Authors: Michele Tallarita
“Yeah.”
There’s a moment of silence, and she says, “Damien, no offense, but that guy would kicked the crap out of you.”
“I know.”
“But you’d still rather not be defended?”
“No. I mean, yes. Look, guys are supposed to defend girls. Girls aren’t supposed to defend them.”
She cocks her head. “Why? If the girl is a good fighter, and the guy is a bad one, the girl should do the punching.”
“Logically, you have a point, but
—
”
“I’m pretty sure I just have a point.”
I shift uncomfortably. I guess there is no good reason why a guy can’t be defended by a girl, other than the guy having to take a blow to his pride. But I guess that doesn’t make much sense, either. Who decided on these rules, anyway?
“You’re right,” I say.
Sammie smiles with satisfaction. “Thank you.”
“It’s just...” I pull my eyes toward the floor. “I was always worried I wasn’t good enough, and when you saw, you know, what happens to me at school, I thought you’d think I was even more of a nobody.”
“Not good enough?”
“Yeah.”
“For me?”
I lift my head and take in her large blue eyes, the delicate curve of her cheek, and the way her skin seems to glow beneath the cafeteria’s moonlit skylight. “Yes.”
Unbelievably, Sammie begins to snort.
“What are you laughing at?” I say.
“You’re deranged,” she wheezes.
“I’m not...understanding you.”
“You seriously think I’m too good for you?
Me?
” She throws up her hands, as if the idea is preposterous. “I’m a total freak. I grew up in a science lab, for God’s sake. Now I’m a criminal, and a failed one at that. I have literally nothing to offer. You’re the one who’s been making all the sacrifices, not me.”
“Yeah, but I’m
—
”
“A good guy.” She holds my gaze, her face serious. “A smart one, too. And thoughtful, and kind. So some guy pushes you around at school. I don’t really see how that relates to what I think of you.”
I gape at her. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Really?”
“Yes.”
I shake my head around, in an effort to ensure that I am not dreaming. Then I turn to her. “You’re not a freak.”
She laughs. “I fly through the air, Damien.”
I can’t help but laugh, too. “Okay, good point. But maybe you should use a different term.”
“Screw-up? Weirdo? Mutant?”
“Unique. Let’s go with that.”
“What’s unique?” says a loud, snide voice.
I turn to see Joe Butt, the Leslies, and Hank walking toward us. Joe Butt wears a sort of nose cast, a white bandage that arches between his eyes. One of the Leslies has a black eye, and the other limps.
Butt stops about two feet in front of me. “What’s unique?” he says again. “How bad I’m gonna mess you up?”
I swallow hard and stand my ground, but can’t think of anything better to say than, “
No.
”
Joe Butt throws back his head and laughs, along with the rest of his goons. I look around for help
—
it’s a crowded dance, after all
—
but no one seems to notice us.
Sammie springs toward Butt. “Can I
ask
you something?”
I swear he flinches. “
No.
”
“What is the deal with you?” she says. “Why do you act like this?”
Joe Butt looks back and forth at the Leslies and starts to giggle. “What is this, some kind of...interview?”
Butt and his goons explode with laughter, and Sammie and I look at each other in confusion. What was funny about that?
Butt turns to me, still laughing. “Can you get your cousin to stand down, so we can duke this out like
men?
”
Sammie gets even closer to Butt, thrusting her face toward his. “You just don’t want to get beat up again.”
“Nuh uh!” he says.
“Uh huh!” she says.
“Sammie!” I say, and she whirls around. “Let’s just...go. I don’t want to spend any time with these guys. Not tonight.”
Sammie stares at me for a long moment, then nods. “You’re right.” She begins to walk away. I do, too.
A hand clutches my shoulder and spins me around. It’s Butt. He pulls back his fist, and I squeeze my eyes shut. But before the blow comes, there’s a blast of cold air at the nape of my neck, and my whole body jerks to the side. It feels as if someone has grasped my shoulders and moved me. I open my eyes, shocked, and see Joe Butt’s fist extended. He has punched the air.
The Leslies rush at me, one coming for my right side, the other for my left. There’s another blast of air at my neck, and I zoom backwards, my feet dragging on the floor. The Leslies collide with a
smack!
Before I can move, Butt wraps his huge arms around around me. But I blast right through them and
fly over his head
, landing softly on my feet behind him. I stand frozen, the back of my neck prickling oddly.
Butt turns around slowly. “What the hell?”
Sammie glares at him. “You’re going to leave him alone from now on. Got it?”
Butt begins to laugh, but Sammie jumps closer to him, and
the smirk falls off his face.
“Come on, guys. Let’s go,” says Butt, and they all go stumbling off.
I remain where I am, too much in shock to reactivate my body just yet. I just jumped eight feet in the air. Typically, that is not something I can do. In fact, I know of only one person in the world who can.
“Sammie?” I say.
Her eyes dart away from mine. “Yes?”
“What the heck?”
She glances around. Clouds have converged over the moon, so the cafeteria is darker, the only light from the frantic reflections of the disco ball. We are still near the outskirts of the dance, near a wall, and there is no one close to us. Joe Butt and his goons have disappeared into the crowd.
Sammie leans back against the wall and slides to the floor, stretching her legs in front of her and rubbing her temples. Uncertain what to do, I slide down beside her.
“Are you okay?” I say.
“It makes my head hurt,” she murmurs.
“What does?”
She drops her hands into her lap. “Double-fly.”
“Double-what?”
“Damien,” she says, “remember when I disappeared?”
“Vividly.”
“
That’s
what I was working on.” She shudders, as if remembering something very unpleasant. “The boss...since I can’t kill anybody...the only way he’ll keep me around is if I can pull off double-fly, because then I’ll be useful again. Somebody else can do the killing.” She turns to me, eyes wide. “But it’s never worked before.”
I squint at her. “Let me get this straight. You can make other people fly?”
“Not usually. Most of the time, it feels like I’m trying to use a muscle I don’t have.”
“Then why did it work with me?
She stares at me for a long moment, as if trying to figure it out herself. “I’m not sure. The boss was muttering something about how if I actually cared about the other person, it might work. Guess he was right.” Her expression goes distant, and she lifts her face toward the ceiling. “It might work with Jiminy, then. We’ve never tried that.”
“Jiminy?” I say. “I talked to him!”
She whips her head toward me. “
What?
”
Thrown off by her response, I mutter, “Yeah. That’s how the criminals knew to go rescue you. I called Jiminy on your cell phone.”
Her eyes bulge. “They
didn’t
rescue me. The plane crashed, and I got out the emergency exit. You talked to Jiminy?”
I remain silent for several moments, allowing my brain to catch up with what Sammie has said. The criminals never rescued Sammie. I didn’t help after all. “Was that the wrongt thing to do?”
She crushes her face into her hands. “Oh, Damien. What did you say to him?
Exactly
.”
“Just that the scientists had gotten you, and to please try to rescue you, and that I was your friend.”
She leaps to her feet. “Get up. We need to get out of here.”
I climb to my feet. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re not getting this, are you? They’re going to trace the phone signal and come for you. You specifically.”
I gape at her. “Why?”
“Damien, the boss knows double-fly will work with someone I care about. You basically told them over the phone that you care about me, which means there’s a good chance...”
“That you care about me, too.”
She nods.
“But what’s he going to do?” I say. “Kidnap me and turn me into an assassin? Just because you can fly me places doesn’t mean I’m going to kill anyone.”
“You have no idea what he’s capable of making people do,” she says, her face darkening. “Plus, there’s a good chance he’ll just have me practice on you for a while, and then...” She swallows hard, her bottom lip trembling.
“Kill me.”
She grabs my arm and yanks me toward the exit of the cafeteria. I trot beside her, glancing back and forth, suddenly paranoid.
“Do you have your car here?” Sammie asks.
“Yes.”
“Good. We’re going to drive back to your house, get whatever you need, and get out of town.”
I raise my brows. “Both of us?”
“Yes, Damien. I’m not about to leave you here and let them take you.”
I’m suddenly feeling a lot better about this. “Do we need to drive? Can’t we just...fly?”
She shakes her head as we emerge from the cafeteria, both of us blinking into the light. “What I did just now was the extent of what I can do: a couple feet, for a couple seconds, and my head hurts even from that.”
From down the hall, there’s a fast-paced clopping of footsteps. Sammie wrenches me back against the wall, and we peer around the curve of the hallway. About a dozen men in black suits stampede toward us.
We turn around and sprint the way we came.