Socket 2 - The Training of Socket Greeny (10 page)

I should’ve.

I pulled the glass dish from the stove. The
baked salmon flaked apart with a fork, just like the directions
said it would. It seemed like if I was going to screw up dinner, it
shouldn’t be fish, but the guy at the market recommended it, said
all I needed to do was throw some butter and brown sugar on it and
bake. Even a dope can’t mess that up, he said.

I turned the stove off, slid the dish back in
to keep it warm. What was I going to tell Chute about Streeter? I
couldn’t lie, but she’d want to know. She’d been calling him, even
knocking on his door. She just wasn’t willing to peek through his
window like I was. He was lucky she didn’t see him; she would’ve
dragged his ass to the hospital, no mercy.

So, if I tell her the truth – how he looked,
the thing with his parents – she wasn’t going to stay for baked
salmon no matter how it tasted.

I’d tell her after dinner.

A car door slammed.

I checked the sweet potatoes, made myself
look busy. I didn’t want to look like I’d been looking out the
window for the last forty-five minutes. My heart thumped when she
knocked.
Get a hold of yourself, man!

“Come in!”

I was bent over the stove pulling the dish
out when she came in. Then I stood there like I forgot where I was,
staring at her. She didn’t need to dress up or do the make-up
thing. Just the way she was, right then, it was perfect.

“I came right from practice.” Her braids were
frayed like she came over on a motorcycle. “I’m sorry, but Coach
worked in some new plays.”

I was still standing. Still staring.

“I’ll go clean up,” she said.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Use my mother’s
bathroom. I’ve got a few things left to do. Um, it’s over…”

“There.” She pointed. “Yeah, I’ve been here
before.”

I arranged each filet on a plate, then
spritzed them with lemon. I split two sweet potatoes and hit them
with butter and reached for the spinach salad, hit that with cherry
tomatoes, sunflower seeds and parmesan cheese.

“We’re expecting a record crowd at the game
tomorrow night,” she called from the bathroom. “They’re saying more
people will be there than football. They’re talking about two or
three
thousand
people showing up
.
Can you believe
it?”

I lit the candles on the table. I called the
television on and a fire crackled on the screen.

“I’m getting a little nervous, thinking about
it,” she said. “The expectations…”

She stepped into the living room. Her face
was radiant. Not in the way someone steps out of the shower or
returns from the beach, but bubbling with this essence of pure joy,
like one of those paintings of patron saints with the halos. I was
staring, again.

“You expecting someone special?” she
asked.

“Not anymore.” I pulled out a chair.
“
Madam
.”

She curtsied and danced to the table. “Why
thank you, kind sir.”

I went back to work on the salad, focused on
cutting cherry tomatoes and onions.

“It smells good,” she said. “Who cooked?”

“The chef is in the house, my lady.”

“Are the Paladins training you for
housework?”

“Cooker, cleaner, and slayer of evil doers.”
I slid a plate in front of her. “They leave no stone unturned.”

She closed her eyes and hovered over it,
letting the steam drift against her face. She forked a small piece
of salmon in her mouth. “Oh, my.” She moaned. “Oooooooh, my.”

She dug into the food. Her lips glistened
with butter and the fire popped on the wall. I watched her eat half
of it then tried some. That market guy was right on the mark. It
was freaking awesome. Chute hardly opened her eyes, and when she
did they were brilliant.

The whole scene was like a romance novel. Pon
would shit. If he could see me sitting around like some
star-crossed, zit-popping teenager, his head would explode.

“Did you see Streeter?” she asked.

“Yeah, I saw him earlier. You know, this
morning.”

“He’s not right.”

“Yeah, well, no… he’s not well.”

“What do you think’s wrong?”

I chewed slowly, watched the flames dance on
the candles. There were so many ways to answer that question, none
of which were lies. Most of which weren’t exactly truths,
either.

“I didn’t get a chance to talk to him all
that much,” I said. “His granny wanted him to rest. So, you
know.”

“Maybe we should go over there.”

“He’s coming to your game tomorrow night,” I
said, quickly. “We’re planning on getting together afterwards. The
three of us, you know. Just like old times.”

Now that, the second part… yeah, that was a
lie. I’m pretty sure the first part was, too. Even though Streeter
said
he was going to her game on the message, I knew he was
lying, so in a way I was lying.
Just go with it, stop thinking
about it.

Things were just too good. Streeter could
wait until the morning, right? What were we going to do if we went
over anyway? It’s not like he was going to let us in, and his
grandma wouldn’t know who I was so nothing was going to change. I
just wanted this night, that’s all. Not too much to ask.

“He misses you,” she said. “He won’t tell you
that, but I think that’s what’s going on.”

“It’s more than that, I think.”

“He’s just having a hard time since you left
and I think some things are coming up. He doesn’t feel like he’s
got anyone.”

“Don’t we all.”

“He’s got it worse.”

I clutched my fork. “He’s got great
grandparents, he’s one of the smartest guys around, and he’s not
starving. Is it really all that bad?”

“He’s got no one, Socket, that’s all I mean.
Making friends is hard for him.”

“Well, maybe he needs a new skill.”

Chute looked at me strangely, not sure what
to say. Even I was a little surprised by the tough love I was
spewing.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I said. “Sometimes I
forget what it’s like to be normal. I know it’s all relative, but
we can’t save Streeter. Only Streeter can do that.”

“We need to be there for him.”

“I know, I know,” I said. Desperation was
creeping through me. “You’re right. We’ll get with him tomorrow
night at the game. Who knows, maybe everything will sort itself out
by then.”

“You sure he’s coming?”

“He said he was.”
That’s what he said,
swear to God
.

She pushed her food around, contemplating. I
turned my attention to my own plate, avoiding the temptation to
look
at her thoughts. Soon, she was eating again. Eating
until everything was gone.

The evening was cool, but humid. The sun was
down but the sky was still lit. Chute hooked her arm through mine
and laid her head on my shoulder. I couldn’t have scripted it
better. We walked down the sidewalk, stepping in time, occasionally
tangling our feet and laughing.

An old woman was at her mailbox, sifting
through a wad of magazines.

“Hi, Mrs. Higgins,” I said.

She looked up from her cache and squinted.
“Hello.”

Chute looked back. Mrs. Higgins was already
on her front steps. “She acted like you were a stranger.”

Yeah, the lady I lived next to most my life.
I watched her dog when she was away. She brought cookies over at
Christmas and always sent a birthday card with money and a note
that read,
Don’t spend it all in one place.
And now she just
said hello to me, a little nervous about the long-haired teenager
walking past her house.

“She doesn’t remember me.”

“Oh, no.” Chute squeezed me tight. “She has
Alzheimer’s?”

“No, she’s all right, as far as I know.”

“Then what’s her problem?”

“It’s a Paladin thing,” I said. “They call it
fading.”

“You’re turning invisible?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” I said. “No, it’s just
that anonymity is important to Paladin service. People forget us,
easily. We naturally emit energy that loosens memories to fall away
from the mind. Now you see me.” I waved my hands in front of my
face. “Now you forget.”

“Why?”

“It makes things less complicated. We can
function with less attachment to relationships. At least that’s
what they say.”

“I don’t like that.”

I didn’t want to tell her I didn’t mind it. I
wasn’t big on conversation anyway. Now that people forgot me, it
wasn’t rude for me to just avoid them.

Azalea Park was densely wooded with stalwart
pines and light-hogging magnolias. Cars were parked in the narrow
slots between the trees. We walked through leafy corridors on the
mulched paths. Chute slid her hand down my arm, her fingers twining
with mine.

We crossed over a foot bridge and found a
bench at the koi pond. An enormous sculpture of a swan spread its
wings in the center among water lilies and cattails. Another couple
was tossing bread crumbs on the water and the greedy fish fought
for them. We watched them giggle and snuggle. It was sickening, but
I was doing the same thing so I needed to shut up.

Several ducks hopped into the water, swimming
after the bread crumbs that landed on the lily pads. They squawked
at each other, nipping at each others’ wings to get the food first.
Everybody wanted a piece. The couple threw the rest of the bag into
the water to let the ducks and fish work it out before leaving.

“I’m about to fall asleep.” Chute rested her
head on my shoulder again.

“It’s still daylight.”

“It’s a school night,” she said. “I’ve got
practice in the morning.”

“You know, we used to goof on the jocks, and
now you’re one of them.”

I expected her to slug me one, maybe even
walk away. I revealed what was on my mind. Maybe I was trying to
get rid of some guilt, trying to blame her for Streeter. The way
she said it at the table made it sound like his situation was my
fault. I was a Paladin, I didn’t have a choice to leave him. But
Chute didn’t
have
to play tagghet. She left because she
wanted to.

“I’ve followed you and Streeter all my life,”
she said, “did all that virtualmode fighting and camping out when
we were little because ya’ll wanted to, but I never really cared
all that much, you know? I just needed something that was mine.
Tagghet’s mine, it’s not yours. It’s not Streeter’s. It’s
mine.”

She watched the ducks spread out on the
water.

“Listen, I didn’t plan on playing tagghet,
but I’m good at it and I want to share it with both of you. I want
you at my games, to cheer me on. It’s not the same when you’re not
there.”

I bit my lip. I was having some stupid
thoughts that didn’t need to become words. Maybe I was jealous she
had something besides me. Jealous she
loved
something
besides me. I wanted to be the center of her universe, not tagghet
or anything else. I wanted to be her everything.
Stupid
. She
was no sheep. And that’s why I was so into her.

The magic was slipping away from the evening.
It was going to end as horribly as the last time. Last time,
someone shot at us. This could be worse. Panic clenched my
chest.

Chute wandered to an old bubble gum machine
and inserted a coin. When she turned the handle, the ducks raced
toward her. She caught the fish food falling out of the dispenser
and flung the kernels at the foot of the sculpture. The ducks went
after it.

“I know I’m not saving the world,” she said.
“It’s just a stupid game, I know, but it’s what I do, Socket. We
all can’t be heroes.”

“I’m no hero.”

“Yes, you are.” She tossed more food in the
water. “You stop time. You do things with thoughts. I’m not even
sure how human that is, to be honest. That’s a lot for us to live
up to. Streeter feels the pressure, too.”

“I didn’t do that to Streeter. He’s got his
own life.”

She poked at the remaining food in her palm.
“Did you forget what it’s like to be ordinary?”

Something like that should’ve hurt like a
poke in the eye, but she wasn’t saying it like an accusation. She
wished, at some level, things were the same as before, I think.
That the world’s problems didn’t get in the way. It was so easy
when we were kids. Dreams were anything we wanted them to be, but
now reality was here and it was so complicated. It wasn’t always
what we wanted it to be.

She gazed in her hand like the answer was in
the fish food. I walked over and took it from her, scattered it
over the pond. I took her hands. She looked into my eyes with an
intensity that could’ve matched Pon. She grazed her fingertips over
my face like it was Braille.

“They won’t make me forget you, will they?”
she asked.

“That’s not possible.”

We embraced for an eternal minute while the
insects sang. She turned her head. I pressed my lips against hers.
They were warm and wet and we melted together. Our energy mingled,
open and defenseless. Her vibe was sweet and filling. I squeezed
her tighter, closing my eyes and swimming through a swirling tide
of emotions.

Pon said I couldn’t come home. He was right.
This was someplace entirely new.

Chute jumped away and I was left
empty-handed, still in mid-kiss. The ducks waddled after her,
snapping at her hands.

“They want more!” I said.

“I don’t have any!” She scampered backwards
and the ducks gave chase. She squealed with delight, yelping each
time they snapped. It was the best sound in the world.

“Make them go away!” she shouted.

“Just throw at the water!”

She faked a throw and the ducks went after
the imaginary food. We made our escape into the dark path.

The emotions were intoxicating, but each step
took us closer to my house and the moment got farther away. The
kiss was already a memory, it would stay at the koi pond. It
wouldn’t last. It wasn’t meant to. Maybe that’s where Streeter was
stuck, coming back to the cold empty present moment when he’d
rather be in a world with his parents.