The Catcher's Dreams (FEATURED)

CHAPTER NINE - null

"There!"

From across the field came the small round shape of Wendy Fujimoto, and the taller, not much lankier shape of Ms. Richards, their homeroom teacher. Ms. Richards pulsed forest green, Wendy a strange neon pinkish orange, like salmon. Wendy Fujimoto was a universal synonym for tattler, only no one said it or she would tell them off. Neon salmon.

"Is it true that there was a squabble here?" Ms. Richards twittered, stroking her chins. Her short auburn hair tufted up at the ends, trying to escape.

"Of course!" Wendy quacked, pigtails shaking nasally. "Look at von Hirsch there. He's a mess. I saw Zachary kick him in the knee."

Ms Richards tottered over to Zachary, who was still aimlessly looking at the sky. "Zachary, is it true that you kicked...um, Mr. um...why am I blanking...von Hirsch..."

"Drake," Drake supplied.

"Is it true that you kicked Drake here? On purpose?"

"Yes, Ms. Richards."

"You will see me after class today in my office, Zachary. And I will be calling your parents."

"Okay, Ms. Richards." Zachary beamed. "Thank you, Ms. Richards."

The teacher sniffed suspiciously, but turned away. "Oh, and Wendy, five House Points for telling me about this."

"Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Wendy twirled around with all the grace of an crippled hippo.

Drake didn't complain. As ashamed as he was to admit it, Wendy was in his House.
"Drake, do you need to visit the Nurse?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

As they left, someone tapped Drake from behind. "What did you do to him?"

Drake whirled around to see a face of laughing freckles. "Huh?"

"You did something to him," Tommy said.

"No – do what?"

Tommy shrugged. His perfectly golden hair sparkled like a nugget of precious metal. "Um...I don't know. You did something."

"I didn't."

"Well, something happened, eh? His – I mean, he fell and started staring at the sky."

"Wait, you were watching? Why didn't you –"

"Watch this, Drake." Tommy picked up the football. "Hey, Wang, want your ball?"

Zachary turned around as he walked away with Ms. Richards, already narrow eyes squinting in a daze. "Pardon me?"

"The football!" Tommy said, holding the prize up, dull and adorned in mud.

Zachary paused, almost tripping over a kindergartner. "Thank you very much, but I don't need it. I will let you keep it, Tommy."

When Tommy stood there motionless, Zachary tipped his head slightly in goodbye. "Have a nice day."

"Have a nice day." Tommy spat, shaking his head. He dropped the ball, whirling to face Drake. "Have a nice day! And you didn't do anything to him, eh?"

Drake wiped away the spittle. "I didn't."

"Drake, I know you better than that. That thing you did..." He paused. "You did it to Mr. Palmer, too, in P.E.."

"How did you know that?"

Tommy paused for a second. "You looked at him weird. He walked away in the middle of the T-ball game. I was standing next to you." Triumph grinned through slapped-on freckles.

A chill crept up Drake's throat, exploding in his mind like a firework. "Don't tell anyone, Tommy. Please. I'll do anything."

"How did you do – What did you do, though?"

Glows filled Drake's mind; luscious glows taken years before, pulsing together in his subconscious like a sleeping dragon. "I...I don't know how to describe it."

Tommy looked him up and down until it was uncomfortable. Then he smirked. "It's cool."

No, Drake thought. It's really not.