spence’s eyes, trying to find a way to answer.
That was when their molecular joining clicked in. Right at that moment. Heck knew Spence was seeing deep down to his DNA. Heck made him remember all about his mom and how she was with watches. He made Spence remember that every Halloween she told them scary stories in the graveyard until they screamed at the slightest sound and had to sleep with the lights on. He knew Spence remembered that she sometimes didn’t come home at night, but he also made him remember how she broke up with a boyfriend because he said he didn’t like Heck’s artwork all over the house.
He made Spence remember second grade. He came to school without a lunch, and when the teacher asked why, Heck told her, “We don’t have any food.” The next day a social worker showed up, asking lots of questions, reminding his mom about the frosty home time, hinting that they could take Heck away from her.
He made Spence remember how much she suffered in hypertime.
“Heck, I …”
It worked every time.
“I promised Mr. Bandras I’d bring you home …”
The molecular joining stopped.
Heck felt himself swelling up like the Incredible Hulk. “You told Mr. Bandras?”
Spence’s I’m sorry face was gone. “Heck …”
“You told Mr. Bandras!”
“He’s spent so much time with you in art class. I thought … Remember he gave you that old portfolio of his that wasn’t even old? He likes you. Heck, he knew something was wrong anyway. He went to your apartment yesterday when you didn’t show up at school. I had to tell him something.”
Heck felt like he did when they played Hangman. When he won he always drew blood dripping out of the eyes and mouth of the stick man. He drew lolling tongues and twitching arms. When Spence won, he just left the stick man as it was, a blind, speechless hole. Heck sat there with stick arms and stick legs and a coin-round head and no mouth at all. He said, “You’d better go.”
Spence went.
Heck had the feeling he’d just lost the game.
He looked at Marion. Marion looked back. Blink. Blink.
What was he doing? Spence was right. He couldn’t take care of Marion, or his mom, or even himself for that matter. What was wrong with him? He had to run after Spence right now and say, “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ll talk to your mom.”
He stood up. Marion looked at him. Blink. Blink.
“Marion, come with me to Spence’s.”
Marion frowned. “It’s May 5.”
“Look, I’ve got a place to go, but I want you to come too.”
Marion’s head hung. “The pocket lint is almost gone.”
“Marion, if I help you release the spores, then will you come with me?”
He had a sneaky look on his face. “It’s May 5,” he repeated stubbornly.
“All right. All right. Let’s go, then,” Heck said.
It was dark by the time they arrived at a street lamp across the street from the parking garage.
“Is this it?” Heck asked.
Marion didn’t move. “I think I hear something,” he whispered. “Cyborgs.”
Heck listened. There was nothing but traffic noise. “Come on.”
Maybe the painting hadn’t changed the microverse for Marion, but it had changed it for Heck. He felt good, even though his teeth were screaming again and he could hear the fizzy popping sounds in his jaw and it hurt to talk. He felt good, even though Marion kept saying, “It’s going to be okay, right, Heck? Is it going to be okay?” and Heck kept answering, “Everything’s okay.”
He was glad he was going to Spence’s. He’d just figured out that sometimes telling was like looking. It was what you had to do before you could change reality. That was what Mr. B. had been trying to tell him about drawing superheroes. Quantum theory said you could alter reality, but you had to acknowledge the one you were in first.
“How do you know?”
“Huh?”
“How do you know everything’s going to be okay?”
Heck opened his mouth, then shut it again. Finally he said, “Okay, maybe not everything. But Spence’s mom is nice. She’ll make us talk, but she’ll stick up for us.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t what? Release the spores? Okay, we’ll try again next May 5.”
“No!” Marion said sadly. “No, it has to be today.”
They entered the parking garage and started up the stairs. On the third floor they stopped.
Marion looked around anxiously. “One more,” he said.
“No, this is it,” Heck said.
“All right. Over there,” Marion said. Together they approached the waist-high cement wall. “I’ll release them from there.”
“Then we’ll go to Spence’s house and his mom will peel us some kiwis …”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Marion shook his head.
Heck looked into Marion’s eyes, looked hard into them. What was it he wanted? To be sure he’d be safe? Maybe it was to know if Heck believed in the pocket creatures. But he’d given Marion everything he could on that.
No. That wasn’t it.
Marion didn’t need anyone else to believe. If it started out as a game, like when Heck played at being a superhero, it wasn’t a game anymore. It was the dimension
Marion lived in now. He’d played until he couldn’t stop.
What, then? Heck wanted to ask, looking into Marion’s eyes. What did he need?
Then he knew.
Marion needed Heck to do a Good Deed that was less about saving him and more about being his friend. Heck knew, now that he’d painted him, that he could be that for him.
“Marion, have you ever heard of molecular joining?” Heck asked him.
Marion shook his head.
“Well, it’s what only the best of friends can do. I’ve done it with my best friend, Spence.”
“No, thanks.” Marion wrapped his coat tightly around himself. “I don’t like boys that way.”
“It’s going to be okay, Marion. Come on. Just relax and look at me. Look in my eyes.”
Heck looked into Marion’s eyes. The pupils dilated easily. In a few moments he was past the cornea, through the pupil, and floating in vitreous fluid toward the retina.
Marion sucked his breath in, but he didn’t move.
The trick was not letting anything like dimples or pocket creatures throw you off. Optic nerve, rods and cones, horizontal and bipolar and amacrine cells to the axons of the ganglion cells … Heck didn’t really know what it was to fly, but he thought it might feel like this.
“What are you doing to me?” Marion whimpered, but his eyes widened and that only helped.
“Shhh. It’s okay. It’s the molecular joining.”
Marion gripped his coat around himself, but his eyes didn’t move away. He didn’t even blink.
Heck was in.
At first, swimming in Marion’s brain was like reading a Johnny Craig comic. Exploded pens and scratched-up Scratch n’ Win cards and marbles and bent paper clips floated between the ganglions of his brain. Heck was free-falling in cytoplasm, entering a nucleus, climbing on ladders of DNA …
“Now,” Heck whispered.
A molecule split and Heck plugged in: adenine, thymine, cytosine, guanine … joining …
It was done.
Heck Superhero Page 9
