Over the Edge (2 page)

“You know how I sometimes get feelings about things, and then they come true? Well, I have a feeling about Morgan. It's a really, really
bad
feeling, Jack.”

It was cold in the hallway, especially with just a T-shirt on for a top. “I don't have time for this,” Jack groaned. “It's probably the burritos you had for dinner.”

“I mean it, Jack.”

“So do I. Eat a Tums or something. Good night.”

He left her standing there. Wrapping himself into his plaid comforter, he watched as the red, boxy numbers on his alarm clock blinked away the minutes. Determined to wait for the verdict, Jack willed himself to stay awake, until a buzzing startled him. His eyes flew open to morning light shining though his window blinds and a small figure hovering in his doorway.

“Morgan—is he here?” Jack mumbled.

Ashley nodded, then walked away.

D
uring the first part of their flight from Jackson Hole, Morgan told Jack a little about his school, complaining that Dry Creek was populated by redneck kids with low-octane brains. In the small town of 700, there was nothing to do but ride horses, which Morgan adamantly refused to do, and nothing to see except scrawny cows and scrawnier chickens. Every other comment he made was punctuated by his request to use Olivia's laptop, which Olivia declined to hand over. Morgan kept talking, but when the seat-belt light blinked off, Ashley quickly escaped toward the rest room. Jack followed.

“I don't think I can take another two hours listening to him,” she complained the minute they were out of Morgan's hearing. “He is driving me absolutely crazy.”

They bumped their way down the narrow aisle until they reached the back of the plane. A man with a bald, round head and a much rounder paunch stood ahead of them, shifting from foot to foot as he waited for the tiny “Occupied” sign to slide to “Vacant.” For a moment, Jack wondered how the man would fit into a bathroom as small as a metal coffin, but when the door open, the man managed to turn sideways and squeeze inside.

“I mean, all he does is talk about himself,” Ashley continued. “Have you noticed that everyone else is stupid, and he's brilliant, and blah, blah, blah. When Mom told him about going to the Grand Canyon because the condors were dying, he just stared out the window like he didn't even care. Maybe if everyone hates him, he should get a clue. I want to say, ‘Hello—the problem is
you,
Morgan.'”

“He's not so bad,” Jack said defensively.

When Ashley gave him a look, he said, “OK, he's weird, but he's also…interesting.”

“As long as you buy into everything he's saying. And he's like
obsessed
with computers. Mom thinks he could be dangerous, and I think she's right.”

“Oh, come on. When did Mom say that?” Jack demanded.

“Last night. While you were in bed, I snuck down the hall and listened in on their conversation. I've never heard them argue about taking in a foster kid before.” With her fingers curled against her protruding hip, Ashley waved her free hand in the air, almost hitting a flight attendant who hustled by. “Finally, Mom told Dad if it was that important she'd go along, but she thought any kid vicious enough to trash a whole town had a lot of pent-up rage. Then Dad told her that it was a lot healthier to write about bad feelings than act on them, and then they called Ms. Lopez inside and took Morgan.”

The lavatory door opened, and the round man pushed his way out. Ashley was next.

“What I can't figure out is why you even like him,” she declared from the doorway. “He's a punk.”

“I didn't say I liked him.”

“You don't have to.” With that, Ashley snapped the door shut, leaving Jack to think about what she'd said. It wasn't exactly that he liked Morgan, but he couldn't help being drawn to his…what was it? Maybe his self-assured view of the world according to Morgan. His braininess. Maybe even the fact that people thought him dangerous, although Jack didn't believe it. By the time Jack had made it back to his seat, he could tell Morgan had said something that had set Jack's mother off again. He could see her eyes flashing, while Ashley, already seated, wore an I-told-you-Morgan-was-trouble expression.

“Hey—what's going on?” he asked, settling down in his seat. He was in the middle, Morgan had folded himself in next to the window, and Ashley had the aisle. Their parents were seated directly opposite them.

“Morgan just informed us that he's not at all interested in the Grand Canyon,” Olivia answered tartly. “He says it's nothing more than a big hole in the ground.”

Jack pressed his fingertips into his forehead.

“What do you expect from an anarchist? The definition of my personality is to rebel. If the masses like it, I won't,” Morgan answered.

“I'm sure you'll change your mind when you see the canyon,” Steven commented, trying to smooth things. “Olivia, why don't you tell me more about your plan for the condors? What's your first move?”

Twisting back into her seat, Olivia allowed herself to get drawn into a conversation about the enormous, prehistoric birds that were dying in the Grand Canyon. Jack let out a breath. The immediate danger had passed.

“What was that all about?” Jack hissed at Morgan.

“You mean just now? Nothing. I was just disagreeing.”

“Did you have to be rude?”

“Hey, it's free speech.”

“It's stupid. You can't say everything that pops into your mind. Besides, this is my family. You get my mom upset and the whole thing goes south. If you want to get along with
me,
you need to learn when to shut up!”

Morgan's defiance quickly changed to amusement and then settled into what might have been a glimmer of respect. “OK,” he said, nodding. Keeping his voice low enough that the others couldn't hear, he whispered, “I guess it's true that every once in a while, I do cross the verbal line. I didn't think calling the Grand Canyon a hole in the ground was that big a deal, but I stand corrected.”

“One more thing,” Jack said pointedly, “Why don't you at least
ask
my mom about the condors?”

Morgan's thin brows met. “Condors?”

“Yeah. The condors. You know, the reason we're going.” Jack rotated his hand like a wheel, trying to get Morgan's mind clicking, but nothing seemed to register. “Remember, she talked about it while we were buying your airline ticket? Weren't you listening?” It seemed almost unbelievable that Morgan could have inhabited the same space as the Landons while they discussed the mystery of the condors and their strange deaths, and have blocked it out so completely.

“Tell me again,” he said, stretching his legs under the seat in front of him.

“Ask my mom.”

“No, I don't want her to know I wasn't tracking. So, what's the deal?”

“Well, like my mom said, the condors are very, very rare. Almost extinct. They used to nest all through the Southwest and the Grand Canyon during the Ice Age, but they disappeared at the end of the Ice Age. Are you listening?”

Morgan's lids had drifted shut, but he quickly snapped them open. “Yeah. I'm just thinking with my eyes closed.”

“So then the condors made a comeback to the Southwest and the canyon at the same time the white settlers showed up. The settlers hunted and killed the condors. Now there are fewer than 200 of them in the whole world.”

“Right. I remember that part. Aren't they giant vultures or something? Their wingspan is, like, nine feet wide. Yeah, they're these huge, extremely ugly birds that eat dead things.”

Jack nodded. “Anyway, they're dying, and nobody knows how to stop it. So the people at the Grand Canyon called in my mom to help solve the mystery. She's a wildlife veterinarian, and my dad's a professional photographer.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It's life or death for these birds, Morgan. Ask my mom, and she'll tell you the whole thing. Say you want to know more about the condors, and the hole-in-the-ground stuff will be forgotten. Guaranteed.”

“If I ask her about the birds, do you think she'll let me use her laptop?”

“No. Maybe. Probably not.” Sighing, Jack said, “Here—take this,” and handed over his own Game Boy and his new game called Alien Child. That did it. As soon as Morgan switched on the Game Boy, something inside him seemed to shut down. He didn't so much as look out the airplane window for the rest of the flight to Phoenix. He kept playing the game as they stood in line to rent a car and as they drove, grunting a reply when Steven told him they'd just entered Grand Canyon National Park.

 

While the Landons strained to see even a shadow of what lay beyond the rim, Morgan concentrated on the Game Boy, its greenish light barely illuminating his face, his fingers deftly punching the tiny controls as his eyes stared, unblinking. Jack had never seen anyone so transfixed by something electronic. It was as if Morgan had fused himself into that tiny screen. He found himself agreeing with Ashley: Morgan really was strange.

 

“Get up, Jack. You said you wanted to see the sunrise hit the walls of the Grand Canyon. It's time to rise and shine!”

Jack felt a gentle tug on his covers, but he pulled them close and curled into their protective warmth. “Too early,” he muttered to his mother.

Ignoring him, Olivia gave the edge of his bed a playful bounce. “Come on—up and at 'em! You too, Morgan. Throw on some clothes. You can shower when we get back. And Jack, don't forget your camera. I'm turning on the light right…now!”

“No—” Jack began, but there was a click and a flood of light stabbed his eyes. His mother stood, fully dressed in stonewashed jeans and a hooded jacket. Although wrinkles lined the corners of her eyes when she smiled, Olivia looked young and trim. And full of energy.

Morgan grabbed a pillow and put it over his face. “What time is it?” he asked in a muffled voice.

“Six o'clock.”

“Six?”
The pillow flew off his face as he looked at her incredulously. “Six
a.m.?
No normal human being gets up this early. I'll stay here while you Earth people go and do whatever homage you tree-hugging types do. I'm a creature of the night. I don't do mornings.”

“Nice try. We're doing this as a family, which now includes you.”

“I don't wish to be included.”

“I'm afraid it's not a matter of what you wish.” Olivia's voice had an edge to it, although Morgan didn't know her well enough to hear it.

Flopping a long, thin arm over his eyes, Morgan looked as though he were trying to block out the light in addition to blocking out Olivia. “Look, I've already seen the Grand Canyon. Virtually. I got a view from the comfort of my own computer, which is the perfect way to experience it—no bugs or heat or fatigue. I don't need the real thing.”

“Let me assure you that there is absolutely no comparison between the two. Reality will always trump the virtual world. Besides that, I'm not leaving until I see you're truly up.” She stood over him, her arms planted on her hips, until Morgan gave a loud, long sigh.

“Zealot,” he muttered.

“Guilty as charged. And just one more little thing. I want to ask you a favor.”

“Now what?” Morgan asked, his voice squeaking. “I'm already denying my physical body its sleep. What more can I give up?”

Olivia hesitated for only a moment before saying, “I'd like you to leave the Game Boy here while we go to the rim.”

“Aw,
man!”
Morgan exploded.

“I noticed that you do tend to get a bit—involved—with that thing. You need to experience the Grand Canyon with your whole being.”

Pulling himself to a sitting position, Morgan swung his legs over the side of the bed. A large, white T-shirt hung on him like an oversize shroud, revealing how thin Morgan really was. Elbows protruded in knots from branch-like arms. His chest was sunken, as if he didn't have enough muscle to hold his body in anything but a pale question mark.

“I don't believe this! You're just like the people at Dry Creek. Why can't I have the freedom to experience the Grand Canyon in my own way?”

Olivia's lips pressed together before she finally answered, “Humor me. What do you say, Morgan? Will you leave the Game Boy?”

“Sure. Whatever,” he answered.

Olivia looked both surprised and pleased. “Thank you. You won't be sorry. And now for you, my son,” she began, turning her gaze on Jack. “I see you're still in bed. We'll miss the sunrise—”

“OK, OK,” Jack moaned. “Go back in your room so we can get dressed.”

Stretching muscles that had stiffened from hours of travel, Jack waited for the door to shut behind Olivia. Once again, his parents were in an adjoining room with Ashley, while he and a foster kid—this time Morgan—shared the connecting space. The room at Yavapai Lodge looked clean and homey, but not fancy.

“It was nice of you to agree about the Game Boy, Morgan. How far did you get on the new game?”

“Man, I totally conquered it, but it's a game for eight-year-olds or computer cretins. I'm just using it as a crutch until I can get my hands on a real computer.”

“There's some good stuff on Game Boy,” Jack answered lamely, embarrassed that Morgan thought his games were childish.

“If you think that stuff is good, it's only because you don't know any better. Haven't you ever been on the Internet?”

“Sure. For school reports and stuff. I e-mailed a guy in Spain and a girl in Ireland for a class project.”

“That means you, my man, need to see what a real game is all about.” As Jack hurriedly pulled on his clothes Morgan kept talking, never pausing, as if he'd been charged with a new mission. “You get me your mother's laptop, and I'll show you graphics that'll blow your mind! There's a universe you've never experienced, an Internet cosmos where there are no rules, no boundaries. It's time you got out of your computer kindergarten and joined the cyberworld!”

“But, there's a lot of bad stuff on the Net. I don't want my mom's laptop to catch a virus or something.”

Morgan quickly pushed his hair back off his face and trained his eyes on Jack. “Every year, people fall over the edge of the Grand Canyon. They die. You wouldn't want to miss seeing the scenery outside because there's an infinitesimal chance you could fall over the edge, right? It's the same with the Web—you factor in risk and go on.” Sitting on the end of the bed, elbows drilling his knees, he said, “How would you like to see graphics so real they singe your hair, chat with your favorite rock star, or burn a disk of the hottest music for free?”

“Cool,” Jack breathed.