THE SKY WAS just beginning to grow cloudy. The sun dropping below the horizon gave everything a pinkish tinge. Though it was summer, some people were at the college. A small group, along with some kids, sat out on the grass in front of the large marble gryphon statue, talking.
"Y'know," one, named Ritzie O'Brien, said, "I just found out we don't have adequate fire escape routes in the theater."
"Really?" Cosmo Vallence put her two cents, or really one fourth cent, in.
Damien rolled his eyes. "What, then?"
"What what?" Ritzie asked.
"What what what?" Damien said.
"What what what what?"
"What what what what what?"
"What--"
"What are you getting at?" Damien fumed.
"Oh. What I mean is, we need a new plan."
"Okay. Get a map."
"Damien, what would you do if you were a trematode?" Harvey, a kid, asked.
"A what?"
"A trematode."
"I'd drain out all of my earwax and give it to the homeless," Damien replied matter-of-factly, and turned back to talk to the others, leaving Harvey grimacing with disgust.
"Hey Amy, what would you do if you were a trematode?" he asked.
Amy thought a moment, then said, "I think I'd explode and come back as Peewee Herman." She giggled. So did Ritzie and Cosmo.
"Ho! If you think that's funny, you should hear some things we get at the News to Us and Daily Zodiac," Damien said. "Once we asked if people liked snow. One person said, 'Yes, but daaa...what's snow? I'm immortal. My name is Shirley and I got hit by a semi on January 14, 1991.'"
"Weird!" Amy laughed.
"One person thought a puffin was a booger on a log," Katrina Witchita added.
The others fell over, laughing. [Note--this entire odd "trematode" exchange, ending in the comment about puffins, is based on several things students said in the junior high school newspaper.]
"Damien!" Damien turned around and saw someone on the path, waving. "Phone!"
"See ya in a sec," Damien said, getting up and following the person.
In the office, Damien picked up the phone. "Hi?"
"Hello," a man's voice, unfamiliar, said. "Is this Mr. Damien?"
Damien smiled at the name so many out-of-touchers gave him. "Damien if it matters. Why?"
"Ah, good," the voice said. "You are from the Sidekicks Detective Agency, are you?"
Damien frowned, puzzled. "Yeah?"
The person sensed his uneasiness. "Oh, there's nothing seriously wrong, Damien. Only a little problem. Which, of course, I'm certain you can solve."
The voice was pleasant. Too pleasant.
"Well, yeah," Damien said, picking up the office phone notepad. "Where?"
The person gave him a location on a certain street, and what time to be there. As Damien hung up, he felt a bit uneasy, though he didn't know why.
The black car pulled up outside a big building and stopped. Damien and his uncle, Father Damien, got out.
"I still don't see why you wouldn't let me take my car," Damien said.
"You're a maniac driver, that's why," Father Damien replied. "Now, what're you supposed to do?"
"I'm supposed to meet a contact," Damien said. "They're supposed to shake my hand. But the guy didn't tell me what they looked like."
"What guy?"
"The guy on the phone." Damien looked around, then threw his hands up. "Well! No one here. I guess we go." He turned around. Suddenly a person grasped his left hand tightly, then disappeared into the crowd.
Damien yelped and grabbed his hand.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Father Damien asked.
"That person burned me!" Damien exclaimed, looking back. But the person was lost from sight.
"Was it the contact?"
"I guess so. But they didn't even stop long enough. And my hand!" He rubbed his sore hand.
"Let me see," Father Damien said. He took Damien's hand and held his palm flat up.
"Goodness!" he exclaimed. "It looks like you've been branded, Damien!"
"Wha?" Damien looked at his hand. A circle with some crossing lines inside it seemed to be there, but he couldn't tell because it was so faint.
"What a nut!"
"We should get ice on this, Dami."
"Nah, I'm okay. But I don't think that contact is!"
No comments:
Post a Comment