True Talents(35)

Torchie looked at me out of the sides of his eyes. “That would be great.”

I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been until then. Ever since they’d gotten angry, I’d been walking around like a stretched-out rubber band. Now I could feel my whole body relax. “I’m really sorry about what I said to you.”

“That’s okay. I’m not mad. Honest.”

I felt I had to do something special. I went to my desk and fished around in the bottom drawer until I found what I was looking for. “Here, I want you to have this.”

I held out my peace offering, hoping it would make Torchie happy.





LETTER TO THE EDITOR

THE EDGEVIEW EXPRESS

DATED THE PREVIOUS MONDAY





PICK A CARD, ANY CARD

Torchie’s eyes lit up. Okay—maybe that was a bad choice of words. But I could tell he was excited. “Wow, a harmonica,” he said, taking the gift. “I’ve always wanted one. You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. My sister gave it to me last April for my birthday. think it was her idea of a joke. I never learned to play it. I just threw it in my bag when I packed. Guess I threw it in for you.” It was the perfect gift for him. As far as I could tell, it was pretty much fireproof except for the little reeds on the inside of each hole. And they tended to get pretty spitty, so they’d be safe as soon as he started playing.

“But you didn’t even know me back then.”

I was about to say, Maybe I’m psychic, but I caught myself. It wasn’t a good time for that kind of joke.

Torchie blew into the harmonica, producing a batch of random notes, then pulled it away from his mouth and smiled. “Great. Did you recognize that?”

“Give me a clue.”

“It was ‘Oh Susannah,’” he said.

“Right. Yeah. Now I recognize it. Good job.” I got the sinking feeling I’d just created a monster.

“Too bad I can’t play and sing at the same time. That would be cool.”

“Yeah. Too bad.”

Torchie spent the next hour or so happily making noises with the harmonica. Some of the notes even sort of resembled songs if you didn’t listen too closely. At least he wasn’t angry with me anymore.

The next day, at breakfast, it seemed as if an invisible signal had been sent to the other kids. Maybe it was the sight of Torchie and me standing together in line. Anyhow, Cheater and Flinch and Lucky once again recognized my existence. Except for a layer of coolness that I knew would eventually melt, everything was headed back the way it had been before.

Almost everything.

As I sat down with them, I snuck a guilty look at Trash, alone at his table. Maybe he expected me to sit with him. He glanced toward me. I thought about asking him to join us. But I’d just patched things up with the others. I didn’t think it was the right time. I felt like a rat. I’d used him when I needed company, and now I was abandoning him. Maybe that should be my nickname. Martin the Rat.

As rotten as I felt about Trash, the rottenness was diluted by relief. I was back from exile.

Even though I’d decided to keep my mouth shut, I still kept my eyes open for anything unusual. But by Monday, when I went to Mr. Briggs’s class, I hadn’t found any new suspects to add to my list. Maybe his lecture on scientific methods had made me look at things more carefully. If you want to see something badly enough, you’re going to see it even if it isn’t there.

“All right, class,” Mr. Briggs said once we’d all gotten comfortable. “Let’s hear your ideas for experiments.”

Bloodbath spoke out. “I figured I could decide to hit someone. If he stayed in the room, we’d know he didn’t read my mind.” He chuckled. Then he smashed one fist onto the floor.

“Very interesting,” Mr. Briggs said, “but I don’t know how scientific that would be.”

The class discussed ideas. A couple of the kids had heard about Zenner cards, though they didn’t know them by that name. I did, because of the reading I’d done. A standard set has five different symbols; a square, a star, wavy lines, and a couple of other things. There are five of each, so a deck has twenty-five cards. One person looks at a card, and the other person tries to read his mind and say what the card is or guess the card before anyone sees it.

The rest of the class leaped on the idea of the cards. Even though I knew more about the subject than anyone in the room, I kept my mouth shut. I really wanted to stay out of it. And I didn’t want to give Mr. Briggs the satisfaction of thinking he’d gotten me involved.

“Okay,” Mr. Briggs said when the discussion started to die down. “We all seem to like the cards, but we still need to design the experiment. How should we do it?”