The Rule of Won (11 page)

Ha. I had an answer. I said, “Uh . . .”

He crossed his arms. “Let's say that part's just an advertising gimmick, okay? Your book also says we get
only
what we ask for. Every rape victim the world over, every victim of child abuse, of war, of famine, of disease, deep down really asked for it. It's all the victim's fault.”

He spoke with a kind of certainty Ethan could only imitate. Not droning or suave, like he was trying to hypnotize, but pleading and sincere, like he really wanted me to realize there was this tiger behind me that I just didn't see, and if I didn't move out of the way, it was going to get me.

I felt his words push at me like physical things, but I managed to hold my ground. After all, this was stuff I'd been thinking about for weeks. “How do you know life
doesn't
work that way? Isn't it possible people's expectations are always screwing them up?”

“Sure, sometimes, but your book says it's
always
true. What about a baby who dies in a car accident? A baby, who doesn't even know it's
in
a car. Where's the baby's expectations?”

I guess the look on my face told him I didn't have an immediate answer for that one either.

“Think about it, Dunne; you're not stupid. The
real
secret of life has got to be a lot more interesting and beautiful than a
world that gives you whatever garbage you feel like asking for, doesn't it?”

Still offended, but now a little confused, I grabbed at the one thing I knew he couldn't argue with, not really. I pointed at the scrunched poster in his hand. “Even if you're right, Mr. E, don't you think people should be allowed to make up their own minds about it? See for themselves whether it works or not?”

He looked at me, looked at the posters in his hand, and made a hissing sound, like all the air had been let out of his head. Then he stormed off, leaving me alone with the sounds of power tools mixing with his arguments in my head.

It felt just like when the basketball game was over. I'd won the argument, but also, I'd lost.

I mean, what
about
that baby? What about Erica?

Still grumpy a short while later, I spotted Alden Moore and his crack reporting squad. They were exiting their precious newspaper office, all four laden with boxes.

The newspaper, and the article vindicating me, had yet to appear, so all in all I wasn't feeling too great about them. All talk. At least as a true slacker, I never promise to do anything in the first place.

I was going to ask about my article when I realized they were moving out.

“They move you because of the construction?”

Moore shot me an icy look. “No.”

“So, what? You're redecorating? Really, if you spent half
the time actually putting out the paper that you do
talking
about it . . .”

Mason puckered her features into a pointy, antagonistic shape and said, “We're being kicked out. Another club, a much more
important
club, is taking our space.”

“Which club?” By the time I asked the question, I realized I already knew the answer.

“Ask your girlfriend, Vicky,” Drik said with unusual venom.

“She's not . . . I mean, what do you mean?”

Moore, struggling with his boxes, leaned against the wall. “
El presidente
apparently pulled some strings so your Crazy Cravers got our space.”

“You're kidding!”

This, of course, was square-man Guy's opportunity to practice sarcasm. “Yeah, we're kidding. We're packing everything up just to have a laugh with you.”

“We think someone in the Crave found out about the exposé we planned, so they moved against us,” Moore said.

Guy eyed me suspiciously. “
You
knew we were planning that article, didn't you, Dunne?”

“Oh sure, my fault the building comes down. My fault you lose your office. My fault when it rains. Blame the slacker. You think maybe the fact that
The Ottis
or whatever hasn't come out with one issue yet might have something to do with it?”

“
The Otus
! We've had some problems!” Mason burst out. Her voice was so high pitched and defensive, I had to take a step back.

“Geez, take a breath. It's not that bad, is it? You still have an office, right?”

“For now, but we get to keep it only if we find a new adviser,” Moore said. “We lost our old one same day as the space.”

Mason reached out and patted his shoulder. “And Alden's allergic to mold.”

“What happened to the adviser?”

“Mr. Giddich. Wyatt's brother-in-law. Wanted us to just print notices about meetings and letters from the administration. Any time we suggested anything that might ruffle feathers, he nixed it. That's why the paper hasn't come out. We finally confronted him about it last week. He said if we were really serious, we'd be better off with someone else.”

Moore moved forward. “So, if you don't mind, I'd like to get this stuff into our new digs before my asthma meds wear off . . .”

He shifted his boxes, about to leave.

I was about to let him, when I saw Erica skirting the wall, writing in her book, an intense, grim look on her face as her hand scratched across the page. I shuddered to think what she was writing.

And again, I started to think about that baby.

“Wait,” I said to Moore. “You can ask Eldridge to advise you. I bet he'll say yes.”

“The math teacher?”

“Yeah. Tell him about that article you want to do on the Crave. Tell him . . . tell him I sent you.”

Moore nodded. He and his well-oiled fighting machine marched off.

Once they were out of sight, I felt sick. I had to steady myself against the wall, my heart racing. What had I done? Eldridge. I had told them about Eldridge. I not only did something, but I did something and I didn't know why. Wasn't I still part of the Crave? Didn't I believe in
The Rule
?

My brain was bubbling the rest of the morning, feelings bouncing around my innards like the rubber balls in a handball court. I had not only betrayed the Crave, but my strongest slacker instincts had weakened and something else, something alien to me, was gaining strength.

When lunchtime came around, I saw Ethan and Vicky sitting together. In another uncharacteristic move, I decided I had to talk to them. Hard as it was, I was hoping Ethan could set me straight, say a few words that would blow the doubts away.

As I walked closer, I realized that though their spot was cozy, it wasn't so quiet. The construction crews sounded like they were just on the other side of the wall, and the noise of their tools grew louder with each step.

Pht! Pht! Zzz! Zzz!

I was surprised they heard me approach, but Vicky and Ethan looked up, unembarrassed. I didn't even say hi to Vicky. What I did say was, “Ethan, some of the stuff that's going on is getting me worried.”

He pulled himself away from Vicky a bit, straightened his back so his blue shirt looked like a smooth second skin, and looked me in the eye. “Such as?”

Pht! Pht! Zzz! Zzz!

“Some of the Craves are so serious,” I told him. “Like that guy who wants his brother home from the war.”

He shrugged with one shoulder, like my doubts weren't worth both. “Are you saying they shouldn't try to imanifest the best possible things for the people they love?”

“No . . . I guess I'm saying, what if it doesn't work? What if they don't do something else that might work because they're busy with this? They'll be hurt.”

Pht! Pht! Zzz! Zzz!

“Why wouldn't it work?” Ethan said.

Vicky spoke up. “You've already seen what we can do. Why shouldn't we take our lives seriously and try for more important things? It's a natural next step.”

Ethan nodded as if it were as obvious as the table they were sitting at.

“What about Lauren wanting to bring a knife to school to protect herself?”

“Oh. I can see why
that
might worry you, but remember, she has to follow her own path. She has to work these things through herself.”

“What if she works them through with a knife?”

“That won't happen,” Ethan said. “As long as we watch our negative thoughts.”

Pht! Pht! Zzz! Zzz!

“How can you be sure?”

Vicky was about to speak again, but Ethan stopped her. “The same way we can be sure about everything. The same
way we
have
to be sure about everything. You just need to believe in yourself more. That's how it works. Certainty. Project a positive reality, and reality will respond. It's
The Rule
.”

Whatever this new thing in me was, it was really starting to get pissed off.

“I believe in me, fine,” I snapped. “It's other people I worry about. Like Erica.”

“Erica? What about her?”

In frustration, my hands flew up in the air. “She was always a little dark, but now she's doing this freaky scene from
The Shining
, writing the same thing over and over again about how she's going to pass algebra.”

Ethan smiled. “Good for her. If she does it sincerely, she'll pass.”

“Even without studying?”

Ethan nodded. “She's in the class, isn't she? She's hearing everything the teacher says, and her brain is recording it. It's just buried in her subconscious. Imanifesting that passing grade
is
studying, only not small-time with calculations and textbooks, but big-time, with the
real
goal in mind. Taking full advantage of her mind.”

Vicky nodded. They seemed so damn sure of themselves.

Why not? There was the grant and the basketball game, and the constant, hammering noise that was giving me a headache.

Pht! Pht! Zzz! Zzz!

Wasn't that the sound of
The Rule
's success?

Vicky spoke again. “Why don't you trust it?”

Pht! Pht! Zzz! Zzz!

“I just . . . I'm just worried. What if they don't do it right, what if they fail?”

“Stop thinking that way. Thinking that way is hurting them,” Ethan said.

Vicky reached out and took my hands. “Don't worry. Ethan and I are imanifesting together so that no harm will come to anyone.”

Pht! Pht! Zzz! Zzz!

“So that no harm comes to anyone? You putting force fields around them? What are you guys, like, superheroes now, or gods?”

My voice was getting louder with every word, but Ethan kept his low and steady.

“We're all gods, more or less,” he said.

As I spun and left, his voice echoed in my head, punctuated by a constant rush of
Pht! Pht! Zzz! Zzz!

As soon as I was sure they couldn't see me anymore, I clamped my hands to my ears and ran. I didn't stop until I was outside, on the far side of the school, so far away that the sounds of the construction were distant and muffled.

I'd really, really been hoping Ethan would stop my doubts. Instead, he was just starting to look really, really nuts.

Dr. Wyatt was strutting around birdlike with the construction workers. He didn't even stop to point at me or ask why I wasn't in school.

I was no longer a consideration. Invisible.

Something I'd always wanted. Which reminded me of
something else Joey likes to say, something that girl mentioned on the board: “Be careful what you wish for, you might get it.”

Pretty funny in the context of
The Rule
, eh?

During my last period, I sat near the door and snuck out a few minutes early to head to the trailers. Our Crave would be meeting to pick our next goal. I needed badly to know what the hell I was doing, and I didn't anymore, so I wanted to get there early, catch Ethan alone. I wanted to have him talk some sense into me, or try to talk some sense into him. I thought things might be a little clearer in my head if Vicky weren't right there with him.

But of course, no such luck.

They were already together in the trailer, packing up two small boxes. When she saw me, Vicky gave me a button smile. I kind of froze.

“Hi, Caleb,” she said. Maybe she was worried after lunch I might not show at all, and now she thought I was
accepting
things. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but this will be our last meeting here. We've got the old newspaper office.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“Oh. Well, we're just going to run some stuff over there for next week. Be right back.”

She picked up one box and walked toward me. When I didn't move right away, she looked over her shoulder. “Come on, Ethan.”

He hadn't stopped gaping at me since I'd come to the doorway. Maybe after lunch he was hoping I
wouldn't
show. Vicky's voice pulled him out of his trance.

“Right.”

He grabbed the second box, then gave his backpack, which was sitting on a chair, a nervous glance. Pretending I hadn't noticed, I stepped out of Vicky's way.

“Come on, Ethan,” Vicky said. “Don't want the Crave to start late.”

“Right,” he said again, and followed her out.

There we were, me, the mold, and Ethan's bag. The last bell would ring any second, and the Cravers would show. I could've just waited, or left. Instead I stepped over to the bag and noticed a rolled-up sheet of drawing paper packed carefully to the side. I figured it was his sister's drawing of the basketball game, until I pulled off the rubber band and unrolled it.

It was his sister's all right, and man, was she a terrific artist. Only it wasn't the basketball game, or the school. It was a picture of our cafeteria serving great, delicious new food. No sporks either, but real knives and forks. The roast ham with pineapple slices looked so real, you could taste it.

It was obviously the next Crave Ethan had chosen. I thought it was kind of arrogant for him to tell his sister about it before the rest of us, but then again, why should his arrogance surprise me?