Too Many Cooks

Rummy - chapter 5

Previously.

The paper was crinkly, like it was really old, and smelled a little like the basement. The letters were small and the words were crammed close together. It was a plain sheet with no lines, and I guess that’s why all the lines slanted down, like they were falling off the page.

Dearest Rachel,

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

I should have listened to you. You knew Ricky was no good. You knew it was time to get out. I just wanted one last score for you and Lily. I was a goddamn fool and not a day goes by I don’t think about you.

I didn’t know any of the names in the letter. There was no Rachel or Ricky or Lily in town and I don’t remember Daddy ever mentioning any of those names.

I used to wake up nights gasping for air, dripping with sweat, your face burned in my mind but I don’t have those nightmares much since I brought Lily live with me. Still sometimes it hurts to look at her. When she turns her head a certain way or scrunches her face when she eats ice cream too fast it’s like I’m looking at you. Those nights I know I better drink enough to keep from dreaming.

I don’t like when Daddy drinks a lot. He gets really quiet and sad. I don’t know why he does it. I’ve taken little sips from his glass when he’s not looking and it tastes like medicine and burns my tongue.

She’s safe here. No one knows where we are. I’ll try to mail your sister now and again so she knows Lily’s alright but I can’t let her know where we are. It would just be too dangerous for her and for us.

I wish I could talk to you and tell you all this. I guess I hope you’re reading over my shoulder. That gives me some comfort.

All my love,
Darren

I didn’t know how come he couldn’t just talk to Rachel if she could read over his shoulder. That didn’t make much sense. The whole letter didn’t make much sense, though.

I finished unwrapping the cloth and found a picture and a little velvet bag like I use to hold my marbles. The picture was creased from being folded up for a long time, leaving a big white cross right through the middle of it. There was a woman sitting in a rocking chair with a little baby in her arms. She had long brown hair and a thin neck and long fingers, but her face was right in the middle where the creases were so I couldn’t see much of it. She looked like she was probably really pretty, though.

I undid the bow holding the bag closed and poured it onto my bed. It was filled with beautiful beads like the ones Miss Linda wears. I picked one up and held it up to the light and looked at the way it sparkled and made little rainbows. I’d never seen one this close, but now I was sure my tutor was wrong. They were definitely magic stones. I took one of them and went over to Rummy to figure out how to attach it to his mane, but I couldn’t. Maybe if I had some glue, I could use them like glitter on his side instead. I dropped it into my pocket and went back over to my bed.

I heard footsteps on the stairs and jumped. I had a lot of questions, but I didn’t think Daddy wanted to answer them right now. I scooped all the stones back into the bag and tied it shut so the mouth puckered like a fish. I wrapped the letter and bag and picture back up and tip-toed back over to Rummy and dropped to my knees. I opened the panel, which was a lot easier this time, and slipped the bag back inside.

Daddy opened the door and saw me poking around under Rummy and asked, “What are you doing there, Genny?” He sounded worried.

I started to stand when I saw the apple was still on the floor and I picked it up.

“Nothing, Daddy. I just dropped my apple under Rummy.”

He blew out a big breath and his face crinkled as he smiled.

“Good girl. You don’t want to leave any food out for rats. But come on, I’ve got a surprise for you downstairs.”

I brushed off my knees and followed Daddy out.

Rummy - Chapter 4

Previously

When I heard Daddy moving around behind the bar again, I made my way down the stairs and climbed onto one of the bar stools.
 
“Good morning, Daddy,” I chirped. His brow was still wrinkled and I wanted to say things that would bring a smile to his face. I liked his face much better when he smiled. He had a good face, and he rarely became angry with me, though I had seen his face change when customers tried to cause trouble. I would not want to be on the wrong side of Daddy.
 
Daddy was thinking. I remembered the word ‘preoccupied’ and that is what he seemed to be, but he finally realized I was there and he flashed me a grin. He knew the routine. I put my head down and began to count slowly, “1, 2, 3,…” Daddy always tried to have my breakfast in front of me before I reached 50.
 
“And, stop!” he called out when I made it to 41. I lifted my head and there before me was a glass of milk, a crusty roll, a hunk of the best cheddar cheese around, and half of an apple. He watched me as I slowly chewed a piece of the roll.

“Did you and Rummy have any problems during the storm last night?” Daddy handed me a napkin and motioned to one corner of my mouth. I dutifully wiped crumbs and continued eating, shaking my head in answer.

“I woke up once or twice, maybe, but Miss Marie was snoring louder than any noises from outside. Were you and Uncle Pete out in the storm?” I wasn’t supposed to ask Daddy about his nighttime comings and goings, but Mr. Rupert’s recent visit was still fresh in my mind and I was a big girl now. I wanted to know what was going on. They had talked about me, after all!

Daddy gave me a stern look. I looked down at my plate and began to tear my cheese and roll into small pieces; I wasn’t very good at being nonchalant.

“Genevieve, you know you’re not supposed to ask questions about what Uncle Pete and I do.”

“Why not?”

Daddy sighed and tugged at his ear. This usually meant he was trying to think of the best way to explain something that was too grown up for me to understand. “The less you know, the less you have to tell. Does that make sense?”

I shook my head. It didn’t make any sense at all.

“You know I have told you to always tell the truth, right?” I nodded. “If you know about something and someone asks you about it, you have to tell the truth. If you don’t know anything, then you can’t tell about it. If I don’t tell you things, it’s because I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to lie about what you know.”

“Does that mean that you do things that I might need to lie about?”

Daddy reached over and gave me a pat on the head. “You ask right smart questions, missy. Why don’t you finish up and go outside for some fresh air? I need to set up for the afternoon; people will have cabin fever after that storm, so I expect brisk business today.”

He still had not answered my question, but I knew better than to ask anything else. I finished my milk, took the piece of apple, and headed back to my room to put on my play shoes and a sweater.

I climbed up on Rummy and rocked while I ate my apple. Daddy and Uncle Pete did things at night that they didn’t want me to know about. Mr. Rupert and Sheriff Davis seemed to know about these things, so they couldn’t be very bad. If they were, wouldn’t they arrest Daddy and Uncle Pete? Grownups could be very confusing.

As I dismounted, my apple slipped and rolled under Rummy. I knew better than to leave food on the floor. Daddy kept a very clean establishment, but it didn’t take much to attract bugs and mice. I had to get on my knees to reach under for the apple. I had one hand on Rummy’s belly as I stretched the other hand out to grab the core, and suddenly, I realized that my hand was touching something odd.

I flipped over on my back and edged under Rummy. It was most uncomfortable stretched out on the runner, but I wanted to know what I had touched. In all of my years with Rummy, I had never concerned myself with her underside. I was too busy riding or putting ribbons in mane and tail hair.

The thing I touched appeared to be some sort of latch. It was too hard to see, so all I could do was feel around. I ran my hands all over Rummy’s belly and then felt what seemed to be small hinges. How odd. I had seen caskets before in the tavern and never remembered seeing latches and hinges on the body. If there were hinges, then this was like a door. A door in Rummy’s belly. Why?

I knew where Daddy kept tools. If I hurried, I could borrow some pliers and a screwdriver to open the latch. I put on my play shoes and a sweater, grabbed a small cloth bag that I used for gathering shells and rocks, and headed downstairs. Daddy was still at the bar, so I gave him a wave as I crossed to the main door.

I spent a few minutes in the yard in case anyone was watching. Daddy had painted a hopscotch grid on the walk for me, so I played a few blocks. After that, I strolled to the tool shed and let myself in, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear. I found a pair of pliers and a small screwdriver, put them into my bag, and let myself out again. Not wanting to waste any more time, I made a beeline back to my room.

I put a blanket on the floor and slid under Rummy. I also put a large pillow on the floor next to me, as I knew the tummy door would be heavy when it opened and I didn’t want it to smash me in the head or chest. The latch was stubborn; years of disuse paralyzed it into its current position. After manipulating it with the pliers, I was finally able to turn it. I put the pillow into place on my chest and used the screwdriver to ply open the door. It dropped open quickly, and even though the pillow cushioned it, the weight momentarily knocked the breath out of my body.

I didn’t have a flashlight, but I was able to reach into Rummy’s belly and search. The cavity was empty. I was disappointed, but pleased that I had discovered this secret hiding place. I could use it to hide my own treasures!

I closed the panel carefully, moved the pillow off of my body, and scooted out from under Rummy. That was when I saw it.

There on the floor was a small package wrapped in cloth. It must have fallen out when the panel dropped open, hit me and took my breath away. The thick cloth wrapping kept the package from making noise as it moved around Rummy’s belly during my years of hard riding.

I picked it up and held it in both hands. I shook it and heard nothing. I carried it over to my bed, sat down, and started to unwrap the tightly bound cloth.

The first thing I saw was the note.

Rummy — Chapter 3

Previously

The storm had blown away by the time I got out of bed. The sun was already up and shining through my window so it looked like a ribbon was wrapped around Rummy’s mane. Miss Marie was gone, too, just like the storm. Daddy never tells me when she and I have a sleepover, but she snores so loud I always wake up. And when she’s snoring away on my floor, it means Daddy and Uncle Pete are out working.

“Rummy, where do you think they go?”

Rummy never answers. He likes to make me work it out myself. But my throat’s dry and my tongue feels bigger than it should, so I head downstairs for a drink. There are already voices down there. It’s early for voices. At least ones that aren’t just Daddy or Uncle Pete. Daddy doesn’t open the tavern until afternoon, because he says the only ones who’d come in the mornings aren’t worth having around anyhow. I like that it’s our quiet time. Or usually is.

Even though the voices made me want to rush down there and investigate, I sat at the top of the steps so no one could see me and listened. It might be private, or business, or just not for little girls, and if that were the case, Daddy would just send my back up to my room anyway. I could hear him washing up behind the bar, sloshing water around in the sink, clanging dishes and mugs together. Hearing the water and mugs like that just made me thirstier. But I could wait. I’m old enough now that I can wait. Daddy would like that.

“Mr. Whitmore,” a voice was saying, “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just asking you what you were doing down at the river last night.”

It sounded like the sheriff’s assistant, Mr. Rupert. Daddy said he wasn’t actually a deputy but he did the sheriff’s collecting. I didn’t understand how that was possible but Daddy wouldn’t explain. He’d just say something like, “The walrus likes to eat other people’s fish” and confuse me more. He thinks that’s funny, I guess. I like Mr. Rupert anyway. He has a big mustache that hangs down over his mouth, so when he speaks his voice sounds hairy.

“And I’m asking you why you want to know, Steven.”

“Mr. Whitmore.”

“That’s my name, Steven. I don’t think we’ll have much luck in this conversation if we’re both answering to the same name.”

“Sir, please just answer the question.”

“I believe you know my daughter, Steven?”

That’s when I stopped breathing. What did I have to do with this? Did I get Daddy in trouble with the sheriff? Or was I in trouble? Eventually I remembered to breathe again and got up and crept down to the landing quiet as I could so they still wouldn’t know I was there.

“There are reports, Mr. Whitmore, of your truck being seen down by the river.”

“My daughter’s name is Genevieve, Steven.”

“Of course, sir, but—”

“Genevieve’s only eight years old. While I’m inclined to admit she’s a bit mature for her age, certainly even you’d agree that eight is still a bit young to be left alone at night.”

I hugged my knees up under my chin and rocked gently against the railing. There was a squeal building up behind my smile and rubbing the two of them into my legs was all I could do not to pop.

“Mr. Whitmore, the tavern was closed last night.”

“The tavern was closed last night, Steven. That is true. And I can attest to that fact, as I was right here, witnessing its being closed firsthand.”

“Closing your tavern for a night is an unusual happening, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Whitman?”

“Not as unusual as this conversation, Steven.”

Mr. Rupert laughed. It sounded like a sick dog’s bark at first, until it stopped being a laugh at all and just turned into wheezing.

“True enough, sir. True enough. It’s also true, is it not, that Miss Chapman was seen leaving here late last night?”

“Surely you don’t want me to speak to what other folks did or did not see, Steven.”

“There are reports to that effect, Mr. Whitmore.”

“Well then. It seems there are a lot of eyes in this town with nothing better to do than stare in my direction, don’t you think?”

“If I’m not mistaken, Miss Chapman’s your usual babysitter, Mr. Whitman.”

“Genevieve is quite fond of her.”

“Am I to assume she was babysitting last night, sir?”

“There are many reasons Marie might be here after dark, Steven, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to discuss any of them with you.”

Mr. Rupert coughed twice. I heard him pull a handkerchief out of his pocket and the quiet rustling sound of his mustache being wiped.

“Why was the tavern closed last night, Mr. Whitman?”

There was a sharp noise and then nothing. I recognized the bang as the tin plate that hung behind the bar being slammed down on the bar top. I’d heard it through my floorboards so many nights I don’t even wake up anymore. That sound always cuts through the voices and manages to quiet them down. Daddy says it’s easier than violence and just as effective. Even though I couldn’t see them from where I was, in the quiet that followed the slamming, I just knew that Daddy was scrunching his eyebrows down around the bridge of his nose and staring at Mr. Rupert, who I imagined was chewing on his mustache.

“What is it that you want, Steven.”

“You know what we want, Mr. Whitman.”

“This is the last time.”

“I’m not so sure Sheriff Davis would agree to that, sir.”

Daddy sighed and drummed his fingers on the bar. “There’s a liquor delivery should be here within a half hour, so you’ll need to be quick.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Whitmore. Whatever you say.”

I listened to their footsteps move off toward the back door, then into the yard toward the barn. Once I couldn’t hear them anymore, I counted to ten three times then ran back to my room. I jumped up on Rummy and hugged his neck hard as I could.

“Why was Daddy lying to Mr. Rupert, Rummy? And what are they doing now?” He didn’t answer me. I stayed draped over his neck for a long time trying to work it all out myself, until the feel of his mane on my lips reminded me of Mr. Rupert and I had to move.

Rummy - Chapter 2

The storm was deafening, even in the harbor. The barges and freighters slowly made their way in from the open water. Freighters dropped anchor there in the harbor, while barges loaded and moved upriver to inland destinations. The ship lights were all but invisible through the driving rain.

Marie shook off her poncho as she came through the tavern door. She hung it on the hook where it dripped onto the unfinished tavern floorboards. Jonathan and Pete met her in the doorway that separated the entry from the main tavern room.

“Thank for coming so fast, Marie. We have to get on out there and take care of some business tonight. You understand.”

“It’s no problem, Jonathan. You know I love that little peanut. Any chance I get to help you two out is a good time for me.”

Marie and Pete nodded at one another as Jonathan filled her in on tonight’s schedule for his daughter. When he finished talking, Marie lumbered up the stairs to see the child. Jonathan and Pete donned slickers, grabbed flashlights, and headed out into the night.

The girl was sleeping on the floor next to her cherished Rummy. Marie picked her up and tucked her into bed with a kiss on the forehead. She mumbled under her breath. “It’s going to be a long night, girl.” She sat in the rocker next to the bed and stared out into the storm.

Jonathan and Pete drove the old truck through the rain with the windshield wipers on double time. “Shit. I wasn’t expecting a storm like this for at least a month.” Jonathan glared through the windshield, hoping to make out the yellow lines on the highway. Pete nodded in agreement.

The truck lumbered up and over the bridge. As they drove down the apron on the far side, there was a loud rumble and the ground shook. The men looked at each other, and Jonathan spun the truck down the old gravel access road along the river. Sure enough, a barge had run up on a sandbar. A few shipping containers stuck up out of the water like giant tree stumps, and the barge was cockeyed.

“Huh. Wonder why they wandered out of the main channel?” Pete muttered half to himself. Jonathan gave him a silent look as he parked alongside the barge. “Let’s go, Pete.”

They jumped from the warmth of the cab into the driving rain, slickers flying behind them. Each of them flipped on their flashlights, but the light was not strong enough to penetrate the blackness. Everything was in shadow thanks to the bridge lights. A little further upriver and they wouldn’t have been able to see the barge at all.

The longshoremen were cussing unintelligibly into the wind as they tried to keep any more containers from sliding off the barge. At least they were in the shallows, so they wouldn’t sink and drown. But running aground in the Mississippi was every river captain’s nightmare, due in large part to the investigation and legendary paperwork the aftermath would require. The men wondered aloud whether the captain was high. The main channel was clearly marked. Even in this weather they should not have hit a sandbar.

Pete and Jonathan made a final trip back to the truck, and finished loading their booty into the back. “Gotta love a little sandbar treasure!” Pete laughed loudly, suddenly oblivious to the wind and rain. “You sure have some kinda good timing, Jon.” Jonathan gave Pete a jerk of his head, and they clambered back into the truck. The engine roared and they turned around and went back home the way they came.

The barn behind the tavern looked deceptively decrepit. That’s the way Jonathan liked it, because no one was interested in a run-down barn. Pete jumped out of the truck and pushed the door open. Jonathan drove in and cut the engine while Pete pulled the door shut.

They worked quickly and silently, unloading their take from the truck bed. The topper kept everything as dry as possible, considering they had trudged from the river to the truck with the boxes. Everything was shrink wrapped for the trip upriver, so there was no obvious water damage. They’d know for sure in the morning, but it seemed they had hit a jackpot filled with small appliances. This load would bring a small fortune at the flea market next week.

Once everything was unloaded, Jonathan allowed himself to smile. He pulled a bottle of whiskey and a couple of shot glasses out of an old file cabinet, poured one for each of them and made a toast. “To the mighty Mississipp!” Pete and Jonathan threw back the liquor, and had a couple more shots.

Now that they were mostly dry and warmed up inside and out, they walked quietly up to the tavern. Inside it was silent other than Marie’s snoring. Jonathan winked at Pete and went up the stairs to relieve his babysitter.

Rummy - Chapter 1

There have only ever been two rules about my rocking horse. Don’t tell anybody about him and don’t ride him when Daddy’s having meetings downstairs. Like tonight. Well like he was supposed to be having tonight. The only guests I’ve heard arrive so far were the wind gusts that blustered their way in like a couple of drunken sailors.

Somebody might have come by earlier because I’m pretty sure I heard Daddy talking to a man. I’m not sure about that but I know that Daddy’s worried. His eyebrows were all bunched up when he came upstairs to check on me a little while ago. He thought I might be scared by the storm but I’m a big girl. Seeing how worried Daddy is made me a little sad though. I gave him a big hug and that usually makes him smile. But tonight he just told me that he had to go back downstairs and get things ready. I heard people talking at dinner the other night about a ship that was scheduled to arrive this afternoon with some very important cargo. But now it’s getting late, and the storm’s getting worse. 

Whatever is on that ship must be awfully important because Daddy shut down the tavern for the night. He doesn’t do that very often. On a normal night the tavern would be full of people making lots of noise and music playing and maybe even a fight or two. Nights like those nobody would notice the creaking sound the floor makes when Rummy and I go riding across the countryside. Well, we’ve never really gone anywhere, of course, because he’s a rocking horse.

I used to think he was a real horsey but that’s when I was a really little girl, when I first came to live with Daddy. I remember him telling me that I was less years old than I had fingers on one hand. To show me how many years old I was he took my hand and tucked my tiny thumb into my palm so only my chubby little fingers stuck up and wiggled around inside his hand. Daddy has nice, warm hands and I like that he lets me hold his hand when we walk around town. It makes me feel special and safe.

Now I’ve nearly used up all my fingers counting my birthdays and my fingers are getting longer and thinner. I look like I’m not so much growing up as I am stretching out. Maybe I’m part taffy. That would be silly, but quite sweet. Now that my hands are bigger Daddy says I can start piano lessons soon. Daddy says that Miss Linda can teach me after I finish my other lessons. I can’t wait.

I love to hear the music rolled into the sounds of each night’s activities. It provides the harmony to the buzz of conversations and outbursts by the patrons downstairs. The sounds wiggle through the floorboards and fill my room. I go to sleep listening to the music and sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I get up and dance around my room in my nightgown, pretending that it is a beautiful dress like the ones I’ve seen Miss Linda wear. 

Sometimes I sneak out of my room and sit at the top of the stairs in the shadows and watch her as she moves around the room. Some nights she wears fancy necklaces with shiny stones that change color when the light hits them. I used to think they were magical but now my tutor explained that they are just special rocks that have been cut and shined up really pretty. I like my version better.

I sometimes wonder if Daddy and Miss Linda are ever dancing downstairs at the same time I’m spinning and twirling around my room upstairs. I sometimes wonder if Daddy with marry her. I know they like each other. But then there are a lot of ladies who like Daddy. When we walk through town everyone speaks to Daddy and the ladies all smile at him. I smile back and sometimes look into their faces, wondering if I’ll ever see one that mirrors my own. I don’t look like Daddy, so I must look like my mother. All Daddy ever says is that I will grow up to be beautiful like she was. Daddy never lies to me so I guess I just have to wait and see.

But tonight there won’t be any dancing and I sort of wish I wasn’t such a big girl. I’d like to climb up on Rummy’s back, and put my arms around his neck and head off somewhere. Instead I climb into the window seat with a book. From my second favorite perch I can look out of the window or look over and talk to Rummy. He’s been my constant companion almost as long as I can remember. 

Uncle Pete and Daddy brought him to my room shortly after I came to live with Daddy. They told me to cover my eyes and not peek. I peeked a little but I was still so surprised that when they told me I could look I sat there stunned, staring at the most beautiful horse I’d ever seen. It had a big round body like the casks in the tavern’s storeroom. And it had long flowing hair on its head and a really long tail. Along the side the letters RUMMY were painted. The first few letters were square and sharply printed and the last couple were added in fancy script. Because now he was MY horse. There were beautiful silver buckles on the harness and scrolling shapes etched along the edge of the saddle like waves. 

I giggled and climbed up on the horse with a boost from Uncle Pete and hugged it and stroked its mane. I asked Daddy if we could tie some bows in the horse’s hair and at first he seemed hesitant, but then Uncle Pete burst out with a big laugh and said, “Come on Jonathan, what’s the harm?” I realize now that Daddy thought he had brought me a boy horse, but the bows still look so pretty and Rummy doesn’t mind. I looked up at Daddy while Uncle Pete was helping me tie the bows into Rummy’s mane and he had a big smile and I knew it was OK. 

In the days that followed, I spent countless hours riding on Rummy’s back. He’s a strong horse who never tires. And I added ribbons of every color of the rainbow to Rummy’s mane and tail. I put a blanket across his back so he wouldn’t be cold as the winter chills rolled in. Uncle Pete owns the best dress making shop in town and would give me the extra pieces of fabric and ribbons from his shop. I love all the textures and colors. I learned to count using buttons at his shop. When I was little I would hide amidst the massive skirts that hung in the shop waiting for the local ladies to come and take them home. And there were jackets with big collars and fancy buttons and buckles and the walls were lined with shelves with hats and boots. It was a giant closet where Uncle Pete and I played dress up.

But tonight, there is no playing, no riding, no laughing. There’s a big storm coming. From my window in the mornings I can see way out over the water. I watch the waves and see the ships as they come into and leave the harbor. I watch the men unload the ships and wonder what exciting treasures are inside the boxes and barrels. Sometimes I get to find out when Daddy lets me come downstairs and have my dinner at his special table in the tavern. His table is round and in the corner in the back of the room. I don’t always understand all of the stories but I listen intently as the ship captains and navy officers and passengers from the ships from far away come to dinner. Daddy says it’s all part of business. We give them a meal and they give us stories. 

I love stories and that’s why I love reading. Sometimes I pretend that I’ve gotten on one of the ships and sailed off to a land far away. But tonight I wouldn’t want to sail away. The waves were already frightening before the sun went down. Now, as I’m trying to look out of the window, I can’t see anything except the rain hitting my window and an occasional flash of lightning. But I’m not scared. I’m a big girl and I’m safe. Maybe I’ll move over and sit on the other side of the bench, just in case Rummy gets scared. That way I can stroke his hair and fix the bows to make sure that everything is in its place.

Divergent - Chapter 6

Previously

Andy’s imposing figure worked against him. Nobody stops to give a lift to someone his size at that time of night, especially when you’re near a hospital. No telling what sort of weirdo who’s had to go to A&E you could end up with.

Summoning what little energy he had left Andy dragged himself to a nearby park and slumped onto a bench. He looked to the clear night sky for answers but in return all he got was silence.

As he stared at the stars an overwhelming feeling of insignificance and loneliness engulfed him. The events of the day came crashing in on him. He fought back the growing urge he had to scream while he wept until his tears ran dry. He sat without moving for a long time. His mind eventually stopped whirling but it was more out of numbness than peace.

A sudden cough made him jump. Looking round he saw a dishevelled old man standing a few feet away. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Andy recognised him as one of the homeless people who were all too common in these parts. Everyone knew him as Scratch and he’d been in the area longer than Andy had been alive.

“Alright if I sit with you?” Andy nodded and shuffled down the bench.

Scratch sat and looked thoughtfully at him, a compassionate half-smile on his face. “It’s not easy being different, is it,” said Scratch. It was not a question but Andy wasn’t sure which of the two of them he was referring to.

And then, without meaning to, Andy found himself telling Scratch everything. How he felt he’d let his friend Pete down while being in an impossible situation. How angry he was for having been put in that situation The car accident. Pete’s mother’s reaction. He even told him about his new-found ability, although he didn’t expect Scratch to believe him.

“I didn’t ask for any special power. I’m just a kid. I don’t want this kind of responsibility!” Andy looked imploringly at Scratch.

“You sound like you’re channelling Spider-Man.” Scratch smiled kindly and Andy laughed, suddenly feeling understood and less alone.

Scratch talked to Andy for a long time. It was as though he was inside Andy’s head and knew just what to say to help him make sense of it all. And how to better accept the things that just wouldn’t make sense.

Andy was surprised at his depth of wisdom and understanding. Like everyone else in the town, Andy has never seen beyond the label of “Scratch, the homeless guy” and he felt ashamed.

“So what about you?” asked Andy. “How did you life bring you to where you are?”

For the briefest of moments Andy thought he saw Scratch’s blue eyes turn orange but he dismissed it as a trick of the light from the rising sun.

“Well that,” said Scratch, “is a very long story.”

Divergent - Chapter 5

Previously

The hospital room was hushed and dim, save for the low beeps and lights coming from the monitor and IV pump. A slight woman sat hunched by the bed, holding Pete’s hand with hers and a rosary wound around both. She looked up when she heard Andy’s hesitant footsteps.

“How is he? Will he be okay?”

“You leave this room right now Andy. I know what you did. You did nothing. You were there and you did nothing. You let that boy beat Pete into a pulp and you did nothing until it was too late. After everything you two have been through. After everything your mother and I have been through.”

Andy was stunned. He did not expect her quiet fury directed at him. After all, he stopped the beating once the car was out of commission. But surely he couldn’t explain that. Who would believe him? “I’m…I’m so sorry. I did my best. I pulled Chad off of him as soon as I could. The crowd was so thick and a car came flying down the hill and…”

“You. Get. Out. Now.” Pete’s mother hissed at him. The look in her eyes told Andy all he needed to know. He backed slowly out of the room, tears in his eyes and hands in his pockets. “I’m so sorry, Pete.” He whispered as much to himself as Pete. “I’m so sorry.”

Everyone knew the old man was dead. It had been a fluke thing, something that no one could have prevented. He was an old diabetic and had a massive stroke while driving home from the pub. He hadn’t even been drinking. Just a bowl of stew and a nice hunk of bread for lunch, as he had nearly every day. Nobody knew how many lives Andy had saved but Andy, and now he had no one to talk to about the whole ordeal.

Andy hung around outside the hospital until the last visitors made their way out the front doors to the parking lot. He watched Pete’s mother leave. Then he slipped up the sidewalk to the doors and as someone came out, he went in. The door latched behind him.

He quickly made his way up to Pete’s room. The last thing he wanted was to be stopped in the hall by some drill sergeant of a nurse or security guard and forced to leave. Night staffing was low as it had been when his father lay dying in this hospital. No one saw him, and he turned into Pete’s room and sat down.

“Pete. It’s me, Andy.” He peered into his friend’s bruised and swollen face. “Pete, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?” Nothing. There was no movement; no flutter of eyelashes as there would be on a theatre screen. There was only the rise and fall of Pete’s chest, and a painful silence.

Andy had an idea. He took Pete’s hand. He closed his eyes. He matched the rhythm of his breathing to Pete’s. If Spock could do it, maybe he could, too. He felt the electrical tingle. “Pete.” He whispered almost imperceptibly. “Pete, can you hear me?”

“Of course I can, you jerk. What are you doing here? Haven’t you done enough already?” Andy’s eyes flew open. Still no movement. Pete wasn’t speaking, but Andy could hear his answers. At least he could until he heard them, snatched his hand back and opened his eyes. Andy broke out in a cold sweat.

Pete’s nurse came in on her rounds and jumped when she saw a visitor in the chair. Andy was feeling queasy. All he could do was sit there, sweating and shivering. “You startled me.” The nurse said softly. “Visiting hours are over, hon. Do you have a ride home or shall I call a cab?” Andy sat there limply. He was not sure, but he thought he might puke.

The nurse turned on her little flashlight, and shined it indirectly at Andy. The sweaty sheen and pasty face were all she needed to see to know why he wasn’t answering her. “Are you okay, hon? Here, put your head between your knees for a tic. Or we could lay you on the floor, although if it were me, I’d stick to the chair. Germs and all that.”

She spoke kindly and Andy bent over as instructed. “Can I get you a cup of water? Or juice? Have you eaten today?”

“No.” Andy choked out single syllables. “Juice, please.” The nurse turned on her heel and was gone in a flash to get the juice. She returned just as quickly. “Sorry kiddo, we only have fruit punch. It isn’t very good, but it should keep you going until you can get something else in you.” She punched a tiny straw through the top of the plastic cup.

Andy sipped. It was so nice and cool. He took his time; he wanted to be sure what he drank would stay down. Juice nearly came out his nose. “It might work better if you sit up now.” “Oh yeah.” Andy had forgotten he was bent over. His thoughts were spinning and incoherent.

“Better?” He nodded. “Okay, now you really do have to go. Do you have a ride?” Andy nodded again. “Yeah, my mom is waiting for me outside. Sorry. Thank you for the juice. I think it helped.”

“Good. You were looking pretty pasty for a minute there. Now what is your name?” The nurse asked gently, but Andy knew she was going to need a name before she let him go. “It’s Andy.” “Okay Andy. Well it was nice to meet you. I’m glad you are feeling better, but it’s late and Pete needs his rest if he is ever going to wake up. Can you find your way out? I don’t have to escort you, do I?”

“No ma’am. I know the way. I promise I’ll go. I don’t really like it here.” Andy was serious. As he spoke he remembered how much he hated this place. “That’s good,” she answered. “There’s something wrong with you if you enjoy hospitals.” She chuckled. “Maybe I’ll see you next time. You get something to eat when you get home, okay? It isn’t good for you to wait so long.”

Andy nodded and shuffled out of the room, empty juice cup in hand. He flew down the stairs and out of the hospital, his head spinning. What had just happened with Pete? Could he help him wake up somehow?

Before he knew it, he was at the main road. Andy stuck out his thumb and tried to look like a waif. He was too tired to walk home.

Divergent - Chapter 4

Previously

A piercing wail from the car horn suddenly washed over the scene, providing a steady stream on which time floated. Even without Andy’s special powers, events like these frequently play out in movie montage slow motion. 

Cheerleaders, in their pleated skirts and school color ribbons tying off their ponytails, prepared to cheer, even if this turned into a blood sport. 

Cut to the car’s interior with a close up of the elderly man slumped over the wheel of the now guideless missile, his limbs dangling like a marionette without a handler.

A shot of a hand-painted banner at the end of the field that says “We’ve got spirt.” Banners didn’t have spellcheck like the countless mobile phones and cameras at the ready to record the fight. 

Another close up. Chad’s face fills the image with nostrils flared as he builds up steam. His eyes show how he savors the idea of squashing the little bug known as Pete. Pan and pull out to a longer shot of Andy as he makes it to the forefront of the crowd, trying desperately to steady his breath and focus.

Throughout, the crowd noise provides the background soundtrack. The teenage cacophonous squeals and jeers were stretched and flattened by the time distortion into a drone. 

Andy knew no one would notice the brief flash of orange in his eyes as he misdirected Chad’s punch enough to set him slightly off balance. Pete said a silent thank you to Andy as he felt the knuckles merely graze his shoulder. Pete’s quick thrust with the heel of his hand connected with Chad’s nose. He’d seen this maneuver on a TV show one day when he’d stayed home from school with a fever. He had watched intently as a man dressed in a padded suit that made him look like a giant duct-taped marshmallow creature taught women basic self defense tactics. 

The show was right. Chad’s nose was a vulnerable spot. The show’s instructor had pointed out that the crotch was another spot to target, but Pete couldn’t bring himself to knee another guy. If he’d had any idea of what was coming next, he might have reconsidered. His well laid nose shot had started a trickle of blood that sent the bull-like Chad charging full speed at Pete. As the frenzied mob’s attention remained solely on the combatants, Andy’s went elsewhere.

Andy winced as the pitch of the car horn sent a spike of pain through his brain. Looking back past the blur of other students Andy saw the car’s front lights staring directly down at him. Unobstructed on its current path, it was careening down the embankment that provided a naturally sloped wall behind the row of metal bleachers. This was the vantage point from which the students normally watched sporting events. 

Even in this slowed dream-like pace everything was happening too quickly for Andy. From the din of chaos he heard Pete’s voice telling him “size matters not.”

“Watch out!” he shouted as much a warning about what he was trying to do as about the car itself. Rather than try push back through the crowd Andy stood his ground and focused on the car. His entire body was tingling. For anyone else it would have signaled an electrical storm was rolling in.

Again Pete’s previous dictate resonated in Andy’s head. “Close your eyes and give it all you’ve got.”

The car didn’t slow but the steering wheel shifted, turning the front wheels too sharply and sending the car into a corkscrew roll. The crash of the car first flip snapped some of the mob away from the gladiators. Panic. Kids running in every direction. A few intrepid ones turned their cameras to try catch the new main event.

Andy could hardly stand but kept trying to will the car to adjust the path. Unsure if he had any control of it or it was just physics, Andy found that with the car flipped over onto the roof side he could spin the car a bit and sent it skidding into the back supports of the bleachers.

“Somebody call for help” Andy implored. “See if Coach is still here.” “Stop with the pictures. Are you all insane?” “We need help out here.” The painful spike in his head had subsided but now his whole body ached.

The corner of the bleachers had collapsed onto the car leaving it pinned much as Pete was still pinned beneath Chad’s continued onslaught of punches about his head and chest. Throughout the chaos Chad had blocked out everything except his rage. After rushing Pete, he had landed a shoulder in Pete’s midsection, driving him hard into the ground. Achieving the high ground he took full advantage, assaulting Pete with both fist and venom. Pete had tried to cover his face with his hands and squirm away but Chad outweighed, outmuscled and outfought him. 

Pete never saw this coming. He had been absolutely confident that Andy would save him. Andy was always there for him. How could this happen? Pain seared through his head as another blow connected with his jaw. He tasted his own blood as he tried to swallow and clear his throat for another gasp of breath.

Grabbing blindly at a couple of the guys who were still transfixed by the fight, Andy screamed “Help me break this up. He’s gonna kill Pete.” They knew Andy was right but they hesitated ever so slightly, knowing that they might pay later for crossing Chad. Several acquiesced because no one deserved what Pete was getting, even if he had been the moron who challenged Chad to begin with.

“Let go of me. I’m not done burying that jerk.” Chad struggled as he was pulled away from Pete’s bloodied body. Someone hollered that an ambulance was on the way and another voice announced that Coach was coming.

Andy collapsed to his knees next to Pete. His bloodied face had already started to swell and the blood was darkening and drying around the countless cuts. “Pete, you’re gonna be OK. Help is coming.” Tears were welling up in his eyes as he said words he knew he should say even if he wasn’t really sure if they were true. Pete looked really bad and Andy felt like even the weight of his stare would add to his agony.

Pete was barely breathing but managed to whisper “You were supposed to protect me.”

“I tried to stop you. And then there was …” but Pete gathered enough breath to spit out at Andy “I’ll never forgive you and I’ll never let you forget this” before succumbing to oblivion. 

Divergent - Chapter 3

Previously

Pete was at his usual spot the next morning, waiting for Andy and their morning chat before another long day at school. They only shared tech class and lunch; Pete’s morning walk with Andy always gave him a positive start to the day. Today was especially positive for Pete.

“Andy! Hey!”

“Why so happy? It’s not like it’s Friday or your birthday.”

“Did you try anything else last night?”

Andy stopped walking. “Listen, Pete. I thought about it, and I’m sorry I told you. Let’s just forget the whole thing ever happened, okay?”

“Forget it? Are you crazy? Just listen to me for a minute…”

Andy headed out again and Pete had to pick up his speed in order to keep up.

“Listen. I had a great idea! Remember all of those times you had to stop guys from bullying me? Well, now you can help me put a stop to it forever.” Pete’s eyes sparked with excitement, but they didn’t turn orange. He would never tell anyone that he had spent almost an hour in front of his mirror trying to move things with his mind, but his eyes never turned any color other than their normal brown. He knew it was stupid to try, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Pete, just shut up, okay? All of that stuff never happened.” The high school loomed before them. Pete knew he had to speak now or he would lose his chance to convince Andy that his idea was worthy.

“Listen. Just listen for a minute, dammit!” 

Andy stopped again and heaved a dramatic sigh. “Okay. What’s this great idea of yours?”

The words came tumbling out, as if he had rehearsed them, which he had. “You only have to do a little bit of that eye thing. I figured it all out. It will make everyone stop picking on me forever and I’ll never ask you for another favor as long as we live.” Before Andy could say anything, Pete took a quick breath and continued, “I’m going to pick a fight with Chad. We’ll meet out on the road behind the football field and you know it will draw a crowd. You’ll use your eye power to knock him out cold when I swing. I get a reputation for taking down the school’s biggest bully and you do a good deed for your best buddy.”

“Pete, you’ve had some goofy ideas in your life, but this one is beyond goofy. You’ve lost your mind. Let’s look around. Maybe we’ll find it. You’re gonna need it to pass your English test today.” Andy started looking around, chuckling at his joke.

“Andy, I’m not kidding. I’ve decided to do this whether you help me or not. You’d think a friend would want to help a guy, that’s all. I’ll see you at lunch.” Without looking back, Pete headed for the crowd that snaked its way into the building for another day of torture.

*****

Andy had to spend lunch with his coach, who had called a special meeting for the rugby team over morning announcements. It didn’t matter, as the gossip everywhere he went centered over what had “gone down” at lunch. Pete had challenged Chad to a fistfight right in front of everyone. Chad, never one to turn down his favorite pastime, accepted, commenting that it would make him happy to remove one more cockroach from the world. They set the date for Friday after school on the old road behind the football field. Andy just shook his head when he heard.

Pete was nowhere to be found after school. Andy stopped by his house, but if he was there, he wasn’t answering the door. He didn’t answer his phone, either. Andy decided that Pete had finally gone off the deep end and hoped he would get his senses back before Friday. If he backed out of the fight, he’d never live it down, but if he went through with it, he’d never live. One of the alternatives definitely sounded better than the other.

Andy didn’t see Pete again until Friday morning on the way to school. Pete seemed to be in good spirits and he didn’t mention the fight or Andy’s power. When Andy tried to bring up the subject, Pete said he didn’t want to talk about it and that there were no hard feelings. Something wasn’t right, but Andy didn’t know what to do to help his friend.

After school, Andy started home. He had decided to avoid the fight, as he didn’t want to see Pete demolished. It came as no surprise to him when he realized his feet were carrying him out past the football field instead of on his usual route home. He could hear noise before he even saw the crowd, and when he did see the crowd, his jaw dropped. Was everyone from school here? What was wrong with these people? Andy realized he had no choice but to help his friend, so he started shoving his way to the front of the crowd. Rugby skills came in very handy, and he was soon standing only a few yards away from the contenders. Chad and Pete were facing off, and Andy was sure Chad was enjoying every minute of it. Chad would want to take his time pummeling Pete; he enjoyed whipping a crowd into a frenzy.

The noise from the crowd made Andy think of their history class about the gladiators and the Roman colosseum. Pete would never last a day as a gladiator and if Andy didn’t help, he knew Pete wouldn’t last long here, either.

With all eyes focused on Pete and Chad, no one saw the speeding car crest the hill.

Divergent - Chapter 2

Previously…

“What’s it feel like?”

A small cloud of pollen settled on the heather behind the boys, like a contrail marking their path through the field. Andy turned to Pete and squinted in the late afternoon sun. “You know when you take off your sweater, in winter like? How the hair on your arms stands up and you can feel even the tiniest breeze? Like that. It tingles.”

As the boys approached the small copse where the older kids sometimes went to drink and smoke pot, Pete started scanning the ground. He spotted a discarded whiskey bottle and bent to retrieve it. He tilted it back and pretended to take a swig, eliciting a laugh from Andy, then he jogged 20 meters to the stump of an old willow and set the bottle down. He turned back to Andy and asked, “Think you can hit it from there?”

Andy bent down and picked up a few small rocks while Pete walked back to his side. Andy held out his handful of stones and stared at the bottle. His eyes flashed orange again, Pete was sure he saw it this time, and one of the rocks floated just above his palm. He narrowed his eyes and it sailed in a slow arc, landing halfway to the bottle. Andy laughed and focused again. The second rock appeared to hop off his hand and land just a few steps away. He slumped his shoulders and sighed. “They’re heavier than I’m used to. Maybe I should find some small pebbles.”

“Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hm?”

Pete said this in his best Yoda, which wasn’t very good and sounded more like Miss Piggy with a head cold, but Andy still convulsed with laughter, dropping his last rock as he bent over double. When he was finally done, he wiped his eyes and picked up the fallen stone. “Alright, so you’re saying it shouldn’t matter. It’s not too big, right?”

“Close your eyes and give it all you’ve got.”

The stone hovered above Andy’s outstretched hand and then shot out with a bang. Both boys jumped back in shock, unready for the rock to break the sound barrier.

“Did I hit it?”

“Not even close. But try again, with your eyes open this time.” Pete handed Andy another stone and watched expectantly as Andy’s eyes glowed orange again and the rock hovered. Andy took one deep breath and opened his eyes wider. The rock shot out again and flew just the left of the bottle before embedding in the trunk of a black poplar. “Closer. Try one more,” Pete said as he tossed another rock to Andy.

The rock stopped mid-arc and rocketed in a straight line straight for the bottle. A few centimeters short, it stopped and hovered. Pete looked first to the rock, then back to Andy whose smile lit up his whole face. He nodded his head toward the bottle and Pete turned to see the rock fly straight up fifty meters and back down where it settled on the mouth of the bottle. Pete let out a whoop and clapped Andy on the arm. Then Andy saw the bird.

An unfortunate and unlucky pigeon had been flying overhead when Andy made his blind shot. In the excitement, he hadn’t noticed it rustling in the grass. He ran over as it shifted its wing one last time and went still. He bent down and picked it up, cradling the lifeless bird to his chest. Pete walked over and shook his head. “Shame about the bird. But it’s getting late. You want to try a few more from farther away?”

Andy shook his head, no, and sat on the cool ground, still holding the bird gently. “It’s not right. I didn’t mean for you to be hurt. I’m sorry.”

The bird fluttered in Andy’s hands, surprising him. He let it go and it flew away, back to whatever pigeon business it had been on earlier. “Must have just been in shock. Hope it’s okay.”

Pete watched the bird soar up and away, no worse for the delay. And he wondered if Andy’s eyes had glowed orange this time.