The Boxer and the Spy (8 page)

“Sounds great, doesn’t it?” Terry said.

“Can’t wait to try it,” Abby said.

“All of this stuff is written about jocks,” Terry said. “Doesn’t talk about ordinary kids like Jason.”

“Maybe because ordinary kids like Jason don’t take steroids,” Abby said.

“Nothing here makes me think he did,” Terry said.

“No,” Abby said. “Sounds more like Kip Carter All-American to me.”

“Yeah,” Terry said. “Maybe you should date him.”

“Me?” Abby said.

Terry gave her a straight-faced serious look.

“Give you a chance to find out if anything’s shrinking,” he said.

“Oh ugh!” Abby said.

And they both began to giggle.

G
eorge was wrapping Terry’s hands.

“Little swollen,” George said.

“I had a fight.”

“How’d you do?” George said.

“I broke the guy’s nose,” Terry said.

“So you won?”

“Yeah.”

“Better than losing,” George said. “Why’d you fight?”

“Other guy started it,” Terry said.

“How?”

“Was gonna beat me up,” Terry said.

“Front of other people?”

“Yes.”

“You know why?”

“I think it’s about that kid, Jason, who died a while ago?” “The one you been wondering about,” George said.

“Yeah.”

“Why somebody want to beat you up ‘bout that?” George said.

“I don’t know.”

“You looking into it?” George said.

“Yes.”

“Maybe they want you to stop,” George said.

Terry shrugged. George looked at him for a moment. He looked like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t.

“What?” Terry said.

George shook his head and finished wrapping Terry’s hands.

“You gonna tell me mind my own business?” Terry said. “‘Cause I’m a kid, and I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“Nope.”

“You were gonna say something,” Terry said. “What?”

George slid the gloves onto Terry’s hands and cinched the Velcro closers shut.

“I was gonna tell you to be careful,” George said.

“I can take care of myself,” Terry said.

“Mostly,” George said. “Nobody can do it always.”

“So I just quit and go hide?”

“Nope.”

“So,” Terry said. “What?”

“So, nothing, that’s why I didn’t say it.”

They looked at each other.

“I don’t get it,” Terry said.

George nodded.

“Kid mattered to you,” George said.

“I felt sorry for him,” Terry said. “Got no father. Mother’s a drunk. Everybody thinks he’s a fag.”

“You?” George said.

“Yeah, I guess he was.”

“You don’t care.”

“No,” Terry said. “Got nothing to do with me.”

“You not gay,” George said.

“No,” Terry said. “You care?”

“No,” George said. “I don’t care. But that little girl might be awful disappointed.”

Terry smiled.

“I hope so,” he said.

“You doing what you think is the right thing to do,” George said. “Maybe be some risk. Smart to be careful. Don’t want to hide all your life. If you gonna face up to it, might as well start now.”

“You saying I should go ahead?”

“Yep.”

Terry didn’t know what to say.

“So this guy comes at you,” George said, “swinging, and you hold him off with your jab.”

“Yeah.”

“And he tries a big John Wayne roundhouse punch,” George said.

“Yeah.”

“And you block it with your left?”

“And hit him with my right, straight on.”

“Broke his nose.”

“Yes.”

George smiled.

“Fight over,” he said.

“Uh-huh.”

George smiled more.

“Just remember,” he said. “You fight somebody knows a little something, won’t be so easy.”

“Thanks, George,” Terry said.

“For what? Teaching you left block, right punch?”

“Including that,” Terry said.

George picked up the big round punching mitts.

“Come on,” he said. “You gonna be street fighting, may have to teach you some other things.”

“You’ve already taught me a lot,” Terry said.

“You learned a lot,” George said. “Which ain’t always the same thing.”

T
hey were on the rocks at the beach, in their place, on the point of an outcropping where the waves broke beneath them and left lacy patterns of foam on the surface of the water. Abby had her big notebook on her lap.

“I’ve been organizing,” she said.

“I bet you have,” Terry said.

“I got Otis,” she said. “Tank, Nancy Fortin, a friend of Jason’s that Nancy got, Perry Fisher.”

“Don’t know him,” Terry said.

“Me either,” Abby said. “But Nancy says he wants in. I got Bev and Suzi. Steve Bellino says he’ll help.”

“Bellino?” Terry said. “He’s a really good ballplayer.”

“I know,” Abby said. “I think he hates Kip Carter All-American.”

“Not a bad thing,” Terry said.

“And I think he’s going to get some other guys,” Abby said. “Maybe Mitchell, maybe Carly Clark.”

“Carly Clark?”

“The basketball player,” Abby said. “The guy who just transferred in.”

“I know who he is,” Terry said.

“So we already got a pretty good spy system set up.”

“Thanks to you,” Terry said.

“Can I be known as the Spymaster,” Abby said, deepening her voice as much as she could.

“You bet,” Terry said. “Think they’ll keep quiet about this?”

“I think so,” Abby said. “They all hate Bullard, and they all hate Kip Carter All-American, and I think this is their chance to do one or both of them some damage.”

“Any of them doing it for Jason?” Terry said.

“Nancy, probably,” Abby said. “Probably Perry Fisher. The rest of us are doing it for you.”

“You too?”

“Of course, me too,” Abby said. “I’ll do anything you want to do, you know that.”

“Anything?” Terry said.

“Except that,” Abby said. “Yet.”

“Yet,” Terry said.

“Yet,” Abby said.

“What are we waiting for?” Terry said.

“I don’t know,” Abby said. “It just seems too soon.”

Terry was quiet for a moment and then he nodded.

“I think so too,” he said.

“Do you know why?” Abby said.

“No. You?”

“No,” Abby said.

Terry shook his head. They were quiet, watching the foam patterns slide backward out of the inlets in the rock. It was the first time they’d ever spoken seriously about it. It made him nervous. Kind of exciting, though!

“They going to, ah, report in to you?” Terry said after a time.

“Yes,” Abby said, “and I’ll write it down and try to like find a pattern or something. And we’ll talk.”

Terry smiled at her.

“Will we ever,” he said.

T
erry saw Gordon in the corridor between classes. Gordon was wearing sunglasses, which didn’t fully succeed in covering his two black eyes. His cheeks were puffy too. Gordon either didn’t see him or pretended not to. In the cafeteria, Kip Carter looked right through Terry. When he went to English class, he saw Mr. Bullard standing by the door.

“I want to talk with you,” he said.

Terry stopped and waited. Mr. Bullard took his arm and steered him away from the door and into a stairwell.

“You are getting a pretty bad reputation around here,” Bullard said.

Terry nodded.

“I understand you got into a fight,” Bullard said.

“Not at school,” Terry said.

“Don’t give me any smart mouth,” Bullard said. “You got into a fight.”

“Yes sir,” Terry said.

“You start it?”

“No sir.”

“I heard you did,” Bullard said.

“No sir,” Terry said.

“What’s your story?” Bullard said.

“Gordy wanted to see if I could box,” Terry said.

“And you broke his nose?”

“Yes sir.”

“He says you sucker punched him,” Bullard said.

“He swung on me,” Terry said. “I blocked it and countered.”

“Kip Carter supports Gordon’s story,” Bullard said. “You think he’s lying.”

“Yes sir.”

“Well,” Bullard said. “I don’t think so. And I’ve already given this as much time as I’m going to. The next time you step out of line, you’re suspended. You understand that?”

“Even if it’s not my fault?” Terry said.

“You’re a troublemaker, Novak. You’ll keep your nose clean or I’ll lower the boom on you.”

Hulking before him, Mr. Bullard reminded Terry of some kind of animal. A rhino, maybe. Thick and short and massive and ugly and mean. His eyes were kind of small, and they looked even smaller because his face was so wide. Made him look sort of dumb. Terry smiled to himself for a moment. Maybe he is dumb, Terry thought.

Bullard saw the smile.

“There’s nothing funny going on here,” Bullard said.

There’s a lot funny going on here,
Terry thought. But he kept his face blank. There was no point taking Bullard on direct.
What was it George said? Something about deciding early in the fight whether it was one you could win or one where you mainly tried to avoid getting hurt.
He knew that this was that kind of a fight. He wasn’t going to win, right now, at least. And he wasn’t going to win alone. But on the other hand, the fight wasn’t over. And every day he seemed a little less alone. Pick your spot, he said to himself.
Pick your spot.
Right now he knew that he was in a position to get kicked out of school anytime Bullard wanted to. He got kicked out, he got kicked out. He wasn’t going to stop. He was in too deep. It wasn’t even about Jason anymore. Something bad was going on, and he wasn’t going to be chased off by a pig like Bullard until he found out what it was.

Things were developing.

A
bby was sitting in a booth in the Coffee Café with her legs tucked under her. There was a book bag open in the seat beside her, a green manila folder open on the tabletop. She had a ballpoint in her hand and was drinking coffee with the same hand and talking on her cell phone. She grinned at Terry as he slid in across from her. She put the coffee down and wrote in her green folder and nodded and wrote some more.

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks, Otis.”

She broke the connection and looked at Terry.

“AIA headquarters,” she said.

“AIA?”

“Abby’s Intelligence Agency,” she said.

Marcia the waitress brought Terry some coffee and freshened up Abby’s.

When they were alone, Terry reached across and took the green folder and pulled it to him and turned it around so he could read it.

“What have you got?” he said.

“My spy log,” Abby said.

“Who are all these people? No names? Just numbers?”

“Some of my friends,” Abby said. “Some friends of my friends. Some friends of their friends. Lots of people are in on this. I give them each a number. I’m the only one who knows what number is who. They like it. It’s fun.”

“They could get in trouble,” Terry said.

“Half the school?” Abby said. “And for what? We’re just keeping track of people. What’s wrong with that?”

“Bullard wouldn’t like it,” Terry said.

Abby grinned.

“I think that’s why a lot of kids are doing it,” she said.

“And if Bullard catches you?” Terry said. “What will you do?”

Abby smiled widely and stuck out her tongue.

“That’s what you’ll do?” Terry said.

“Uh-huh.”

Terry stared at the list of numbered entries in the folder.

“Well,” he said. “At least we got him surrounded.”

“Yes,” Abby said. “What I did was, I gave all these people my cell phone number, and whenever they see either Mr. Bullard or Kip Carter All-American, they call in and tell me about it. A lot of time they leave it on my voice mail and I, you know, compile it in my room, after supper.”

“And you keep track of it all?”

“On this chart,” Abby said.

She took a piece of lavender-lined white paper out of the folder and held it up for him. He took it and they leaned toward each other across the table as she explained it. The top of her head touched his. Her hair smelled of shampoo.

“See,” she said. “I do one for Bullard and one for Kip Carter All-American. Everyone they saw. Everywhere they went. Everything they did. And the date and time.”

“How about when no one saw them?” Terry said. “Like if Bullard went to some meeting in Boston or something.”

“That time is left blank,” Abby said. “Sometimes we find out later and we fill it in. After a while we’ll get a pretty good idea of what they do all day, you know?”

“Kip Carter too?” Terry said.

“Yes.” She held up another sheet of paper. “Same thing for him.”

“Lot of work,” Terry said.

“You can help me. We’ll sit down at the end of the week and see if we see a pattern. Like we’re detectives.”

“Abby Hall,” Terry said. “Girl Detective.”

“And her trusted companion,” Abby said. “The Boxer!”

Terry put his hands up in his boxing stance for a moment.

They both laughed.

“You know,” Terry said. “We really are going to find out what happened to Jason Green.”

“Yes,” Abby said. “We really are.”

A
bby sat at her desk in front of the window in her upstairs bedroom. The messages started in the morning.

“Hi, Abb, it’s number seventeen,” a girl’s voice said.

That would be Suzi.