One is Come (Five in Circle) (6 page)

He rushed forward, knocking George aside in a shoulder tackle. Cadarn crumpled into a ball to the side. Wow, that hurt!

George bounced up, unhurt. “You stupid kid, you have no idea what kind of creatures these are!”

“It's just a game,” he said, climbing slowly to his feet, standing between George and the dragon, finally getting his sword up. The way it came out, he wasn't sure if that was to convince him to keep playing, or that George had no reason to kill this dragon.

George took a few steps back, glancing over his shoulder. Cadarn looked, and saw Solbright standing at the edge of the forest, peering at them.

George saw her and cursed. He chopped at Cadarn, knocking his sword aside and out of his hands easily. “If you aren't with us, you're nothing!” he shouted, swinging at Cadarn's head. Cadarn jumped back as Solbright screamed, “No!” He landed and rolled, reaching up with both hands to take the glasses off. His hands felt only face, and he realized he hadn't noticed the glasses for some time. Solbright raised her hands and fire poured out from them, but Cadarn saw George was only slowed slightly by the attack.

Cadarn realized he was directly under the dragon's legs. He looked up. “I'm sorry,” he said as she showed her teeth. Then, Cadarn did what he always did in the face of an irate mother. He closed his eyes and went to the safe place in his mind to wait until it was over, sliding easily past the walls he could still sense were there. Before he closed his eyes, though, he heard Solbright yell, “Don't hurt him, just get him out of here!” Then his eyes were closed. He tingled all over, feather touches tickling in his mind.

His whole body twitched, and his eyes popped open. He looked at the computer in front of him, its screen black, having gone to sleep. Sitting upright, he blinked a few times, details flying away quicker than he could think, left with just the sense of the dream that awoke him. He looked up as the door to the computer lab opened and a gorgeous blond girl walked in.

“Solbright,” Cadarn whispered. Wait, how did he know her name? Well, duh, the prettiest girl in school, maybe anywhere, he must have heard people talking about her. She walked in and straight toward Cadarn. He couldn't help staring as she came closer. Her mouth gave him a small smile, but he saw something incomprehensible in her eyes. Or maybe he imagined it, as she walked right by him to sit at a computer station a few seats behind him. Yeah, he definitely imagined the smile.

Cadarn worked on his paper until the bell rang. An irrational hope had him dawdling, but Solbright swept past him and gone without even a sideways glance. Cadarn packed his stuff slowly, and was the last person to leave. In fact, the janitor came in to empty trash cans as he finished up. As he slung his bag over his shoulder, Cadarn caught a glimpse of a small door in the back of the room he had never noticed before. He took a few steps toward it.

The janitor walked past him and opened the door, taking out an industrial floor sweeper. Cadarn stopped, shook his head, then turned and walked out of the lab. He didn't notice the janitor watching him leave, or that the janitor's orange eyes burned with curiosity. He was long gone when the janitor whispered, “Oh, for sure, we must get you first!”

Chapter 9

Cross Walk

Haylwen sighed. Another new school. Another first day at another new school. They were in southern
California and it was as odd as she had always heard. Who names a city “The Cats” anyway? Instead of regular schools, they had different charter schools all over. Cadarn had been excited to go to his geeky science school, and Haylwen didn’t want to make a big deal of having to go to a different school. She had considered going to the same school, but as lonely as it was to not even have Cadarn, she couldn’t bear the idea of doing all that math. Haylwen didn’t really know if she had the talent to do well at a “creative arts” school, but everyone knows artists are nicer than scientists. For the tenth time today, she brutally dismissed the hope that maybe she would have a chance to make a real friend.

She stepped away from the sink and dried her hands. She sat down and looked at her tree-sculpture. She should have stuck to a more traditional vase like the one the demonstration. She bit off her fingernails, spitting them into her left hand. It was the saddest little tree, with only a few drooping branches.
Maybe it was impossible to make a tree out of clay
, she thought.

“Very creative.”

Haylwen looked up at Mr. Vestas, the art teacher. His big beard and bushy eyebrows didn’t hide his soft smile and gentle eyes.

Mr. Vestas grabbed a nearby chair in one large hand and spun it deftly around, setting it nearby Haylwen’s table. He settled his bulk into the chair. “First time working with clay, is it?”

Haylwen looked into his smiling eyes, and blushed slightly. “Yeah, I mean, yes, sir, Mr. Vestas. It is.”

He chuckled, an off-duty Santa Claus. “Not much for traditional vases?”

Haylwen smiled.

Mr. Vestas smiled back. “Go on, I would love to see where you are going with this.”

Haylwen held her collection of fingernails and looked around for a trash can. Seeing Mr. Vestas’ smiling face, she impulsively held them out for him. “Here you go!”

He held out one meaty hand, palm up, with a curiously bemused expression. Haylwen dumped her fingernail collection onto his palm. He looked at the surprise in his palm. A weird look raced across his face as he whispered, “It’s you…” He quickly recovered. “A present?” he said with a forced smile.

She felt her face heat up, and tried to hide her embarrassment, stammering, “I didn’t see a trash…”

He smiled oddly. “Oh, no, I’ll keep them forever.”

She looked at him as he stood, patting her back with his free hand. His hands were so big it felt like half of a hug. “I’ll be right back.” He lumbered off.

Haylwen sat there, looking around to see if anyone else noticed. One boy, Bruce or Brice or something like that, sneered at her and wiped some clay on his nose. “Brown-noser,” he whispered. He was sitting two tables away, with an almost completed, normal-looking vase in front of him. Haylwen blushed bright red and dropped her eyes quickly to her clay.
Stupid clay. Stupid new school. The teachers were nice, but the kids were the same
.

Mr. Vestas lumbered back, and leaned across the table, supporting himself with one tree-like arm. Haylwen felt like a bug next to a bear, but at least he was blocking the rest of the class from looking at her. He looked at something in his hand for a while, then thrust a small wooden tool at her. “For you.”

She looked up at him, then at the tool. She had no idea what it was. “Um-mm…”

He smiled and looked worried at the same time.

She didn’t know what to say, so she took the tool. It was a strip of wood, twice as long as her hand, wider than two of her fingers, and just thinner than a pencil. It was smooth, cool, and surprisingly heavy like stone. One end was triangular, the opposite scooped and rounded, like a spoon. She smiled and mumbled, “Thank you.”

Mr. Vestas looked at her steadily. “Forget about it,” he said.

The bell rang to end class so Haylwen stuffed the tool in her backpack. Mr. Vestas vanished as Haylwen hurriedly cleaned up her station, and rushed out. He was nowhere to be seen, but she would have sworn he was watching her leave.

She swung by her locker, grabbed her stuff, and headed out. “Hey, new girl!” Haylwen turned, reflexively. She briefly wondered if there was ever going to be a time she wasn’t the “new girl.” Looking around the parking lot, she saw it was that Brice boy who yelled. He had two boys with him, and marched at her like he was on a mission. She turned back and kept heading home. She thought about running, but then Brice caught up to her at the crosswalk. “Where you from, new girl?”

“Here and there.” Her standard answer, well-practiced.

Brice stepped in front of her, and the two boys went to each of her sides. They were half-standing in the street, uncaring of the cars.

“Don't you know no one likes a brown-noser?” Brice's friends snickered at his joke. At least he had friends. “You know what the brown is, right? That’s your new name, stinky brown. ‘Cause you stink, too.”

She tried to step around him, but he stepped in front of her and bumped her with his shoulder. He was a few inches taller, a lot bigger, and leaned into it. She stumbled and dropped her book bag. Brice's friends laughed as h
e crossed his arms and smirked.

Haylwen snatched up her book bag and glared at the three of them in turn. She was just afraid of getting beat up at first, but now she was mad too.

“Get out of my way, you jerk!” she said.

“Jerk?” he said. “Oh, I’m so hurt! She thinks I’m a jerk. Like I care what some stinky brown-noser thinks.” His friends laughed again.

She realized that he didn’t really care what she thought, but she did. She was just trying to fit in, and would have considered being his friend even after the brown-nose stunt in class. That realization really made her mad. He was picking on her for no other reason than she was “new!” He could have been nice, they could have been friends, but, no, he had to be a … jerk! As she stood there, she could feel herself getting angrier. This was just like with Amanda and Kim, being teased for reasons completely out of her control.

“Niños, you gonna cross or what?” The rumpled old man seemed to come out of nowhere. He was dressed in faded blue coveralls with a chest patch that said custodial services, like all the janitors at the school. His thick Spanish accent came out of a dark brown face with wrinkles like a raisin. His eyes, deep and bright blue, flashed quickly from her to each of the boys. “You get hit by cars, I gonna have to clean it up.” He swirled a long, dingy cloth around in front of him, indicated the big mess it would make.

Brice only turned his head to look at the shriveled old man. The janitor must have been bigger at some point, but looked as if he had deflated slowly with time. Brice's face kept to a sneer. “Spic, you have no business here,” he snarled.

She felt herself get hot, her emotions suddenly flaring out of control just like with Amanda and Kim. She knew what it was like to be picked on, put down, and her rage flared. Tears welled in her eyes as she glared at Brice, and in the watery wavering, could almost see him being on fire. She opened her mouth to yell something, anything.

Brice’s sneer vanished as the old man swatted him with the rag, across the shoulders and head. The dingy cloth was so quick Brice registered it with a yelp, but was smacked a few more times before he could finally jump and spin out of the old man’s reach. The other two boys took a cautious step back.

“That’s what you get,” the old man said to Brice. His eyes on the three boys, he spoke sideways to Haylwen, “That’s how you do for a bully. Stand up to him. He is afraid, is for making you feel his afraid. So, you don't take it.” He flashed a gap-toothed grin at her. “Better than that, don't walk alone.”

Haylwen nodded, eyes wide. The janitor motioned across the street with his eyes. She took the hint and scampered across the street. Brice turned his attention to the old man and looked at him fiercely. “I’ll have you fired! I’ll sue for child abuse!”

The old man looked at him calmly. “I no afraid of you, still wearing little boy underpants.”

Brice flushed red and started to deny it as his friends tried not to laugh, but stopped. He glared at them each in turn, then back at the old man. “I’d better not see your face around here again,” Brice said haughtily. He looked around for someone else to hate, and saw Haylwen. He gave one last glare to the old man, then trotted across the street after Haylwen, his friends following close behind him.

***

The old man watched the three boys leave. He straightened a little, appearing younger in an instant. He murmured to himself, his accent changed from Spanish to something else, something old. “Such trouble— fear and its mongers.” He turned to look to where Haylwen had scampered off, and shook his head. “You have such a fragile potential, Little One. Pity you were not born in the old times when one such as I could have guided. Fire is right, in that part, at least. What could you become with a little help from a friend…?” He paused, his eyebrows jumping up, eyes wide in surprise. “Could it be?” He held his eyebrows up for a moment longer, then shook his head. “Our good Head is right, what I think does not matter. The Flow of Destiny needs no help, and all will be as it should.” His face, as if with a mind of its own, resumed its thoughtful pose. “But our good Head will not be Head forever.” He looked down at the street, into the tiny stream of water in the gutter. “You will not mind, Great Flow, if I, ah, cooperate just a little, yes?”

He laughed a tinkling little laugh and stepped into the gutter. The tiny stream of water running there was briefly stopped at his feet, then flowed around to dive down the drain. He glanced quickly around, and disappeared.

***

Brice and his friends caught up with Haylwen quickly. They followed her, taunting and teasing long after she had gotten a fair distance from the school. Haylwen was always a little iffy on the advice to “ignore it and it will go away,” and today forever proved it for her. Ignoring the boys seemed to provoke them and they quickly escalated to tripping her. When she ignored that, Brice stepped in front of her. He pushed her backward, into his friends, and then they all pushed at her, sending her staggering from one to the other trying to keep her balance. She finally fell, and was kicked by one of the three boys before she could scramble up. Trapped between them, she felt truly scared.
Oh, where is the old janitor now
, she thought.

They started pushing her again, and then started hitting her as they pushed her. Part of Haylwen was shocked, the rest terrified.
They are really hurting me, and it is just like a game to them
. Abandoning her care of what anyone else might think, she screamed for help, which stopped them for a moment. Then Brice ordered his two goons to grab her. They looked at each other for a moment, and Haylwen leaped at the chance their distraction provided. She sprinted between the two, knocking them a little off balance, and ran down the street. The three started chasing her after a moment’s hesitation. Haylwen turned down a random driveway, pretending to head for the front door. The boys slowed, convinced their prey had escaped. Haylwen, fearful of being trapped against a locked door if no one was home, sped past the porch at the last second to run between houses. As she crashed through the bushes, she heard the boys take up the chase again.

Arms crossed over her chest, book bag bouncing on her back, she ran for her life. Crying, furious, and frightened, a part of her wanted to just give up, curl up in a ball, and take whatever they could dish out. Another part wished she could lash out, punch them in the face. She compromised by running. She ran across the street and the sidewalk on the other side to crash through the next set of tall bushes as her thoughts crashed around.
Oh, if only I would stumble into the backyard of a woman teaching a self-defense class!

As she tore through the last of the branches, Haylwen's guts clenched and her arms wind-milled. She half-fell, half sprinted down a steep hill, realizing she had run over the edge of the canyon on which the houses were built. Branches of native scrub brush grabbed at her but at least kept her from completely falling headfirst down the rocky slope. Amazingly, she kept her feet until she ran into a small tree at the bottom. The flexible tree bent at first, then threw her back. She bounced off and sat down in the small stream that trickled along the bottom of the canyon. She sobbed, gulping air for a few moments, before hearing the boys breaking their way through the bushes at the top of the slope. Images of what they would do to her, out here, all alone, propelled her up to run again.

Despite being tiny, the water was enough to have the plants grow thicker, with even a few medium sized trees. Haylwen slipped on the wetness, fought through the cat tails and bushes, and couldn’t make any quick progress. The noise of the boys headed down the slope convinced her she was doomed.

Then someone grabbed her, pulling her into a thicket of cat tail rushes. Her scream was just a barely audible gasp as she was too winded to do more, and she clearly heard someone say “ssh!” in her ear. She was pulled into the middle of the thicket, where there was a space, strangely clear of all plants, allowing the creek to dance lightly over polished stones. In this odd space, everything was brighter, sparkling. Haylwen wondered for an instant if she was losing her mind.
Maybe I'm having a psychotic episode brought on by extreme stress?