The Boy Who Knew Everything (6 page)

Conrad couldn't think of what to say to this and so said nothing, giving Rory Ray the opportunity to lunge forward, smack him into the dirt, and force his face to taste muck. The four younger Miller brothers eagerly circled, Jo-Jo James getting a lick in with his strong right foot and Bobby Boo ripping Conrad's book bag away to scavenge through it.

Elbowing through the pack, Rory Ray grabbed Conrad's shirt in his beefy hand and yanked him up, eye level to dirty-sink teeth and stink breath. “We keep tellin' you and tellin' you that we don't like strangers none. Seems to me you must have some sort of learning disability, 'cause we can't seem to get the message through your thick head.”

“Maybe we ain't talking right and he can't hear us none,” a brother suggested helpfully.

“Or maybe we don't need to talk at all.”

Conrad let himself fall limp like a helpless rag doll in the big boy's hands as Rory Ray Miller and his four brothers each took a turn. Even as he lay submitting to their blows Conrad considered how strange it was that he wasn't feeling any pain—or perhaps, he mused, that the pain had begun to feel good.

It would have gone on longer, but suddenly the leaves a few feet behind the boys scattered like they had been hit from above. Or like someone had dropped out of the sky on top of them. By the time the Miller boys turned around Piper McCloud was running full tilt at Rory Ray.

“Teacher's looking for you, Rory Ray.” Piper squared off directly in front of the big boy. Even though she had turned eleven in August, Piper only came up to the middle of Rory Ray's chest; heavy farm work had built his muscles and made him as strong as a bull.

“Outta my way!” Rory Ray reached to push Piper aside, but instead of flinching, Piper stepped forward and put her finger in the middle of his chest.

“I'll make you sorry.” Her eyes blazed and her voice was low and threatening as she pushed her finger into Rory Ray's chest like it was a knife.

Something about the way Piper was standing gave Rory Ray pause. His mother had always said Piper wasn't right in the head. Then there was that strange Fourth of July picnic a few years back when she'd pulled some sort of weird flying stunt. After that strangers showed up and said that Piper had played a hoax on them. The strangers took Piper away, and when she'd finally returned, not that anyone in Lowland County had actually missed her a lick, this kid Conrad shows up out of the clear blue sky and moves in with the McClouds. No one knew who the heck Conrad was or where his kin was from, either. He wouldn't even tell anyone his last name, for heaven's sake. The boy stuck out like a sore thumb in Lowland County and it irked no one quite as much as Rory Ray Miller. Piper and Conrad were as thick as thieves, and while Conrad wouldn't lift a finger to protect himself, it seemed like Piper was itching for a fight. What was it about the small girl with her brown braids and flashing blue eyes that made Rory Ray think twice?

“If teacher's comin' we best scat, Rory Ray.” His brothers shifted back and forth fretfully.

Piper waited for Rory Ray to back down, but the boy hated to walk away from easy pickings like Conrad.

“This boy needs a lesson.” Rory Ray's voice hardened.

Piper got taller until she was eye level with the hulking farm boy and dealt him the full force of her stare.

“Show me what you got, Rory Ray.”

Seeing Piper's feet rise up off the ground got Conrad's attention even if the Miller boys hadn't noticed it yet. “Piper, stop it.”

Piper pointedly ignored Conrad. Her finger burned a hole in Rory Ray's chest, causing the fire in his eyes to flicker. He was not a smart boy, but he was smart enough not to tangle with a crazy girl.

“Likes of you ain't worth my notice, Piper McCloud.” He laughed in a forced, hollow way and stepped back. “Like my mama says, something ain't right in your head.”

Crumpled in the dirt, Conrad meekly looked away and let the boys pass, but Piper wouldn't give them the satisfaction of averting her gaze. She waited until they had crossed from the thicket of trees and back into the schoolyard before she stood down. Only then did she take a good look at Conrad.

“Oh, Conrad, you're bleeding.”

Conrad clutched at the place on his stomach where a steel-toed boot had found purchase. Bending down, Piper used her sleeve to dab at the cut on his cheekbone.

“I'm fine.”

“That's what you always say. Or ‘I heal fast,' or ‘Nothing I can't handle.'” Tears formed in Piper's eyes as she bent over him. “They've been beating on you more and more lately and you just let 'em. Why don't you fight back, or run away, or
do something
?”

Conrad tried to roll over and get on his knees, but without Piper's help he would have been stranded.

“I'm not gonna stand by and watch you do this, Conrad.” Piper shook her head and took a deep breath. When Conrad didn't answer she pulled him toward home. “C'mon.”

Conrad stumbled, but managed to keep up with Piper's marching gait. They walked most of the way home in silence, but by the time they reached the last hill Conrad noticed that Piper's hands were still balled into fists.

“I'm fine,” Conrad said in an attempt to break Piper's stony silence.

“No, you ain't.” Piper was fit to be tied. “It's like you're sleepwalking. Snap out of it! I know you, Conrad, and I know what you are. You're not like most kids struggling over their math homework, and you never will be. You're a super genius.”

“Not anymore,” said Conrad, shaking his muddy head. “Besides, it's not like all my smarts ever did anyone any good.”

“It's what you are. You can't not be what you are. What's the point of being able to if I don't fly? I've been blessed with flight, so I've gotta use it as a blessing. I don't want to hide anymore and I don't want to pretend to be what I'm not—and neither should you.”

“It doesn't matter, Piper.” Conrad pointed out to the world in general.
“We are not wanted!”
He emphasized every single word quietly and with conviction.

“Or maybe it's just
you
who aren't wanted,” Piper snapped. “When are you going to stop punishing the rest of us 'cause your pa doesn't want you? Why do you even listen to him or care about him, anyway? What kind of father says his son is dead when he knows well and good that he's not? He's bad to the bone and mean and cruel, and you need to get his words out of your head. 'Cause he won't ever love you or want you back, and he probably never wanted you in the first place.”

No sooner had the words escaped Piper's lips than she gasped and her hand flew to cover her mouth in horror. Conrad's eyes darted shamefully and he took a step back.

“I didn't mean it,” Piper whispered urgently. She'd crossed the line and knew it. “I didn't mean it.”

“Yes, you did. And it's true.”

“I was mad and it slipped out.”

Conrad turned away and Piper was glad she couldn't see his face. She didn't want to have to watch the way his pupils were going to have to fight to swim above the rising waterline in his eyes. The silence that fell between them was heavy.

Conrad put a muddy hand on his filthy head. He considered Piper to be his only friend. At his darkest hour, it was Piper McCloud who had helped him escape. But the same relentless optimism and unstoppable fervor that she had applied to that task she was now directing toward him, and it was that very thing that was going to destroy their friendship. She couldn't stop herself from trying to save him, but this time Conrad did not want to be saved. Conrad cared for Piper too much, and prized their friendship too highly, to allow anything to threaten it.

“I've been thinking that maybe it's time for a change,” Conrad began slowly. “Your parents have been really kind to have me, and I appreciate it, but I've overstayed my welcome.”

“What are you saying? My folks love having you. You're family!”

“Plus it's so quiet out here in the country, and I think it would be good for me to try the city for a while. It's easier to get lost and no one knows me there or what I am. It would be better … for me.”

“You want to leave?” All of a sudden Piper felt desperate. “No! I said I'm sorry and I am. You don't hav'ta—”

“It's not good for us to fight like this, Piper.”

“I'll stop. It won't happen again.” Tears stung Piper's eyes. “You said this was your home. You said!”

“Things change; I've changed.” Conrad shrugged. “Piper, you want to help people and fight, and…” He considered his words carefully and chose them with great thought. “I don't care the way you care.”

Piper kept her mouth shut and did not ask Conrad if he would allow himself to care if he accepted that he was cared for.

“I'm sorry,” Conrad offered, seeing the disappointment in Piper's face. “It's time for me to go.”

 

CHAPTER

8

W
EDNESDAY
, A
PRIL
14, 6:13
A.M.

On that Wednesday in April, Joe got up and went to work at the normal time. Like his father before him and his father before that, and probably a great many fathers before that too, Joe McCloud rose with the sun at five in the morning. Spring planting was serious business when you lived on a farm, and Joe had his head full of chore lists.

By the time the chickens had been fed, the cattle milked and turned out into the pasture, and the sheep moved from the front field over to the north pasture, Joe paused at the barn door to catch his breath. Somewhere between some harvest and the coming of its following spring he had grown old without realizing it. The dusting of gray hairs on his head had turned into a forest of silver, and his thin shoulders, once rigidly straight, had become bent. Holding on to the door, Joe was amazed by how hard it was to draw breath into his lungs. He considered the fact that he might have been walking too quickly, or that the morning wind had pushed too much against him, and waited for his body to right itself.

Absently he wondered where Conrad was. The boy had been with him so much over the last months. Before and after school, Conrad would just fall into step behind him and silently go about helping him with the various tasks of the farm. Not that morning, though, and Joe wondered, as he struggled for breath, where he might be. He knew that Conrad was a good boy, and Joe's heart was often saddened as he watched the terrible struggles going on inside one so young. There was nothing that the old man could do but stand next to him, as the boy's mind tossed and turned day after day. A steady man like Joe knew the power of faith and held firm to the knowledge that Conrad would find his own way in his own good time, and left him the space to do so.

From his bedroom window, Conrad had seen Joe walk to the barn that morning but he'd hung back in the shadows of his room with Fido at his side, gathering the last of his things in preparation for his departure. He wanted to leave without saying good-bye, but he couldn't do it. He knew that Joe would say little to nothing, but that wasn't what bothered him—it bothered him to not be with Joe, who was more to Conrad than his own father had ever been.

A mist clung to the fields as the heat of the rising sun hit the wet and cold morning air. When Conrad crossed the yard to the barn, he saw the sheep grazing in the pasture and knew the chickens would be sitting on their eggs in the henhouse after their morning breakfast had been pecked away.

It surprised Conrad to see Joe leaning against the barn door, swaying like an autumn leaf clinging to its branch—as though undecided whether or not to fall. Then Joe looked up to see Conrad and a smile touched the corner of his lips. Not more than a whisper later Joe crumpled, as though the earth was sucking him downward, and he fell on his knees and then down onto the ground.

Conrad ran to Joe's side, his arms scooping at him.

“Mr. McCloud? Where does it hurt?”

Joe's hand clutched at his chest and his breath came in labored gasps. With shaking fingers, Conrad pulled Joe's shirt back and quickly loosened the old scarf he kept around his neck. In front of him sacks of grain were stacked against the barn, waiting to be pulled to the feed room, and, just inside the barn, a pitchfork, shovel, and rake were hung. There was nothing within arm's reach that was going to help Joe at that moment.

Twisting away, Conrad gently laid Joe down on his back and rested his head on the floor. Joe was too heavy to lift and Conrad wouldn't risk trying it.

“Mr. McCloud, can you hear me?” Conrad held Joe's face and hovered over him, intently. Fido whined and nudged Joe tentatively with his horn as though to wake him.

Joe nodded, a fish out of water; gasping, gasping.

“Slow your breathing down as much as you can. Focus on relaxing and taking deep breaths.” Taking Joe's hand, he placed it on his own chest and took a long, slow breath, all the while looking into Joe's eyes. “Like this. Long and slow. Long and slow.”

Joe nodded again. His gasps became longer in duration but were gasps nonetheless.

“I'll be right back, right back,” Conrad repeated. “Fido, stay.”

Conrad crossed the yard and before the screen door had closed behind him, yelled, “PIPER!” The volume and pain in his voice startled even himself.

Betty immediately dropped the dish she was washing and turned around from the sink with dripping hands. “Lands' sakes, child, what's gotten into you this morning?”

“PIPER!”

Grabbing the wooden stool under the window, Conrad pulled it to the cupboard and climbed atop it, reaching back to where the medicinal powders were kept.

With her hair half braided and no shoes or socks yet on her feet, Piper landed at the bottom of the stairs with confusion and surprise written all over her face.