“You’re a freak, Summers, a fuckin’ weirdo!” Todd Neider yelled through the open window of his truck. A cigarette was jabbed in the corner of his mouth and two of his friends were wedged into the front seat with him. Here we go again, Jon thought miserably. He just k ept walking, hoping upon hope that his mom would be home when... and if... he got there. But he still had two miles of long, lonely pavement before the turnoff to his house. He swallowed back his dread and k ept his eyes fixed straight ahead to the mountains in the distance. “Always shootin’ off your mouth, claimin’ to see into the goddamned future. You’re a psycho!” Todd laughed and the other goons joined in. Tromping on the gas, Todd laid a patch of rubber from tires screaming for mercy. A choking plume of exhaust spewed into the brisk afternoon air. Jon felt a second of relief until the brake lights glowed hot red and tires squealed again as Todd did a quick one-eighty and headed his way again. “Bastard,” Jon swore under his breath. In voluntarily his hands curled into fists. Engine growling, the old Chevy looked like a huge metallic monster bearing down on him with the intent to do damage, serious damage. Jon jumped into the dry ditch. He hit the dirt as Todd, the wheels of his truck spraying gravel from the shoulder, shot past. Hoots and brittle laughter followed. “Jesus!” Jon whispered. He’d jammed his shoulder and pain ricocheted down his arm. Climbing to his feet, he started running, grass seeds clinging to his hair. Again the truck spun around and within seconds Neider’s truck had caught up to him. “Hey, Jonnie-boy, ain’t you gonna tell me my future now?” he leered as his friends snickered nervously. Clenching his teeth together, Jon wondered why he’d been stupid enough to get into a fight with Todd again at school. Why wouldn’t the big jerk just leave him alone? He slowed his pace but k ept walking. Don’t let him beat you. Remember—he’s a mental midget. “Scared?” Todd taunted. “Hell, we haven’t even started yet.” Though he was shaking inside, Jon ignored the bully, refusing to give him one inch of satisfaction. Todd eased the truck into the oncoming shoulder so that he was close enough to touch Jon. Acrid smells of cigarette smoke and beer wafted from the cab. “You can’t run away from me.” Jon bit his tongue. “Come on, freak, what have ya got to say for yourself?” Just ke ep walking “Shit!” A car coming the opposite direction forced Todd onto his side of the road. The driver of the sedan laid on the horn as he roared by and Jon wished to God that the driver would stop and end this torment. Todd was gonna kill him—beat him up so badly he’d never be the same. Well, he intended to give as good as he got. Inside he was shaking, outside he hoped his face was set in stone. Sweat covered his back and palms. When the car disappeared far behind them, Todd drew his pickup close again. “Ya know, Summers, everyone thinks you’re a mutant—some kind of throwback.” Todd k ept pace with Jon on the long lonely road and Jon gave himself
a swift mental kick for missing the bus. But then this torment had been worth it as he’d captured a few minutes to talk to Jennifer alone. “Maybe he’s the missing link,” Joey Flanders said in a voice that cracked often. Joey didn’t bother Jon because Flanders was just a coward who lived vicariously through Todd’s mean streak. Jon could handle Joey. “Yeah, or maybe he’s just a dumb-shit.” Dennis Morrisey was the son of Preacher Fire-and-Brimstone Morrisey. If Reverend Morrisey had had any idea his son was out carousing, smoking cigarettes, and swilling beer, Dennis would have had to scrub the church bathrooms with a toothbrush for the next six months. The Reverend had been in the army and believed in strict punishment. He didn’t worry Jon at all. That left Todd—a blowhard and a bully, but mean enough to be a problem. Physically, Jon didn’t have a chance against him, but mentally he could outsmart him every time. “Why don’t you and me have it out right here?” Todd suggested and again the other boys laughed. He flicked his cigarette at Jon, hitting him in the cheek. Ash and the butt fell into the dry weeds and Jon stomped quickly to put out the ember before it caught on the bleached grass. “God, Neider, you’re such a cretin! What do ya want to do, start a grass fire that won’t quit ’til it hits the river?” Jon stopped dead in his tracks and faced Todd. Throwing out his chin rebelliously, he silently dared the older kid to put up or shut up. “I don’t give a shit.” “That’s ’cause you are one.” Swiping the ash from his cheek, Jon narrowed furious eyes on his tormentor. Since their last fight he couldn’t hold his tongue. The words just tumbled out. “Why don’t you go home and cry in your bed like you do when your old man beats you?” “You little prick!” Todd’s color was suddenly high, his de ep-set piglike eyes horror-stricken. “My old man never lays a hand on me—” “Sure he does and you blubber like a baby for him to stop. But it never does any good, does it, Neider, ’cause your old man just takes off his belt and ke eps hitting you over and over again, calling you a no-good until he’s so drunk he passes out.” Flanders and Morrisey had become silent as death. Todd’s mouth worked but no words came out. The pickup idled in the dying sunlight and Jon turned toward home. “You’re a liar, Summers!” Jon k ept walking. The truck wasn’t far behind. “Hear me? A fuckin’ liar!” Jon glanced over his shoulder and the old Chevy rolled to within inches of him. Todd’s face was purple with shame and Jon knew he’d gone too far, that he’d told one of Todd’s secrets, one Jon had seen when the older boy had grabbed him by the shoulder one day. “And you’re a blowhard, picking on me so that you can feel better because your old man knocks you around.” “That does it!” Todd jammed on the brakes. Tires screamed. Wheels locked. The pickup shimmied and Todd jumped out, leaving his vehicle idling noisily. “You pushed me too far this time, Summers,” he warned, his big, meaty fist clenched so hard the knuckles showed white. “Time to learn a lesson.” He swung wildly. Jon ducked and started running. The other boys yelled, egging Todd on.
Todd, breathing hard, couldn’t catch him, but flung his body into the air, hitting Jon’s midsection and throwing them both to the ground. Twisting, Jon hit the dry earth of the ditch, and his shoulder, the one he’d injured before, seemed to crack. A bolt of pain speared through his shoulder, wrenching his arm back. He screamed. Bam! Knuckles blasted his cheekbone. His bones seemed to melt. He couldn’t move. Crash! His nose crumpled. Blood gushed. Pain exploded behind his eyes. Crack! His head snapped back against the ground. A moan ripped from his throat and he choked on his own blood. “I knew you were a wimp!” Neider crowed. Jon tried to squirm, but Todd was too big, too heavy, pinning him to the hard ground, his sour breath flowing over his face. “Fag!” Jon kicked and hit back, scratching, reaching up, trying to get rid of the huge mass crushing his chest. He heard voices—Dennis and Joey—yelling wildly. “Hey, Neider, that’s enough.” “Shit, man, you’re gonna kill him.” Todd didn’t listen. “You slimy little bastard, I’m gonna teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.” Todd climbed drunkenly to his feet, then hauled back and kicked Jon hard in the groin. Jon wretched, his body recoiling. A knee to the kidneys. Blackness threatened his vision. “Stop!” a loud angry voice ordered. “What the hell? Who the fuck are you?” Todd suddenly swore. “Hey— hey! Ke ep your hands off me!” he bellowed in real fear. Blinking up through bloodied eyes, Jon felt instant relief. Daegan O’Rourke had Todd by his collar. “What’s going on here?” he demanded, his eyes gray as storm clouds, his lips blade thin. “Let go of me!” Todd said, taking a swipe at him. Daegan had Todd on the ground in an instant, one arm twisted behind his back, a knee pressed hard to the boy’s spine. “I’ll sue you!” Todd screamed. “Yeah, and I’ll have you up on charges for assault so fast, your fat head will spin.” “You don’t scare me.” Todd was squirming, trying to break free, but couldn’t move. “Well, I should,” Daegan muttered as the two other boys flew from the cab of the truck and scattered. “Who are you, boy?” “Leave me alone!” “Yeah, like you left him alone?” Daegan said, motioning with his chin to Jon. Once again he hauled Todd to his feet and the boy looked so scared Jon thought he might pee his pants. “You’re gonna tell me what’s going on and who you are, or I’m calling the police as well as Jon’s mother.” Jon struggled to one elbow and his knees. “You okay?” Daegan asked, and Jon nodded, refusing to let him know how battered he felt, denying the urge to break down and sob for his mother like he wanted to. “Good, now, kid...” Again he focused his hard gaze on
Neider, though it seemed to Jon that some of the edge had left Daegan, as if he realized he was dealing with a boy and not a man. “You made a serious mistake messing with Jon here, because if you mess with him, you mess with me, and believe me, that’s a mistake you don’t want to make twice.” “Yeah, and who’re you?” Todd managed, wiping his chin as Daegan let go of him. O’Rourke’s lips twisted into a smile that was positively evil. “Your worst nightmare. I’m a friend of Jon’s here, and I’m taking it as my personal mission to see that he doesn’t get beat up by small-town toughs who like to bully smaller kids.” “He... he asked for it,” Todd stammered. “Right.” Daegan walked over to Todd’s truck and withdrew the keys from the ignition. With a rumble and a clunk, the old motor died. “Hey—wait a minute. What’re you doin’?” Despite his pain, Jon had to swallow a smile. “Making sure you have time to think—so maybe next time you won’t go driving around, all liquored up picking on kids.” “No way, man. Those are my keys—” Todd wailed and to Jon’s amazement Daegan hurled the prize high into the air. “No!” Todd roared, giving chase, trying to climb the fence as the metal keys glinted in the sunlight, jangling as they fell into the knee-high grass and weeds of Doc Henson’s unmown field. “You fuckin’ bastard, I’ll—” “You’ll what?” Daegan asked, his fury returning full force. Neider had the good sense to shut up. “Go ahead,” O’Rourke prodded. “You were about to threaten me. What exactly did you have in mind?” “I’ll... I’ll...” Todd shook his head and stared longingly at the field. “What you won’t do is pick on this boy anymore.” Daegan glanced at the two other boys, who were far away, still running, trying to make good their es cape. “And that goes for your friends, too.” He planted his hands on his hips and looked tough as old rawhide. “If I hear of this happening again —not just to Jon but to anyone else—believe me, I’ll come looking for you.” “But my keys—” “Hope you have an extra set.” Daegan turned his attention to Jon. “Come on, let’s get you home. Need some help?” “No,” Jon said and followed him to his beat-up old truck. He slid across the bench seat and stared out the cracked passenger window. Daegan shifted into first and they rolled past a red-faced Todd, who shouted obscenities until Daegan st epped on the brakes. Then he was silent. O’Rourke gave a satisfied snort and found the gas pedal again. “Nice guy,” he observed. “If you like cre eps.” “Look through the glove box. I think there’s a rag in there. I can’t guarantee how sterile it is, but unless you want your mom to faint dead away, you’d better clean yourself up.” As Jon scrounged in the overflowing compartment, O’Rourke asked, “What did you do to that guy to make him so mad?”
Jon thought that one over as he discovered an old stained rag and began wiping off the blood that had congealed on his face. How much could he trust this guy? True, he hadn’t ratted him out, hadn’t told Mom about the girlie magazines and the booze, and sneaking over there in the middle of the night, but still... He checked the side view mirror and saw that Todd was out of sight. Slowly he let out his breath. “He was gonna tear you limb from limb.” “Maybe he didn’t need a reason.” Jon winced as he touched his cheek with the rag. O’Rourke seemed to consider it as he found second gear and the fence posts started clipping by at a faster rate. “Usually when a guy’s that mad, there’s a reason.” “He hates me.” “Why?” Jon lifted a shoulder, then folded the rag and touched his nose. He nearly jumped out of his skin and his head began to throb. Rolling down the window, he said, “It’s ’cause I’m different.” He sniffed and blood slid down the back of his throat. “You know, I can see things.” “Like you did with me?” “Yeah.” He sighed. “This is gonna just ke ep going on and on.” “No way.” “You gonna stop him?” Jon asked, sarcasm in his voice as O’Rourke slowed the truck in order to turn into the lane. “You bet I am,” Daegan r eplied, surprised by his own sense of conviction. “He won’t bother you.” “You don’t know Todd.” “I’ve known a lot of Todds over the years. They’re all the same. Scared de ep down. If he tries anything again, you let me know.” “Oh, yeah, sure,” Jon r eplied with a frown that reminded Daegan of Bibi’s pout. “You think I should run like a crybaby to you?” Incredulity and sarcasm mixed in the boy’s words. Daegan lifted a shoulder. “It’s your call, Jon. You can either stand and fight, run, or ask for help.” “I want to stand and fight. I already have.” The truck bounced through a pothole. “Then you’d better learn how to do it so that next time you don’t get the living shit knocked out of you.” “Oh, dear God,” Kate whispered as she slammed on the brakes. Jon was climbing slowly out of the cab of O’Rourke’s truck. Blood stained the front of his shirt and ran down his face. His eyes were swollen, his face battered, and he limped noticeably. Her heart in her throat, she shoved the car into park and scrambled into the yard amid the excited barking and jumping of Houndog and Jon yelling at the pup to back off. “Jon?” Her gaze traveled to O’Rourke before landing with full, worried impact on her son. “What happened? Jon, oh, honey, are you all right?” The pup came over to greet her, but she barely noticed and turned frosty eyes on O’Rourke. “What’s going on?” “I’ll be fine,” Jon growled back. “And it wasn’t his fault.” He motioned to Daegan. “He saved me.”
“But—” “I said I’ll be fine.” She tried to reach for him but he stood back and blinked fiercely, as if just the sight of her caused his eyes to fill. “We’ve got to get you to a doctor.” Jon grimaced. “I would’ve taken him, but thought we should round you up first,” O’Rourke said. His expression was dark and grim. “What happened?” She couldn’t hide the censure in her voice. “The town bully seemed to want to use Jon as a punching bag. I caught up with them down the road a piece.” “Yeah and he gave ’em hell!” Jon said proudly. “That Todd Neider again?” Kate asked and her blood began to boil. That kid had been giving Jon fits for months and now the arguments and shoves had escalated to a full-fledged beating. “A foul-mouthed sucker if there ever was one,” Daegan observed. “Yeah, it was Neider,” Jon admitted, leaning heavily against the side of O’Rourke’s truck. “And his friends. I’ll... I’ll be okay.” “This isn’t going to end, is it? We have to stop it.” “Can’t argue with that,” O’Rourke agreed. She tried to reach for her son again. “Where does it hurt?” “Where doesn’t it?” Jon asked through cracked, swollen lips. His face was bruised and he held his already-injured arm around his middle. “He’s been lucid, never fell asle ep, so I doubt if he’s concussed. But he might have a cracked rib or two.” “Nothin’s broke,” Jon insisted. “I think we should let Dr. Wenzler determine that. I’ll get a wet towel and some bandages so you can clean up, then we’ll go.” She was halfway up the st eps to the front porch. “Where?” Jon asked. “To the clinic, of course.” “I don’t need to go—” “I don’t know where you get this aversion to medical treatment, but it’s not working with me. I’m taking you to see the doctor.” She sighed loudly. “I’ve been worried sick about you and now look... Please, Jon, don’t give me any grief about this. We’re going to the doctor and that’s that.” “She’s right,” Daegan said, staring at Jon with eyes that seemed to see past the teenage barriers her son had so recently and painstakingly erected, the barriers that forced her to ke ep her distance. “See what the doctor says.” Jon hesitated, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth, seeming to weigh things in his mind. Sullenly, he asked, “You comin’?” “Not my place.”
“It wasn’t your place to bust up the fight, either. But you did.” Jon was laying down a challenge—testing O’Rourke. Why? “Your mom and you can handle this.” Jon’s lips rolled in on themselves, the way they always did when he fought tears. With a proud lift of his chin, he said, “I’d like you to be there.” Thunderstruck, Kate was at a loss for words. In all her born days, she would never have expected Jon, who only a few days ago had insisted this man was dangerous, that he’d killed someone, to invite him to join them on a trip to the clinic. “You guys decide.” Her eyes met O’Rourke’s for an instant and she caught a glimpse of something more than just neighborly concern—a de eper unspoken emotion—a glimmer he hid all too quickly. “Your call,” she told him, knowing instinctively that getting closer to him was a mistake of immense proportions. But what could she say? He’d saved Jon, hadn’t he? “I’ll be right back.” She unlocked the door, headed for the bathroom on the first floor, and found a clean towel in the linen cupboard. What were they getting into with O’Rourke? she wondered as she twisted on the faucet and dampened the rag. Grabbing a second dry towel, disinfectant, and some bandages, she tried to shake the worry that had been with her the past hour. Though Jon was hurt, none of his injuries appeared life-threatening. Finding Jon with Daegan was upsetting, but it seemed as if the guy had actually saved her son from getting the living tar beat out of him. “Let’s go.” Jon’s intense gaze landed on their new neighbor. “Well?” “Don’t force Mr. O’Rourke, Jon. He just moved in and has a ranch to run and—” “I’ll tag along. If it’s okay with your ma.” “Sure. Fine, whatever,” she said, lying. She didn’t want this man anywhere near her or her son, but now was not the time to wage that particular battle. “Here, Jon, let me clean you up—” “I can do it.” He snatched the towel out of her hand and refused to let her touch him. Hot embarrassment climbed up her neck. “All right, you handle it, but let’s get a move on.” She was already on her way to the still-open door of her car. “As soon as we get back from the clinic, I’m going to call Carl Neider and—” “No!” Jon was vehement. “What? You want to take a chance on this happening again?” She looked across the roof of her Buick and stared flabbergasted at her son, who was still bleeding, his eyes swollen. No telling what else was wrong with him and he was arguing with her about ratting out the beast who had done the damage! “You bet I’m going to call him.” “You can’t do it, Mom,” Jon insisted. “But look at you—” “It’ll only make it worse. Mr. O’Rourke already shook him up, flung his keys into Henson’s field, and told him to lay off, so just leave it at that.” He hobbled to the car, yanked open the back door, and rolled into the seat. “Let me take care of it.” “I’m not sure I can do that.” Daegan stretched into the front seat next to her and she wished he would disappear. The last thing she needed was this tall, raw-boned cowboy seated close to her, destroying her concentration and, whether intentionally or not, wedging himself between Jon and her.
Doors slammed and she backed the Buick around O’Rourke’s pickup, wondering if her life—hers and Jon’s—would ever be the same. “For the love of Mike, what happened to you?” Dr. Wenzler, a petite woman with graying hair and kind eyes, asked Jon. She wore a lab coat two sizes too big with a stethoscope stuffed into a front pocket. “Get into a fight with a grizzly?” “No,” Jon said, squirming a little. “Another boy—another bigger boy,” Kate said, grateful that Jon hadn’t insisted Daegan accompany them into the examining room. It was bad enough that he was waiting for them in the rec eption area, though, surprisingly, the thought wasn’t all that unpleasant. He was probably thumbing through an old copy of Parenting and wondering how he’d ended up in the pediatric wing of the clinic. “I ’spose you gave as good as you got,” Dr. Wenzler said as she gently touched the swelling on his face. Jon was seated on the examination table, dressed only in his boxer shorts, and he was obviously embarrassed that Kate was in the room. “I did okay,” he r eplied, avoiding the doctor’s probing gaze. “So I should be expecting another patient?” she teased, flashing the beam of a penlight into Jon’s eyes. “Here—look over my shoulder to that dot on the wall. That’s it.” Once finished with his face, she ran experienced hands over his shoulder and ribs. “Lucky for you nothing appears to be broken, but we should take some X-rays over in the lab building just to be sure.” She glanced up at Kate. “Linda will walk you over and then bring back the films. I don’t think we’ll find anything, he looks fine, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.” “Me, too.” “I’ll meet you back in this room in a few minutes,” she said, then was gone, her voluminous lab coat billowing out behind her like a sail catching the wind. “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal of this,” Jon grumbled, wincing as he struggled with his sweatshirt. “Because it is, Jon. When someone starts causing you bodily harm, believe me, it’s a big deal.” He pulled on his jeans. “Just promise me that you won’t call Neider’s dad.” “Can’t do that.” “Sure you can. If you loved me, you would.” “I’m not going to get into this;” she said, her nerves strung tight as bow strings. She wasn’t going to allow a fifteen-year-old kid to manipulate her. “You know I love you.” There was a knock on the door and Linda escorted them through a labyrinthine maze of corridors, out a back door, and past a lab to the X-ray room. “It’ll be just a little while,” Linda assured them and Kate picked up a battered magazine while Jon fidgeted in the chair beside her. She couldn’t help wondering how O’Rourke was enjoying himself. Pretending interest in a year-old edition of Field and Stream, Daegan watched the hallway through which Jon and Kate had disappeared. It had taken forever for the tiny woman he assumed to be the doctor to take the chart from the basket on the door of Jon’s room and enter. A little while later she’d returned, without the chart, and issued instructions to a pudgy blond nurse who immediately thereafter sh epherded Jon and Kate down the hallway and out the back. Probably for tests or X-rays.
He glanced at his watch. He hated clinics, emergency rooms, and anything that had to do with medicine. Sitting around waiting, smelling antis eptic, watching people in white scurry around behind glass partitions, bothered him. When the hallway was clear, he stretched, saw that no one behind the window s eparating the secretarial staff from those waiting to be admitted was paying him any mind, and on the pretense of searching for a bathroom, he ambled down the hall. But he paused at the door from which Kate and Jon had emerged then slipped inside. The chart was on a counter. Without a moment’s hesitation or sting of guilt, he picked the file up and started scanning it. Date and place of birth? His heart stopped. The date in February was close enough and the kid had been born in Boston, Massachusetts. His stomach clenched. That information fit into Bibi’s story. Blood type? B negative. The same as Daegan’s. Only about 15 percent of the population had Type B, throw in the negative, and that made it even more rare. Y ep, it looked as if Jon was his son. He scanned the file and ignored the rage of emotion that blasted through him. The chances were downright slim that, given all his information, the boy was fathered by someone else. There was no more denying it. Bibi’s blood type was O positive; he’d already checked. He read the entire file quickly, thinking it was his right as a father. A father. Oh, God. He dropped the file back where he’d found it, sneaked out of the room, found the restroom, and still reeling with the knowledge that there were no more doubts, he finally returned to the waiting area. Impatiently, Daegan checked his watch, drummed his fingers on the arm of the plastic couch, and wondered what would be his next move. Now that he was certain of the truth, the game had just changed.