The Eyes of Kid Midas (6 page)

"I warned you not to overexert yourself," she said. "But does Kevin Brian Midas listen to anyone but himself? No!—and don't you dare talk! The last thing I need is for you to bite that thermometer and die of mercury poisoning."

She glanced at her watch. "Late again," she muttered as she hurried out of the room.

The second she was gone, Kevin ran over to his desk, grabbed his glasses out of the top drawer, and put them on.

"Great shades," said Teri as she passed by with a toothbrush in her mouth. "Where'd you steal 'em?"

"I didn't steal them, I found them," said Kevin, around his thermometer.

Teri frothed at the mouth. "I'll tell you what. If you let me borrow them for a couple of days, I'll convince Mom that you're sick enough to stay home:"

"No deal."

Teri shrugged and sauntered off. "Suit yourself."

Kevin heard her spit in the bathroom sink. Teri, by being the smallest yet toughest field-hockey goalie Ridgeline Middle School had ever seen, had developed a callous self-confidence, and she often used it to make Kevin feel uncomfortable. She would glance at him with a smirk, and the mere glance would make Kevin wonder if he had two different socks on or if his fly were open. She would say things like "Suit yourself' and saunter off as if she knew something Kevin didn't, causing Kevin to give in. Right now, she was probably counting the
seconds until Kevin returned to the bargaining table. But this time, no deal meant no deal.

With the glasses on, Kevin's headache was already subsiding, so he dressed quickly and went downstairs to make himself some breakfast.

The TV in the living room blared the news, and the family dog, as was its peculiar custom, barked at the people on the screen as if they were strangers invading its home. Kevin took a detour through the living room because the news report was about the storm around the Divine Watch. Although the dog made it difficult to hear, Kevin did pick up some of it.

"The storm
(BARK, BARK)
several power outages
(BARK, BARK)
flash floods throughout the entire
(BARK)
and is slowly spreading outward.
(BARK, GROWL, BARK)"

"Will somebody muzzle the Muffler?" yelled Teri from upstairs.

"Shut up, Muffy," Kevin said to the beagle. The glasses flashed, and Muffy continued barking, but no sound came out.

"There you are," said Mrs. Midas, plucking the thermometer out of Kevin's mouth. "Ninety-eight point six," she reported. "Perfectly normal."

"Send him to school, he's not sick," said Teri, throwing Kevin a sideways glance as she came downstairs.

Kevin pushed the glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "It says one hundred and one."

Mrs. Midas glanced at the thermometer again. "That's strange—it
does
say a hundred and one. I must have misread it.

Kevin gave Teri a smirk.

"Score one for you," said Teri, genuinely surprised. "I hope you feel better, Kev."

As Mrs. Midas shoved the thermometer back in Kevin's mouth to see if it would climb any higher, Mr. Midas flew down the stairs. He headed straight for the fridge, where he grabbed a box of chocolate doughnuts—his usual breakfast. Having already gone on his morning run, he had bought himself the light to all the poor eating habits the day offered.

"Your son's got a fever," said Kevin's mom, who always referred to Kevin as "your son" when it was something bad and "my son" when it was something good.

"I'll alert the media," said Mr. Midas, his mouth full of doughnut. He felt Kevin's head, pulled the thermometer from his mouth, examined it, and asked his wife why on earth she was using the rectal thermometer.

As usual, Josh had waited patiently for Kevin to show up at his door, but he finally gave up and came by to see what was keeping him. Even before he arrived, Josh had a sneaking suspicion that school was not on Kevin's list of the day's activities.

Kevin was wearing the glasses when he opened the door, and Josh could tell by the relative quiet that everyone else had gone.

"I guess you didn't tell anyone about the glasses," said Josh.

"Are you kidding me?" answered Kevin. "Why ruin a perfect day?"

As he passed the living room, Josh noticed Muffy silently opening and closing her yap at the TV screen. "What's wrong with the Muffler?" asked Josh.

"I told her to shut up," said Kevin.

"Good dog!" commented Josh. "C'mon, hurry up, we're already late."

"No school," said Kevin. "I'm staying home to conduct a science experiment today." He hurried off into the kitchen.

The kitchen table was covered with the Sunday paper, dissected and examined for every single advertisement that seemed the slightest bit interesting, from grand openings of electronics stores to beef sales at the supermarket. Kevin had already begun circling the more promising ones with a red pen.

"What sort of experiment?" As if Josh really needed to ask.

"Sit down," said Kevin, "and start picking things you want." Josh didn't sit down just yet, but he did begin to examine the ads cautiously. There was a picture of a stereo system that must have stood a foot taller than he was. It was the sort of system Josh dreamed about.

"You know," said Josh, "it's still raining . . . ."

"I don't see any rain."

"You know what I mean!"

Kevin shrugged it off. "So? It's only a storm. How long can it last?"

Josh examined the sleek digital stereo system that advertised sound reproduction of such superior quality that it actually reproduced sounds out of the range of human hearing. Its price was out of the range of human comprehension.

"I've got to get to school," said Josh, although he didn't put down the ad.

"C'mon." Kevin took a damp paper towel and gently cleaned his precious lenses. "Let's treat ourselves to something."

"Okay," said Josh. "One thing."

"Right."

"One for you, and one for me."

"Okay," said Kevin. "Two things."

"Right," said Josh. "What are you getting?"

Kevin pointed to the ad in Josh's hand. "That stereo right there."

"Great. I want that, too."

"But that's just two of the same thing," saidKevin. "It's just like
one
thing, and we agreed we'd get
two
things."

"Okay, one more thing then."

"Fine," said Kevin.

"One for you and one for me," added Josh.

"And that's all."

"Right. Just these four things, and that's all."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Within five minutes the experiment was raging out of control, and neither of them got to school that day. The only limits to what could be dreamt up were the clarity of Kevin's thoughts and the speed at which he could speak them into existence.

First came the stereo systems—a half dozen of them, because, with further browsing, they weren't quite sure which they wanted—the ones with multi-megawatt speakers so small they could fit in the palm of your hand or the ones so large they took up an entire wall. They kept ordering up televisions as they found bigger and better ones on each page.    

Eventually they ran out of electronics and went on to furniture, then to clothing. When they ran out of advertisements, they began scouring household magazines for pictures that would spark their imaginations.

"Hey, Kevin, look at this!" Josh had dug up one of Mr. Midas's
Playboys
, which had always been kept hidden from Kevin. The very idea turned Kevin beet red, and he began to giggle. "No," said Kevin, "maybe not."

"Maybe later?"

"Yeah, maybe later."

The magazine remained in the living room all day, but neither of them dared to go near it.

By noon, Josh noticed that the temperature in the house had begun to drop, but he didn't say anything—he didn't think it meant much. Kevin, on the other hand, wouldn't have noticed if the sky were falling—his attention was elsewhere. Beneath it all, Kevin knew he had a headache again, but as long as the glasses stayed hot and he kept them active, every inch of his body and mind felt so tingly and electrified that he didn't care about how his head would feel when he stopped.

They rode their bikes down to the mall and went on a window-shopping spree, duplicating half the things they saw and wishing them back to Kevin's house, including their favorite games in the video arcade.

When they arrived back home, they had to climb in a side window because one of their home- theater systems was blocking the front door.

At last they took a break from the experiment. Kevin, drained and exhausted, took off the glasses and flopped onto his bed, but Josh, having been baptized into fantasyland, and still submerged in its rich, sweet waters, danced to the music that rocked the entire house as he made his way around the obstacle course in Kevin's room.

"Santa Claus better watch his butt!" said Josh. "The dude's got competition now!" Josh swung open the door to Kevin's closet, revealing a soft- drink machine, which, of course, didn't require money to operate. Josh got himself a Dr Pepper, leapt onto Kevin's desk, and twanged an awful chord on a star-spangled guitar, spilling soda foam all over.

"And it's all tax free!" said Josh. He jumped in the air, twanged the guitar, and came crashing down on a pinball machine that began to blink "tilt."

"I need some aspirin," said Kevin. "I need some Pepto-Bismol."

"If you feel sick, why don't you just wish it away?"

"I tried," said Kevin. "The glasses made me sick—they can't un-make me sick."

Josh slowed down and began to catch his breath from his whirlwind romance with greed. The house felt chilly. No—not just chilly, it felt cold, and Kevin—well, Kevin looked cold. He had wrapped himself in a blanket and was shivering slightly.

Kevin was ready to call it a day, and Josh would have agreed—until Josh turned his eyes just a few feet up and saw the poster hanging so innocently above Kevin's bed.

"One more thing," said Josh.

"I'm fried," said Kevin.

Josh smiled. "Too fried for the car of your dreams?"

Kevin sat up slowly. He thought about it, then hesitated. "Give me the glasses, and I'll do it," said Josh.

"No!" Kevin grabbed the glasses from his night- stand and put them on.

It was called the Lamborghini Countach, and it was the subject of most of Kevin's classroom doodles. Kevin, fighting exhaustion, raced down the stairs with Josh and into the garage.

"I never even thought I'd ever
see
a Lam- ber-geenie, and now I'm going to have one," said Kevin.

Josh shook his head. "How many times do I have to tell you? It's not Lam-ber-geenie, it's
Lamborghini!
You have to think Italian!"

The garage was empty except for the ancient junk against the wall and two oil spots where his parents' cars had been. Kevin had turned the stereo off on the way through the living room, so the only sound came from the heater in the corner of the garage. It hummed, showing traces of flames as it tried unsuccessfully to warm the unseasonably cold house.

"We'll get two of them," said Josh. "Okay?"

"One for you and one for me, right?"

"Right."

"Okay."

Kevin took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and said the words, which echoed in the empty garage.

"Two red Lam-ber-geenies."

"Lamborghinis!"

"Yeah, yeah."

The colors before Kevin's eyes began to swirl, and he felt as though his whole brain was filtering out through the dark glass.

From where Josh stood, the sight of the glasses at work was just as remarkable, and although he had seen it before, each time was better than the last. Josh watched as the glasses got so dark that they looked like portals into another universe. Deep within that universe, Josh saw Kevin's eye burning like blue flames. From this side of the glasses, Kevin's mind seemed like something impossibly huge, and almost as a reflex, Josh grabbed tightly onto a bicycle hook in the wall for fear of being sucked right in through the glasses. Blinding colors pulsed out from the glasses, and Josh had to shield his eyes.

When he looked again, there were two Lamborghinis just sitting in the garage as if they had no better place to be.

Josh let go of the hook, leapt into the window of the nearest one, and sank into the seat. Keys were in the ignition, and he wished with all his heart that he knew how to drive.

Kevin wasn't as quick to get into his car. As his trembling hand removed the red-hot glasses, he could feel his heart pulsing in the tiny veins in his eyeballs and knew his eyes must have been bloodshot beyond belief. His head swam and ached as if someone had reached inside and pulled the two cars right out of his skull. He felt very, very cold.

Kevin got into his car and sat down, feeling the smooth leather against his aching body. He looked toward Josh, and they both noticed something at the same time. It was so cold in the garage that their breath came out in puffs of steam.

Kevin looked around, to find everything in the garage frozen. An icicle dripped from the leaky spigot, and the puddle beneath it was a sheet of ice. Even the heater had been snuffed out. It must have been twenty degrees in that garage!

It's a side effect,
thought Kevin. The glasses needed lots of energy to work, and they stole energy wherever they could find it. Heat, light, fire. The glasses just sucked the heat right out of the air!   

Kevin and Josh sat in the freezing garage, playing behind the wheels of their twin Lamborghinis for a while, until Josh finally turned to Kevin.

'"So now what?"

Amazingly enough, Kevin couldn't answer him. Now they had everything. They had wished up
everything
their hearts desired, from the smallest toy to the largest. The house was piled to the ceiling with
things.

Having played the video games, listened to the stereos, watched the home theaters, tried the candy machines, tasted all the food, worn all the clothes, sat on all the couches, and played in both the cars—after all that—they were finally bored. So now what? . . . So
now
what?