Sarah Benadine is Dead

Chapter X, Part I

Caleb Vance had one special thing in his favor that day and immediately he realized it as he crossed the street and walked right past Shannon, leaving her and Allison to trail behind him. Dean Procter was a particularly tall boy, yes, but Caleb Vance was taller.

A little bit of luck ensured none of the group saw him; they all had their backs fully or mostly turned to him. Or perhaps someone did see him. One peculiarity in the relationship between Caleb and Quintus Zima's gang was that although they hated and tormented him, and although it was possible they did not even know it themselves, on some instinctual level they were afraid of him. Perhaps they already knew how great his power was. Perhaps if someone saw him on that day, they were hoping he would just pass by.

With one swift movement of his long arm, Caleb yanked the glasses out of Dean's hand. Immediately, everyone's eyes were on him. Quintus's gang seemed unsteady, shocked at this turn of events. Never had anyone so boldly stood against them and certainly not in defense of someone else. It was generally accepted that whoever they set their sights on took their lumps and walked away with the shambles of their dignity. It took a moment for the gang to recover, to figure out how to respond.

"Guess these are mine now," Caleb said, shrugging a shoulder. Charlie stared at him with wide but unfocused eyes, mouth slightly agape in awe.

"Vance," Dean said, clearing his throat when his voice came out weak, "this has nothing to do with you. Just walk away."

Caleb shook his head, handing the glasses to Charlie. He stood close to Dean, looking him straight in the eye. Dean had to crane his neck to return the gaze. Caleb was in the power position, and it obviously didn't sit right with Dean. He stood to his full height and probably would have gone up on his tiptoes if he hadn't had the sense to see how humiliating that would be.

"Vance," Dean said lowly. Caleb ignored him.

"Get out of here," Caleb said to Charlie. He could feel the atmosphere shifting. The air was somber. This was likely to get ugly.

"But—" Charlie objected, casting nervous eyes on Dean Procter and the rest of the group. He could feel it, too.

"Go, Charlie," Caleb said sternly. He looked at the other boy and nodded. A message: it was okay. Charlie looked back at him helplessly before fixing his glasses to his face and reluctantly running off.

"So that's how you want it?" Dean asked, cocking his head to one side. There was a shade of amusement on his face, but Caleb thought that maybe there was uncertainty there too. Dean wasn't used to this.

Caleb nodded firmly.

Quintus whistled out lowly. "You got a death wish, boy?"

His face was assured and arrogant but there was a queer tone in his voice. It would be much later that Caleb would figure out what it was—warning—and entire years before he'd figure out why it was there.

Caleb shrugged, unaffected. A surge of courage had hit him and wouldn't desert him until the fight was over. "Could be. Mostly I think it's a shame Charlie's always got to fix his glasses. Seems cruel to me."

Dean scoffed. "Cruel? I'll show you cruel."

Despite his tough words, Dean did not make a move yet. For all his brawn, brashness, and, as Caleb had said, cruelty, he had what surely he thought was a sense of honor. Shannon and Allison stood behind Caleb, had been there through the whole exchange. It wasn't right for big, strong boys to get in fights with delicate girls. Caleb was in for it from Quintus, Dean, and Vince, but first they would have to chase the girls away.