Jaden Baker Page 7

  After getting a library card, the Kauffmans headed home. It was silent in the car. Jaden was already on the second chapter of one of his new books. He didn’t notice the talking adults in the front seats. Only when Derek called him by name did he take interest.

  “What?” he asked.

  “We wanted to talk about what happened this morning, kiddo,” Derek said, putting extra emphasis on the moniker.

  Jaden’s fingers turned to ice, and the book slipped from his hands. This morning. Oh crap. How was he going to wiggle out of this one. Trick of the light? He was learning magic? He spiked their juice with LSD? They were insane?

  Jenny faced him. “The napkin tray, remember?”

  Kinda hard to forget, thanks. Think of something quick.

  “Napkin tray?” Jaden asked in what he hoped was an innocent and clueless tone. Though he tried thinking of an explanation earlier, he hadn’t been able to come up with anything better than “I’m an alien” or some variation. The books distracted him, dulled his focus. Now he wondered if that was their plan of attack, to throw him off.

  “You remember. How it slid to you. By itself.”

  Crap. Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. CRAP!

  “Oh that,” Jaden said. His hands were no longer icy but slippery with sweat, just like the rest of him.

  “Has that ever happened before?” Derek asked, eyeing him through the rearview mirror.

  Lie. Lie, lie, lie.

  “Nope,” he said. “Kinda weird, huh?”

  “You didn’t seem surprised about it,” Derek said. “In fact, you acted like you expected it to happen.”

  “I did? Well, I didn’t. How was I supposed to know that would happen?” It dawned on him he was arguing with an attorney. He picked up his book but couldn’t read a word. Both the Kauffmans stared at him. The sweating continued. Their forced calm was obvious. From the backseat Jaden read the tenseness of their postures.

  “Jaden?” Jenny said. “Are you being truthful?”

  No.

  “Yes,” he said, flipping a page carelessly.

  “Jaden.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, meeting her eyes. “It freaked me out.”

  “Us too. Let’s discuss it together.”

  “Because I don’t want to.”

  Jenny shut her eyes and released a large sigh. “We have to talk about some things, you know. We can’t let you shut us out forever. Especially this.”

  “I’m not shutting you out, I just don’t want to talk about that thing.”

  “Because it has happened before?” Derek asked, wide eyed. Stupid lawyer.

  “Okay fine, yes, it’s happened before. Happy now? It’s happened a lot. I don’t know what it is or why it happens; it just does. I know it’s weird, and I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” He crossed his arms and frowned at the back of the chair.

  Jenny’s mouth was thin. She stared at him.

  “What now?” he snapped.

  “Don’t get smart,” she said. “Don’t talk back to me like that.”

  Seriously? They corner him about...whatever it is, make him confess, and now he’s the bad guy? They think getting him some books gives them the right to snoop into his privacy? He told, they forced it out of him, the gig was up. He’s a weirdo. They got themselves a strange one. It was all out in the open now, yet he was still going to be tongue lashed?

  “Fine,” he grunted. “Sorry.” He stared out the window the rest of the way home, refusing to say another word on the subject. The Kauffmans peeked at each other the entire journey, as if conversing by blinks. He failed ignoring them. When they pulled into the garage, he stayed inside the car while Jenny and Derek went in.

  His bag of newly purchased books sat beside him, judging him. It was hot now that the air conditioner was off. The only sound was the tick, tick of the cooling engine.

  It wasn’t their business. It was his, whatever it was. It didn’t belong to them, it belonged to him. He wanted to keep it a secret and had tried ever since he arrived here, losing sleep to keep it away from their eyes. Why couldn’t they have ignored it and let it be?

  Would you have ignored it?

  Okay, it was probably hard to ignore. To be fair, they had waited until after noon to say anything. They also asked nicely rather than assume the worst and lock him in the closet and not feed him or let him use the bathroom for three days.

  Maybe he’d jumped to conclusions.

  You assumed the worst of them again.

  Jaden picked up his new book and squeezed it in his hands. They were nice people, good people, not mean or cruel, hot tempered or freaks. They were good. The only reason they’d send him back was if he kept acting like they would abuse him. Because that would be hurtful. They’d never threatened him.

  He opened the car door, grabbed the book bag, and hopped out. He’d have to apologize for real. Unlike Finn, this wouldn’t be rehearsed. It would still be difficult.

  They were both inside, not speaking, when he walked into the living room. They didn’t look at him either.

  “I need to say something,” he mumbled.

  They watched him now, Jenny from her chair, Derek from the couch.

  “I’m sorry if I overreacted or whatever, before, in the car, about the...thing. I know you just wanted to know what it was.”

  Jenny smiled warmly and nodded.

  “Well. There it is then.” He spun on his heel and started toward his bedroom when a thought came to him. He wheeled back around.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” he said. “Never tell anyone about it.”

  “We need to talk more,” Jenny said, her voice without warmness. “You know that, right? It’s too big a thing to ignore.”

  True, the most honest words she’d spoken thus far. Its greatness made it impossible to explain. It was as much a mystery to him as it was to them. Well, maybe it wasn’t. Jaden knew the when of it, guessed the why, but didn’t know the how, and that’s what they wanted to know.

  “I can’t talk about it today,” he said. He remembered the first time it happened. The memory of it was making him nauseous, and he wanted to go to his room to be alone.

  “Later then? Tomorrow?”

  “Next month?” he countered.

  “We’ll negotiate tomorrow. Is that fair?” Derek asked, scratching the back of his neck, his eyes popping again. “We can’t stop thinking about it. We have to talk.”

  Jaden nodded, unable to think of a counter-argument. They had good points.

  Once in his room, he shut the door. It was out now, his secret. The Kauffmans knew. The were probably whispering so fast it sounded like buzzing. He wasn’t telepathic, or didn’t possess supreme hearing skills, but he assumed they discussed him. Let the gossiping begin. Only time would tell what they would do about it, if anything. In the mean time, he must do something.

  He drew a hardback book from the bag, placed it on his bed, then backed away and glared at it. He needed to open it with his mind. Jesus, even thinking about it made him feel stupid and foolish. Open a book with his mind? How crazy. No matter, it was what it was. To start, he repeated the word “open” in his head twenty times. Nothing. How could he move things sometimes, but not others?

  It happens when you’re not thinking about it, said the voice in his head.

  Always when he was not thinking about it. That made sense. He didn’t think about doing anything. He just did it. When he wanted to walk, he moved his legs. How was he supposed to...what? How was he supposed to do the whatever it was?

  The book remained motionless on the bed. Jaden tried hand motions, like whirling his fingers about, or pretending he was turning a page, only from a distance. Still nothing.

  He sat on his chair and stared at the book. He tried not focusing on it, pondering mundane subjects like how marshmallows were dehydrated for cereal, then whirled around and tried turning a page. The book mocked him from the bed, taunting him with its non motion, jeering him for thinking he was mag
ic.

  “Screw this,” he said, after what may have been hours. He pounded to his bed and leaned in for the book—

  —and it flew into his open hand.

  His first reaction was to jump in jubilation. He’d done it! Then he stopped. He hadn’t done anything. The book didn’t open or turn a page, it leapt when he reached for it. He hadn’t controlled it, it just happened. It did something entirely different than what he wanted.

  What was the point of having this ability if he couldn’t actually use it?

  Angry instead of pleased, Jaden tossed the book on the desk. Not accomplishing anything was exhausting and draining, and it left him hungry. Thankfully, late afternoon meant dinner. Jenny made chicken fettuccine Alfredo with a side of focaccia bread, which tasted incredible; Jaden helped himself to seconds and thirds. Happily, Jenny and Derek did not talk about The Morning Incident (Jaden suspected they wanted to) and instead chatted with him about schools, a subject that interested him greatly.

  “Ryan and Finn said they go to some stupid smart people school,” Jaden said, chewing on bread dipped in extra sauce. “Will I go to the same school as them?”

  “They go to St. Apollinaris, right Jen?”

  “Yes. Sherry loves it.”

  “It’s a private school?” Jaden asked, thinking he already knew the answer, based on the uniform wearing.

  “A good one. We can drive by tomorrow if you want. It’s next to the church.”

  “It’s a Christian school?” Jaden asked. He knew a lot of people were down with the whole God thing, but he wasn’t sure where he fit into that picture. Limited religious imagery decorated the Kauffman house, but nothing overt. He hadn’t asked to which denomination they belonged. The name of the school betrayed them.

  “Yep. Lots of other kids beside Finn go there, you know. You wouldn’t have to be around him all the time,” she said.

  “I know,” Jaden said. A wave of vindictive pleasure came over him, imagining beating Finn at everything, from sports to grades. He was sure he was smarter than Finn, and he was unbeaten at basketball. How much fun would it be to trounce the pampered little baby. “I think it would be good. Ryan’s cool.”

  It was decided they would take a look at the school tomorrow morning. After dessert—apple crumb cheesecake—Derek insisted on a movie, one Jenny did not approve of. She thought it was too “mature” for Jaden’s eyes.

  “Why?” Jaden asked. “Violence? ‘Adult situations?’” he said, using air quotes. “‘Foul language?’ I’ve seen it all for real, you know,” he said casually. “Movies have more explosions and grunts than the real stuff.”

  This declaration put expressions of distress, not relaxation, on their faces. Jaden set down his fork and took a large gulp of milk. “Well,” he said, wiping the mustache off his face, “it’s not like you don’t know. They don’t send me to a stupid therapist for the hell of it.”

  “Heck of it,” Jenny corrected. “Let’s reign in the language, please.”

  “Sure thing. So are we going to watch it or not? I know it’s fake and I promise I’m not going to ‘get any ideas’ and mow down a school or something.”

  Jenny was still half-insisting they watch an animated movie about fish, but Derek was adamant and eventually got his way by popping the movie and blasting the volume. He sat next to Jaden on the couch.

  “Fine. If he gets scared though, we’re turning it off,” Jenny said.

  “It’s not scary, honey, there’s just a lot of explosions and shooting.”

  She raised her eyebrows at him.

  “All right.” He turned to Jaden and gave a little shake of his head, at which Jaden grinned.

  The movie was about a New York cop who’d gone to Los Angeles for Christmas. Derek had been right: there were a lot of shooting and explosions. The main character spent most of the film running without shoes, which Jaden thought was funny. Jaden got a kick out of the movie, and as he headed to bed with the Kauffmans, he said, “Yippee-ki-yay motherfu—”

  “NO!” Jenny said, almost laughing. “You promised! We must stop the language, please!”

  Jaden chuckled as he walked to his room. “Good night!” he called after them.

  “Night, Sport. See you tomorrow morning!” Derek called after him.

  “Good night, sweetie,” Jenny said, waving with her fingers.

  Jaden smiled as he shut his bedroom door and stripped off his clothes. “Yippee-ki-yay,” he mumbled and sniggered, applying toothpaste to the brush then running it under water. After a thorough cleaning, he pulled on his pajamas (a simple t-shirt and shorts) then hopped into bed. The best thing about the Kauffmans knowing his secret was letting himself sleep. They would not wake, terrified to discover flying objects, and wondering who or what was responsible. Explaining its history was the only thing left: a frightening, nerve-wracking prospect.

  He dug himself under the covers and pulled Bear to his chest, smiling into the back of his companion’s head. It had been a good day, considering how it had begun. When summer was over, he’d go to school, private school no less, where no one knew who he was or where he came from (unless Finn blabbed, and Jaden may be able to scare him into keeping his mouth shut). This was a fresh start, a new beginning.

  Sleep came easily, falling over him like fog in winter.

  Thirst woke him. Delicious and satisfying as it had been, he’d probably eaten too much pasta, bread, and butter. His mouth and throat were parched. He tossed in bed, willing himself to go back to sleep. However, in his experience, thirst never got better with time.

  He kicked off the covers, left Bear in bed, then bumped his way downstairs, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

  The microwave clock glowed 1:42. Jaden got a glass from the cabinet and filled it at the sink. He stared at his pale reflection in the kitchen window and gulped the water. Better.

  Rather than make a second or third trip, Jaden would take the glass with him and fill it in his bathroom if he got thirsty again. He left the kitchen and headed to the stairs to go back to bed.

  Someone was there. It was not Derek or Jenny.

  The dark figure, his face hidden, advanced toward Jaden, who backed away. He opened his mouth to scream, but couldn’t.

  Jaden dropped the glass. It hit the floor and shattered; the sound seemed louder yet far away.

  Run!

  He spun and sprinted all of three feet before colliding with a second hooded man, who had hidden behind him. The second intruder grabbed Jaden, holding him to his chest with a massive and strong arm, while his other gloved hand clamped around Jaden’s mouth.

  Eyes wide, Jaden watched the first intruder approaching. A needled syringe was in the man’s hand.

  Jaden struggled, trying to break free, but the arm around him was strong, unyielding. His scream was a hollow groan in his throat, with nowhere to go.

  When the other dark figure came, Jaden aimed a kick to the man’s gut, but missed. The intruder jumped clear at the last second, catching and holding Jaden’s kicking leg.

  With his other hand, the one holding the needle, the man made a lowering motion. Jaden, fighting with every breath he had, squirming, flailing and kicking, was lowered to the floor as the man holding him sat.

  Jaden arched his back hoping the bad angle would help. The man clutching him flipped Jaden to his stomach and pinned him to the floor, one hand closed tight over Jaden’s mouth, his legs on the backs of Jaden’s knees.

  Immobilized. Jaden could not move.

  Heart pounding in his ears, stomach writhing, body twisting, Jaden tried slithering out of their grasp.

  “Careful,” the first intruder whispered. He knelt beside Jaden and grabbed Jaden’s right hand, flexing it toward him, then turned his hand palm up, his knee on Jaden’s elbow.

  Jaden groaned, fighting the forced movement, knowing what came next.

  “Turn his head,” the needle man whispered.

  The other twist Jaden’s head the opposite way, so Jaden saw the legs of a chair in
stead of his outstretched arm. He felt a pinch below his right elbow as the needle penetrated his skin. He groaned again and blinked as tears splashed to the floor.

  His heart slowed. A breath of air released. A soft moan of fear faded as his muscles and body tingled and went limp, his eyelids drooped but did not close.

  Both men eased off, then the first intruder flipped Jaden onto his back, his hand covering Jaden’s mouth.

  Jaden blinked sedately, looking up at the hooded figures, his eyes fighting to stay open but slowly losing control. He was so tired. His legs and arms were numb, his foot twitched.

  The needle man taped a cotton ball to Jaden’s right arm over the injection site. Then he reached into a bag and retrieved a roll of duct tape. He tore a strip and placed it over Jaden’s mouth.

  “Shouldn’t he be out of it by now?” the bigger man whispered to the first.

  The second shook his head. “I was told to expect this. I’ll finish, you clean the glass and get the backpack.” From the same bag he got the tape, the man extracted a dark fabric: a shrouded hood, which he placed over Jaden’s head, blinding him.

  Jaden was losing consciousness when his arms were tied behind his back, and his legs bound together. Shortly after, he was lifted into someone’s arms and felt the breeze on his bare skin. A car door opening was the last thing he heard before blacking out.

  four

  Jaden was drowsy, his body relaxed and his breathing steady. But he wasn’t totally at peace, for he was nauseous. Acid in his stomach lapped like water on the shore. Waking felt impossible. Only the pain in his gut stopped him from drifting into sleep again.

  Blurry images of two hooded men floated behind his eyes, with a high-pitched mechanical whine playing as background music. Phantom memories. They were wisps, impossible to catch and see. They slithered in and out of his mind. It had all been a nightmare. A new and vivid nightmare.

  When he opened his eyes, he’d be in bed. Through his window he would watch neighbors walk their dogs, trailing them with plastic poop-collecting bags. Because he lived in a nice area of town, with kind people. French toast, potato salad, green lawns.