Wishing on a Blue Star (7 page)

Kip wanted to find out what he was up against, but he could barely see a clumpy ceiling of mud held together by roots that dangled from it like strings in the dim light that filtered through the place where he had fallen. It didn’t make sense. He sat upright and looked behind him. There, he found a boy about his age, who sat at his back, supporting him while he’d been lying there unconscious. They stared at one another while their eyes grew accustomed to the darkness.

The boy gazed down at Kip without much expression at all.

“You fell,” he said evenly. A frown creased his forehead and his eyes narrowed. “Does anything hurt?”

“I…” Kip got slowly to his feet. He took a brief inventory of sensation. The air smelled funny and the mud baffled any sound from above ground, but nothing seemed to hurt. “I don’t know.” He tested his legs and looked around in the gloom. On the ground his backpack and insulated vinyl cooler lay where he’d obviously landed. “I must have fallen on those.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what happened,” the boy said dryly, giving him a look that he couldn’t read as he climbed stiffly to his feet. He moved carefully, testing his legs and stretching out his arms. At one point he uttered a sharp exclamation in some language that Kip had never heard before. 

“I’m Chemuel.”

Kip faced him and held out his hand. “My name’s Kipling Rush. You can call me Kip.”

“Hello Kip.” Chemuel took the hand he’d been offered with a warm, firm grip.

Kip pumped his new friend’s hand a few times then dropped it. “What do they call you?”

The boy frowned again. “They call me Chemuel.”

Kip shook his head. “You must spend a lot of time with your head shoved in a toilet. Can I call you something else? How about… Crash. Can I call you Crash since we both sort of crashed here?”

“You may call me whatever you choose.” Crash gave him a smile so warm Kip felt like he’d put on a sweatshirt. “I’d like to be called Crash.”

“I haven’t seen you around school before.” Kip studied Crash, who wore a pair of new, dark blue jeans and a polo shirt. He looked like a lot of the kids from school, but his polo shirt wasn’t the uniform burgundy with the crest on the pocket required of all Oak Crest Academy students. Kip knelt down to take stock of the things in his backpack and lunch bag. “What grade are you in? I’m in Mrs. Clepper’s fifth grade class at Oak Crest. She’s young and pretty so everyone likes her.”

“I don’t go to your school,” Crash told him, kneeling awkwardly beside him. “What are you looking for, tools?”

“Tools?” Kip blinked up at Crash and his hands stilled.

“Yes. In your rucksack. Do you carry rope? Matches?”

“Oh, yeah.” Kip grinned. “
No.
But I have Oreos.”

“Oreos?” Crash frowned at him again.

Kip wondered if Crash was simply a frowny kind of guy; some kids were like that. All gloom and doom and what’s-the-point. “Yeah. Here.” He gave Crash a handful of cookies. He found a juice box and some water, so he decided he would ask. “Do you want juice or water?”

Crash looked at the cookies in his hand. “Water, please.”

“Here.” Crash gave him the bottle. “That one hasn’t been opened – no germs.” He tried to stab the straw into his juice box but it crumpled the first few times. When he looked back up, Crash still stared at his Oreos as if he’d never seen one before, and Kip thought maybe Crash hit his head when he fell.

“It’s okay to eat those, I have plenty.”

“That’s not…” Crash looked at him. “What are they?”

Kip gazed at him sadly. “Dude. You are
totally
homeschooled aren’t you?”

“I’m what?”

“This is an
Oreo cookie
. A chocolate sandwich cookie with something called
stuff
inside. You can get them in different flavors but my dad always says you can’t beat the classics.”

“Oh, I see. It’s a food.”

“It’s
the
food, Crash. I’ll bet wars have been fought over these. Or Fig Newtons.”

Crash brightened. “I know what figs are. And Newton.
Nature and nature’s laws lay hid in night; God said, ‘Let Newton be’ and all was light.
” Crash chuckled. “That Pope.”

Kip didn’t get it. “Which Pope?”

“Samuel Pope.” Crash explained. “He said that. About Newton.”

“Ah.”

Crash seemed fascinated by his cookies so Kip took pity on him. “Like this, see? You break them apart by twisting, then lick.”

“Sweet,” Crash observed when he did the same.

“My mom says they’re nothing but sugar and pig fat.”

Crash’s eyes widened as he nearly gagged. “Pig fat?”

“Not really, though. You’re probably a vegan huh, or eat macrobiotic food? Kenji Sarukowa in my class eats macrobiotic.”

“Sometimes it seems to me that you aren’t speaking English.”

“That’s probably because you don’t get out much.”

Crash laughed at that. “Do you have anything in there that might be useful?

“I carry my books in my backpack. Papers, pencils. Crayons.”

“Pretty soon it’s going to be dark.”

“I know that, I have my cell phone, and it has a little light that we can see by.”

Crash snorted. “And how will that help you when it gets cold? Surely you can’t expect it to keep you warm? Its glow gives off no heat at all.”

“Are you kidding me?” Kip looked at Crash again, peering at him through the shadows. “Probably not, huh?”

“No.”

Kip reached for his phone and opened it, sliding the keyboard out so the screen lit up and he got his first really good look at the boy he’d named Crash. His first conclusion
—
that the strange boy had to be Amish or something
—
seemed to be corroborated by his weird perfection. It almost hurt to look at him. Kip stared at Crash in awe. “
Dude
.”

“
Dude
, again. What do you mean when you say that?”

“I can see why it might be hard for you in public school. You’re learning English as a second language plus you’re as pretty as a girl. If you went to my school Sean Velasquez would run you up the flagpole in your underwear.”

Crash stared at him with wide gray eyes.

Kip’s voice rose. “Crash. When you fell,
did you hit your head
?”

Crash growled, “I’m right here. I can hear you fine. I just wish I could understand you.”

Kip stopped what he was doing when understanding dawned. “You’re scared, aren’t you, Crash?”

“No.”

“‘Cause it’s okay if you’re frightened. I mean
—
it’s a dark and kind of scary place. How long have you been down here?”

“A while,” Crash seemed reluctant to talk about it. “But I’m really not frightened.”

“All right.” Kip dismissed his denial. If Crash didn’t want to admit he was scared, it was no big deal. If he didn’t have to keep up a brave front for Crash he’d probably be scared too. “I didn’t even know this place was here. I come home this way every day.”

“I know.” Crash told him. “I watch you. I could see that one day you’d simply step on the wrong board and fall through.”

“
Jeez
! If you could see that, then why didn’t you say something?”

Crash shrugged his shoulders.

“Is that one of those immigrant things? Were you afraid to talk? First thing we’re going to do is work on your language skills.”

“My—”

 “Hold on, Crash, I got this.” Kip turned his back, holding his phone out to squint at it. “Cool. We’ve got three bars.” He could feel Crash’s fathomless gray eyes boring into his back.

“Three bars? Does that mean we won something?”

Kip ignored him. “Hello? Mom, you won’t believe this…”

How shall I describe it? Once I stared into the void. Once I gazed upon the very spark of creation. Even then the idea of you was in my imagination.

Yet as easily as if you found a shiny pebble — as effortlessly as plucking a stone off the ground and placing it your pocket — you pulled me into the immensity that is your human heart and made me whole.  That day, when I gave up everything to break your fall,
you
caught
me
.

Even years later, even after I’d made my home securely in your heart, I had no idea what that would mean to me…

Crash pushed his body harder than he ever had. He ran as fast as he could, cursing the limitation of
lungs
, the pitiful skin sacks that pulled air into his chest and refined it, and
heart,
the pump that sent oxygen through his blood to his muscles. He railed against the meaningless restrictions of natural law. He’d given his all, as always, but as he tore through the empty campus he feared the consequences of being even seconds late.  He reached the science building barely in time to throw open the door before the buzzer.

During school, when students broke free of their classes and ran pell-mell through the hallways, the place thrummed with energy and laughter. Now, during winter break it was as deserted as an ancient tomb, open only to those who really had no business being there, and Kip, of course, whose job it was to lock it up after he fed the laboratory animals. Crash took the stairs two at a time and pelted for the lab, knowing exactly what he’d find there. 

“HEY!” he shouted, shoving aside three beefy boys. He used the precious adrenaline that seemed to flow from his fear to his fingertips as he fought for possession of the man they held down between them. For the love of heaven, they’d already begun to tear Kip’s clothes off. He’d almost got there too late after all. “I’ve already informed campus security and they’re on their way. Leave him alone or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll
what
,” snarled a boy with short spikes for hair.

Crash stood his ground, vibrating with such rage it made the very air around him crackle. Kip’s attackers looked at one another. They took several steps backward. Crash smiled his most beautiful
—
and therefore his most alarming
—
smile.

I’ve still got it.

Crash held his hand out to help Kip from the floor.

Kip drawled, “Or he’ll tell you long, drawn-out stories in Latin until you drop dead of boredom, that’s what.” He got shakily to his feet. “Crash? Meet Bullies. Bullies, Crash.”

The three boys who’d attacked Kip seemed to lose their nerve, possibly because they were believed the lie he’d told about campus security. It was a tremendous relief when they fled. Crash let out a shaky breath. Kip was safe and the threat was gone.

A useful thing, adrenaline, but it had its drawbacks
.

“Those were not bullies.  They intended to ravish you.”

“Ravish? No need to take on like someone’s Victorian auntie.” Kip refused to meet his eyes. “I doubt it would have come to that.”

Kip’s legs trembled, but as always he didn’t show his fear. He walked past Crash to wash his hands in a show of bravado that nearly made Crash cry. When Kip kept washing and steam rose from the sink to fog the mirror, Crash was reminded of Lady Macbeth.

 “How did this happen?”

Kip was silent, even when Crash pulled him away from the sink and gave him a towel.

“Tell me.”

“I told you I went to a club last night, right?” Kip pulled a cigarette from a pack in his pocket and lit it with hands that still shook.

Crash reached out and grabbed the cigarette away. “And I told you. You may not smoke.” Crash frowned when Kip surrendered without a fight. “You went dancing with Stacey, didn’t you?”

“Not exactly.” Kip turned and sat in a rolling chair behind a computer, making notes, still avoiding his eyes.

“What do you mean
not exactly
.”

Kip put up a token resistance. “You’re not my mother.”

“No.” Crash agreed. “I’m not your mother.” He sat down beside Kip and waited patiently, which he knew Kip hated. Kip despised patience in any form.

Kip sighed and rolled his head. Crash swiveled Kip’s chair around and began to massage his shoulders before he even thought about it, using his strong hands to knead the ropy muscles that ran down Kip’s neck and across his back. They probably burned with agony as he dug into knots that seemed like acorns, but Kip leaned into his touch as if it were hot water.

“That’s good.”

Crash said nothing, merely continued to push with his thumbs, relaxing Kip’s still tense body until he chose to break his silence.

“I went to a club alone. The one on 19th Street. Pulse.”

“Pulse?” Crash tried to hear what Kip wasn’t saying. “What happened there?”

“I danced.” Kip hissed when Crash pressed his elbow into the knot just below his shoulder blades. “I met someone I thought was nice and we went outside for a smoke.”

“I
hate
that you do that.”

“I know.” Kip swallowed hard. “Prepare to hate this even more. I didn’t just go outside to smoke. The person I met was hot.”

“I see.” Crash’s hands stopped moving.

“I thought—” Kip slumped into Crash’s touch, silently asking for it to continue, like a dog that wanted to be scratched. “I thought we had something going. It turned out it was all some sort of awful prank and I ran away.”

“You didn’t tell me.” Crash’s heart slammed into the bones that surrounded and protected it, very much like it had when he’d run. He’d always found the sensation interesting. Apparently it happened for a number of different reasons. Like now, when he realized he’d been inadequate in his care of Kipling Rush. “How could I not know about this?”

“I didn’t want to tell you.” Kip didn’t turn. “I thought maybe you’d rather not know.”

Hmph
. “And?”

“It was one of those guys, and he came with his friends tonight to finish what we started.”

Crash’s blood went cold and he wondered if there were times when the pump in his chest could stop altogether. “I don’t think I comprehend.”

Kip rolled his chair out of reach. “There was a kind of scavenger hunt. Like a game. I found about it from a friend, later. They broke up into groups of three with a list of things to get, and the first team back would win.”

Crash shook his head, still not able to understand. “But what did they want?”