Halifax Page 6

  He stood on the terrace of their modern house, alone, looking out and looking up. Up at the sky. There was a map of light above as well. It was a map Farrell knew by heart. It was a map of the stars in the sky. He followed the Cassiopeia constellation towards Triangulum and out to a fixed spot past unnamed stars in the dark sky. On every clear night, when there weren’t clouds or a layer of smog to block the view, Farrell would trace the same path across the sky to one particular light so distant and dim it was barely noticeable.

  “It’s still there,” Izzy said as she joined Farrell on the terrace.

  “Not really,” Farrell replied.

  “It’s still there for now,” she said as she put her arm around Farrell’s shoulder and traced her own route through the stars to gaze at the same far away flicker of light in the night sky. “I miss it, too.”

  As Farrell and Izzy stared up into the sky, lost among the stars, Rom and Mom worked in the kitchen carving a large pumpkin into a traditional Halloween jack-o-lantern. The pumpkin had a crooked grin with a single tooth and classic triangular eyes. It was a Norman Rockwell pumpkin. Pure Americana. Rom had seen one just like it in a magazine. He had shown the picture to Mom and she had recreated the jack-o-lantern perfectly. The two of them had happily carved away as they ate cookies and watched It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown on TV. Rom was determined to have the perfect Halloween just like every other kid in every other family. Just like everyone else.

  Mom put a candle down into the pumpkin and lit it and Rom carried it out to the front porch and placed it down on the steps. He stood back and admired their handiwork. Farrell and Izzy could look at the stars all they wanted. Rom had everything he needed right there on Earth.

  * * *

  “…Cohan…”

  “Here.”

  “Djalili…Djalili….?” The science teacher, whose name Izzy didn’t remember, was calling roll. He stood before the classroom calling out names, occasionally looking up to scan the rows of desks and the several empty seats among them. He checked a box next to ‘Djalili’. Absent.

  “Wang…”

  “Present,” said the student with the last name of Wang, sitting two rows over from Izzy.

  “Halifax…”

  “Here,” Izzy said.

  “Holcomb,” the science teacher said. Then he said it again, more of a question this time. “Holcomb?” He glanced up and looked to the same place Izzy was looking. The empty seat next to hers. Carolyn Holcomb’s empty seat.

  “Lot of people absent today,” the teacher commented. “Must be a bug going around.”

  * * *

  Farrell and Izzy walked together in between classes, carrying books they never planned to read and homework assignments they never planned to complete --- unless they handed them over for Rom to do. It just depended on how long this mission lasted. The shorter the mission the better as far as they were concerned. Get in. Do the job. Get out. Don’t stick around long enough to make friends or enemies --- or have to do homework.

  “Did you find out anything interesting today?” Farrell asked Izzy.

  “Oh, sure,” she said. “In chorus I learned that I can’t sing, which wasn’t a big surprise, and in science the teacher told us that there’s no life on Mars, which we both know is a total joke.”

  “No, I mean did you find out anything interesting about our escaped prisoner?” Farrell asked.

  “The only thing I’m getting from all these teenagers is a headache,” Izzy said wearily. “They’re clogging my brain with hormonal drama. I don’t know how much more of it I can take.”

  Coach Gwynn came running down the walkway towards Farrell and Izzy. He dodged students and swerved around obstacles in his path like a running back weaving past players on a football field. Unlike a fit football player, however, the coach was huffing and puffing from exhaustion by the time he reached them.

  “Halifax…I need you,” the coach said as he rested his hand on Farrell’s shoulder and used him as a crutch. “I need you to suit up for the game today. Roberts is out sick or something and I’m a man down.”

  “But I’ve only been to one practice, Coach,” Farrell told him.

  The coach worked to catch his breath. “It’s not like you’ve never played before, Halifax. It’s basketball. It’s like riding a bike --- or getting a divorce. You never forget. See you at the gym after school.”

  Coach Gwynn gave Farrell a slap on the back before limping off across the quad.

  Izzy smiled with satisfaction. She loved the rare moments when Farrell wasn’t in complete control. She loved to see him squirm a little. “Basketball? This I have to see.”

  * * *

  Rom sat ramrod straight at his desk in his math class. He watched as Mrs. O’Brien scribbled an equation on the dry erase board. Rom studied the numbers, watching his teacher intensely as the other students barely paid attention.

  Rom’s arm suddenly shot up into the air. Mrs. O’Brien saw him out of the corner of her eye but continued to write on the board, ignoring Rom.

  “Mrs. O’Brien?” he finally asked, waving his hand back and forth. “Mrs. O’Brien, I have something to say.”

  The elderly teacher lowered her hand from the board and looked to the heavens. Why wouldn’t this impossible boy just DIE? “Yes, Rom. What is it?”

  “Your equation is incorrect,” he replied with neither a look of satisfaction or any arrogance at all. It was a fact.

  “No, Rom,” an exasperated Mrs. O’Brien said. “It comes directly from the text book.”

  “Then the text book is incorrect,” Rom told her.

  Mrs. O’Brien took her glasses off and wiped her tired eyes. “I assure you, it’s correct, Mr. Halifax. I’ve been teaching from this book for twenty five years.”

  This was hardly an explanation to appease Rom. “If you’ve been using this book for twenty five years and you’ve never noticed this error, I think it might be time for you to consider retirement.”

  * * *

  “My name is Rom Halifax and I’m here for detention,” Rom told the been-there, done-that, seen-it-all librarian, Ms. Goodman. She was small on the top but large on the bottom. It looked as if her rear end had melted and spread across the large expanse of her well-worn chair.

  Ms. Goodman didn’t even look up at Rom. She just pointed her fleshy finger to a nearby table in the empty library. Only the ticking of the clock on the wall could be heard as Rom made his way there, past rows of books, an old globe, and some tenth grade papier-mache volcanoes displayed on a shelf.

  The library seemed the last place that should be so silent. It was filled with stories. Sad stories. Exciting stories. Romance and adventure. The celebration of human emotion in the books, however, was neatly tucked into rows and Dewey-decimalized into submission. Just like Rom.

  * * *

  “Welcome, everyone, to the final game of the fall tournament,” Principal Whitaker said loudly through his microphone as he addressed a gymnasium packed with students from rival schools ready for a basketball showdown. He was awkward when it came to public speaking but was doing his best to sound enthusiastic. “I know the players from both teams are going to be thrilled to see so many fans here today. So let’s get this show on the road and bring out the boys. First, the Lions from Westminster!”

  The students broke out into a mixture of cheers from the visiting fans and “boos” from the Lexham students as the Westminster Lions basketball team ran out onto the court in their green and white uniforms. They were led by a back-flipping student dressed in a furry lion costume complete with pointy lion ears. He wore a Westminster basketball jersey and was surrounded by six attractive cheerleaders furiously waving their green and white pom-poms.

  Principal Whitaker stood in the middle of the mayhem and took to his microphone again. “And now our home court heroes, sixteen time division champions and three time state champions, your very own LEXHAM NIMRODS!”

  Rafter-rattling music played and the Lexham faithful roared with
approval as the varsity basketball squad took to the court. Their own mascot, a boy dressed up as the mighty hunter, Nimrod, from the Book of Genesis, led the way. He fired off nerf arrows into the crowd as Andre Davies, waving to the students like a rock star, brought the team out. Farrell brought up the rear, laughing to himself that he was not just watching this spectacle; he was actually a part of it.

  Farrell may have been in a basketball uniform but suddenly, as the Lexham cheerleaders made their way onto the court, the game was the last thing on his mind. He was fixated on them and it wasn’t because their skirts were shorter than those of the Westminster cheerleaders.

  Led onto the court by the tumbling, whooping and hollering Shana Rowen, the Lexham cheerleaders now numbered over twenty. Twenty plus scarily enthusiastic cheerleaders took over the floor, waving their blue and red pom-poms and dancing in unison to the beat of the music.

  The squad now included a number of surprise recruits. Executing a split in the center of the court was none other than Izzy’s friend, Carolyn Holcomb. She was now totally stripped of any signs of individuality. She was groomed and highlighted and powder-puffed and almost indistinguishable from the rest of the cheerleaders.

  Standing out, literally, from the others, was the Tall Girl from Rom’s math class. She showed no signs of trauma from her mysterious meeting with someone or something in the janitor’s closet. If anything, she looked better than she did before. Polished, pink and perfect.

  Farrell looked at the all the cheerleaders and at his favorite cheerleader in particular, Nora Evans. The rest of the squad surrounded her as they began a routine and Farrell lost sight of her in a sea of pom-poms. She was the eye of a cheerleading hurricane.

  Farrell wasn’t the only one taken aback by the sheer number of cheerleaders or by the newest additions to the squad. Coach Gwynn barely had time to get out of the way before his former point guard, Jon Roberts, came cartwheeling across the court. He was dressed in a Lexham yell leader uniform with stretchy tight white pants and a comfy white turtleneck sweater that his athletically large neck strained beneath. He held a megaphone with a large red L on the side and excitedly worked the crowd, encouraging them to cheer.

  Coach Gwynn approached Jon, examining him carefully, almost reaching out to touch him to see if he was for real. “Roberts? What are you doing? And what are you wearing?”

  “Hey, Coach,” Jon said chirpily. “I’m a yell leader now. Isn’t it awesome? I finally found the me I always knew I could be!”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Rom sat at his table in the library. He watched the librarian, studying her and her habits, watching her as she watched him. Watching her until she grew bored with him. She finally turned away and looked down at the crossword puzzle on her desk.

  Rom seized the opportunity to peruse his penguin backpack and the seemingly bottomless pit of entertainment opportunities it held for him. It was filled mostly with toys strewn amongst the odd pencil or candy wrapper. Rom pushed aside the Magic Eight Ball he had used to destroy their old house, a Pez Dispenser with a scary clown’s head, a container of dried up Play Dough, a Yo-Yo, a binocular-like red Viewmaster, and a plastic bear-shaped honey jar.

  He continued to search for something, moving things aside, jostling them around, peering into the backpack as he occasionally looked up to see if Ms. Goodman was watching him. Finally, beneath his blowtorch Barbie with her now charred and hairless head, he spied what he had been searching for. It was a half eaten bag of gummy worms. Rom reached in to retrieve them and accidentally brushed his hand against a bright yellow rubber duckie at the bottom of the backpack. The rubber duckie let out a loud “quack” and its eyes began to glow red. Rom ducked just as a beam of light shot out of the duckie’s eyes and past Rom’s head. The beam whizzed across the room, hitting the ceiling, and burning a Frisbee sized hole in the panel high above the librarian’s head.

  Ms. Goodman looked up at the sound of the “quack” but didn’t notice the smoking hole in the ceiling above her. “Is there a problem, Mr. Halifax?”

  “No,” Rom said, trying not to look at the hole but finding it almost impossible not to do so. He pulled a gummy worm out and began chewing on it nervously. “No problem over here.”

  * * *

  And Izzy had thought this was going to be fun.

  From her vantage point at the entrance to the gym the scene before Izzy looked more like a cheerleading competition than a basketball game. The Westminster cheerleaders almost cowered in fear as the Lexham squad flipped and spun and danced around them. They were an annoying, sparkly and smiling gaggle of energy.

  A basketball game was being played somewhere behind the cheerleaders. Farrell stood near the side of the court waiting for the inbound pass from one of his fellow players. He hadn’t seen much action thus far in the close game. Actually, he hadn’t seen any action at all other than running up and down the court as the other players went out of their way to keep the ball out of his hands --- and those were the players from his own team. Finally, he was waiting to get the basketball as it was brought into play, but Andre jumped in front of Farrell and took it for himself, running down court and executing a text book lay up, scoring two points to put Lexham up by two.

  Normally this would have driven Farrell crazy. He would have been interested in nothing but proving himself and defeating his enemy. In the case of basketball, the enemy was Andre, but there were more important things to consider and his attention, like Izzy’s, was on the cheerleaders. Knowing something was wrong, however, didn’t necessarily mean knowing why it was wrong.

  Farrell caught Izzy’s eye and motioned to the side of the court where the cheerleaders were trying their best to whip the Lexham fans into a frenzy. Izzy spotted Carolyn Holcomb among their numbers and worked her way down the edge of the court towards her. In the few days since Izzy had last seen Carolyn, she seemed to have mastered all manner of cheerleading stunts and was now atop a pyramid of girls raising her arms in the air to form a V. She screamed out “Go Nimrods” and tumbled down as the pyramid collapsed in an orderly fashion beneath her. She rolled to a stop at Izzy’s feet.

  “Carolyn?” Izzy asked, looking down on her, alarmed. “What the heck?”

  Carolyn bounced up and brushed the dust off her pleated skirt. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Even if you can’t be a cheerleader you can still cheer. Go Lexham!” Her former friend began clapping in unison with the other cheerleaders and backed away from Izzy to stand proudly next to head cheerleader Shana Rowen. Shana beamed a thousand watt smile at Izzy, almost as if to say --- “She’s my friend now…”

  Farrell was relieved that Izzy was there. She could watch over things while he concentrated on basketball. Not that he really needed to concentrate on basketball. It didn’t help their mission in any way other than to keep up appearances and look normal. Part of being normal, though, was not letting someone like Andre Davies show him up.

  As a Westminster player dribbled past him, Farrell stepped in and expertly stole the ball mid-bounce and was about to take it down court when he noticed something in the crowd. Shana Rowen had left the other cheerleaders and was whispering in the ear of a girl in the bleachers. The girl had long, unruly, black hair and thick, dark eyebrows that threatened to overtake her face. Shana took the hairy girl by the hand and led her towards the girl’s locker room.

  Farrell absent-mindedly dribbled as he watched this, even as his fellow teammates screamed for him to pass the ball. Now completely distracted, Farrell was an easy target and a Westminster player swooped in and stole the ball back from him, taking it to the hoop to score.

  Andre jogged past Farrell, slamming him in the shoulder as he passed by. “Stop looking at my girlfriend!” he warned him.

  “I wasn’t looking at her,” Farrell said, and then he turned and did look at Nora. She looked back at him and then they both turned to look as Shana Rowen and her new friend left the gym.

  * * *

  Rom stood before the librarian. He pati
ently waited for her to acknowledge his existence. She finally looked up from the crossword puzzle she had been diligently filling in. “Do you need something, Mr. Halifax?” she asked. She didn’t even try to conceal her annoyance.

  “What do you do in detention?” Rom asked. He was serious even if the librarian didn’t think he was.

  “How about your homework?”

  “I’ve completed my homework,” Rom said.

  “Well, this is the library,” Ms. Goodman said, stating the obvious. “Why don’t you read a book?”

  “I’ve read all these books.”

  “You’ve read all these books?”

  “Yes,” Rom replied.

  The librarian looked at the stacks and stacks, the literally thousands, of books surrounding them. “You’ve read…Great Expectations?”

  “Yes.”

  “Little Women? A Wrinkle in Time? War and Peace?”

  “Yes,” Rom told her. “My brother has a very extensive library. Much better than this one.”

  The librarian gripped her pen tightly and took a deep breath. After a moment of stewing she finally came up with an idea. She reached under her desk and pulled up a very thick copy of the White Pages telephone book. It was the residential listing of everyone who lived in the Valley and was hundreds of pages long. She dropped it down in front of Rom.

  “Here, Mr. Halifax. Why don’t you read this?”

  Rom studied the phone book for a moment. Ms. Goodman probably didn’t expect him to take her up on her offer, but Rom picked up the book and headed back to his table. He thumbed through the pages as he walked. He seemed to actually be reading it.

  The librarian shook her head in wonder. What an odd boy. She then picked up her pen and continued the hard work of completing her crossword puzzle.