Thursday, April 8, 2010
"You're different." Kirstin said as she and Oran walked to school the next morning.
"I've been hearing that a lot recently," Oran responded. "Why are you saying it?"
"Yesterday you stood up to Brent and Jonas in the café. Then you took them both down when they jumped you in the pool. And what you did to Neel! No one knows what to make of you now."
"Does anyone realize I've been in the boxing club for three years? Or that I've been doing parkour even longer. I don't know why people assume that, because I avoid violence, I must be a wimp."
"Did you change because of the kidnapping or the accident?" She looked at him thoughtfully.
"Yes ... no ...I don't know. You do realize we're teenagers. We change all the time. It's pretty much the definition of adolescence." Oran pulled her into a doorway, out of the pedestrian traffic.
"Both those events affected me. They showed that life is short and you don't always have time to play it safe. I guess I just decided to start taking chances and living large. Or larger than I have been at least. I don't want to turn into Eric or anything."
She smiled at the joke. The smile melted away. "I wish I could take chances."
"Why can't you? Your life seems pretty charmed from the outside."
"Well it sucks from in here!" she flared. He put his hand on her arm in support. She grabbed it and squeezed.
"What is it?" he asked. He had enough experience with girls her age to realize something was eating at her.
"Fuck ..." she muttered, "might as well. Maybe you can help."
"I can try."
"Dad, Eric, and Noreen are all pushing me to date Jonas. And I don't want to." Tears started down her cheeks.
"Pushing you how?" Oran asked.
"Dad says it would help him in a business deal with Mrs. Thaler." Kirstin's voice showed her desperation. "Eric has basically ordered me to hook up with Jonas at Noreen's party tomorrow night. And she says I have to be there or I can kiss cheer, and the rest of my life at Westminster, goodbye."
"What do you want?"
"I don't even really like Jonas. He's an asshole."
"Of the first magnitude," Oran agreed. "But what do you want?"
"I just want to go to school and have fun. I don't want to become some sort of bargaining chip for Dad or some bone that Eric throws to his dogs." Kirstin started pacing in the semi-sheltered doorway. "And I don't want to be a bitch on Noreen's leash. I thought she was my friend." She turned and threw herself into Oran's arms.
He held on to her as she wept. "Have you talked to Mom?"
"Why ..." she spoke between sobs, "She never stands up for you ... Why should she for me?"
"I'll stand up for you," he said as he patted her back. "You want me to tell Eric and Jonas to back off?"
"Will you come to Noreen's party with me?" she sniffled and looked down at him with wet, hope-filled eyes. Oran noticed, that like many classmates, she was taller than him.
Oh, Jesus wept ... I'd rather go back to 'Nam, he thought. But what he said was, "Sure, if that's what you want."
"Oh thank you! Thank you." She hugged him and started smiling. Then grabbing his hand, she started dragging him towards school. "Come on! We'll be late."
They almost were late, but slipped in just before the last bell chimed. As they passed by the office, Oran noticed Dr. Jolliet, the school shrink, giving him the stink eye. What is that about? He wondered.
Homeroom, Language & Literature, and Advanced Calculus were relatively uneventful. Once again Oran discovered his brain worked at a whole different level than Pope's had. He picked up new information quickly and had total recall of what he learned. He was able to see connections and recognize patterns in a way that was almost scary. And math was like breathing for him.
While he did not have the same skill with noticing social phenomena, he was still able to see he was drawing a lot of attention that morning, from classmates and teachers. Even random people in the halls seemed to stop and stare. The odd thing was no one was speaking to him, not even his supposed friends. People would turn away if he made eye contact. One kid even flinched when Oran nodded in greeting. Take down one thug, and suddenly I'm the new boogie man?
Kirstin was waiting for him at the cafe entrance. "Hey!" She grabbed onto is arm. "Can I sit with you today?"
"Um...sure?" he answered uncertainly. In theory he knew lunch room seating was a big deal, he just had no idea how that worked in reality. "You want to sit alone or is it ok to sit with the others?" Memories showed that while she had never abused his little band of outcasts, she had been present when Noreen had.
"We can sit with your friends," she allowed. He shrugged and led her though the line. Hester and Alex queued quietly behind them.
"Hey Hester," his sister greeted. "I loved your comment in Film. I guess I never thought of Star Wars as a western. But Han Solo is absolutely a Clint Eastwood knock off."
Oran almost protested. The very idea! But held off when Hester started defending her argument.
"Not a knock off," the shy Korean girl replied. "He just has a lot of similarities to his Man with no Name character from the spaghetti westerns. I mean he even wears a vest and a fast draw rig."
"Does that make Chewbacca Tonto?" Alex tried to joke, but both girls looked at him until he shut up. The tall teen looked to Oran in confusion, but the old man in a teen's body just shrugged, offering no answer.
Once through the line the four made their way to an out of the way table which Alona was holding for them. She had her tablet open to what looked like a page of complex equations. Oran thought he recognized variations on Bellman equation or possibly Markov decision processes. While he was a genius, Alona was the true mathematical prodigy of the school. She looked up as they started sitting down. When she noticed Kirstin she let out a small "eep" then turned back to her pad, ignoring her half-eaten chicken salad and avoiding the popular girl.
"Hi," Kirstin tried, to no avail. She shrugged and continued her conversation with Hester, which had evolved to a discussion of how superheroes are portrayed in movies. Real super actors versus special effects. Oran and Alex followed along without interposing themselves.
"Kirstin!" Noreen's voice came from just over Oran's shoulder. "How did you know I wanted to talk with your brother?"
Oran almost spun in his seat to look at the girl. Why does she want to talk with me? Noreen Mooar was almost the platonic ideal of a high school queen bee. The daughter of a hedge fund owner and an Assistant District Attorney, she was highly intelligent, verbally adept, and socially advanced. Her looks came from a lucky combination of incredible genes, unlimited money, and youthful vigor. She was also one of the better students in the school, near the top in almost all her classes. Her tragic flaw seemed to be that she felt it necessary to tear others down to secure her place on top of the social scene. She had a history of picking on Oran's group in particular because each was better than her in their preferred academic field.
He could not remember a time when she approached him without some stratagem in mind. And those never worked out in Oran's favor. This time though he was a different person. She had nothing he wanted, except to not make his sister unhappy. She could do that with no interaction with him. He stood and faced her. She was, of course, taller than his 5'5".
"You wanted something from me?" he asked quietly. If she was willing to keep this discreet, he would not be the one to make it public.
Yes I did," she sat in the sole open seat, directly across from Oran. Looking up at him from under her lashes, she gestured for him to sit. Shaking his head at her maneuvers, he retook his chair.
They gazed silently at each other for several seconds. No one else at the table was willing to break the tension. He started to smile as she tried willing him to speak first. Eventually she was the one that caved. "You have begun to intrigue me."
He tried to raise one eyebrow, only to feel they had both gone up. Stupid new body, the thought.
She caught his slight frown and smiled. "It's obvious your recent tribulations have caused you to mature unexpectedly. Maybe even change in more profound ways." She glanced at his bicep which was noticeable even under his uniform shirt. His emergence had caused his body to become more muscular, though he had tried to hide the effects. He would need new clothes soon.
He said nothing. Her smile broadened, showing just enough teeth to reveal her predatory nature.
"Come to my party tomorrow. Kirstin knows where and when." Before he could consider an appropriate response she stood and, with a slight wave at Oran's sister, walked away.
"What the hell was that?" Alex exclaimed? "I feel like Ardennes after Fall Gelb. She came. She conquered. She moved on to conquer elsewhere, leaving devastation behind."
"You're not going to her party, are you?" Hester asked Oran. Her eyes told him the only acceptable answer. Kirstin looked at him beseechingly.
He sighed. "Normally I would not go anywhere near it. This morning, Kirstin asked me to accompany her to said party, to give her some needed support. I can't let her down. So ..."
Looked shattered, his friend said quietly, "Yeah. I see." She got up and left the café. Everyone looked at Oran.
"What?" he asked. No one said anything, though Kirstin reached for his hand.
Afternoon classes, Film and Design, were simple enough, shared Alona and Alex. He ignored Oran, but she kept giving him thoughtful looks. Much like most of the other students, though likely for different reasons. Not that he could figure out what those reasons might be. I wonder if I can start charging admission for the Oran Bry High School Dramady show?
After school on Thursdays was the boxing club. Boxing, like fencing, was a holdover from the schools Victorian origins. Pugilism and swordsmanship were considered necessary gentlemanly arts at the time. Oran had joined the club in middle school to try to learn enough about fighting that he could defend himself from Eric and his gang. Unfortunately, they were also in the club. Luckily they fought at higher weight classes. Oran had slowly graduated from flyweight to welterweight. But when he weighed in that afternoon he was just over 155lbs.
"Middleweight!" the trainer declared, "I thought you looked like you'd put on weight. Been working out?" Coach Reid was a smallish African American man in his late thirties. He had been coaching he club for five years and had the respect of all the boxers as he was a former Olympic gold medalist and pro boxer.
"I think I hit a growth spurt." Oran muttered. Coach Reid was not part of the school's gossip grapevine so might not have heard anything about the previous day's conflicts.
"Let's see. I'm going to put you against ..." he looked over the roster sheets. "Kallos!"
The club was set up with the understanding most kids would do their training on other days. Club days were for practice bouts. As the afternoon's bouts progressed, the gym started filling with spectators. There were usually a few spectators; friends and girlfriends either watching the bouts or waiting or the day to end. That afternoon the stands held more people than came to most of their official competitions. Oran noticed Both Noreen and Hester were there, but it was Antje, Westminster's only acknowledged super, who was really keeping an eye on him.
Eric and Jonas were both in the club. Oran made an effort to avoid them that afternoon. They were in the locker room after the club needed. Worried they were going to start something Oran braced himself as they walked by his locker. But they said nothing to him, just giving him hostile looks. Eric pointed two fingers at his own eyes then at Oran's. Yeah, yeah. I'm watching you too.
That evening Oran went to Brooklyn for another training session with Carl. They discovered that, with concentration, he could manipulate the binding energies of molecules and atoms to cause matter to shift elements. He could only move something a few places up or down the periodic table, but that meant he could transform the carbon of a block of charcoal to oxygen or nitrogen. He could also change aluminum to phosphorus, which caused a bit of excitement. He spent most of the evening practicing changing his regular clothes to his Pulsar costume. He had to analyze and memorize the structure and composition of the costume in order to do it. He kept practicing in his bedroom, staying up most of the night, but he managed it three times out of five before morning.
Friday morning was cold and rainy. Mariela insisted the kids take the car to school. As Jock was out of town again, Harris, their driver did not seem to mind the short trip.
"So you going to Noreen's party, Orange?" Eric asked.
"With Kirstin," Oran replied. Their sister sat nervously on the seat next to Eric. Oran rode in the backwards facing seat.
"Think you're up to a grown up party? No milk and cookies. No ... kids stuff." Eric snapped the last. Oran grinned at the older boys brain fart. It was obvious he could not think of other thing that might be at a kid's party.
"I'm sure I'll manage," the younger boy replied still smiling. That seemed to piss his brother off even more. They all sat in silence, though Oran was sure he could hear Eric's teeth grinding. With his enhanced senses, it was possible that he could.
It looked like Eric was working himself up to an explosion when the car finally made its way to the front of the line and the school's doorman came out, umbrella in hand, to open the curbside door. Eric crawled over Kirstin to get out first. He ignored the doorman and stalked into the school.
"Are you ok?" Oran asked his sister.
"I'll survive," she said, her voice shaking. She got out and secured her book bag before allowing herself to be lead to the door.
Oran got out and ignored the rain as he trudged up the carpet behind her and the doorman. He thought it funny how he has helped the pretty girl while ignoring the outcast boy. I wonder how hooked into the Westminster social scene he is? Then he sensed the taser under the fellow's overcoat. Hmmm... One of Navarro's security guys? Would make sense.
Once inside, Antje ambushed him. "Come with me please." She said then proceeded to lead him to a nearby music practice room. She shut the door behind them. Inside was a small soundproofed room with a piano, a bench, a stool, and a couple of music stands. She turned to him and stood silently with her hands on her hips.
"What?' he asked, bringing his hand up to brush under his nose. "Do I have something ..."
"No! Gross." She back up a bit. "I just wanted to ask ... to know ..."
Oran had a sudden terrifying vision of this girl, who the old Oran had been crushing on for so long, suddenly declaring herself in love with him. She was very pretty, as would be expected from a professional fitness model, but she was just a kid for Christ's sake. He stepped back and bumped into the piano.
"I saw you at the pool and boxing. I saw you holding back, like I have to all the time. You're enhanced, aren't you?" Her voice came out in a rush.
"Uhh... That is..." Just then the bell chimed. "Damn, the bell," He said maneuvering around her. "Can't be late for class." He got the door open and was out of there. She had lifted her hand like she wanted to grab him to prevent him from leaving, but she did not.
Fridays were very odd for high schoolers at Westminster. The day was devoted to working on their various projects Almost every class had some sort of project due, and for Sophomores and Seniors there were the big yearlong personal projects. All day they had access to the library, art and music studios, computer and video labs, and the maker spaces. Teachers were around for consultation and coaching, but the students were expected to be responsible for their own time. They could even leave campus in the afternoons if their projects required them to. That meant that most students found a reason to leave either before or after lunch.
Oran's Personal Research Project was an attempt to create a small scale, working model of the Hypertap his father had been developing. The boy had been researching trans-dimensional physics, dimensional engineering, and power generation systems for two years. The visit to his father's lab had been part of that research. He had been there on a Monday, because that was the only day Jock could arrange it, or so he said. Pope was freaked out enough by the whole idea that he was hesitant to continue the project. He thought the Westminster project teacher would accept either the paper or the designs and non-working model Oran had already completed as fulfilment of the assignment. It was unlikely that they really expected a sophomore to break dimensional barriers for a school project.
As he had worked to incorporate the projects for his other classes as subparts of the larger project, this meant he was pretty much free all day. He decided to see what Kirstin was doing. Looking through the walls of the building he found her in the projection room, part for the video studio where classes watched films for that class. It was not usually in use on Fridays. Kirsten was there with Eric, Jonas, Brent, and Noreen. While he could not hear what they were say, she did not look comfortable.
Great, what the hell do I do know? If I go in by myself it will precipitate a fight where I will likely have to show of at least some of my powers. And Kirstin might get hurt. Oran pondered. He really did not want to fight kids if he could help it. It made him feel like the worst kid of bully. If they attack me, I can gently disable them. But going in knowing it will start a fight ... powers or no powers ... just doesn't seem right.
I wonder if I can get a teacher in there. Looking up he noticed one of the omnipresent security cameras in its discreet dome in the ceiling. Or ... maybe security can do the job?
He reached out with his energy sense and mapped the building's network. He had to get closer to the studio to get a good lock on the outputs from the camera in the projection room. Once he was able to trace the signal to the security room and saw it was on the rotation to show on one of the six screens that cycled through all the live feeds rather than just going into the recoding bank, he broke the connection. That should get them to send someone to make sure some students didn't deactivate the camera so they could do something wrong.
Realizing he had just taken her security away, Oran started watching Kristin and company. He could tell the others were really trying to convince Kirstin of something. She was sinking into herself, not responding to them at all. Eric was getting more riled by the second. Just as Oran thought he might have to intervene anyway, two security guards showed up. They rousted the students out of the room. Eric gave Kirstin a last word then stalked off, punching a locker along the way. Kirstin sat at an editing station and started talking with the teacher, who had been ignoring the behavior of the students.
I guess they don't pay these teachers enough to get involved in the social life of the students. Students whose parents could buy or sell the whole school if they felt like it. Oran thought. His memories, when looked at through a more cynical lens, supported the supposition. There were individual teachers for whom that was not the case, but institutionally the faculty were likely to turn a blind eye to student behavior and interactions. That's worth remembering.
That afternoon, as it was still raining, Oran set up the gymnasium for some basic parkour exercises. He used pommel horses, balance beams, and several portable walls to create a simple indoor course. He had parkour and freerunning videos showing on the big screens on the wall. He thought it added some excitement to the practices. One video was of people doing parkour badly and the sorts of dangers a runner needed to avoid.
The club was new. He had started it just that year. And so far there were only three regular members, and they were all beginners. Therefor he was surprised when half the sophomore class, and several students from the other classes showed. The gym went from empty to half full.
"Well this is good to see," he said, smiling at the crowd. The old Oran would have been too tongue tied to address such a crowd. Pope had been speaking in public for decades. "You can see from the videos what we are training to do," he pointed to the blooper video screen, "and not do. We're not there yet, so we practice. That is what the club is about. Learning to do this safely."
"I'm going to run the team through our course here," he continued "It'll show you what we are doing now. After that, if any of you want to give it a try you just have to get into some loose clothes and well get you started."
After the session ended Antje managed to corner Oran outside the locker room. "You've been avoiding me," she said.
"I just have nothing to tell you that you want to hear," he said. "I'm sorry."
She laid her hand on his arm as he tried to walk by. "You don't need to stay in the closet. I understand what you're going through."
He patted her hand and smiled sadly. Somehow, I doubt it, he thought. I seriously doubt it.