SAVANTS
Chapture 6's

Tina's summary is the most concise: "like Belgian chocolate is really sweet and really irresistible"

Feeling guilty for knowing that I was too interested in someone I met once, I tried to get rid of the habit of looking for him. It's not my normal behaviour in England, I'm rarely interested in boys, and if I pick a candidate to change that, so to speak, it's not Zed.

What does he even like? There was nothing but scorn. It makes me shallow to take such interest. He may have been the anti-hero of my ongoing graphic novel plot, but he didn't make him a good candidate for my real-life attention. Maybe the fact that he's so far out of my reach.

On the street we did meet occasionally, but it was out of school and definitely not in my favor.I stopped by the grocery store on the way home to pick up milk and cornered there was Mrs Hoffman. On the sidelines interrogating about how I succeeded in each of my subjects.

"Sky, honey, I want a bottle of dill sauce can you help me?" he said, pointing to the small green bottle on the top shelf.

"OK." I put my hand on my hip and looked up. It was out of reach of both of us.

"Why did they make these shelves so high?" grunts Mrs Hoffman. "I want to call the manager."

"No no." I didn't want to be there for that special episode. "I can get it." I glanced down the hall, wondering if there were any useful stairs available and saw Zed at the end there.

Mrs Hoffman saw it too. "Well, look there, it's Benedict's son, what is Xav? no, Zed. Strange names if you ask me."

I didn't ask because I'm sure he'll also say something about my problem.

"Should we call him?" Mrs Hoffman asked.

That would be nice, like "Sorry, High and Handsome Wolfman, can you help this English midget girl take her sauce?" I don't think so.

"It's okay, I can get it." I went up to the bottom shelf, pulled myself up on the middle shelf, on tiptoes. My fingers circled the top jar, almost...

Then my foot slipped and I landed on the floor, the jar flew out of my hand and hit the tile. Rows of dill sauce wobbled, looking sure to fall, but miraculously staying on the shelf.

"Damn" I said.

"Miss Sky Bright, I won't put up with such disrespectful language!" said Mrs Hoffman.

The assistant arrived, pulling the mop and bucket on wheels behind him like a fat dog.

"I didn't pay for it, Leanne," Mrs Hoffman immediately announced, pointing to the mess I made with the jar.

I struggled to stand up, feeling the bruises that had already formed at the base of my spine, but I resisted the temptation to rub the painful part.

"It's my fault" I reached into my pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill. Go already my chocolate snack.

"Save your money, baby," said the shop assistant. "It was an accident. We all saw that."

Without a word, Zed stepped up and took another dill sauce jar off the shelf without any difficulty and put it in Mrs Hoffman's basket.

Mrs Hoffman beamed at her, probably not realizing she was smiling at the school's bad boy. "Thank you, Zed. You're Zed, right?"

He nodded briefly, his eyes glancing at me with something like ridicule.

Zed-he paralyzed his enemy with a flick of eyelashes.

"How's your parents doing, Zed baby?"

It's great! Mrs Hoffman has found another victim for questioning.

"They're fine," he said, adding as an afterthought, "Mom." Further.

Wow, is America weird! Even the mischievous city boy had a polite tone instilled in him - unlike the English.

"And your brother, what have they been doing lately?"

I slipped away by saying a gentle "goodbye. I wouldn't swear to it, but I think I heard Zed muttering "traitor" as I left him, which made me feel a lot better.

Not far from the store I heard the sound of a motorcycle behind me. I looked back to see and Zed was driving a black Honda on the road, waving expertly among the traffic flow that had returned home for the night. He's obviously better at cutting off talks with Mrs Hoffman than I am. He slowed down when he saw me but did not pull over.

I kept going, trying not to worry that it was dark and she was still following me. She followed until I reached the gate of the house, then slid away, doing a wheelie that left the neighbor's little poodle in shock.

whatisit? Intimidated? Curiosities? I think the first one is most likely. I'd die of shame if she knew how much time I spent wondering about her this week. I have to stop.

•••

Friday morning and local news ran endless coverage of gang shootings in the nearby city of Denver. Family members caught in the crossfire are all now in the morgue.

It seems far from the concern of our mountain community, so I was surprised to find everyone talking about it. Violence, I don't want to think about it but my classmates are unstoppable.

"They said it was a drug deal, really bad," Zoe, Tina's friend, told us at lunch. She has a disrespectful attitude towards life and I really like her because she is only a little taller than me, thanks to her tiny mother from China.

"But five members of the same family were killed including a baby." Further.

"Tell your brother not to worry, Mrs Hoffman will stop them if the criminals come here." Zoe flicked her celery and dipped it in salt, deftly combing her long black hair to the shoulder with one hand.

"Yes, Mrs Hoffman will ask them to beg for mercy," Tina agreed.

Mrs Hoffman is like a magistrate, delivering justice with a wooden spoon of her destruction, I thought.

"Do you think those gunmen will come here?" Plain ask.

The two girls looked at me.

"What's? Something like that happened at Wrickenridge?" laughter Zo.

"No, Sky'" said Tina. "There's no chance. We are at the end of a road that goes nowhere. Why would anyone come here unless they have a ski and play here?"

That's a good question. I too late realized that I was stupid not to guess that they were joking about Wrickenridge being involved in a big story, but Zoe and Tina were more amused than scorning my wits. Being a stranger makes me a little insecure.

I made excuses to stay away from all talk of murder.

I arrived outside the training room five minutes early.I had a place to myself and indulged my wandering fingers, in and out of Chopin nocturne. It helped clear me of the shivering feeling I got when I thought of the Denver shooting. Violence always panicked me, as if to release a tiger from the cage of memories inside me - something I could neither resist nor endure. Okay stop thinking about it.

We don't have a piano at home. So as I traced my notes, I turned my attention by wondering what kind of reception Zed would give me today. Chopin melted into something more funky, with the Mission Impossible theme tones intertwining.

The door opened and I turned in anticipation, the pulse soaring, but it was just Nelson.

"Hey, Sky. Yves and Zed don't go to school." Elasto-man walks in and pulls his instrument out of his box.

I felt a huge wave of disappointment that I told myself to be pushed aside for not being given the chance to play, not because I didn't see the object of my secret obsession.

"Do you want to try a few things together?" Bring along.

I move my finger over the button.

Nelson's mouth twitched. "What things do you have in mind, sweet things?"

"Um .. I'm sure there are some songs here that we can bring for a test drive." I got up and flipped through the piles of music on the table.

She laughs. "Aw, shit: you're ignoring me!"

I could feel my red hue reaching the top of an embarrassing scale. "What about this?" I pushed a random piece of music towards him.

He looked down. "Show songs? I mean, we got some good but-'

"Oh." I snatched it back, more confused to know that I was confused.

"Just relax, Sky. Why not let me choose?"

Relieved, I left the score and retreated to my piano bench where I felt more in control of things.

"I'm making you nervous?" Nelson asked seriously, looking at me with a curious look. "You shouldn't have messed with me - I was just messing around."

I pulled my lap webbing over my shoulder and wrapped it around my fist. "Not you."

"Friends only?"

I slammed my head gently into the piano lid. "Am I that clear?"

Nelson shook his head. "No. I'm a sensitive soul to know." He grins.

"I have some problems." I scrunched my nose in disgust at myself. My problems are many, all rooted in my deep insecurities according to the child psychologist I've been visiting since I was six. Well, gosh, as if I can't finish it myself, seeing that I'm abandoned and so on.

"i'm a little out of my comfort zone." My word.

"But I support you, remember." Nelson took out his choice and showed it to me for my approval. "You can breathe freely around me. I have no ill intentions towards you."

"What's bad?" My toot.

"I don't know, but my grandmother accused me of having it when she thought I was doing something bad and it sounded good."

I laughed, relaxed a little. "That's right, I can yell at you if you get out of line."

He shuddered pretend. "Even you can't be so cruel, Brit Chick. Now, are we going to sit around enjoying the breeze all day or playing music?" Nelson grabs his saxophone and tests his tuning.

"Music." I propped up the open score on the pulpit and started playing it.