ACT II
Nick Becker, it turned out, had the use of a creaking Datsun whose better days were ancient history even in 1984. The thing got him home at least, once he checked Nick's driver's license for the address. Al had yet to return, so he got thoroughly lost in the little town before serendipitously passing the street on which Nick lived. He used someone's driveway to turn around, and watched house numbers till he found the Becker residence.
He let himself in with the key; no one appeared to be home, so he explored the house a little till he found what had to be Nick's bedroom, with clothing lying strewn across the floor, the requisite unmade bed, an open closet door and trophies on the windowsill. A few college and pro team pennants shared wall space with posters of women. Sam peered curiously at one showing three young women, with the legend "Bananarama" at the bottom. They must be a music group, he thought, but who'd call a group Bananarama? He did recognize Madonna and Janet Jackson, but shuddered at the one of the woman in a red spaghetti-strap dress over white tulle petticoats, in black net stockings without shoes, and with her hair dyed pumpkin orange. She was in an odd position, as if dancing to some song, and wore a solemn look. "She's So Unusual" was scribbled in yellow across the woman's skirt, and at the top of the poster was inscribed the name Cyndi Lauper. "Unusual isn't the word," Sam mumbled out loud. He sighed and busied himself doing Nick's calculus homework, figuring it would keep him out of trouble till someone else got home.
But within fifteen minutes, Sam had long since breezed through the homework and even done the assignments Nick had received in two other subjects. Nick, it seemed, was not the most intellectual kid in the world. For reading material he had no more than a collection of comic books and a few Stephen King novels, along with the usual dirty magazines under the bed. Before Sam could decide what to do next, he heard the Imaging Chamber door, signaling Al's return. "About time you got back here," he remarked a little belligerently. "Where've you been all this time?"
"At school," replied a voice that didn't belong to Al at all. Both Sam and Al turned to Nick's bedroom door, there to see a young girl with long, stick-straight dark-brown hair and wide dark eyes staring at him. "I just got back."
Sam cleared his throat. "Oh," he said, feeling foolish. That was a fairly frequent commodity in the course of his many Leaps, actually. "Well . . . uh, nice to see you."
The girl gave him a strange look and asked softly, "Should I start supper?"
Right on cue, Sam's (Nick's?) stomach growled. "That'd be great, thanks," Sam agreed. It wasn't just that he was hungry, but he needed to be left alone so he could speak with Al, who'd been standing by watching with inordinate interest. "Anything's fine."
The girl nodded, looking very uncertain, and then made herself scarce. Sam looked curiously at Al. "Who was that? Must have been Nick's sister."
"Yeah," Al said, coming out of what seemed like a trance. Sam realized that Al had been gaping at the girl in seeming fascination. "That was Colleen. She's fifteen. Complete opposite of Nick. Very shy and quiet, kind of a mouse, actually. Nick usually ignores her, and when he doesn't, he treats her pretty much as a nuisance. So I think you kinda confused her there, Sam."
"Oh," Sam murmured, feeling more and more that if he had known Nick in high school, he wouldn't have liked the guy very much. "Um, well. So has Ziggy got anything?"
"She's having trouble figuring this out for some reason," Al said and scowled. "She says all kinds of ugly things're gonna be happening this week, and damned if she knows which one's the one you need to fix in order to Leap outta here." He focused on Sam. "Maybe you can get her out of the logjam. You heard of anything that might be goin' on?"
Sam abruptly felt his insides start to churn, and promptly lost his appetite. "I met Cord Ericson on the football field," he said. "Him and all the rest of Nick's friends. Cord said something about an initiation at the water tower tonight. Maybe that's what I'm here for."
"Hm." Al poked at the chirruping handlink. "What's the name of the kid who's getting initiated?"
"Mason," replied Sam. "They never use first names, so that's all I know."
Al lifted his face and addressed the ceiling: "Hey, Gooshie, do me a favor and have Ziggy run through the names of all Cord Ericson's friends. Especially one named Mason." Al focused on Sam again. "What're the names of the other guys? That could help too."
Sam, who could rely on a photographic memory in spite of the "Swiss-cheese" tendencies it had developed ever since he'd started Leaping, had no trouble providing the other surnames he'd heard Cord reel off earlier. Al repeated each surname to the air as Sam gave it to him, and then peered at the handlink for a minute or so. "Guess it's taking a bit. No, wait. Let's see. The kid undergoing the initiation is named Charlie Mason. They're meeting at the water tower because Charlie has to climb it and pain - " Al halted, clubbed the handlink with the heel of his hand and swore under his breath in Italian. "Oh. PAINT a message on the tower. And not a nice one either."
"Does Ziggy say what happens when Charlie climbs the tower?" Sam asked tensely.
Al nodded somberly. "He falls off the ladder about thirty feet up. He lives, but he's confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life."
"Dammit," Sam grunted, causing Al to do a double take. It was rare for Sam to swear unless he felt very strongly about something, and clearly he did about this. "What time is this stupidity supposed to start?"
"Nine this evening," replied Al. "You can just tell Nick's parents after supper that you're studying over at Cord's so you don't get Nick into trouble with them. You've gotta be there to stop this."
"Oh, I will," Sam vowed grimly.
Nick Becker, it turned out, had the use of a creaking Datsun whose better days were ancient history even in 1984. The thing got him home at least, once he checked Nick's driver's license for the address. Al had yet to return, so he got thoroughly lost in the little town before serendipitously passing the street on which Nick lived. He used someone's driveway to turn around, and watched house numbers till he found the Becker residence.
He let himself in with the key; no one appeared to be home, so he explored the house a little till he found what had to be Nick's bedroom, with clothing lying strewn across the floor, the requisite unmade bed, an open closet door and trophies on the windowsill. A few college and pro team pennants shared wall space with posters of women. Sam peered curiously at one showing three young women, with the legend "Bananarama" at the bottom. They must be a music group, he thought, but who'd call a group Bananarama? He did recognize Madonna and Janet Jackson, but shuddered at the one of the woman in a red spaghetti-strap dress over white tulle petticoats, in black net stockings without shoes, and with her hair dyed pumpkin orange. She was in an odd position, as if dancing to some song, and wore a solemn look. "She's So Unusual" was scribbled in yellow across the woman's skirt, and at the top of the poster was inscribed the name Cyndi Lauper. "Unusual isn't the word," Sam mumbled out loud. He sighed and busied himself doing Nick's calculus homework, figuring it would keep him out of trouble till someone else got home.
But within fifteen minutes, Sam had long since breezed through the homework and even done the assignments Nick had received in two other subjects. Nick, it seemed, was not the most intellectual kid in the world. For reading material he had no more than a collection of comic books and a few Stephen King novels, along with the usual dirty magazines under the bed. Before Sam could decide what to do next, he heard the Imaging Chamber door, signaling Al's return. "About time you got back here," he remarked a little belligerently. "Where've you been all this time?"
"At school," replied a voice that didn't belong to Al at all. Both Sam and Al turned to Nick's bedroom door, there to see a young girl with long, stick-straight dark-brown hair and wide dark eyes staring at him. "I just got back."
Sam cleared his throat. "Oh," he said, feeling foolish. That was a fairly frequent commodity in the course of his many Leaps, actually. "Well . . . uh, nice to see you."
The girl gave him a strange look and asked softly, "Should I start supper?"
Right on cue, Sam's (Nick's?) stomach growled. "That'd be great, thanks," Sam agreed. It wasn't just that he was hungry, but he needed to be left alone so he could speak with Al, who'd been standing by watching with inordinate interest. "Anything's fine."
The girl nodded, looking very uncertain, and then made herself scarce. Sam looked curiously at Al. "Who was that? Must have been Nick's sister."
"Yeah," Al said, coming out of what seemed like a trance. Sam realized that Al had been gaping at the girl in seeming fascination. "That was Colleen. She's fifteen. Complete opposite of Nick. Very shy and quiet, kind of a mouse, actually. Nick usually ignores her, and when he doesn't, he treats her pretty much as a nuisance. So I think you kinda confused her there, Sam."
"Oh," Sam murmured, feeling more and more that if he had known Nick in high school, he wouldn't have liked the guy very much. "Um, well. So has Ziggy got anything?"
"She's having trouble figuring this out for some reason," Al said and scowled. "She says all kinds of ugly things're gonna be happening this week, and damned if she knows which one's the one you need to fix in order to Leap outta here." He focused on Sam. "Maybe you can get her out of the logjam. You heard of anything that might be goin' on?"
Sam abruptly felt his insides start to churn, and promptly lost his appetite. "I met Cord Ericson on the football field," he said. "Him and all the rest of Nick's friends. Cord said something about an initiation at the water tower tonight. Maybe that's what I'm here for."
"Hm." Al poked at the chirruping handlink. "What's the name of the kid who's getting initiated?"
"Mason," replied Sam. "They never use first names, so that's all I know."
Al lifted his face and addressed the ceiling: "Hey, Gooshie, do me a favor and have Ziggy run through the names of all Cord Ericson's friends. Especially one named Mason." Al focused on Sam again. "What're the names of the other guys? That could help too."
Sam, who could rely on a photographic memory in spite of the "Swiss-cheese" tendencies it had developed ever since he'd started Leaping, had no trouble providing the other surnames he'd heard Cord reel off earlier. Al repeated each surname to the air as Sam gave it to him, and then peered at the handlink for a minute or so. "Guess it's taking a bit. No, wait. Let's see. The kid undergoing the initiation is named Charlie Mason. They're meeting at the water tower because Charlie has to climb it and pain - " Al halted, clubbed the handlink with the heel of his hand and swore under his breath in Italian. "Oh. PAINT a message on the tower. And not a nice one either."
"Does Ziggy say what happens when Charlie climbs the tower?" Sam asked tensely.
Al nodded somberly. "He falls off the ladder about thirty feet up. He lives, but he's confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life."
"Dammit," Sam grunted, causing Al to do a double take. It was rare for Sam to swear unless he felt very strongly about something, and clearly he did about this. "What time is this stupidity supposed to start?"
"Nine this evening," replied Al. "You can just tell Nick's parents after supper that you're studying over at Cord's so you don't get Nick into trouble with them. You've gotta be there to stop this."
"Oh, I will," Sam vowed grimly.