The Lost Gate (41 page)

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Authors: Orson Scott Card

BOOK: The Lost Gate
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“Ew,” said Chubby and Goth.

“Everybody talks about your cleavage,” said Sour.

“Not to
me,
” said Laurette. “It's, like, rude.”

“I'm betting,” said Danny to Goth, “that either there's an anti-piercing policy here that everybody ignores except you, or your parents won't let you wear them to school, or you walked too close to a really powerful magnet, or your piercings get infected a lot so you have to give them a rest.” It was an easy enough deduction—two of the pierced spots were red and inflamed.

Goth pointedly looked away from him.

“Thanks,” said Danny. He started to pick up his lunch tray.

“She didn't say anything,” said Laurette.

“Yeah, but I give up easy,” said Danny.

As he walked away, he made a gate directly in front of Goth and passed the mouth of it over her. It only moved her a quarter of an inch forward. Her friends didn't really notice it except as some kind of twitch, but
she
felt it.

“Hey!” she said loudly.

Danny stopped and turned around.

“Did you shove me, smelly running boy?”

“Oh, so Laurette
did
talk about me,” said Danny. He set the tray back down on their table.

Goth's piercings were all healed. As in completely gone. As if never pierced at all. None of the girls noticed it. Danny started eating.

The girls got up and left. As they went, he made a gate right in front of Sour, jumping her forward two inches and up a half inch, and curing her acne. Nobody noticed the immediate improvement in her complexion, however, because the jump made her trip and drop her tray. Danny didn't even watch, though he heard her eloquent fecal-centered discourse, along with Goth's and Laurette's laughter as they helped her pick up the mess.

On a whim, Danny made the gate public in both directions. Anyone who walked through that exact spot in the lunchroom would become healthy—and, quite probably, trip and drop something.

After a few minutes, a couple of guys—one of them really tall, the other overweight with way too many piercings and his hair half shaved off—sat down, Too Tall beside him, Half-Hair across from him. “You actually hit on Laurette?”

“She say I did?” asked Danny.

“She said
you
said you were going to be watching her breasts all year.”

“Doesn't everybody?” asked Danny.

“She practically sticks them in your face,” said Half-Hair.

“Not
his,
” said Danny, pointing to Too Tall. “She's not tall enough.”

“Did you really run to school?” asked Too Tall.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“It was there,” said Danny.

“Where you from?” asked Half-Hair.

“Ohio,” said Danny.

“Your aunt really going to start a clothing factory in town?”

Danny rolled his eyes.

“What's the rest of your schedule?” asked Too Tall.

“Gym after lunch,” said Danny.

“You really in AP History?” asked Half-Hair.

Danny nodded.

“I got gym next period, too,” said Too Tall.

“Am I going to have a wonderful time in physical education this year?” asked Danny.

“Depends on whether you suck up to Coach Bleeder,” said Too Tall.

“I take it you don't.”

“There's too many guys already kissing his butt,” said Too Tall. “Can't wedge my face in.”

“I bet you don't even try,” said Danny.

“If you run,” said Half-Hair, “he'll want you for the track team and you can be his best friend.”

“I don't compete,” said Danny.

They studied him for a few moments, as he made a stack of potato chips and then pushed the entire stack endwise into his mouth, crushing the chips in the process.

Half-Hair made a smaller stack and tried to eat it the same way. He ended up with potato chip fragments all over his shirt. Danny reached over, picked one off, and ate it. Initiation over. They finished eating their lunch with him and he knew he had a place with them the next day. Danny knew these guys were not generally regarded as cool. Not a problem. He would make them cool through their association with him.

So far Danny was having a great time at high school.

Too Tall turned out to be named Hal Sargent. He was apparently Coach Lieder's favorite target of abuse. As in, “Everybody hit the floor and do twenty so I can see what I'm working with this year. Hal, the floor is the wall-to-wall wooden thing that you couldn't hit if you dropped a shot put. Lay your face on it and then peel it off twenty times.”

Hal seemed resigned to the ridicule.

Danny passed a gate over Coach Lieder just as he was turning around. The gate lifted him an inch above the floor. He lost his balance and fell heavily on his butt.

Everybody stopped doing pushups.

“Keep going, you morons, haven't you ever seen anybody fall down before?” said Lieder.

Danny did his pushups quickly.

“New Kid,” said Lieder.

Danny started a second set of twenty.

“New Kid,” Lieder demanded. “You call those pushups?”

“Yes sir,” said Danny. He started clapping his hands at the top of each pushup.

“You a show-off, New Kid?”

“Sometimes, sir,” said Danny. He pitched his voice exactly right—completely respectful, and yet dryly sarcastic. A couple of kids laughed. Danny finished his second twenty and stood up.

“I saw you running to school this morning, New Kid,” said Lieder.

Danny didn't say anything.

“I didn't tell you to stop doing pushups.”

“You said to do twenty,” said Danny. “I did forty.”

“Everybody outside,” said Coach Lieder. “Daniel Stone, the show-off new kid, is going to lead you all in running the hill, down and then back up again.”

Everybody groaned.

“Keep it up and you'll do it twice,” said Lieder.

Danny jogged lazily down the hill, not leading anybody. He walked back up with Hal and a couple of others who weren't in running shape.

“I thought I said to run,” said Lieder when Danny reached the top.

“I was told I needed to get a better deodorant before I ran the hill again,” said Danny.

“Are you getting smart with me?” asked Lieder.

“Simple truth, sir,” said Danny.

“I said for you to show them how to run it.”

Danny said nothing.

“Run it alone,” said Lieder.

“I run for pleasure, sir,” said Danny.

“So give
me
the pleasure of watching you run,” said Lieder. He pulled out a stopwatch.

Have I goaded him enough? Danny asked himself. Do I really need this enemy?

Yeah, he answered himself. Everybody hates him. I definitely want him on my case.

Danny took off down the hill. He loped lazily all the way to the stop sign at the bottom, turned around and ran back up at exactly the same speed.

“That the best you can do?” asked Lieder.

“I ran the hill,” said Danny.

“You were running faster this morning.”

“This morning I was eager to get to school,” said Danny.

“I was timing you,” said Lieder.

“I know.”

“So why didn't you run your fastest?” asked Lieder.

“Because I run for pleasure,” said Danny. “And that's how fast it pleased me to run.”

“You and I aren't going to get along this year, New Kid,” said Coach Lieder.

“I can't see why not,” said Danny. “I'm a nice guy.” There were some stifled laughs.

“You're an insubordinate jerk,” said Coach Lieder.

“Well, yeah,” said Danny.

The laughs weren't very well stifled this time.

“Run this hill five times,” said Coach Lieder.

“No sir,” said Danny.

“What?”

“It's too hot,” said Danny. “It's still summer. You can't make a kid run this hill five times in hot weather right after eating lunch.” The words “hospital” and “lawsuit” went unsaid.

Coach Lieder stood there regarding Danny in stony silence. “Everybody get back into the gym.” He turned to lead the way.

Danny started running the hill, this time as fast as he could go, both ways. It didn't take long.

When he got to the top of the hill again, Lieder's face was red. The other kids were still gathered around. “What do you think you're doing?” he demanded.

“Heading into the gym, sir, like you said.”

“You ran the hill,” said Lieder.

“Yes sir,” said Danny.

“After you told me you wouldn't.”

“I only said you couldn't make a kid do it five times in hot weather right after eating lunch.”

“But then you did it.”

“It was my pleasure,” said Danny.

“You knew I wanted to time you,” said Coach Lieder. “You started when my back was turned.”

“I don't like being timed,” said Danny.

“I'm going to be timing you all semester.”

“Takes all the pleasure out of running,” said Danny.

“Timing each part of your run is how you get better.”

“I don't want to get better,” said Danny. “It's
already
fun.”

Then Coach Lieder played his trump card. “Parry McCluer High School needs you on the track team.”

“No it doesn't,” said Danny.

It obviously bothered Lieder that Danny was not flattered to be offered a place on the team. “How much of this do you think I'm going to take from you?”

“Track is voluntary, sir,” said Danny. “And I don't race.”

“You don't
race
?” asked Lieder.

“I like running
with
people. When you race, one of you is supposed to leave the other behind. What's the point of running
with
somebody, if you end up by yourself?”

Lieder was going to have a stroke. “To win!” he said.

“To win what?” asked Danny.

“The. Race.”

“I don't race.” Danny started walking back to the gym.

“Run that again and let me time you this time!” demanded Lieder.

Danny just kept walking. “I've already run it twice. It's going to be ninety-five today. I'm going inside.”

After gym he had biology and then drama. In biology he sat there silently, judging how current the teacher's information was. In drama, he made a huge splash just by being male in a class with eleven girls and only two other guys.

By the end of the first day, Danny was legendary in exactly the way he wanted. Everybody knew his name. He had defied a teacher. He had shown that he could really, really run. Yet he didn't care about winning. And Sin—Cynthia Arnelle, the Goth who was allergic to her piercings—was convinced that he had done something magical to heal her. “He even erased the holes,” she was telling people.

“They just grew over,” Laurette told them adamantly. “
He
didn't heal anything.”

Danny was leaving school right then, jogging past. “Hey, you!” Sin shouted. Danny jogged over to her. “You erased my piercings, you asshole.”

Danny looked her over closely. “You have piercings?” he asked.

“Not
now,
” she said. “Thanks to you.”

“When did I do this?” asked Danny, showing a puzzled expression.

“When you got up from the table at lunch. You jostled me, and now my piercings have completely healed over.”

Danny looked from Sin to Laurette and the other girls. “Wow,” he said. “For a girl named Sin, she's doing pretty well with faith-healing.”

Sour Girl's complexion was now clear, and if she smiled she'd probably be pretty. Danny reached out to stroke her cheek. She slapped his hand away, assuming, no doubt, that he was mocking her. She didn't like to be touched on a cheek covered with zits.

But now that Danny had almost touched her, Laurette and Sin were staring at Pat's smooth skin, probably for the first time, since as friends they had trained themselves not to notice her complexion.

Now my work here is done, Danny said silently. He jogged off down the hill.

This was going to be a great year.

*   *   *

I
N THE FIRST
two weeks of school, Danny never ran fast except when Lieder wasn't timing him. It was a running joke and got him called to the principal's office.

“He can time me whenever he wants,” said Danny. “He times me a lot.”

“But you never run fast when he's timing you,” said Principal Massey.

“I don't like being timed.”

“That's like saying you don't like being graded.”

“I don't,” said Danny. “Takes all the fun out of it.”

“But your teachers tell me you're doing excellent work, and
they
all grade you.”

“So far I was interested in all the assignments.”

“Listen, Danny Stone, I know you were home-schooled, but you need to understand that in public school, you fulfill your assignments, you obey your teachers.”

“I fulfill my assignments, sir. I obey my teachers.”

“Listen, Danny, I'm telling you: Obey Coach Lieder. Let him time you at your best!”

“I can't help it if he drops the watch,” said Danny. “Or falls down. I run my fastest a lot, but the only runs he ever manages to time happen to be the slower ones.”

“You have an attitude,” said Principal Massey.

“How can I
not
have an attitude?” said Danny. “Everybody
always
has an attitude, even if it's only apathy.”

“See? It's smart remarks like that…”

“How is that a smart remark? It's just … true.”

“Get out of here,” sighed Principal Massey.

Thursday of the second week, a few girls discovered the healing properties of the Tripping Place in the lunchroom and word of it quickly spread, even among those who regarded it as an urban legend. Those who tested it were freaked out when it worked, but more and more girls were arranging to pass through the spot.

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