“But why does he say the pain he gets is precious?” I asked.
Grandpa Odd’s eyes glistened. “It is a matter of perspective, young Hamilton. If you are doing something which will end in self-destruction, would you not want someone to stop you? Would you not want a challenge to make you a better person? The child who flinches at the thought of piano practice today might be the accomplished pianist of tomorrow.”
People have to choose how their pain will change them, I supposed.
“Here.” Grandpa Odd held out his hand and winked. “Take this. A quarter for your thoughts.”
Mrs. Smithe’s lecture popped into my mind. A different point of view. That’s all I need, I thought as I rolled my eyes in disgust.
“I think I’ll take my leave,” Grandpa Odd said as he yawned. “It’s been a long day already. Adieu, young Hamilton.” And then the old man bowed and left.
Rachel came back over and said, “I’m sorry that he’s such a bother to you. But he means well, I think, in his own way. He’s been terribly lonely since Grandma died. Ever since Raiya came to live with us, he’s been better.”
“He’s not that much of a bother, I guess,” I shrugged. At least for today. It was possible I even felt a bit better after listening to him. Don’t quote me on that, though.
*☼*
“Hamilton, where have you been?”
“Hi, Cheryl,” I muttered more to myself than anyone else as I walked into the house (not my house, you’ll notice.)
“Come in here. We’ve gotten some information on those so-called superheroes I think you’ll like.”
“Now?” I didn’t want to deal with it.
“Yes, now.” Cheryl laughed. “I could use your help with it, you know. When were you going to come into the mayor’s office, by the way? Stefano’s been asking about you. Oh, can you bring me my briefcase? It’s out there by the door.”
There was nothing my mother loved more than a difficult case. I could tell she was enjoying herself by how talkative she was. I knew I wouldn’t have to really answer her questions for a while.
I hauled in her briefcase and sighed, mentally preparing myself for a tirade of some kind. I waited until she pulled out a folder from her briefcase before I asked her about her progress.
“It’s been hard,” she admitted. “There’s something unusual about those Angel fighters.”
“What is it?” I asked, not really interested. Not that Cheryl would notice.
“There hasn’t been any DNA recovered. None at all; not from them, or any from the monsters they fight.”
“Huh.”
“After all these months, there should have been some. Hmm.” Cheryl pursed her lips together. “It’s an interesting anomaly.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing special, I guess.” But there was something on her face which made me realize she was lying. Cheryl knew something. Her eyes looked up from her paper and landed on the family portrait of all of us on her desk.
I was just about to ask her what she was thinking when she jolted out of her trance and pulled out another paper.
“Did you see this one, Ham?” Cheryl asked. “There was an attack on a girl a few weeks ago. She’s from your school, actually.”
Dread crippled my stomach. “So?” I asked, trying my hardest not to choke over my words.
“Didn’t your other friend get attacked, as well?”
I didn’t say anything I looked down at Samantha Carter’s profile. Cheryl didn’t wait for my answer as she continued on. “The detective force we’re working with has asked us to figure out some of the similarities of the victims. Seems like they’re from broken homes, tragic childhood backgrounds, low self-esteem . . . ”
Cheryl rattled off some of the possibilities as I remembered what Elysian had said about Mikey. He’d been jealous of me. Samantha had been jealous for me. And even Starry Knight had warned me about envy. . .
I cringed. I hoped Cheryl didn’t make the connection back to me. I looked at her now, and figured I was pretty safe; Cheryl was more concerned for her case than the actual victims, so she would probably make whatever connection would help her win. A numbing sensation crept through me as I recalled how much Gwen had wanted to go see them; I didn’t care too much about the victims, either. Not even to be nice about it.
“I gotta go do some homework,” I said gruffly, trying to shake off the momentary guilt.
“Okay,” Cheryl said, as she tacked up the pictures and other information to her corkboard and began to study them. “Try to come see me and Stefano soon. I want to get you set up as an aide soon.”
“Sure.” My automatic reply was back as my voice was trapped behind a wave of nausea.
☼18☼
Regret
It wasn’t long before I couldn’t sleep.
I blamed Cheryl and her stupid quest inside the teenage mind, but there were other complications.
While my dreams of Orpheus and his team of monsters had disappeared, mysteriously (because miraculously was never going to be in my vocabulary), I kept dreaming of Mikey and Gwen, and losing. Losing what, or who, I didn't really know, and that was the worst part. Well, the second to worst part. The worst part was I didn't know if paranoia had caused my insomnia or if it was the other way around. The bright side was I was at Rachel's a lot more for her coffee.
“Back again, Hamilton? Wasn’t one trip this morning enough for you?” Rachel asked me as she handed me my order. “I mean no offense, and I like you as much as friend as a customer. But are you feeling all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I assured her as best as I could.
She frowned. “What’s wrong? Are you stressed about school or something? I know my cousin’s not your favorite person in the world, but she’s been out for the last couple of days. Surely she’s not that much trouble for you.”
“No.” I grimaced.
“Is it something else?”
“Nothing much,” I lied again. “Cheryl’s just trying to get me to help her with some of her casework. It’s just so . . . engrossing.”
“Oh, I see. Well, that’s good, I guess.” Rachel smiled. “You like it?”
“Not really.”
“Oh.”
“It’s hard with all the schoolwork and everything.” For some reason, it was just getting easier to keep lying. “I’ll get used to it soon.”
“If that’s what you want, I guess,” Rachel agreed. She gave me a small smile. “I’ll get some extra cookies for you.”
“You’re the best,” I saluted her with my near-empty cup. At last, I thought. A non-lie.
“Is Gwen coming in today?” she asked as she pulled down her personal cookie jar.
“I texted her earlier. She said she had stay late at school today.”
A scoffing noise came out from behind me as the entrance door closed. “Well, she’s not at school anymore.”
I turned to see Raiya, coming in from the cold weather, her old art box with her. I refrained from making some kind of remark on where she’d been all week to look down my nose at her. “What would you know about it?” I asked with an indignant huff. “I just got the text about an hour ago.”
“Well, I just saw her at the hospital an hour ago,” Raiya told me. “So there’s that.”
“What?” Surely she was mistaken. I mean, Gwen had wanted to go to the hospital, and she’d even asked me if I wanted to go with her, but I’d told her flat-out no. I didn’t need to be surrounded by all the people in the stuffed quarantine for the “sleeping sickness,” nor did I want to visit all the people who had been attacked or injured in some manner by demon activity.
Talk about torture, seeing all the people I’d failed.
“What were you doing at the hospital?” I asked, turning the conversation on her. “Is that where you’ve been all week?”
“Missed me, have you?” Raiya ducked under the coffee bar and started dishing out ground espresso. She shrugged and pulled the hat off he
r head, shaking her golden brown hair loose.
She turned around, plopping the hat down next to me. “I just went to visit Mrs. Smithe. She says hello.”
I blinked in surprise, as if what she’d just said didn’t make any sense. “Martha’s awake?”
“Yeah. She’s doing well, too. Better than expected, actually.” Raiya’s mouth quirked at the one side. “She even asked me if I was keeping you in line.”
I didn’t respond to that. I felt a surge of relief. Martha’s okay.
My moment of celebration was short-lived as I recalled Martha’s recovery was only one of the near hundred people needed yet.
“Don't get too excited,” Raiya told me. “She won’t be back for a few weeks yet. Or at least, that’s what her doctor told her. I doubt he’ll be able to keep her on bed rest.” She glanced up at me with shadowed eyes. “She asked me to let you know she’d like it if you came to visit with me next time. Apparently, she thinks our arguments are ‘endearing.’”
“I’ll head over there by myself, thank you very much,” I snapped. “In fact, I think I’ll go over there now.” I began to pack up my things and toss out my trash when she spoke again.
“You’re not just going over there to see Gwen, are you?”
“What?” I’d actually forgotten about Gwen. I was too focused on Martha to worry about her. But now that I’d been reminded, I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to catch up with Gwen while I was there. I furrowed my brow. “That’s none of your business.”
Raiya shrugged and picked up her cup on her way out to the kitchen.
I hurriedly paid my bill and was about to head out when I glanced back at the kitchen door. I suppose I should’ve been nicer to Raiya, I thought. Since she’d let me know about Martha and all.
A moment passed, and with no sign of Raiya’s return (not that I was going to apologize or anything anyway), I set out for the hospital.
*☼*
As a rule, I hate hospitals. When the meteor struck Apollo City a few months ago, nothing about my short stay in the hospital had changed my mind about that.
In fact, I am pretty sure it made it worse. What especially made my trip to the hospital even worse than worse this time was seeing Gwen there.
I saw her almost instantly on my way to Martha’s room. The hospital, pitifully small as it was, had needed to shove nearly all the sleeping, now-soulless people in one large connecting room, like some kind of deathlike delivery ward. My fists clenched together so hard I could feel my fingernails peeling into my skin as I passed by. There were just so many people there. It was hard for me to process.
Several moments passed as I saw Gwen just standing at Tim’s bedside. He was still unconscious, hooked up to a bunch of devices. There were wires and tubes and all sorts of things surrounding his body. From where I was standing, I could tell Gwen had a worried look on her face.
Painstakingly, I uncurled my fingers and shoved them through my hair. I didn’t know what to do. I’d have to deal with it later.
Checking the charts, I found Martha’s room a few floors up.
She wasn’t, like Tim, suspected of having her soul stolen, and I had a feeling since she’d been teaching forever, at least one of her former students had recognized her and gotten her a private room.
I think I got there in time to save a nurse from being hospitalized.
“Get that IV away from me,” Martha barked from her bed. “I feel fine, I am fine, and I don’t need the IV.”
“You have only been feeling this well since yesterday,” the nurse reminded her, “And that is not enough time for the doctors to agree with you.”
Martha rolled her eyes. “Where’s my copy of Time? I need my magazines if I am going to be stuck here forever.”
I chuckled as I came in the door. “You must be feeling better,” I said. “Especially if you’re ordering other people around.”
“Dinger,” Martha raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I was wondering if you’d come to visit. Your father was in here earlier saying he thought you’d come around.”
“I ran into Raiya and she told me you were here.”
“I see you’re nice and chipper today, despite that.”
“It’s not every day I get to see you at the mercy of a helpless nurse,” I replied, causing the nurse to huff indignantly.
Martha laughed. “Leave us to talk,” she instructed the nurse. “And go get my magazine. I need to hear the latest on that new bill going down in Washington from a reliable source. The View is not a reliable source.”
“How are you feeling, Martha?” I asked as the nurse brushed impolitely past me.
“It’s Mrs. Smithe until you graduate, Dinger,” Martha replied. “But I am fine. I have been feeling much better lately. They thought I was going to die when I first came in, did you know? And then everything turned all around in less than a night.”
“So I guess that makes you a miracle patient,” I said kindly.
Martha chuckled. “From the rational Hamilton Dinger, I get the word ‘miracle’ attached to my name? I must be dead. I thought you didn’t believe in that stuff, Dinger.”
“I . . . I’ve begun to change my mind about a few things.”
Martha smiled. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
I looked up at her, slightly surprised. “Why?”
She smiled. “You can’t go through your life expecting to know everything or understand everything, Dinger. And I didn’t want to see you become a cynical, bitter, and continually frustrated grown up.”
I thought about it for a moment and acquiesced, “I guess no one would want that kind of person for president one day.”
Martha softened. “Dinger, listen to me. Life will get you down. There is no denying it–look at me, for example. But the important thing is to keep going. Keep going on. Your challenges will make you a better person–not just in politics, but in real life.”
“Is that why you don’t move Raiya from behind me?” I asked, half-jokingly.
“Yes and no. Yes, because it is good to see someone question you–a lot of other students seem too afraid to–and no, because it’s convenient to keep everyone else where they are.”
“I suspected as much,” I nodded, chuckling a bit.
Mrs. Smith’s eyes gleamed. “It’s so boring here. I was rather hoping you’d come with Raiya. You guys have some good arguments.” She shrugged. “If nothing else, I would’ve thought you’d come with Gwen, since you’re dating her now, aren’t you?”
“Something like that.”
“What?” Martha rolled her eyes. “Oh, never mind. I’ll never understand you kids and your slang.” A moment passed before she sighed. “I always hate being in hospitals. I thought for sure I would die in one. This is the same hospital where my son and husband died all those years ago.”
“Died?” That was a bit surprising to hear.
“Yes. You remind me a lot of my son. His name was Michael. He and Scott, my husband, died almost sixteen years ago. He would be thirty-two this year, if he had lived.”
Martha’s eyes went glassy. “The people you love are the hardest to say goodbye to.”
I said nothing. There are some times in life when you can’t say anything, and there are times when you shouldn’t say anything. Although I was thinking of asking if she’d been put on Prozac this week.
Finally, after a long moment, Martha spoke up, thankfully on a different subject. “Thank you for coming to see me today. It’s been so nice to see so many of my students.”
“I’m sorry you’re in here,” I told her. “The movies in class are a poor substitute . . . and . . .” I hesitated briefly before adding, “I’m sorry you are in here in the first place. You know what happened, right?”
Martha nodded. “I know.”
“I feel like it’s my fault,” I told her quietly.
“It’s not your fault, Dinger,” Martha assured me. It was weak assurance at best. She didn’t know the whole story, I knew, and I also knew there w
as no way I was going to tell her.
Mrs. Smithe continued. “Everything happens for a reason, Dinger. True, bad things happen, but sometimes it ends up helping us even though it hurt us. Your life is not about you; it’s about something greater. Think about how you can help others if the attacks around town are bothering you.”
It was there that she lost me. I didn’t know what she meant at the time, and it would be years later before I would understand. Or even have an idea of what ‘something greater’ could possibly be.
We talked for a while. She laughed the most when I told her about Cheryl’s plan to sue Wingdinger and Starry Knight.
“What’s so funny about it?” I asked, almost insulted, even though Martha didn’t know I would be the one facing my mother’s condemnation in court.
“Nothing. I doubt she’ll get away with it. Even the great Cheryl Thomas-Dinger has a bad case every now and then, and this one sounds like a doozy.”
“You don’t think Starry Knight and Wingdinger would get called up on charges?” I asked.
“No. From what I’ve been able to tell, they’ve mostly been doing defensive work,” Martha told me. “And it seems like they are the only ones really capable of handling the monsters. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I saw the report about the swim meet,” Martha said, figuring I would ask about it. “But they only led the creature away in chains. I wonder what they did with him, anyway? They didn’t say much about it.”
That was a good question, I thought. I hadn’t heard anything about where they might’ve taken Mikey, either. But then, I was more worried about other things of late, I admitted to myself.
“I’ll say this, Dinger. It seems the media needs a scapegoat, and good people–or fighters, I guess in this case–are more easily persuaded to dance to the media’s tune on topics like these. To be honest, it sounds more like the mayor is bringing up charges against Starry Knight and Wingdinger to get his approval rating up more than anything. I mean, people want results, and enough where they got the last mayor to resign.”
“What do you think is the worst thing that could happen to the superheroes?” I asked. My fingers gripped onto the armrest of my chair as I waited, breathlessly, for her answer.