Authors: Doug Wilhelm
The Revealers (6 page)
“Why?” Catalina said. “Why'd he do it?”We were sitting in the emergency room on colored plastic chairs, the kind with a shiny square bar underneath the whole row.
“Well, he was mad about what happened to you,” I said. “But I also think it was all the stuff people've done to him for years.”
“People have really been doing things to him for years?”
“Oh yeah. It's always been open season on Elliot.”
She shook her head. Her face was flushed. “And those two just ran away?”
“Yeah. When they lost him and he fell, they got scared.”
“They could have killed him.”
“Well ⦠it wasn't that far to fall.”
“But he hit his head.”
“Yeah.” I couldn't argue with that. When we pulled Elliot out, his eyes were rolling back and he didn't know where he was. He didn't know
who
he was.
who
he was.
Catalina was looking down the hall where they'd taken Elliot. His mom was in there with him. His two older sisters,
Jaimie and Hannah, were looking up at the TV that was hanging in a corner. My mom sat next to them, paging through a magazine.
Jaimie and Hannah, were looking up at the TV that was hanging in a corner. My mom sat next to them, paging through a magazine.
After we got him out, after Chris ran to the house next to the park and called for the ambulance and came back, I went and called my mom at work. I asked if she would try to find Catalina's number, and call her. The ambulance came, then my mom picked me up and took me home so I could change, then we picked up Catalina and drove to the hospital. Chris didn't come. He was pretty upset. “We didn't mean to,” he kept saying while we were waiting for the ambulance. “We didn't mean to.”
“Catalina?” My mom was looking up from her magazine. “Do your parents know you're here?”
“I left a note for my dad.”
“Oh,” she said. “What about your mom?”
Catalina looked away. “She's not here,” she said softly. “She's back home.”
“Back home?”
“Yes. I am from the Philippines.”
My mom looked interested, but you could see she decided to ease up, thank god. She went back to her magazine.
I felt bad. “I'm sorry,” I said.
Catalina looked up quickly. “About what?”
I could feel my face heat up. “About ⦠you know ⦠about what happened. What those girls wrote. That was totally wrong, for them to say that.”
She was looking at me. “You think it was true, don't you?”
“No! I mean ⦠it doesn't matter.”
“What do you mean it doesn't matter?” The mask was gone, that's for sure. She was really upset. She whispered, “What if they told everybody? What if everybody thinks it's true?”
“Everybody wouldn't.”
“But they don't
know.”
She looked around. Nobody else was listening. “You don't know,” she whispered.
know.”
She looked around. Nobody else was listening. “You don't know,” she whispered.
I thought about that. “I guess that's why they could say it,” I said. “'Cause nobody knows what's really true.”
She sat there, staring ahead. “I know it,” she said softly. She turned to me. “I know what's true.”
“Okay. It's okay.”
But of course it wasn't okay, and I knew it wasn't. Why did I keep saying things were okay when nothing was?
Â
Mrs. Gekewicz came out. My mom popped up, and the sisters forgot the TV.
“It's really not that bad,” Elliot's mom said. “He's got a minor concussion, an abraded arm, and a badly sprained ankle. The doctor says the worst thing is he'll be on crutches for a couple of weeks. And he may be a little spaced out.”
Hannah looked at Jaimie, the older sister, and said, “How will we tell?” But Jaimie frowned.
My mom went over and took Mrs. Gekewicz's hands. Elliot's mom squeezed them, then she came up to me.
“Thank you, Russell,” she said. “Thank you. You probably saved his life.”
I didn't know what to say. “It wasn't just me,” I said, but she had already turned to take Catalina's hand, too. “I wish you could have seen his face when I told him you were hereâboth of you,” she said. “Getting together with you two has made
such
a difference for him.”
such
a difference for him.”
It has? I thought, Wasn't he better off before? I remembered him paging through those dinosaur books in the library, looking up excitedly to show me stuff before this whole thing started. Then I thought about his little marbles and his little black sock, lying in that gravel.
I got him into this, didn't I? This is just another total screwup by me. This whole, total disaster. It's my fault.
I had to stop this from getting worse. I
had
to. No more stupid experiments. No more pretending we were scientists or something; it was like painting a bull's-eye on our faces, for some reason. Everyone was hurt, and hurt bad. I looked at Catalina. Her expression was complicated.
had
to. No more stupid experiments. No more pretending we were scientists or something; it was like painting a bull's-eye on our faces, for some reason. Everyone was hurt, and hurt bad. I looked at Catalina. Her expression was complicated.
That's it, I thought. Enough is enough.
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“Elliot's family seems nice,” Catalina said in the car on the way home. She was sitting up front with my mom.
“It's a good family,” my mom said. “His dad travels a lot. But I think they're very close. He's lucky.”
I said, “Elliot's lucky?”
My mom glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Why shouldn't Elliot be lucky?”
“Mom, he gets dumped on by anybody who feels like it, anytime they feel like it.”
“I know. But he has people. He has his family. And his mom's rightânow he has you two.”
I sagged in my seat. Didn't they understand what a disaster this was? Hadn't we just come from a hospital? Hello?
“You mentioned your dad, Catalina,” my mom said. “Did you ⦠want to come with him to this country?”
Catalina shook her head. “I wanted to stay with my mom. My dad said it was best for me to get an American education.”
“You're sure getting one,” I said. My mom looked sharply at me in the rearview mirror.
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“So,” I said to Catalina a little later. “This whole scientific investigation thing. What a boneheaded idea
that
was, huh?”
that
was, huh?”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
We were at AJ's, a burger-and-ice-cream place, having hot chocolate. I suddenly remembered: The original idea was Catalina's, wasn't it?
“It's not that it was a bad
idea,”
I said quickly, “it's just that ⦠okay, we tried it. It didn't work, to say the least. We better give it up and find something else to do. Right?”
idea,”
I said quickly, “it's just that ⦠okay, we tried it. It didn't work, to say the least. We better give it up and find something else to do. Right?”
“But ⦠why?”
“Why what?” My mom was sitting down.
“Oh,” I said, “we had this idea, but it didn't work out.”
“What idea?”
“It's nothing. Really.”
“It's
not
nothing,” Catalina said. “I don't see why we should give up.”
not
nothing,” Catalina said. “I don't see why we should give up.”
“Give up what?”
“It's really nothing,” I told my mom. I turned to Catalina. “Look,” I said, pointing at my eye. “See what happened to me? Remember where we just were? See how upset you are?”
“Are you upset, Catalina?”
“Mom
⦔
⦔
“Okay,” she said. “I just wondered ⦔
“Now Elliot can't even walk,” I said to Catalina. “Why would we want any more of this?”
“But,” she said, “if you're doing an experiment and you don't like your first results ⦔
“It was a disaster. It didn't work.”
“It didn't work at
first,”
Catalina said. “But that doesn't mean we should just give up.”
first,”
Catalina said. “But that doesn't mean we should just give up.”
“Would someone please tell me what in the world you two are talking about?” my mom said.
Catalina told her. “We said we would try to learn things about certain people who were ⦠giving us trouble.”
“Making our life hell,” I said.
Catalina nodded. “So we tried doing some things differently, to see what they'd do. It was an experiment.”
“It was nothing.”
“It wasn't nothing to me,” Catalina said, sitting back and crossing her arms.
“I still want to be
friends,”
I said. “I just don't want any more disasters. We're not going to get people to change anyway, so why don't we just let it go?”
friends,”
I said. “I just don't want any more disasters. We're not going to get people to change anyway, so why don't we just let it go?”
“I remember talking about this, the other night,” my mom said. “This was how you got punched, wasn't it?”
“Yep. It was idiotic. And it was my fault.”
“It wasn't anybody's faultâit was just something we tried,” Catalina said. She looked at my mom. “What do scientists do if their experiments don't work?”
I said, “Visit their colleague in the emergency room and then go out for hot chocolate?”
They both ignored me, for some reason.
“Well,” my mom said,
“pure
scientists pretty much focus on understanding things. Did you just want to understand these people better, or did you want to change their behavior?”
“pure
scientists pretty much focus on understanding things. Did you just want to understand these people better, or did you want to change their behavior?”
“Both,” Catalina said. “Especially the change.”
My mom nodded. She thought for a minute.
“If you're trying to solve a problem and you haven't had good results, you might try some creative thinking,” she said. “Try looking at your methods
and
your results differently. What have you tried? What might you try differently? There may be something in there that's waiting for you to notice it, like a hidden key.”
and
your results differently. What have you tried? What might you try differently? There may be something in there that's waiting for you to notice it, like a hidden key.”
Catalina nodded.
“Sometimes that's where the breakthroughs come, the famous ones,” my mom said. “Almost by accident, after a
whole lot of what seemed like failure. Like the man who first vulcanized rubber.”
whole lot of what seemed like failure. Like the man who first vulcanized rubber.”
“Vulcanized rubber?”
I said. I mean, come on.
I said. I mean, come on.
“Sure,” my mom said. “It was Charles Goodyear, the man they named the blimp after. Back in the 1800s, raw native rubber was very interesting to people, but not very useful. It was stretchy at normal temperatures, but when it got cold, it turned brittle and brokeâand when it got hot, it went soft and melted. Goodyear was an inventor, and he was looking for a way to make rubber stay strong and flexible no matter what happened to it. A lot of other people were trying to do the same thing, but nobody could.
“Everything Goodyear tried, failed. Then one day he was mixing some sulfur and other chemicals into a batch of raw india rubber, and he dropped some on a hot stove. He left it there. The next morning, the stove and the mix on top had cooled down, and it was still rubbery! He'd done it!”
My mom was bright-eyed. She gets excited about strange things.
“Well,” she said, “don't you see? Strong and flexible rubber changed the world. Because we had it, people could invent tires and cars and airplanes and all kinds of machinery, along with basketballs and footballs and everything inflatable. Goodyear named his mixing and heating process vulcanizing, and it's still done today. He found it by accidentâbut the accident happened because he tried. And because he kept trying.”
Catalina stood up. “Ms. Trainor,” she said, “could you please take me home?”
“Of course, Catalina,” my mom said, turning over the check. “Is anything wrong?”
“No. I just want to do something.”
“Do what?” I said as we walked toward the door.
“I'll call you later,” she said.
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“That's an impressive girl,” my mom said after we dropped Catalina off. “Very bright and determined. And she's going to be a great beauty.”
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