Authors: Mark J. Ferrari
I was a whisper
conceived in the golden time.
Summer
turning
to
Fall.
And mountains, the only ones
silent enough,
heard me mumbling songs
in my first unborn moment.
But in this deep basin
between Earth’s rocky fingers
I could not stay long.
Fall
to
Winter
to
Spring
The next chapter begins
in a hospital bed
touched by the ocean breath
born in the emerald time.
Spring turning
to Summer.
Kelp castles and
driftwood fortresses
heard my songs bounce off cliffs
and ripple the ocean.
And Summer
to
Fall
to
Spring
to
Summer again
7 times until I returned
to the mountains.
In a blink
I had grown my own
eyes,
my own
voice,
and to rock peaks
and cradles
I returned
and returned
Summer to
Fall to
Winter,
Where an icy wind
stole my songs,
made me afraid
to raise my voice.
And now the power
of that speck of child
against jutting peaks
returns with the hail,
rides the winds
of midnight
saturates me with
the rain.
Child of salt water
and rock,
words now lost
in thunder.
Hawk stood before the display of work from Joby Peterson’s English classes reading Rose’s poem a second time, and a third. She’d read it to him
herself on the day she finished it. She read him a lot of her poems before showing them to anyone else. Everything she wrote, or said, or did seemed perfect to Hawk. She was the most amazing girl he’d ever met. She was also the school’s best student, while he was its worst. Her family was the cream of Taubolt society; his was a disgrace. They were friends. Hawk was too smart to wish for more than that, or too smart to let it show, at least.
Though he’d been cutting class for weeks, Hawk never missed a potluck or an open house. No wobbity-wah about tests or homework at a potluck, just the other kids and a full-surge smorgasbord. He hadn’t mentioned the event to his mother, of course, doubting she’d have come even if he had. She didn’t cry much anymore, thank God, but she didn’t much like socializing either, since his dad had left. When she wasn’t working, she just stayed home now, seeming to believe whatever Hawk told her about his own life.
Just then, Hawk saw Jupiter run in, followed by the very person Hawk had come to spy on: the mysterious new English teacher, Joby Peterson. To Hawk’s surprise, their clothes were filthy, and they had bits of twig and leaf tangled in their hair.
“Sorry I look like a cat toy,” he heard Joby say to Bridget. “Jupiter got us lost on a hike, and I figured, better on time and ragged than cleaned up and late. Hope I was right.”
Hawk wasn’t sure whether to laugh or sneer as Bridget reached up to brush the forest out of Joby’s hair. As Joby move toward the food line, greeted by a steady stream of parents, to whom he apologized over and over for his unwashed condition, Hawk rolled his eyes, sure he’d never seen a more pathetic suck-up.
Then, just as Joby finally got a plate of food, the Bobs descended on him like a small tribe of gangster-rap Indians. Joby was clearly charmed to silliness with their little act, and Hawk had to admit they were funny but thought they hogged a lot of attention.
“You guys are total sitcom material,” Hawk heard Joby laugh. “You thought about taking this to Hollywood?”
Cob looked offended. “You haven’t seen our TV show? I’m hurt. You hurt, Cal?”
“I’m hurt bad.” Cal frowned. “You hurt, Swami?”
“Yup,” said Swami. “I’m pretty hurt.”
Cal turned back to pout at Joby. “We’re pretty hurt,” he said.
“Hey! I’m sorry.” Joby grinned. “Something I can do to make it up to you?”
“You could take us out to dinner somewhere,” Cal said brightly.
Cob nodded happily. “That’d even us up.”
“I’d love to,” Joby said, and started dishing lasagna from his paper plate onto Cob’s. “Everything’s on me tonight. All you can eat.”
“Hey!” Cob yelled, yanking his plate out of Joby’s reach. “Get that off! How do I know where your food’s been?”
“We didn’t mean
tonight,
” Cal griped. “You can just owe us later. Right?”
Wrong,
thought Hawk.
Say wrong, or you’re
—
“Sure,” Joby said.
Screwed,
Hawk thought with a grim grin. The last thing anybody with a clue would want was to owe the Bobs. God knew what they’d ask for.
“Whadaya think, Cob?” Cal asked. “The Heron’s Bowl?”
“Naw!” Cob scoffed. “That slop house? Let’s go someplace nice.”
“Yeah,” Joby concurred theatrically, “this is a special occasion! We don’t just want some canned food crap at gourmet prices. Let’s go someplace
good.
”
What a full-surge idiot!
Hawk thought, watching Cal and Swami struggle to keep straight faces as Cob’s expression darkened ominously.
“Who told you that?” Cob growled.
“Told me what?” Joby asked uncertainly.
“About the Heron’s Bowl.” Cob frowned, his impish brows drawn down.
“Well . . .
you
just did,” Joby said, sounding confused. “I was just—”
“That’s my
mom’s
restaurant,” Cob said.
“Oh, God,” Joby groaned, closing his eyes. “I was only—You said . . . I’ve never even been there! I just . . .” He looked around nervously, and asked, “Is your mom here?”
By now Cal and Swami were laughing so hard, Hawk thought Cal might throw up. Even Cob was smiling, though it was, Hawk thought, a pretty scary smile.
“She’s over there,” Cob said, pointing at a cluster of chatting women across the noisy room. Hawk saw Joby slump in relief, then Cob said, “I think she’ll want to know about this, though. The restaurant’s reputation is very imp—”
“Don’t you dare, Cob!” Joby cut in. “You totally set me up, and you know it!”
“Well, I suppose I don’t
have
to tell her,” Cob mused, gazing petulantly at his twiddling fingers. “We’ll need to talk about what my silence is worth to you though.”
“I’m buying you dinner, aren’t I?” Joby protested.
Cal shook his head. “That was a previous debt.”
“Why, you little thugs,” Joby said. “My firstborn child then? A pound of flesh?”
“Gentlemen,” Cal said officiously, “I don’t think we should discuss this anymore without our lawyers present.” He turned to his cohorts and said, “Conference.” They stood in unison, leaving Joby to stare after them as they walked in theatrical silence across the room and out the main doors.
Hawk had no idea what everyone had been freaking out about. This guy was no scary spy. He was just a full-surge doofus. . . . Or was he? Might a spy not try to look foolish, just to throw folks off?
“Why are you avoiding everybody, Hawk?”
Hawk turned to find Rose at his shoulder. “I am not,” he said.
“Yes, you are. You’ve been here half an hour and haven’t even talked to anyone.”
“I’m just . . . in a quiet mood.” Hawk shrugged, embarrassed to admit that he’d been stalking Joby Peterson.
Rose looked down self-consciously and asked, “Is something wrong?”
“What would be wrong?” he said, flustered.
“I don’t know. I just . . . well, wasn’t it around this time last year when your dad—”
“Oh please!”
Hawk exclaimed. “Everyone knows that was the happiest day of my life!” He looked away, appalled at taking such an angry tone with Rose. “I’m sorry, Rose. I . . . It’s just . . . I didn’t mean to sound like that.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “A bunch of us are going to the headlands. Want to come?”
“Sure! Gotta take a leak though. Will you wait?”
She rolled her eyes and nodded as Hawk raced off toward the bathrooms. When he arrived, however, the door swung open, and he came face-to-face with Joby Peterson.
“Sorry,” Hawk said, looking down and stepping back to let Joby pass.
“No problem,” Joby said, but instead of walking by, he added, “I don’t think we’ve met. You a student here?”
Hawk knew it would be dumb to lie. They were bound to meet sooner or later. Besides, hadn’t he decided the guy was harmless? “I’m Hawk,” he said.
“Well!” Joby grinned, stretching out his hand. “At long last, the famous Hawk! You’re supposed to be in one of my freshman classes. How come I haven’t seen you?”
“I’ve been sick,” Hawk lied. “Flu. Bad. . . . How come you know me?”
“I . . . I don’t,” Joby said, “I just—”
“You just said, ‘the famous Hawk,’ ” Hawk insisted, suddenly tired of all the sneaking around. “How come I’m famous?”
Joby gave him an odd smile, then shrugged and said, “Well, my first day in Taubolt, I happened to hear Rose and Bellindi talking out on the headlands. They mentioned a bunch of pretty cool names, and yours was one of them.” He shrugged.
But how ’d you hear them through the ring?
Hawk barely managed not to blurt it out.
Perhaps his frustration showed, because Joby grinned sympathetically and leaned in even closer. “Can you keep a secret?” he asked quietly.
Hawk’s skin prickled. Was this guy going to tip his hand at last? Hawk nodded gravely, half-thrilled and half-afraid.
“Well,” Joby took a quick glance around, and said, “don’t
ever
say I told you this, ’cause I kind of fibbed a bit to Rose and Bellindi about it, but I did hear Rose tell Bellindi that she thinks you’re cute.”
Hawk couldn’t keep the sudden smile from his face, no longer caring how Peterson had gotten through their ring, just very,
very
stoked that he had!