Union Page 5

  “I know. I can’t explain Meri’s voice, but I know what I heard!” Naz stomped and hit his knee with his fist at the same time.

  “Anyway, I thought we were supposed to be playing a game,” Harvis said.

  Naz nodded, and they motioned their fists three times. This time, they switched positions as if almost on purpose and Naz won, showing rock to Harvis’ scissors. There was something Naz had been half-dying to ask Harvis, and the few times he had, Harvis had always been evasive.

  “Whenever you help me out with something—”

  “Which is often,” interrupted Harvis.

  “And I try to return the favor or tell you I owe you one, two, three … or four, you always tell me to trust you and that I don’t.”

  “I’m a patient Young man, Naz. Is there a question coming?”

  Naz could tell Harvis knew what he was getting at and that he’d been looking forward to telling Naz this very same thing Naz was about to ask. “What happened five years ago that changed your life forever?”

  Harvis turned to Naz in a serious posture with his fingers intertwined. “You really wanna know?”

  “I really wanna know.”

  “You sure, you really wanna know?”

  “I really wanna know—” Naz yelled.

  “Shhh … OK, but you can never let the General know I’ve told you this.”

  “Fair enough,” Naz conceded, wondering what great national secret Harvis was about to reveal.

  “One day, when I was nine, my mom and the General took me to a park … not far from here actually. There was nothing special about this day that set it apart from any other day until one of my classmates showed up. He’d had it out for me for a while because I guess he thought I had everything … more than him at least. He was jealous.” Harvis glanced to his left and up toward the ceiling.

  “Earlier that year I had tried a couple of times to be his friend. It didn’t work. I had managed to avoid him by following my mother’s advice and staying away from him. ‘Walk away,’ she always said. If he was on one side of the park, I went on the other. If we were both on the same playscape at the same time, I made it a point to keep the playscape between him and me or go over to the swings or something else.” Harvis bit his bottom lip.

  “The General never agreed with my mother’s solution and always said I should face the problem head on and only then would it go away. Back then, I hated to admit it, but he was right. I mean, what were all those martial arts classes for anyway? My mom agreed with me taking the classes if they were for self-defense only.” Something resembling a smile played on Harvis’ face as he looked off into space. The look vanished as Harvis returned and continued.

  “Anyway, it was a perfect day … that is until Thomas Rensilear showed up. I did my usual keep-my-distance thing, but after a while I got careless. I accidentally bumped Tommy after going down a slide, and that was all it took. He called me a twerp, runt, or something like that. I only ever heard him use those two words when he was bullying some other kid. He wasn’t much on vocabulary. Anyway, I ignored him and tried to walk away, but he grabbed me by the arm and threw me down. I turned around and saw my mother watching. Before she could move, the General stopped her. When I tried to get up, Tommy pushed me back down and called me one of those names again. That’s when I heard someone say ‘leave him alone.’ I turned over, and it was you … only shorter and with a lot more hair.”

  Meri had told Naz this story before. He readjusted himself in his chair to pay closer attention.

  Harvis continued. “Tommy turned around, apparently stunned. Then you said, ‘why don’t you pick on somebody your own size.’ I remember it word-for-word because you were like the same size as me. Then he called you one of those names, twerp I think, and then you started in. You said things about him that you couldn’t possibly know, and I knew then there was something different about you. Tommy had failed the fourth grade, his second time failing and most of our classmates didn’t even know that … something his family tried to keep secret, but you knew.

  “All the other kids went wild, and Tommy lost it. He came straight at you twice, and both times you dropped him with that Iron Broom leg sweep you keep tryin’ to use on me. When he saw he couldn’t get to you, he found me again. He put me in a headlock and started choking me. That’s when I heard you again, ‘let him go.’ Then Tommy let me go and grabbed his own throat. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t cough. He just held his throat, and his eyes were all bugged out. He fell on the ground and started shaking. Everybody screamed. My mother came and grabbed my hand, and we hurried off in the commotion. I remember seeing the General talking to a man I’d never seen before, and I knew right away he was your dad because his hair was just like yours.”

  Realizing he was grimacing, Naz softened his face and began biting an uninjured portion of the inside of his lip.

  “After that day, at least once a week, the General would drive for a while and take me to a place high in the mountains. You would always be there. I was afraid of you at first, but nothing like that ever happened again, not until last year, so I forgot about it like it never happened. I would spar with you and play basketball. That’s how I learned to play … from your father,” Harvis finished.

  “You already knew me?” Naz thought back to his first day of school at Lincoln when he had first met Harvis in Fears’ class, the look of familiarity on Harvis’ face and only then it made sense. “So you could’ve kicked his butt. Why didn’t you fight back?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I was about to … before you did your thing. Maybe I didn’t want to hurt him. But somebody almost died because I didn’t do anything, and it wasn’t me. If Tommy had died that day, it would’ve been my fault. Now I hate a bully, but no one deserves to die for being one.”

  This information pulled Naz up short, and he thought about the burning church house, the Incubus Apostles and the rest of the gang he had hunted down after that. All those times Harvis was there, was it to have my back or to protect the Apostles from me? Maybe it was both.

  “How come you never said anything?”

  “Because the General … and Dr. Gwen made it clear, that was absolutely out of the question. Dr. Gwen says it’s imperative that you remember on your own.”

  “And you knew my dad?”

  “Yes, he’s the funniest and smartest man I’ve ever met.”

  These words reverberated in Naz’s mind because Harvis used the present tense in referring to Naz’s father, and in Naz’s mind, it had to be on purpose. Harvis would never make a mistake like that. He must want me to know something without actually saying it … that I’m right. My dad is alive.

  “So, why tell me now?” asked Naz.

  “Because you’re getting close.”

  “I’ve heard this story before.”

  “Really,” Harvis replied, incredulous.

  “Yes, from Meri. She was there with my mother that day.”

  “Wow … small world.”

  “I know, right?” Naz was anxious about the next question, and he cheated on the next round of rock-paper-scissors so he could ask it. “And Thomas … I mean Tommy, whatever happened to him?”

  “Well, if you’re worried, don’t be. He came back to school a week later, and I don’t remember him ever bothering anybody else again.”

  Naz smiled and realized his immediate thirst for more answers. He positioned his hand for more rock-paper-scissors, but before they could finish, the door opened.

  “Patience,” Harvis managed to say with a quieting finger to his lips.

  Doctor Gwen entered the room followed by John and the General. When Naz saw the General, he automatically began to rise and salute. Harvis stopped Naz with a hand to the chest before he could stand. Then Naz’s eyes met John’s, which again made his tongue search to find and feel the inside of his swollen lip. He scowled at John and smiled sheepishly at Dr. Gwen. And he was still reeling from what Harvis had just told him.

  Dr. Gwen shook her hea
d as she walked in with her typical pantsuit, only this time, she wore heels instead of running shoes, which made her at least four inches taller and a lot more imposing. The General, still clad in dress blues and hat in hand, looked intimidating as ever but was surprisingly unemotional, his eyes unwavering on Harvis.

  “Stand up,” Dr. Gwen said calmly. She towered over Naz and Harvis, her son, John and the General flanking her.

  Naz and Harvis stood.

  “The Headmaster tells me that only one person has ever scored higher on their entrance exam than you, and that person never attended International Academy. Do you know who that was, Naz?” Dr. Gwen asked.

  Naz shook his head. John rolled his eyes.

  “Your father … and I don’t think he’d be proud of you right now,” said Dr. Gwen.

  Lately, more often than not, Naz’s discussions and sessions with Dr. Gwen invariably led back to Cory.

  She continued. “The Headmaster seems to think you belong here. I agree. He also thinks that you are a severe slacker, something I also agree with. He’s already spoken to the boy you two…” she glared at Harvis and then back at Naz. “call yourselves trying to bully, and he’s willing to forget this whole thing, and I mean with no demerits, detentions, or suspensions.”

  Naz’s heart dropped, and he knew Harvis’ was on the floor, too. We’ve failed. Even with the well-timed right cross by John, we’ve failed.

  “But …” Dr. Gwen continued. “The General and I realize that although all three of you belong here, you don’t want to be here … none of you!” She glowered at John, and he looked away. “This is the deal. You will all go to Union High School.”

  Naz jumped up and down inside but made no expression.

  “The General has just gotten off the phone with Coach Fears and I with Mr. Tesla. We’ll have to work out some other arrangements for you.” She glowered at John again, and again, he rolled his eyes. “Your part of the deal is to keep your grades up.” She focused on Naz. “You will continue to go to therapy with me once a week … and if either one of you gets in the slightest bit of trouble…” She scanned all three of them, but her eyes stopped at Naz again. “You will all be returning to International Academy and acting in the proper manner. Agreed?” She raised her voice.

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Harvis.

  “Yes, Dr. Gwen,” said Naz.

  There was a pause. Dr. Gwen glared at John, her eyes slits.

  “Yes … Mother.” John looked straight ahead.

  Dr. Gwen turned her attention back to Naz. “You should’ve just asked.”

  The General left the room first. John was next, and Dr. Gwen followed, still shaking her head. Naz and Harvis stood still for a moment then gave each other a knowing glance and nod before making their way to the door.

  “I see what you mean about Dr. Gwen,” Harvis said under his breath. “Wanna go to a basketball game tonight?”

  “Sounds like fun,” Naz replied with a smile.

  There it was—that smell, the same smell that overcame him in Lincoln Middle School’s gym but even more so. Naz walked into the huge, sparsely-lit facility to the deafening sound of screams, junk-talk, and music, a far cry from gym class hours earlier at International Academy.

  Naz gave Harvis a smirk, and they both nodded. It was the Union High Dreadnaughts versus the Lutheran High West Leopards, Parochial School League and defending Class B state champions. With only minutes left in the game, the Dreadnaughts trailed the smaller school by four points. Naz and Harvis managed to stand behind the Dreadnaught bench during Fears’ final timeout—there was not a seat left in the filled-to-capacity gym—to hear a final plea from the verbose Fears.

  “Gentleman, we have less than two minutes. You—”

  “He’s holding me, Coach—”

  “Shut up, Bender!” yelled Fears. “Stop cryin’ like the freshman you are. Weaks, you ready to go in?”

  “I’m good, Coach!” yelled Soul.

  “Well, show me, Son. This is high school ball now.”

  Soul nodded as Naz and Harvis looked on.

  “Wiggins, stop playing with the ball and get it down low to Parker.”

  “Yes, Coach.”

  As the team lumbered out onto the floor, Fears turned to see Naz and Harvis still standing behind the team bench. He nodded and then motioned for them to kneel down, apparently so the audience behind them could see. He gave a slight smirk and then turned his attention back to the game.

  Naz eyed the rest of the boys on the bench—they look so old, especially those two with the beards. He reached up to feel the few hairs on his own chin that had multiplied but were still thin by comparison. Then, he hardened his face and furrowed his brow as he met eyes with the last player on the bench. He clenched his jaw as Ham immediately diverted his eyes back to the game.

  “Easy.” Harvis nudged Naz. “That’s not why we’re here.”

  “But why is he here … and not juvy or somethin’?”

  “He was. But now he’s out, and part of his probation is being on the team … with Coach.”

  Naz looked at Fears, who was engrossed in the final minute of the game and then back at Ham. He saw the tether peeking out of the top of Ham’s sock. “Coach arranged it?”

  “Yeah. You know Coach. Besides, he had his day in court.”

  “Not my court.”

  “Naz, I thought—”

  Whistles blasted, spectators erupted, and there was pandemonium on the court as Fears ran out onto the floor to apparently restrain one of his players. Several boys were already attempting to hold on to Soul as he fought to get at one of the opposing team’s players. Two were on either side of him holding his arms while another grabbed him round the waist. The player Soul fought to get at sported a sheepish grin, his arms out and palms up in a posture of innocence and surrender.

  Fears grabbed Soul from behind in a bear hug and carried him to the bench. All the while Soul screamed, the boy had been holding him and pulling his jersey.

  “Hit the showers, Son,” boomed Fears as he threw Soul in the direction of what must’ve been the locker room. “Weaks, you’re in!”

  Soul pointed to the opposing player in question all the while yelling expletives as he made his way to the locker room. School security kept a watchful eye. Fears nodded to Harvis, who in turn nudged Naz. The two followed Soul.

  There was a crash, metal banging that stopped Naz in his tracks. “Maybe we should let him cool off.”

  “Why, you scared?” Harvis smirked.

  Naz laughed. “Here we go again. I just never saw ’im like this before. Do you hear that?”

  “No, I lost my hearing in the last five seconds.”

  “Ah-ha.” Naz faked a laugh. “Too funny, Wordsmith.”

  Harvis nodded. “Oh, that’s right. You never met the Animal before. Come on.”

  Harvis led the way as the banging continued. Alternating orange and black sections of vertical lockers sat on concrete ledges before them. A few paces ahead, Harvis, exaggerating a tip-toed walk, turned with his index finger to his lips and shushed Naz playfully.

  I hate it when he gets this way. So this is Union High locker room, our locker room for the next four years. Naz felt relieved, at home—for some reason.

  The buzzer sounded from the gym signaling the end of the game—did we win? The banging continued, mingled with the muffled sound of cheers as Harvis and Naz approached the last section of orange lockers.

  “Soul,” said Harvis.

  They rounded the corner together, freezing Soul just as he was about to assault the dented metal orange locker again.

  “Or should I say, Animal,” Harvis amended.

  Soul looked at Harvis and Naz as if he had seen a ghost, both fists bloodied. He blinked and shook his head.

  “W-Wordsmith? Tin Man? What are you doing here?” Soul’s eyes flitted back and forth between Naz and Harvis.

  “We came to see the game,” said Harvis.

  “We go here.” Naz hadn’t seen S
oul in almost a year and was amazed Soul had gotten even bigger. He dwarfed Harvis and Naz.

  “You what?”

  “You heard him right; we go here now.” Harvis took a step toward Soul and extended his hand. “You OK, buddy.”

  “Yeah, we go to Union, Soul … Animal.” Naz laughed.

  Soul ran at them with his arms outstretched, first embracing Harvis with one arm and then Naz with the other, completing the group hug. “Really!? When? How?” His eyes watered.

  “Easy, big fella.” Naz continued to laugh.

  Soul released them, wiped his face, and straightened out his uniform. When he saw the blood on his knuckles, he quickly shot his hands behind his back.

  “We start tomorrow,” said Naz, trying to ignore Soul’s gestures.

  “Tomorrow? This is great.” Soul smiled and paced back and forth in the small space, obviously in deep thought. “We can be a team again.”

  “We’re not here to play ball, Soul,” said Naz, concerned. He looked at Harvis, who did not return his gaze. It was something they hadn’t talked about—oops, but Naz had decided on his own that he wouldn’t play, not until he settled things once and for all.

  “What do you mean you’re not gonna play?” Soul froze.

  “Naz is right. We’re not playing, but we’ll be at the games … you know … to watch, you.” Harvis held out his hand to Soul, but Soul ignored the gesture.

  The door opened, and the team shuffled in, moaning and groaning, excuse-making and finger-pointing. Then, Fears must’ve come in. Like a silent tsunami, he stormed through. The door to his office gave a resounding boom, silencing the complaining boys.

  Unmoved by the approaching team, Soul started pacing again, his eyes going back and forth between the two. “You have to play; we’re a team.”

  “You’re right; we are a team, but Naz and I have something to take care of first, then—”

  “Then I’m not playin’ either.” He stopped and put his fist in front of them, nodded and smiled. “Railsplitters.”