Colin Fischer (21 page)
Authors: Ashley Edward Miller,Zack Stentz
“Oh, no,” Colin said. “I’ve already eaten.”
He went back to reading, and his parents ate what he had prepared. Danny joined them a few minutes
later, surprised to find something more complicated than Special K waiting for him. He never asked who was responsible for feeding him nor did he offer his thanks. He simply smiled with every bite,
HAPPY.
But it didn’t matter, really.
Colin was already out the door and on his way to school.
25
Mrs. Fischer had learned the phrase from her own mother without having any idea what it actually meant. Eight-year-old Colin helpfully pointed out that “peanut gallery” was an old vaudeville term used to describe the cheapest seats in a theater and the rowdy patrons who would sit there, jeering and tossing peanuts at performers they didn’t like. Colin solemnly promised never to throw peanuts at his mother.
26
The technique was inspired by famous autistic livestock handler and author Temple Grandin, who observed that the “squeeze box” used to immobilize cattle for vaccinations and medical examinations also had the effect of calming the animals. Grandin later adapted the box into a “hug machine” of her own design that she crawled into when she was under emotional duress. As Colin grew and matured, Mr. Fischer realized that this ad hoc technique of calming his son would eventually lose its effectiveness.
27
Colin’s excellent memory and early mastery of reading and mathematics made it difficult to test his IQ accurately, a frequent problem with child prodigies.
28
A psychological condition in which combat veterans and other witnesses to violent events find themselves constantly reliving the source of their trauma.
TEST BITES
When I was small, my father bought me a book on sharks and other dangerous sea creatures such as the killer whale and the giant squid. They were all very interesting. However, my favorite ocean-dwelling predator was always the great white shark.
At up to 20 feet in length and 5,000 lbs, mouth filled with serrated, dagger-like teeth, the great white (Carcharodon carcharias) is found in all the Earth’s oceans. It is responsible for more attacks on humans than any other shark species. Given its size, ferocity, and status as an apex predator, this isn’t surprising. What is surprising is that most of these attacks are nonfatal.
Scientists initially hypothesized that a human in the water, seen from below on a surf or paddleboard, would resemble the outline of a seal
or sea lion—the great white shark’s favorite meal. Since the shark’s standard tactic is to ambush its prey with a quick, devastating bite and then wait as the unfortunate animal bleeds to death, the theory held that victims had time to haul themselves out of the water after the initial bite. Though widely accepted when first articulated, this theory has proved to be incorrect.
Further research revealed something unexpected: In most cases, great white sharks bite humans with only a tiny fraction of their usual two-thousand-pounds-per-foot of jaw strength. The truth is that most victims of great whites aren’t being attacked at all. They’re being subjected to “test bites.” These light, probing bites are how a great white shark investigates strange or unfamiliar objects in its domain. An ungainly, bipedal land mammal attempting to swim in the ocean would indeed be strange and unfamiliar. Of course, a not insignificant number of those investigations do end in death from blood loss or decapitation, but this is to be expected.
When the investigator is a two-and-a-half-ton shark, even a gentle attempt at exploration can be fatal.
It was exactly noon
when Colin again encountered Eddie and his friends.
Colin marched up the hall quickly and purposefully, Notebook clutched to his chest, glasses set squarely on the bridge of his nose. He knew that he had precisely two minutes and twenty-seven seconds before the second bell would ring and a bored teacher would shoo him into the cafeteria. The cafeteria was far too public a venue for what Colin now contemplated. In the wake of his encounter with
La Familia
, Colin had an entirely different set of questions for Eddie and his friends than what he had in mind just a day ago. They were questions he suspected Eddie might not like. Colin wanted to catch Eddie where he was weak and couldn’t turn their conversation into a sideshow.
Colin heard Eddie before he saw him around the corner. He was with his friends, voice loud and boisterous, singsong in a way Colin associated with bragging—the kind that was generally a lie or at best an exaggeration.
“…so anyway I’m like, ‘What are you talking about? Your mom isn’t even here,’” Eddie said to his friends, telling them a story. “So she did.”
Eddie mimed zipping his pants down, grinning. His friends laughed. Colin had no idea what this meant and suspected some of Eddie’s friends might not either. He edged closer, confident that he hadn’t been seen.
“Whoa,” Stan said. His voice had a slight nasal quality now, as the sound struggled to clear the swelling in his sinuses, indicated by the bandages over his nose.
“It was like I was the ice cream man or something,” Eddie continued.
SMUG.
“Or the ice cream.” Stan grinned, showing the gap in his front teeth. Then he winced, presumably from pain induced by the sudden, broad movement in his facial muscles. Their friends laughed again.
“Hello, Eddie. How are you today?” Colin said. “I know the gun was yours.”
The laughter stopped. Colin noted the sudden loss of color in Eddie’s face, the way Stan looked the other direction, eyelids fluttering. These were clear signs of
GUILT
. The others just looked at each other and Colin with confused expressions—except for Cooper. He gave Colin his full attention,
INTERESTED
in hearing what Colin had to say.
Colin waited a moment for Eddie to reply, having been told again and again his own adherence to script sometimes prevented others from participating in conversation with him. Marie had explained how an uninterrupted barrage of information could make it so someone else “couldn’t get a word in edgewise.” His father referred to this as Colin “sucking up all the oxygen in the room.” They both meant the same thing.
Even with this carefully measured conversational pause, Eddie issued no answer or denial. Colin processed the silence (factoring in the background cacophony of the hallway), assuring himself he’d given
Eddie sufficient edge and oxygen. “There is one thing I don’t understand,” Colin pushed on. “Why did you take the gun to the cafeteria?”
In preparing for this moment, Colin had anticipated many possible reactions, including violence (frightening—in which case Colin had been prepared to run) or an escape attempt (exciting—in which case Colin knew Eddie would eventually have to return home). The one reaction he didn’t anticipate was the one his question elicited.
Eddie laughed.
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Colin had no idea what to make of this. The laughter was a mystery, especially since Eddie’s facial expression no longer indicated
NERVOUSNESS
, but
DELIGHT
. Colin scribbled in his Notebook:
Eddie laughs inappropriately when confronted. Question incorrectly phrased as a joke, or specific reference to gun carries some heretofore unknown sexual connotation? Investigate.
“Because I didn’t, Brainiac,” Eddie spat as Colin
wrote. “I couldn’t. I was in the weight room with the coach and half the football team. Getting burly.”
Stan and his other friends nodded in agreement. After a moment, Cooper did too.
“You had to be in the cafeteria,” Colin said. “That’s where they found the gun. I saw it myself. There was birthday cake on the pistol grip.” These were indisputable facts.
Stan’s lips curled up in a smile that was in no way
FRIENDLY
. He stepped into Colin’s space—a common power move designed to make a smaller boy shrink back or perhaps withdraw altogether. Colin, however, was too preoccupied with making sense of discontinuities between the facts to notice. Cooper smiled too.
AMUSED
.
“Trying to get your ass whooped again, Stan?” Cooper asked.
