The night wind blew cold and fresh as Peter ducked around the side of a building. He kept his eyes on his target, making sure not to be seen, by the cameras more than by that buffoon Thomas. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how that kid had become a legend. Everyone else must just be really bad.
Thomas disappeared around another building, and Peter waited a second, then dashed across the lawn, making sure to take the exact path Thomas had. Unlike him, Thomas had the advantage of knowing every camera and trap on the academy grounds.
Reaching the building, Peter peeked around the corner. He was gone. There’s no way he could have run the entire length of the building in that time. Peter scanned the lawn running alongside, but there wasn’t any motion. The boy had just vanished. Cautiously, he started forward, feeling alongside the wall. Nothing. Well, at least there was one good thing. He hadn’t been imagining it; Thomas was definitely hiding something.
He wasn’t about to give up the search. Still skimming his hand over the wall, he started tapping on the ground, feeling for anything hard under the soil. With every foot of ordinary wall and ground, his anger grew. Coming to the end of the wall, he slammed his hand into it, his brass knuckles leaving a dent. Thomas had evaded him. Again.
“So, if “x” squared is equal to 25, you would take the square root of 25, so what are you left with?” Miss Fletcher turned to him with a quaint smile that said, “I’m so sorry that you’re stupid.”
He almost hated the number he spat out next even more than that smile. “12.5” He knew it was wrong. The right answer was five. Math was consistent that way. One plus one would always equal two. The square root of a number always multiplied by itself to make that number. Life on the other hand was always inconsistent. And unlike math, it tended to be hard.
“Jack?”
He blinked, focusing on the padded wall behind his tutor.
“Are you okay? You seem a little distant today.”
Even without looking at her, he could see that condescending round smiling face with the bright blonde hair. “It’s five.” He blinked, then tried to hide his shock. He had meant to say, “I’m fine.”
“That’s… right.”
He turned to face Miss Fletcher. “Fine. I’ve been pretending. Happy?”
For the first time since they had met, she stopped smiling. “You don’t need a tutor, Jack.” Her condescending tune was gone, replaced with one that was even worse. Pity.
“You’re right! I don’t need a tutor and I don’t need help. I just need people to leave me alone!” He got up, pushing the plush chair out of the way and ripping the worksheet he had just spent an hour on into shreds. “You can tell my teacher that I won’t be turning in the assignment.” With that, he opened the door and stormed into the main room of the Academy’s library. The old wooden bookcases seemed to blur by as he passed them, glaring at the floor to keep the emotions from coming out. Soon, he wouldn’t be seeing this old library again. If he didn’t keep his grades up, they would have to send him away. Then what? He didn’t want to think about it.
He saw a pair of shoes a second before he felt the impact as someone slammed into him. His head snapped up, smacking against someone’s jaw. The girl staggered back as he held his head.
“Are you okay?” She asked and Peter looked up to see a familiar face peering at him. Of course. Of all the people he could have walked into, it had to be Quin.
“Yeah,” he grumbled, looking down. “Watch where you’re going next time.” He winced. Okay, that had been low. Even for him. Quin didn’t reply, and he started walking again. The further away he could get from her the better.
A strong hand gripped his shoulder, stopping him, and before he could react, he was staring Quin in the face. The look on her face made him bite back the insult he was about to throw at her. He had expected to see anger, or even maybe sympathy, but instead, her mouth was set in a mixture of determination and… something else. Something that made his stomach churn like a knife had been stuck in it. Love. He set his jaw, keeping back the tears that threatened to burst free.
“Jack, you are not alone,” she stared directly into his eyes, and he squirmed despite himself. Her hold on his shoulder sent pinpricks into his heart, threatening to break down the wall he had so carefully constructed.
Wrenching his shoulder free, he turned and ran. He didn’t care where he was going, he just had to get away. He was alone! His parents were dead, his friends had deserted him, everything he had ever known was gone.
“Jesus will never leave you.”
Jack stopped in his tracks. He should have expected it. Turning, he glared at Quin, who had followed him to the library doors. “I don’t believe in Jesus,” he said flatly.
Quin looked like she had been slapped. He half expected her to come back with a witty remark like, “Jesus believes in you,” but instead, she just nodded, then turned away, walking back into the library.
He spun around and headed down the brick-lined hallway. Nice going. Now the whole school will know you’re not a Christian. That was just one more reason he needed to get out of this school as soon as possible.
“So this is actually happening,” Nico breathed. “This is so epic! Does anyone else think this is cool? A hideout just for us.”
Thomas had to grin as the tall boy ran his fingers along the bulletin board of pictures and news clippings.
“Yeah. It’s great if you’re a boy,” Emma huffed, drawing a smiley face in the dust that had accumulated on the table.
Nico turned around, crossing his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean? My room happens to be completely clean. It’s not fair to say that all boys are messy.”
“Maybe you can prove that by cleaning this place up. Does anyone else smell that?” Emma followed the scent over to the fridge, wrinkling her own nose, as well as the rest of her face.
“I’m not sure we should open that if—” Thomas cut himself off as Emma opened the door, then gagged, staggering backward as hundreds of tiny flies erupted around her.
Both boys covered their faces, but even with the cloth covering his nose, Thomas could smell the five year old… whatever it was that had rotted.
“It’s been five years,” he finished, his voice muffled.
“Okay, I’ve seen disgusting,” Emma choked out. “I’m pretty sure that described this a few weeks after it had gone rotten.”
Cautiously, Thomas stepped toward the fridge. Now that it was open, he might as well look at it. He instantly wished he hadn’t. The entire inside looked like a freezer covered in that snow stuff, except instead of snow, mold covered the entire surface. Something on the shelf that must have been some sort of pie at some point was now a slimy green mess that writhed with maggots.
He had learned long ago not to be disgusted. It only made dealing with the mess worse. Once, a kid had sneezed in his face and he had wiped the boogers off, grinning. But this made him want to throw up.
“This fridge is going in the dumpster,” Emma announced, slowly closing the door.
“What?” Niko’s voice came from behind them. “No. You can’t just throw out a perfectly good fridge.”
“We don’t even know if it works,” Emma snapped. Her face had turned a sickly shade of greenish grey.
“Still, we can’t just throw it out.” He crossed his arms, not seeming to have been affected at all by the sight of the fuzzy slimy mess. “Hold on a second. I’ll be right back.” Turning, he crossed the room and disappeared back the way they had come.
Oh no. He wasn’t.
A few seconds later, he emerged again, holding a box of gloves, paper towels, and a bottle of cleaner. The thought of trying to clean that fridge made Thomas nauseous.
“Hold on,” Emma spread her arms to block his path. “We’ll need trash bags and masks for the mold, and…” She trailed off as Niko placed the item on the counter, then retreated again, coming back with a roll of trash bags, three masks, and a can of bug spray.
“Anything else?” A grin spread across his face, and Emma dropped her arms to her side.
Thomas might have thought it was funny, if his stomach wasn’t twisting into knots. He took a deep breath of pungent air. You can do this. Taking a mask and the can of bug spray from a surprised Niko’s hands, he walked over to the fridge, closed his eyes, and opened it a crack, and sprayed. He counted to ten, then opened it again. Nothing flew out.
“Okay, let’s get to work.” He said, then promptly threw up.
By the time they had finished, they had two entire trash bags filled with paper towels and the whole place smelled like chemicals. Still, Thomas couldn’t help but feel proud. The fridge looked brand new, sparkling in the light, and it now gave off a cool breeze thanks to Nico plugging it in. Thomas still couldn’t figure out how it had come unplugged. Did the Children of Light know they were leaving? Had someone else been in the room? That thought made the hairs bristle.
“Alright, now what?” Niko asked, tying off the second bag. “You don’t think they would happen to have anything in the cupboards, do you?”
Thomas shared a look with Emma. “How about we leave them alone.”
Niko shrugged, still eyeing the cupboards.
“How about we leave the rest of the cleaning for later. I thought we came here to discuss what to do.”
“Oh, right!” Niko slapped his forehead, setting the bag down. “Sorry. I tend to get a little distracted.”
Emma narrowed her eyes at him, then turned to Thomas expectantly, and Niko followed suit.
They were expecting him to come up with an idea. He, who had no experience at all with leading. He was a lone wolf, or at least, he had been. What had changed? He cleared his throat. “Okay… the Children of Light used to go out and help the city in small ways. They would clean up graffiti and give food to the homeless.”
Niko nodded.
“Well we aren’t the Children of Light,” Emma shot back. “I was just attacked by a gang of thugs. How is cleaning up trash supposed to help that?”
“Well… maybe it’s not much, but—”
“I joined you to help this city, not clean it. What good did cleaning the city do for your beloved group? Look at the city now. It’s even worse than when they started. They were treating the symptoms. We need to treat the disease.”
Thomas bit his lip. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He had pictured them fixing up old houses and painting walls, not beating up criminals.
“If we want to make real change, we’ll have to start with the problem.”
“Sin.” Nico murmured. Thomas and Emma both turned to look at him. “Pride, hate, envy, deceit, that’s the problem. Fighting won’t change anything. All it will do is make it worse. We need to spread light, generosity, love, and hope. Thomas is right. The best way to vanquish the darkness is to spread light.”
Thomas blinked. “Right,” was all he could think to say.
Emma crossed her arms. “And what exactly are you planning on doing?”
Niko hesitated, then began. “There’s a lady who lost her home in a fire. She didn’t have insurance, so now she’s living on the streets. She still owns it, but she’s not allowed to live there. I was thinking we could fix it up.”
“And how is that supposed to help with crime?”
“Because those gangs are just people who haven’t been shown love,” Niko said, with a passion that seemed to light the room.
Thomas felt the flame inside him start to burn.
Emma uncrossed her arms, then nodded. She took a deep breath, then let it out. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just angry. You’re right.” She looked directly into his eyes. “Let’s go fix a house.”
Peter stared up at the whirling fan. That’s what his mind felt like right now. A whirling mess. Everything was going wrong! He knew someone had to figure out he wasn’t a Christian at some point, but now he could help feeling trapped. Everyone knew his secret. It would only be a few days, if that, before the kids started asking him questions like, “Do you know what’s going to happen when you die?” Yeah. They’ll bury me in a grave. It didn’t help anything that his math teacher refused to fail him.
He rolled over to glare at the wall. Despite the fan, it was too hot in here. Throwing his blanket off, he slipped out of bed, throwing on a pair of jogging pants and a lightweight jacket. He couldn’t stay in this claustrophobic room any longer. He needed to go out and clear his head. Opening the door a crack, he slipped into the hall, checking both ways to make sure it was clear.
He started toward the far window. Why the hallways each had a window at the end, he had no idea. Maybe the building was so old that electric lights didn’t exist when it was built. Well, it made one less obstacle for him. Getting through the locked door would be a hassle.
The window was one of the kinds that opened on the bottom, with a locking joint to keep it open. Sliding the freshly oiled window open, he locked it, then leapt through, landing ten feet below in an elegant parkour roll. Getting his bearing, he started off toward the shore, then stopped as his senses perked up. The moonbeams were casting shadows through the forest and the sound of a motor roared in the distance.
Moving silently along the old brick path, he soon made his way to the dock where a boat idled in the darkness. It took him a minute to recognize it. The Light Rider. Why was the academy’s boat idling at this time of night? Something was up.
Instinctively, he reached for his monocular, then realized he hadn’t put his vest on. Of course the one time he had needed it he had left it behind. He would have to get closer to see what was going on. Between him and the boat was a huge expanse of moonlit lawn. He would be completely exposed. He had to time it right.
Suddenly, the boat’s motor roared, and without hesitation, he shot forward, pumping his arms, leaning into his run to create the least air resistance. The lawn seemed to shrink away, then he was running down the dock toward the water. The boat was already at least fifteen feet away and slowly motoring out onto the river.
He put on an extra boost of speed as he reached the end of the dock, then he propelled himself off the side, pulling his knees to his chest. He soared over the water, and for a second, nothing but a few feet of air separated him from it. He caught a glimpse of the boat. He wasn’t going to make it. Throwing his weight forward, he lunged desperately for the boat’s railing. His hands hit metal, and they locked on as the momentum carried him into the hull.
The boat shook, and he waited in breathless silence for someone to appear above him.
“Alright. When we get to the city, we’ll head down to the homeless shelter. I know a man who used to be an architect who could help us,” a deep voice came from above.
He let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. Apparently, they hadn’t noticed the jolt or had just thought it had been a wave.
“We can find spare lumber near the lumber yard. They throw out the boards and beams that they can’t sell.”
Peter frowned. The voice was definitely a girl’s maybe 12 or 13. What was a girl doing going out after lights out?
“So we’ll find the architect, get the lumber, and then what?” came another, much more familiar voice. Thomas. So the boy had been hiding something after all.
“We’ll start work on the house,” the deep voice replied.
Peter readjusted his grip on the hull, his fingers starting to burn with the exertion of holding his weight. They had better land soon.
“And how long is that going to take?” the girl asked. “You realize this isn’t going to be a small project.”
“It’s not going to be easy,” the other continued, “but it will be worth it. To give someone a home, it’s what Jesus wants us to do, to help the poor and—”
Peter let the roar of the motor drown out the rest of his words. It’s what Jesus wants us to do. As if Jesus were still alive. As if He were actually there. If He had been there when his house burned down, his parents wouldn’t be dead. Either that or He just didn’t care.
The roar of the motor started to subside, and soon the boat was drifting down the river. No one on board said any more, and Peter found himself wishing for any distraction from his cramping fingers. He was tempted to pull himself onto the deck, but then he would be spotted for sure. Finally, after agonizing minutes, the girl’s hushed voice drifted down.
“Alright, Thomas, hop off and pull the boat in.”
“Please…” Thomas said, a smirk in his voice.
“Please pull the boat in,” the girl ground out, “unless you want to drift down into the ocean.”
The boat jolted, and a few moments later, trees came up alongside the boat as it was pulled into a small cove. A strip of beach passed by Peter’s feet, and he let go, falling into a crouch. He flexed his fingers a few times, then waited. Seconds later, the boat stopped, and two dark figures dropped onto the beach a few yards away.
“Alright. The shelter should be just behind this grove of trees.” The deep voice came from a tall muscular boy. “And watch your step. There are a few marshy spots.” He headed into the forest, two more figures following him. One of them, the girl, was less than half his height.
Peter waited until they were almost out of sight, then slipped in after them, making sure to stay on the trail the big guy left. He grinned. One more point for him. Thomas was so busted.
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