The Field (26 page)

“You'd do it for me. Those drugs must really be messing with you, dude.” I pull my chair away from the window, closer to the side of the bed.

“Yeah, the drugs definitely do a number on you. I know I was screwing up. I knew it even while I was doing it, but I was so pissed at my dad and the drinking made it all go away, at least for a while. I always woke up feeling like crap the next day, but this is definitely the worst I've felt after a party.” He forces out a laugh and tries to smile, then grimaces again. “Shit, that hurts. Everything hurts.” He leans back against the pillows. “I wanna know how you did it. How'd you move the car and get the door open? 'Cause my mom told me that the paramedics were talking about it when they brought me in. They couldn't believe you pulled the door off the car with your bare hands.”

He's looking at me with a strange detached look, but I'm not sure if that's just because of all the bruises. Instead of the scorn he had started to show when we talked about Dr. Auberge's work, he looks somewhat hopeful now, almost eager. I choose my words carefully, because I want him to really believe me, so that he'll believe me when I tell him about the dream with his dad in it.

“You know I've been doing the remote viewing stuff with Dr. Auberge and how he's also doing experiments with The Field?” He nods. “Well, I've been working on some experiments to learn how to access The Field with my thoughts.” I'm watching Will as I talk, and his expression still has that foggy look about it. He's still listening and he doesn't look angry or anything, so I continue. “When your car crashed into the tree, we all ran over to you, but we couldn't get you out. We were pretty
much freaking out at that point because gas was leaking everywhere, so we all just picked up the car and moved it away from the tree. It was really that simple. We just wanted to do it and we did it. But the driver's side door was still jammed shut, and you were trapped inside, so I pulled it open. I know it sounds crazy, but that's what happened. I think we were able to somehow tap into the Universal Energy Field.” I so badly want him to believe me. To believe The Field is real. I want to share it with him, talk to him about it.

“Damn. You did that? I didn't really believe any of it, you know. The stuff with Dr. Auberge. But now, I don't know what to think.” He's silent for a moment, considering. The fingers of his right hand pluck absently at a loose thread on the sheet. “But how did you do it?” I'm relieved that he isn't scoffing at me, like he was before when he was acting like it was magic or something I made up.

“That's the thing, I don't really know for sure. I just wanted to very badly and I knew that I could. I also felt something from the star-gazing rock, I think. Like extra power or energy or something. It's hard to explain.” I sit forward in the orange chair. “There's something else.”

“Something even more out there than this?” He raises his eyebrows, but he's listening, so I go on.

“Yeah, I know, but hang with me on this.” I take a deep breath and plunge in. “I'd been having dreams about it, about the explosion. Since the beginning of the school year.”

“You knew it was going to happen?” he asks, adjusting his injured arm against the bed railing.

“No. I didn't know what the dreams were about. They were just explosions and fire and screaming, but there weren't any people in the dreams or a car or anything. They really freaked me
out. When you crashed and the gas was leaking and we were afraid it was going to explode, I knew the dreams were about the crash and we had to get you out before the car exploded.”

“That's crazy, man. I mean, that you dreamed about it and it happened. Not that it's actually crazy. And that you were there and could use that energy field.” He forgets his cuts and bruises and shakes his head and then groans and puts his right hand on the side of his head. “See, just thinking about it is making my head hurt.”

“I had another dream last night.”

“I don't think I'd survive another one of your dreams. If it's all the same to you, could you dream about somebody else?”

“It wasn't about you. Well, you were in it, but it was about your dad.”

“My dad? He was here last night, but I was too out of it. I didn't see him.” He still has the edge to his voice that's been there when he talks about his dad, but it's colored with something else—longing or maybe sadness. Definitely less anger.

“We were at the coal gasification plant. There was a fire and your dad was in some sort of danger.” I don't tell him that he was running after his dad, calling for him with fear and anguish in his voice. I'm not sure how he would take that.

“What kind of danger?”

“The problem is, I don't really know. What I do know is the other dreams came true, and I'm afraid this one could too. You've got to tell your dad. Tell him there's something wrong at the plant. Maybe he can figure out what it is and stop it or fix it.”

“So I'm supposed to tell him that you had a dream about a fire at the plant and that he's in some sort of undefined danger, so he needs to look into what it could be? You realize that I
haven't even talked to my dad for almost three months?” He's not exactly being sarcastic, but he's not buying it, either.

“That's why he'll listen to you. You said he's been calling and texting you and he wants to talk to you. I think if you asked him, he'd do it. Even though he's been a dick, he still loves you.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back. Will looks like I just punched him. His shoulders hunch over and his eyes shut tight. I think I've gone too far, said the wrong thing. Then he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, still with his eyes closed, and says very quietly, so I can barely hear him, “That's the thing isn't it? Does he?” The pain in his voice is palpable, worse than his physical pain.

I reach over the bed rail and put my hand on his shoulder. “Yes. That's one thing I do know. He totally loves you. He always has, and I know that hasn't changed.”

I let go of his shoulder and we just sit there for a while. After a few minutes, Will's breathing becomes more regular and then his head rolls to the side. He's fallen asleep. As I'm prying myself out of the plastic chair, the door opens and Mr. Asplunth comes in. He stops when he sees me and glances over at the bed and sees that Will's sleeping.

“Eric.” He comes the rest of the way into the room and around the foot of the bed to where I'm standing. He holds out his hand to me and says, “Thank you. Thank you for saving my son,” but his voice cracks and instead of just shaking my hand he pulls me into a rough embrace.

When I leave, Mr. Asplunth is sitting in the orange chair I just vacated, watching Will and waiting for him to wake up. I'm not going to tell him about the dream. It just seems like something Will should tell him. I hope he'll listen.

“S
O YOU FELT
something from the star-gazing rock?” Marcie asks. “It's on the world energy grid, on the ley-lines.”

“I'm just glad Will is okay,” Mom says. “Why didn't you tell us he was drinking to cope with his parents' break up?”

“I guess I should have told you he was doing all this crazy shit.”

“Watch your language please,” my dad says sternly.

“Sorry,” I say. “And, yeah, I definitely felt something from the star-gazing rock. It's hard to describe, but it made me feel, somehow, more. More connected, more aware and powerful. I felt like all the goodness out there was funneling through me, helping me move the car and pull open the door. I know it sounds weird, but that's what it was like.”

It's after dinner and we're all still sitting at the table eating ice cream, and the conversation turns to the crash last night. Renee says, “I felt it too. It seemed like the air was almost crackling with energy. Everything was enhanced, magnified.” I nod in agreement.

“God wanted you to help Will,” Drew says matter-of-factly. “That's why the crash was there by the lagoons and the stargazing rock. So you could use the energy and get God's help.”
Ralph is sitting next to Drew, hoping that he'll slip him some food. Drew has his hand on Ralph's head. Both of them have these goofy smiles on their faces, and yes, Ralph does smile. We all just look at Drew for a long moment, each of us trying to take in what he's just said.

Eventually, my dad says, “Drew, I think you're exactly right.”

Drew slips Ralph a piece of chicken left over from dinner and says, “I know.” And goes back to eating his chocolate ice cream.

T
HAT NIGHT, AS
I'm getting ready for bed, I get a text from Will: T
OLD MY DAD ABOUT UR DREAM AND HE PROMISED TO CHECK IT OUT
. W
E TALKED FOR A LONG TIME
. I
T WAS GOOD.
I wonder about good things happening as a result of really terrible things, and I fall asleep feeling happy that Will and I are talking again and that Will and his dad are talking again, too.

M
Y CRAPPY LOCKER
is stuck, as usual. I spin the dial in frustration and then slowly and precisely dial the combination and lift the lock. Thankfully, it slips open and I shove my backpack inside and grab my AP Enviro notebook. Today is one of those fantastic fall days when the sun is shining and the temperature is predicted to get up around 70 degrees. Everyone's wearing shorts and t-shirts, although that's not too much of a change for some of the kids. I've seen guys wearing shorts and flip flops in a snow storm. As usual, the hallways are crowded with students on their way to first period. The sound of their voices bounces off the metal lockers and concrete walls and is amplified into a raucous din. Everyone's talking about the accident and Will and on my way in people keep asking me if he's alright and wanting
me to tell them what happened. The stories I'm hearing are even wilder than the truth. One girl heard that the car hit the tree and rolled three times and that I lifted the car off the ground and flipped it back over. I guess when you think about it, that isn't much more incredible than what we actually did.

Paul comes up next to me as I'm closing my locker. “Hey,” he says, bouncing back and forth from one foot to the other, “Has anyone said anything to you about us winning State? I mean, the crash was a big deal and everything, but nobody's talking about our win! It sucks.” He's always full of pent-up energy, and he's literally bouncing around as he talks.

“Don't worry, Coach sent out an email. They're going to say something about it in the morning announcements, and tomorrow's gonna be a spirit day. We're supposed to wear our jerseys.”

“Oh, that's cool.” He runs his hand through his hair, which seems to settle his jitteriness. “Gotta get to class. See you at lunch.”

“Later.” I join the flow of students and start making my way across the building. Cole catches up with me just as I get to the doorway of AP Enviro. Today he is wearing a Sesame Street t-shirt with Big Bird and Snuffleupagus on it.

“Are you Big Bird or Snuffleupagus?” I ask.

“Neither,” he replies. “I'm Oscar, of course.”

“Of course you are,” I say and smile to myself. I've always thought Oscar was really a nice guy deep down. Just like Cole. I sit in my usual spot behind Renee, and he heads to the back of the room.

“Hey, Babe,” I whisper into her ear as I slide into my seat. She turns her head and smiles at me and says, “Hey yourself.” My heart zings. All the uneasiness that had been between us is gone. We did a lot of talking over the weekend and worked
through stuff and things are really good between us now. We did a lot of making out, too, which didn't hurt.

The second bell rings, and Mr. Ogle stands in the front of the classroom.

“Okay, settle down everyone. Let's get started.” He picks up some papers from his desk. “First, I have an announcement to make. Dr. Auberge has selected the student who will fill the internship position in his lab for next semester.” Half the class turns to look at me. I try to keep my face blank. “He couldn't be here today to tell you himself, as he is giving a presentation at the International Conference on Nuclear Physics in Trieste, Italy this week. He asked me to tell you that it was a difficult decision to make. All the applications he received showed great talent and interest, but he could only offer one internship. I'm pleased to say that Randy Chin has been selected for the position. Congratulations, Randy.”

He begins clapping and the students start clapping even as they glance back and forth between me and Randy, looking to see my reaction. I clap for him too and keep my expression happy. Randy is looking really excited, and I'm glad for him. I already knew that I wouldn't be getting the internship. Dr. Auberge told me yesterday when I picked up Renee. He said that he didn't want it to appear as favoritism since I was dating Renee and I was already working with him. He wanted to give someone else an opportunity, too. Instead of working in my favor, being Renee's boyfriend actually worked against me. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed, but it is true that I'll still be working with him and Stephen on experiments with The Field, so I can hardly complain.

Will isn't in school today, but he's home from the hospital, so I told him I'd pick up his assignments. Mr. Ogle is cool and asks
me to tell Will that he's glad he's okay, but some of his other teachers won't give the assignments to me because Will hasn't been absent for two days yet. I guess those are the rules and it's more work for them, but you'd think they'd be glad that a student wanted to do the work.

When school's over, I go to the art classrooms to look for Renee so we can go to Will's together.

The smell hits me as soon as I push through the double doors into the art hallway. It's a mixture of wet clay, paint and turpentine mingled with raw wood and sawdust. Renee is in the same room where I found her the last time, and she calls me over to see the painting she's working on.