ACT III
The water tower had to be somewhere near 200 feet high, and it was clear that Charlie Mason was having not just second thoughts, but third, fourth and fifth ones as well. Adam Woodling and Billy Gaines were nudging each other and muttering too low for the others to hear; Steve Hall, Kane Burton and Cord Ericson were all watching Charlie. Sam stood a little off to the side, hoping that Joey Sbraccia and Paul Norton would somehow fail to show up and they could call off this idiocy. He knew it was a futile hope, otherwise nothing would have happened to Charlie in the first history. About the best he could do was pray that he'd have some sort of warning so he could try to prevent the damage from Charlie's fall.
Charlie's two friends, Russ Cormier and Elliot Lewis, hovered on either side of their companion, who clutched a can of paint and a brush and appeared to be on the verge of chickening out. In the long run, that would've been the wiser choice, Sam thought dismally. Cord, though, would probably blackball him for the rest of his school career, and Sam could see even before he'd been here a full 24 hours that Cord's opinions, ideas and judgments carried more cachet with the student body than did simple common sense.
Finally Cord spoke into the thickening silence. "Where are those two damn stupid jackasses anyway?"
The aforementioned jackasses chose that exact moment to charge into the weeds and grass under the water tower, both panting heavily. "Sorry, Cord," offered Joey Sbraccia. "I stopped at Paul's to pick him up and his mother was givin' us both the third degree."
Cord spat into the grass. "You need to think up better excuses to give the old lady next time you leave for an initiation," he said with a small, mean smile. "Well, the gang's all here, so let's get on with it. Come on, Mason, this is your chance to be one of us."
That was when Sam heard the grating rise of the Imaging Chamber door. There had been a few too many Leaps in which Al had been absent too long, too often, or at the wrong time; so Sam was eternally grateful that he was showing up just when he was needed this time around. "How's it coming?" asked Al. "Am I in time?" Sam nodded, hoping no one was looking at him.
Now they all watched as Charlie Mason slowly approached the ladder. Seen from its foot, the thing appeared to lead the way into Kingdom Come itself. Sam kept a close eye on Charlie, feeling more sanguine about his chances of rescuing the boy when he fell now that Al was here to help warn him. The other boys offered mocking encouragement, hooting with laughter and pointing at the hapless Charlie. Sam remained silent, watching Charlie carefully. This wasn't anything to draw attention; the other boys' eyes were as glued to Charlie as Sam's own were.
Awkwardly, trying to hold the paint can and the side of the ladder with the same hand at the same time and doing the same thing with the hand holding the brush, Charlie inched his way up the ladder, a slow rung at a time. The wind had picked up and Sam felt himself shiver in the chilly late- October night. The higher Charlie got, the more vulnerable he was to the freshening breeze, and the paint can began to sway alarmingly in Charlie's hand.
"Don't drop it, Dutch Boy," jeered Joey Sbraccia, and this was greeted with yowls of mirth. Sam longed to give the kid what he deserved, but he didn't dare take his gaze off Charlie. Al echoed Sam's sentiments by snapping, "You little nozzle. Why don't you grow up." Of course Joey couldn't hear him, so Al's remark was wasted on him; but it made Sam feel better at least.
"How far up is he?" shouted Steve Hall.
"Not far enough," yelled Cord. "Keep movin', Mason."
At that moment a particularly strong gust blasted through the legs of the water tower, catching Charlie off guard. The paint-can handle began to slip from his fingers, and Charlie panicked. He lunged to his left in an attempt to maintain his grip on the can, and his right hand slipped completely off the ladder. "Saaa-aaaaamm!!" Al shouted. "This is it!"
Charlie tipped backwards off the ladder and Sam leaped into life, springing forward as Charlie fell. By some miracle, Sam got himself in the right spot, and half a second later Charlie landed squarely on top of him, knocking him flat. For a long moment both Sam and Charlie concentrated on their breathing, sucking in cold air as fast as they possibly could.
"Man," someone said. "Didja see that?"
"You okay?" Sam finally managed to ask. Charlie gave his head a couple of violent shakes and rolled off Sam, staring up at him with fear-filled eyes.
"Yeah," Charlie managed, and Sam was gratified to see him slowly pick himself up. "Thanks, Nick, I think you saved my life."
"Close enough," Al said, his voice gruff with relief. "Good going, Sam. Now all he'll have is some big ugly bruises."
"Shit," said Cord Ericson suddenly, and they all turned to stare at him. Cord's face was a white mask of fury. "You little bastard, you coulda killed Becker, fallin' like that! Get that goddamn paint can and get your scrawny ass back on that ladder!"
Sam was thunderstruck and incredibly enraged all at once. Without even thinking, he leaped to his feet and roared, "Charlie's not going anywhere tonight, Ericson! You're damned lucky I got under him, or he could've been paralyzed or even killed! And all you care about is your idiotic initiation! You must've gotten lost trying to find the line when they were handing out brains!" He whipped away from Cord and turned to Charlie. "As far as I'm concerned, you paid too high a price trying to get in with this bunch. I think it's time we head home. What say, guys?"
Sam thought he could get to like the power of popularity: all the others nodded in subdued agreement, except for Cord. As the rest of the boys began to slink away in ones or twos, Sam realized he was less afraid of Cord when Cord was ranting and swearing. Now Cord merely stood and gaped at Sam, his face blooming with a fury Sam didn't think he'd seen since the time his dad had reamed him out for taking the tractor on a little joyride when he was about seven years old. Sam offered very quietly, "See you at school tomorrow, Cord," and turned to leave.
Al followed along with him. "I think you've got some serious trouble on your hands," he remarked.
Sam waited till he was certain he was out of Cord's or anyone else's earshot before he spoke. "I didn't Leap . . . so I guess this wasn't what I had to do. Now that I've prevented Charlie from spending his life in a wheelchair, what happens next?"
Al pulled out the handlink and consulted it. "Well, there was supposed to be another initiation the night of the football game," he said, "but Ziggy says that's not gonna happen now. She doesn't know anything else, though. You better look out, Sam. You insulted Cord but good, and he's lost face in front of all the other guys. So he's gonna be looking for some way to get it back."
Sam scowled. "I wonder what happened the first time around, when Charlie was paralyzed," he said. "Maybe it taught that jerk a lesson when it happened. But Charlie's okay, so Cord'll just go on daring people to do stupid, dangerous things just to win his approval." He had nearly said "friendship" instead of "approval", but something told Sam that friendship, in its true sense, was a foreign concept to Cord Ericson. "Just keep me posted, Al. Let me know the minute Ziggy finds out anything new."
"You got it, Sam." Al stuffed the handlink back into his jacket pocket and started to clap a hand onto Sam's shoulder. They were both a touch nonplussed when it went right through. "Dammit, sometimes I hate bein' a hologram," Al complained. "Half the time I forget. Makes me feel like a freakin' ghost. Well, you head home and get some sleep. Me, I'm gonna have some dinner with Tina." It was a measure of Al's lack of composure that this statement was not accompanied by the usual anticipatory leer. Sam smiled sadly and watched Al disappear through the Imaging Chamber door. There were times when he'd have given his right foot to be able to follow him.
The water tower had to be somewhere near 200 feet high, and it was clear that Charlie Mason was having not just second thoughts, but third, fourth and fifth ones as well. Adam Woodling and Billy Gaines were nudging each other and muttering too low for the others to hear; Steve Hall, Kane Burton and Cord Ericson were all watching Charlie. Sam stood a little off to the side, hoping that Joey Sbraccia and Paul Norton would somehow fail to show up and they could call off this idiocy. He knew it was a futile hope, otherwise nothing would have happened to Charlie in the first history. About the best he could do was pray that he'd have some sort of warning so he could try to prevent the damage from Charlie's fall.
Charlie's two friends, Russ Cormier and Elliot Lewis, hovered on either side of their companion, who clutched a can of paint and a brush and appeared to be on the verge of chickening out. In the long run, that would've been the wiser choice, Sam thought dismally. Cord, though, would probably blackball him for the rest of his school career, and Sam could see even before he'd been here a full 24 hours that Cord's opinions, ideas and judgments carried more cachet with the student body than did simple common sense.
Finally Cord spoke into the thickening silence. "Where are those two damn stupid jackasses anyway?"
The aforementioned jackasses chose that exact moment to charge into the weeds and grass under the water tower, both panting heavily. "Sorry, Cord," offered Joey Sbraccia. "I stopped at Paul's to pick him up and his mother was givin' us both the third degree."
Cord spat into the grass. "You need to think up better excuses to give the old lady next time you leave for an initiation," he said with a small, mean smile. "Well, the gang's all here, so let's get on with it. Come on, Mason, this is your chance to be one of us."
That was when Sam heard the grating rise of the Imaging Chamber door. There had been a few too many Leaps in which Al had been absent too long, too often, or at the wrong time; so Sam was eternally grateful that he was showing up just when he was needed this time around. "How's it coming?" asked Al. "Am I in time?" Sam nodded, hoping no one was looking at him.
Now they all watched as Charlie Mason slowly approached the ladder. Seen from its foot, the thing appeared to lead the way into Kingdom Come itself. Sam kept a close eye on Charlie, feeling more sanguine about his chances of rescuing the boy when he fell now that Al was here to help warn him. The other boys offered mocking encouragement, hooting with laughter and pointing at the hapless Charlie. Sam remained silent, watching Charlie carefully. This wasn't anything to draw attention; the other boys' eyes were as glued to Charlie as Sam's own were.
Awkwardly, trying to hold the paint can and the side of the ladder with the same hand at the same time and doing the same thing with the hand holding the brush, Charlie inched his way up the ladder, a slow rung at a time. The wind had picked up and Sam felt himself shiver in the chilly late- October night. The higher Charlie got, the more vulnerable he was to the freshening breeze, and the paint can began to sway alarmingly in Charlie's hand.
"Don't drop it, Dutch Boy," jeered Joey Sbraccia, and this was greeted with yowls of mirth. Sam longed to give the kid what he deserved, but he didn't dare take his gaze off Charlie. Al echoed Sam's sentiments by snapping, "You little nozzle. Why don't you grow up." Of course Joey couldn't hear him, so Al's remark was wasted on him; but it made Sam feel better at least.
"How far up is he?" shouted Steve Hall.
"Not far enough," yelled Cord. "Keep movin', Mason."
At that moment a particularly strong gust blasted through the legs of the water tower, catching Charlie off guard. The paint-can handle began to slip from his fingers, and Charlie panicked. He lunged to his left in an attempt to maintain his grip on the can, and his right hand slipped completely off the ladder. "Saaa-aaaaamm!!" Al shouted. "This is it!"
Charlie tipped backwards off the ladder and Sam leaped into life, springing forward as Charlie fell. By some miracle, Sam got himself in the right spot, and half a second later Charlie landed squarely on top of him, knocking him flat. For a long moment both Sam and Charlie concentrated on their breathing, sucking in cold air as fast as they possibly could.
"Man," someone said. "Didja see that?"
"You okay?" Sam finally managed to ask. Charlie gave his head a couple of violent shakes and rolled off Sam, staring up at him with fear-filled eyes.
"Yeah," Charlie managed, and Sam was gratified to see him slowly pick himself up. "Thanks, Nick, I think you saved my life."
"Close enough," Al said, his voice gruff with relief. "Good going, Sam. Now all he'll have is some big ugly bruises."
"Shit," said Cord Ericson suddenly, and they all turned to stare at him. Cord's face was a white mask of fury. "You little bastard, you coulda killed Becker, fallin' like that! Get that goddamn paint can and get your scrawny ass back on that ladder!"
Sam was thunderstruck and incredibly enraged all at once. Without even thinking, he leaped to his feet and roared, "Charlie's not going anywhere tonight, Ericson! You're damned lucky I got under him, or he could've been paralyzed or even killed! And all you care about is your idiotic initiation! You must've gotten lost trying to find the line when they were handing out brains!" He whipped away from Cord and turned to Charlie. "As far as I'm concerned, you paid too high a price trying to get in with this bunch. I think it's time we head home. What say, guys?"
Sam thought he could get to like the power of popularity: all the others nodded in subdued agreement, except for Cord. As the rest of the boys began to slink away in ones or twos, Sam realized he was less afraid of Cord when Cord was ranting and swearing. Now Cord merely stood and gaped at Sam, his face blooming with a fury Sam didn't think he'd seen since the time his dad had reamed him out for taking the tractor on a little joyride when he was about seven years old. Sam offered very quietly, "See you at school tomorrow, Cord," and turned to leave.
Al followed along with him. "I think you've got some serious trouble on your hands," he remarked.
Sam waited till he was certain he was out of Cord's or anyone else's earshot before he spoke. "I didn't Leap . . . so I guess this wasn't what I had to do. Now that I've prevented Charlie from spending his life in a wheelchair, what happens next?"
Al pulled out the handlink and consulted it. "Well, there was supposed to be another initiation the night of the football game," he said, "but Ziggy says that's not gonna happen now. She doesn't know anything else, though. You better look out, Sam. You insulted Cord but good, and he's lost face in front of all the other guys. So he's gonna be looking for some way to get it back."
Sam scowled. "I wonder what happened the first time around, when Charlie was paralyzed," he said. "Maybe it taught that jerk a lesson when it happened. But Charlie's okay, so Cord'll just go on daring people to do stupid, dangerous things just to win his approval." He had nearly said "friendship" instead of "approval", but something told Sam that friendship, in its true sense, was a foreign concept to Cord Ericson. "Just keep me posted, Al. Let me know the minute Ziggy finds out anything new."
"You got it, Sam." Al stuffed the handlink back into his jacket pocket and started to clap a hand onto Sam's shoulder. They were both a touch nonplussed when it went right through. "Dammit, sometimes I hate bein' a hologram," Al complained. "Half the time I forget. Makes me feel like a freakin' ghost. Well, you head home and get some sleep. Me, I'm gonna have some dinner with Tina." It was a measure of Al's lack of composure that this statement was not accompanied by the usual anticipatory leer. Sam smiled sadly and watched Al disappear through the Imaging Chamber door. There were times when he'd have given his right foot to be able to follow him.