Blank, p.4
Blank, page 4
part #1 of Lincoln Delabar Series
“Come on,” Joey said standing. “Let’s toss a few more and then I have to get him home. His mom will be here soon and she’ll be pissed we’ve been out here all day. This time I’ll throw the ball and then whoever catches it will try and get past me. Time for some real football.”
Tucker grinned and jumped up. “I’m pretty fast.”
“We’ll see.”
Tucker and I went to one end of the lot and Joey the other.
“Ready,” Joey shouted. “Here it comes.”
Joey threw the football in a high arcing spiral and we both moved under to catch it. Tucker and I shoved each other back and forth a bit fighting for position as the ball started down toward us. Apparently Tucker wanted the ball more than I because he put his hands on my chest and shoved me to the ground. Hard. He caught the ball and ran.
I watched Joey bend low and move toward him as I sat on the grass, leaning back on my hands. I was feeling something I really hadn’t felt before and since I see in colors sometimes I think in them too. The only color that was popping into my mind at that moment was a dark shade of green.
Tucker made a lame attempt to juke past Joey, but Joey was too fast and he grabbed him up and spun him around.
“Got ya’!”
Tucker laughed, fighting to get free. They both fell to the ground in a heap. The color I was seeing changed to a bright green that glowed in my periphery. Later, I would learn that the envy I was feeling was a strong emotion, like anger, and anger would eventually get me into trouble, just as it does for most people, but for now, all I knew was that I wanted Joey to laugh with me.
I jumped up and ran over, jerking the ball from Tucker’s hands as they tussled on the ground. Joey squinted up at me and I motioned with my arm for them to go long. They both stared. I motioned more vigorously and they got the point, getting up and jogging away.
I watched them get farther away and Joey actually stopped.
“Come on Linc! Throw it. You’ll never reach us here anyway.”
I waved my hand at him and he shrugged and turned. Tucker followed right behind.
My arm came back and that feeling I had the other day surfaced. I concentrated and forced myself to remember what it felt like; what I was thinking; the colors that were visible in my mind; my heart beating in my ears; I closed out everything around me but those things I felt and I threw the ball.
That tingling came again, starting from below my shoulder blade and working its way rapidly down my arm to my fingertips. The ball left my hand with a small popping sound and soared skyward, its spinning point arcing at an angle that I knew would cause it to fly a great distance. The tingling continued in my hand as it followed through and dropped to my side.
Joey saw it coming and put on a burst of speed. I could hear him mumbling even from where he was a good distance away.
“Damn…damn...I don’t believe this.”
Tucker had stopped running and just stood there with his head turned up watching the ball sail over it in a blur.
Joey ran under the ball and reached his hands out to catch it. It fell perfectly into his arms and he pulled it in, slowing his run to a jog and holding the ball high over his head as he turned.
“You did it Linc! That was awesome!”
I smiled inside and looked down at my hand again. Joey came running up closer and then threw the ball back to me. I caught it effortlessly without moving from where I stood.
“Do it again,” Joey said. “Quick. Before you forget.”
I nodded and he took off. Tucker ran beside him. I could feel the sensation again now and recognized it for what it was. I knew from that moment on that I would never forget.
I concentrated on Tucker and let the ball fly. It curved upward and spun tightly in the air as it found its target.
“You got it, kid,” Joey yelled, and Tucker reached out and snatched it out of the air. He stopped and stood there grinning.
“It’s warm,” he said.
Joey and I went to him and he held the ball out.
“It’s warm. Like a loaf of fresh baked bread my mom makes.” He sniffed it. “It doesn’t smell like bread though.”
Joey laughed and I did inside too as Joey took the ball from Tucker.
“It is warm. Weird.” He handed it to me. “Your ball Linc. You own this thing.” He smiled and ruffled my hair.
The green at the edge of my vision had disappeared.
* * *
Later that afternoon, the doorbell rang. My mom answered and though there was no need for her to yell, I could see in my mind that Tucker was at the door. She did so anyway, just out of habit.
“Lincoln. The door’s for you.”
She had a puzzled sound to her voice and I could see she was curious as to why this strange boy was asking for me by name. She read my mind and scowled, turning to Joey who was asleep in the recliner in front of the TV, some Gilligan’s Island re-run playing with the sound up. Even though the mind reading thing had been going on for years in our house, she still insisted on using her voice to talk to me.
“Football again? He’s going to get you killed,” she said, Tucker standing there shuffling his feet.
“I like it,” I told her in my way. “I’m getting good at it.”
“Well, I don’t. You need to find things other than sports to keep yourself occupied.”
“Please, Mom. I’ve never been good at anything before.”
I could see that she was more concerned with my new found ‘ability’ than anything else she was saying and when she realized that I knew it too, she backed off.
“I just don’t want this to get out. You’re not weird.”
“I know, Mom. I’m cool.”
She could see me smiling in my own way and smiled herself. She took a sip of the drink she was holding in her hand and remembered that Tucker was standing there.
“So, who’s this?”
“I’m Tucker, Mrs. ...Uh...?”
“Delabar. Do I know your mother?”
“I don’t know. We live just right there.”
He pointed to his house and her gaze followed his finger. She didn’t know them.
“I’ll have to meet her one of these days, then.”
“She’s nice,” Tucker said.
“I’m sure she is.”
My mom smiled at him.
“Can Linc hang out?”
My mother looked my way with a smile on her lips and surprise in her eyes. A thing passed between us in an instant (that’s the cool thing about telepathy, and the negative. Sometimes your thoughts happened just too quickly). I could tell she was pleased and worried all at the same time. Maybe more worried than pleased.
“I guess so. He usually doesn’t go out much, though.”
“Why?”
She made a face. “He just doesn’t.”
“Can he come out now?”
I threw a particularly aggressive thought her way and she flinched, turning to me. Tucker must have guessed what had happened.
“He’s sending his thoughts to you, isn’t he? Cool.”
Mom’s face darkened and her color grew black. “And how do you know about that?”
“He told me,” Tucker said, pointing at Joey in the chair.
Mom turned to her younger brother snoring in the chair while the Skipper whacked Gilligan with his cap and she scowled again. I won’t repeat what she was thinking.
I shrugged.
“We don’t talk about that, Tucker was it?”
“Uh huh. Some call me Tuck.”
I forced my thought on her again and she turned her head to me quickly, a look that said I better watch it. You know, that mom look they’re so good at when you’re a kid and no amount of words or thoughts can equal it. I backed off and waited for her to make up her mind.
“Okay, Tuck. I guess he can go out for a while. But you guys stay close by. I want to be able to yell and you hear me. Got it?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll be good.”
“I’ll watch out for him,” Tucker said.
She nodded and stepped back from the doorway. She watched us walk off and then slowly shut the door. Tucker was staring again.
“Can you talk now?” he asked.
I nodded and pulled out my pocket computer and typed.
“You’ll have to read what I say on this, but yeah. I can talk.”
He grabbed it from my hand and turned it over in his. “This is cool. I heard about these things, but I’ve never seen one. This would be fun.”
I grabbed it back and typed.
“It’s a pain in the ass. Takes too long.”
He grinned. “You said ‘ass.’”
“I can say other words too,” I typed. “Like shit and damn and hell.”
He laughed as he read. “My mom gets pissed when I curse.”
“My mom doesn’t like it either. If she could hear me in her head right now, she’d be mad.”
“She can’t read your mind now? What? Can you turn it off and on?”
“No. But when I get far enough away, it doesn’t work anymore. Just like yelling. If you’re too far away you can’t hear it.”
“Weird.”
I nodded.
“What’s it like?” he asked.
“It’s cool. But sometimes it’s not. Everybody always knows what everybody else is thinking. I’m used to it, and so is my sister, but my mom hates it sometimes.” I paused. “My dad left because of it.”
“My dad left too. I know he’s not coming back even though my mom says he’s on a trip.”
“I don’t think mine is coming back either.”
“Hey. Want to go down to the creek? There’s this cool fallen log that goes across it.”
“Sure.”
He took off running and I followed.
The neighborhood I lived in was not the best. Not the worst, but it definitely rated up there with the lower income level of the community.
When it was built in the 50s, most of Orange Park was undeveloped and it was a pretty fancy place to be if you had a job and wanted to get away from the busy city of Jacksonville. Since Orange Park had exploded in the 70s, the place had sunk to a level that all older neighborhoods seem destined for.
As the years passed and more expensive properties gave homebuyers the options and amenities they desired, Eagle Roost fell into decay and could not sustain any level of value in the community. Thus, folks who could not control their environs nearly as well as the better-offs moved here in droves. Mom didn’t make much at her job and though Dad sent us money every month (it was the only way we knew he was still alive), it still wasn’t much and we barely scraped by.
Because nobody cared about the place and the homeowners’ group had gone the way of the Dodo, no one was left to try and protect what was left of the tightly packed neighborhood. And a tire retreading business had snuck in and put down roots right behind it. The stench of burnt rubber seemed to sink into everything and at times it even tasted like rubber when you ate your macaroni and cheese or Captain Crunch cereal. At least that’s what my sister said.
Today, the smell was particularly strong and as we got closer to the creek (it was just on the other side of the tire retreading property line) it became almost unbearable.
“Man that stinks,” Tuck said, holding his nose and making a face.
I nodded. “Where’s the creek?”
“Right through here.”
He ducked down and squeezed under a thorny bush and disappeared.
I squatted down and looked into the black hole in the thick growth of bushes, vines and weeds he had stepped through, and touched a thorn. It stung as it easily found its way through the outer layer of my skin and hit a nerve. It bled as I jerked it away.
“Come on,” I heard him say.
Duck-walking through the opening, a feeling of being squeezed suddenly surrounded me as the dense undergrowth closed in. I was having a hard time catching my breath and this electric feeling of having a live wire inside my chest permeated the middle of my body.
Most people see plants and trees and rocks and grass as vivid colors and textures, but to me they are mostly grayed out. I can see their shapes and textures most of the time, but in some cases it’s all a blur, like now.
I felt disoriented in the darkened space and though my sense of sight is based on electrical pulsations and colors, you wouldn’t think that light and dark mattered. But in spaces where the darkness is created by density, it’s as if the lights have all been turned off. The vibrations are so tightly packed they merge into one another and become black.
A blue hand appeared in front of me and grabbed at my collar. Tucker pulled and I scrambled some and was partially dragged the rest of the way out of there.
“You looked lost,” he said. “It’s kind of tight in there.”
I nodded, glad to be free of the cramped quarters and darkness.
I turned my head left and right and looked at the woods and creek laid out in front of me. The water made a gentle burbling sound as it meandered along its winding course and small rocks with slightly larger boulders created eddies and little whirlpools in some of the landscape. I could smell damp earth and musty pine needles and of course a hint of that burnt rubber smell, but it was mostly gone here.
Tucker was up on a fallen tree that spanned the width of the creek at a point where two faint paths merged in the undergrowth. I didn’t know if a lot of people walked the paths or if they were made by little (and bigger) forest critters that roamed the only wooded space for miles.
When I looked back at the log, Tucker was up on his hands, his feet over his head as he hand walked out onto the log.
“Come on,” Tuck said, his legs wiggling for balance. “If you concentrate, you won’t fall in.”
Somehow that didn’t seem very reassuring to me. I found a way up onto the tree anyway and cautiously made my way out over the water, but I was on my feet. The bark was slippery on the old tree, but I could keep from slipping in if I kept my feet in a straight line. I wanted to ask him if he ever fell in, but I didn’t want to risk typing into my pocket computer at the moment.
Tuck was at the midway point across and had stopped.
“I found some arrow heads over there last year. At least they looked like arrow heads to me. I’ll show you one day.”
Somehow I doubted that Indians had lived in this area but it was fun to imagine them hunting deer and squirrel and maybe even using this ancient tree as a bridge across a raging river.
As I looked down, the water continued the gentle burbling of its slow passage below me. So much for the raging river.
I made it to the middle and stood straight, looking around. Tucker was grinning at me.
“Try it,” he said. “I bet you can do it.”
It didn’t look like something I wanted to try, being a virgin log walker and all.
“Come on,” Tuck said, showing off and lifting one hand off the log quickly and putting it back. He almost lost it. “Bet you can’t do it.” He finally lowered his feet and stood upright.
I handed him my pocket computer, just in case, and stretched my arms out. I put my hands on the slippery log and let my weight settle on them. I lifted one foot, then the other over my head, and held them there for just a second.
“Cool,” Tuck said. “Now, try one hand.”
I didn’t want to and shook my head.
“You’re wimping out now? Joey would do it.”
He was right. Joey would do it without even thinking about it.
I nodded my head once and he waited. I lifted one hand, lost my balance and teetered off the old tree, my arms spinning and legs kicking. I splashed ass first into the cold and shallow water and sat there with the current whispering around my waist. Tucker was laughing so hard, his eyes were closed. I was in too much shock to do anything.
He finally asked if I was okay. I nodded, not quite sure and stood slowly in the freezing water.
“Your mom is going to kill you,” Tuck said as he ran across the log and moved to the side of the creek closest to me.
He got to the edge of the creek and then froze, his eyes locked on to something on the other side. I turned and saw what looked like a wolf staring at us from the other bank. Its teeth were bared and it was growling.
I turned back to Tuck.
He looked at me and whispered, “Don’t move.”
I couldn’t just stand there in the freezing water. I turned back to the wolf-dog and straightened up. The hairs on its back stood on end and it growled louder, low and deep in its chest, its head sinking lower to the ground and its muscles rippling along its flanks.
“Run!” Tuck yelled and took off.
The wolf-dog flinched but stayed put and I knew that if I followed Tuck’s move, the thing would probably eat me.
I bent lower again and took a step toward it. The growl grew deeper and it took a tiny step backwards. I didn’t know why I wasn’t afraid like Tuck, but I wasn’t. The thing’s color just wasn’t about danger. It was scared and now that I looked closer, its ribs were showing and the fur was all matted and dirty.
Its aura rippled along its edge and flashed a deep bluish purple with brief glimpses of yellow. It was beautiful. I took a step toward it, and it backed up another step, the growl continuing as drool dripped from its lips.
I reached the edge of the creek, the water a distant memory as it swirled around my ankles, the cold forgotten. The dog (it was definitely a dog, not a wolf) crouched lower on its haunches and the growling worked up and down in intensity, but it did not attack. I reached a hand out and it lunged half-heartedly toward it and pulled back. It was just a feint. I could tell it didn’t want to hurt me.
That weird tingling started in my fingers and spread quickly up into my arm. It also grew from the middle of my chest and spread outward. I didn’t know what was happening, but I let it happen.
A burst of tingling erupted at my fingertips and it was as if I could see something discharge from them, but it was probably my imagination. It just felt like something shot out of my hand.
The dog flinched the tiniest bit and then let out a small whine and stopped growling. Its color changed immediately to an aqua blue and it licked its lips. It stepped forward slowly and sniffed my hand. Then licked it. I moved out of the water and caressed her matted fur, the danger over and fear gone. I bent lower and she licked my face.
