Zero Sight (6 page)

I was thankful that the media was so fixated on Tyrone. It was good that no one was interested in talking to me…but it did seem a bit odd. Even if I weren’t the focus of the coverage, why wouldn’t the media want to get details of the story from me, the lone survivor of the blast? I shook my head at it. Reporters were even lazier than I thought.

+

My father stopped by the day before I was discharged. I heard his heavy footsteps as he strode down the hall. He was half-smiling and half-frowning. My dad was a big man. Thick knees. Thick chest. Shoulders as broad as a chest of drawers. He’s an imposing figure. A passerby would probably never notice the toll the drinking was having on him, but as the son of a drunk, it was easy to recognize the signs. The slight hunch in his shoulders. The yellow jaundice creeping into his burlap brown eyes. The drink is like that. It eats its way through you from the inside out.

“
Hey son,” he said, descending into the chair next to me.

I sat up. He didn’t approve of bad posture.

“
Good to see you, sir.”

Kurtz Resnick looked me up and down and nodded.

“
The day it happened, the lady doctor told me you might die, but I told her, ‘listen here, doc, Resnicks are made of sterner stuff than that. He’ll pull through. Just wait and see.’”

I raised an eyebrow. My old man wasn’t into personal displays of affection. That was as close to a “thank goodness, you’re still alive” as I was ever gonna get.

“
Sir, the doctor said I could be up-and-about tomorrow—and the school’s going to be paying for the medical expenses.”

“
Good,” he rumbled. “We shouldn’t have to pay for their screw-up. God damn public schools.” He shook his head. “They’re nothing but cesspools. Might-as-well take our tax dollars and pour sterno on ‘em, instead.”

He shuffled in his chair. My dad couldn’t sit still when he got irritated, and his opinion of our fine system of education was mighty low. Why go to college when you can start earning? He would ask. It was all a giant scam to him. He had worked with his hands his entire life. Using book knowledge to get ahead was beyond him.

I bit my lip. I was too tired to get into another old argument with him. “Sir, I talked to Mr. Newmar. He says that as soon as I’m able I can have my job back.“

“
That’s good of Newmar. You should be thankful. Times are as hard as I’ve seen ‘em in a long time. Men like Newmar are rare birds. Most would just fire you straight off no matter the reason you got hurt. You give him the respect he deserves, son, you hear?”

“
Yes, sir,” I replied. This was a practiced conversation on a topic we both agreed on. A conversation we knew wouldn’t instantly descend into an argument.

“
Heard about that Nelson boy. A shame. A good pitcher, was he?”

“
Yea.” Hearing Tyrone’s name made me queasy.

My father nodded to himself.

“
Son, the world just ain’t right. A boy can have all that promise in the world and get knocked off just like that. There ain’t no justice.” His face turned a mottled red. It seemed to me the only way he felt alive anymore was by getting fired up like this. It was so tiresome. “These days, a boy can’t even trust his own
mother
will stand by him.”

I flinched. Why did dad always have to poke that open sore? It was a wound I did my best to ignore. Why couldn’t he do the same? “Stars above, dad,” I said in exasperation. “Mom’s got nothing to do with this. Can we please leave her out of it?”

He raised his finger. “All I’m trying to say is that she never—”

“
Oh! Mr. Resnick,” interrupted Dr. Montgomery. “So good of you to drop in! Could I borrow you for a moment? I have a few forms for you to sign.”

“
Forms?” my father boomed. For a moment my father wavered between losing his temper and regaining his composure, but Dr. Montgomery’s pleasant grin seemed to be winning out. I watched his shoulders and waited for them to settle back down. It was a forced habit of mine.

“
Uh, sure thing, ma’am—I mean, doctor.” He scratched his head. “I’d be happy to. Uh…forms, right?”

I raised an eyebrow. I’d rarely heard my father use the term ‘happy’ lest it followed shortly after ‘trigger’.

As my dad stood, he turned to me. “Right. Son, I have to head to work soon. Just give me a call whenever you need to get picked up.”

“
Um…okay,” I said, still trying to process the chain of events. My father made his way out into the hallway where a nurse led him over to the office. If Dr. Montgomery wrote a book on conflict resolution, I’d be first in line to buy a copy.

I lay there staring at Dr. Montgomery. What was the deal with this lady? That conversation she had with those two men had been plain bizarre, but I also spent part of last week thinking there was a pink bunny hopping around the room. There was no bunny. (I asked.) But still…I got such a weird vibe from the doc. It wasn’t like she felt dangerous or anything, just…different. I tilted my head. If I stared at her in just the right way, I could see a fuzzy halo around her, some strange trick of light, like when a sunbeam strikes a pane of glass in just the right way. I scrunched my nose. The effort made my head hurt worse than when I tried to stare at those darn hidden image posters at the mall.

Dr. Montgomery noticed me squinting and smiled. I liked it when she did that. It made me feel better. My worries just sorta washed away. She opened her mouth as if to speak but closed it. “No, it’s best to wait,” she muttered. “I’ll stop in later, Dieter. Try and get some rest, okay?”

I watched her turn to go. “Wait…what is it?”

Pausing, Dr. Montgomery looked down at her hands and twiddled her fingers. “Well, I don’t know if you remember, but I was one of the judges at the science fair last year. Your project on yeast metabolism…it was wonderful work.”

“
Thanks,” I stammered. (I didn’t have many fans. “Hey baby, wanna check out my cell cultures?” didn’t work so well on the ladies.)

“
Dieter, you’re a senior this year, right?”

I nodded.

“
Well, I took the liberty of recommending you to my alma mater. It’s called Elliot College. It’s a very small school back East, but I think you might like it a great deal.”

“
Wow, Dr. Montgomery. Thank you so much!” I was shocked. An actual doctor? I’d never even thought to ask for help. I didn’t think that a person like her would ever consider helping a high school kid worth her time. Dr. Montgomery had really gone out of her way for me. “I’m gonna need all the help I can get. I really appreciate it.”

Dr. Montgomery ran a hand through her bright red hair. “Of course, Dieter. I don’t want to see your talents wasted.” Her smile weakened. “There are so few of us left.”

I looked at her in confusion. Sure, the state of American academics
was
pretty dire, but it wasn’t like medical doctors were going extinct or anything…

“
Oh, listen to me and my blabbering.” She shook out her curly hair and rubbed her face. “Things have been so busy around here that I haven’t been getting enough sleep.” She checked her watch. “Speaking of which, I better finish my rounds. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

I nodded. Yep, Dr. M. had a strange vibe all right. Nice—but definitely strange. I rubbed my tender face. My facial wounds had all closed up, but the bruises were still in full bloom. I glanced at myself in the mirror. My mussed up hair had built itself into a veritable tower of bed-head. A scraggly brown beard partially hid my sallow cheeks. Basically, I looked as bad as I felt. I needed to get out of this hospital and clear my head. This week had been seriously fucked up. I was starting to get loopy.

+

I was okayed for discharge the very next day. A nurse brought up some street clothes and gave me a free shave. I had my fill of hospital gowns and bed sheets. The jeans might be a bit long, but the opportunity to put on street clothes was like a gift from the gods. I was pulling up my boxers when the woman walked in.

“
Dear me,” she said shaking her head. “You’re gonna make me miss high school.”

My face turning bright red, I scrambled to button up the jeans. I went to slip the black t-shirt over my head but winced in pain. My shoulder was still swollen like a watermelon.

“
Here, let me help,” she said guiding my hands into the shirt. As the shirt popped over my neck, I finally got a look at her. The woman wore a tight cut pair of dress slacks and a no-nonsense short sleeve button down. She wore her long auburn hair up high in a bun.

Flustered, I asked, “Excuse me, but who are you?”

“
Lauren Curray of
The Globe
.” I looked down and noticed she was holding a notepad. She spoke with an easy confidence. She had no problem meeting my eyes. “You must be Dieter Resnick, survivalist extraordinaire.”

“
You’re right on that count. What brings you to my humble abode?”

“
Oh, just a few questions.”

I examined my bare toes. I was suddenly feeling warm.

“
Uh…?”

“
If you don’t mind.”

A reporter? I had only met one reporter before. It was after the science fair last year. He wrote down my name and took my photo. Never actually published it, mind you, but it was kinda exciting at the time. I perked up. I was going to be
interviewed
. Maybe I would actually make it into the paper this time…And then I remembered. Despite what the press thought, I had sorta just killed someone. I looked at the razor-sharp pencil she was tapping gingerly on her pad. This was probably the worst scenario imaginable.

I swallowed.

“
Um, sure. Ms. Curray wasn’t it? Fire away.”

She smiled. “It’s good you can already joke about it. At this stage, most victims are still traumatized.”

“
I didn’t mean it that way,” I said, frowning.

“
Oh, of course not,” she said, jotting something down on her little notepad. “Tell me, Dieter, what were you and Mr. Nelson doing behind the school at the time of the explosion?”

“
Well, um, there was a pretty big brawl going on, and neither of us wanted to get between the cops and the Splotches.” I struggled to remember the story, but it’s so much harder to lie when you’re put on the spot. “You see, there was a big riot two months ago and a bunch of people got hurt, so—”

“
That’s funny,” Ms. Curray said shaking her head. “After talking to some of the students, I’d gotten the impression that Mr. Nelson was an important member of this ‘Splotches’ gang—maybe even its leader. And the Splotches are well known to the student body, aren’t they? They’re the sole supplier of illicit drugs, no?”

Ms. Curray placed a hand on her skinny waist and tilted her head expectantly. I did my best to maintain bladder control. What the hell had just happened? What manner of word-kung-fu was this? I grabbed the socks and slipped them on. I needed to buy some time and calm down. She had been asking the right questions, and for some reason the students Ted Binion High School had talked to her instead of slashing her tires.

“
I don’t know. I try to keep my head down. I want to go to college next year, and I spend most of my time working with Dr. Leeche. He’s our chemistry teacher. Last year I published some findings with him. I’m hoping to get a scholarship, and he thinks this is a sure fire way to earn one. All that work doesn’t give me much time to socialize—let alone learn the gangs’ hierarchies.”

“
Ah, yes, Mr. Leeche,” she said. “So you haven’t heard?”

“
Sorry?” I asked. “Heard what?”

“
That he was fired.”

“
Excuse me?” I asked, flabbergasted. “Dr. Leeche? He’s the best teacher in our entire our school.”

“
Best? Hardly. He failed to check the gas nozzles or lock the lab before leaving work that afternoon. He’s partially responsible for Mr. Nelson’s death—and your injuries.”

“
But it wasn’t his fault!” I shouted.

Ms. Curray’s eyes brightened.

“
Then whose fault was it, Dieter?”

I flinched. She hadn’t even been baiting me, and I’d already managed to trip over myself. This had just been a fishing expedition, but now Ms. Curray was wondering if I was holding something back. Super.

“
I don’t know,” I said, biting my cheek. “I don’t know whose fault it was. Maybe…Maybe no one’s to blame.” Dr. Leeche was a good man, and now he was getting hung out to dry. My mind raced. This was all my fault. If I had just not gotten into it with Tyrone, if I had just minded my own business, none of this would have happened. But what could I do now? How could I get Dr. Leeche out of this mess?

Tell the truth
, my conscience answered.

I bit my lip until it hurt. No. Even if I wanted to take the blame, even if I confessed, what exactly was my explanation going to be? I destroyed Tyrone Nelson with my mind? I mean, come on. I decided on a half-truth instead.

“
Ms. Curray, I hit my head. The doctors said I suffered a concussion. I can’t recall everything that happened. To be honest, I’m just parroting back what they told me. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m going to be of much use to you.”

She strummed her notebook with her tightly cropped fingernails.