Pendragon - The Rivers Of Zadaa Part 16

"Actually, it's pretty sweet," Courtney said. "I'm only taking three courses, and one of *em is art. Algebra-trig is a drag, though."

"You're taking algebra-trig?" Mark laughed. "Need some help?"

"Yes!" Courtney said quickly, laughing. Mark laughed too. It felt good.

"So, uh, how are you?" Mark asked tentatively. It was a simple question. Both knew how far-reaching it was.

"I'm okay. Seriously. That's why I'm calling. We've got a ton to talk about, but not till I see you again. I just wanted to tell you that coming up here has been great. I'm really getting my head back together."

"I'm really glad to hear that, Courtney."

"I haven't been thinking too much about, you know, stuff. And that's good."

Mark didn't respond. He knew what she meant.

"This is kind of weird to say," Courtney continued. "But I met somebody."

"Of course you did," Mark said. "I didn't think you were there alone."

Courtney chuckled. "No, dope. I'm talking about a guy."

"Oh," Mark said. "You mean like, a guy?"

"Yeah, a guy. His name's Whitney."

"Whitney? That sounds like a bad soap-opera name."

Courtney laughed. "It's worse. His name is Whitney Wilc.o.x."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Unfortunately, no. But he's cool. We've, uh, we've got a date tonight. I'm riding to meet him for pizza."

Mark wasn't sure of how to react. It was weird to hear that Courtney liked somebody other than Bobby, but after reading that Bobby had feelings for Loor, maybe it was all for the best. Of course, he couldn't tell Courtney that, for all sorts of reasons.

Courtney said, "I wanted to tell you about him. I'm not really sure why."

"I'm glad you did," Mark said.

There was a long pause, then Courtney said, "Do you hate me?"

"Hate you? No! No way!" he said quickly. "I think it's great you met a guy."

"Not just that," Courtney said. "Abouta everything."

"I don't hate you, Courtney," Mark said. "C'mon. Give me a break."

"Seriously?"

"Yes! There's a lot going on. We've got to do what we've got to do."

"Thanks. I needed to hear you say that." There was another long pause, and then Courtney said, "I'm sorry for taking off on you. That wasn't cool."

"It's okay. I'm okay."

"Still, I'm not proud of myself. But if you saw the shape I was in, you'd know I did the right thing."

"I already know it," Mark said. "I can tell by your voice. I can't wait to talk to you in person."

Mark knew a question was out there that hadn't been asked. He really hoped she wouldn't ask it.

She did.

"So, uh, has anything-"

"No," Mark said quickly. He knew she was going to ask if Bobby had sent a new journal. He didn't want to tell her. If she was working hard to put her head on straight, the last thing she needed to hear was that Bobby was about to step into the middle of a tribal war and had fallen in love with Loor-even if she did meet a new guy. He knew he'd eventually have to spill the news, but this wasn't the time.

"N-Nothing new," Mark added, and winced, wis.h.i.+ng he had stopped at "no." He felt sure Courtney would pick up on his nervous stutter.

"Oh, okay," Courtney said.

Mark sensed her hesitation. There was something in the way she said it that made him realize, she knew.

"When are you coming home?" he asked, desperate to change the subject.

"In a couple of weeks. We'll talk then, okay?"

"I can't wait to see you," Mark said, relieved that she didn't press him about the journals.

"I miss you, Mark. Even though you're a dork and all."

"Gee, thanks," Mark said, laughing. "We'll get some fries at Garden Poultry and catch up, okay?"

"It's a date. Bye, Courtney. Take care of yourself."

"Later, gator!"

The phone went dead. Mark smiled. "Later, gator?" He thought Courtney sounded great. And happy. Just like the old Courtney. As weird as it was to think that she liked somebody besides Bobby, this new guy seemed to be helping her heal. That was a good thing. He hated having to carry the weight of Bobby's journals on his own, but if it meant getting Courtney better, it was worth it. He flipped the phone shut and jammed it back into his pocket with the feeling that things were definitely looking up. Now if he could only tackle this stupid silver bowl.

His phone rang again.

What was going on? Why was he suddenly so popular? He dug the phone back out and flipped it open, saying, "Courtney?"

"Courtney?" the deep guy-voice mimicked. "Do I sound like a Courtney?"

"Mitch.e.l.l?" Mark asked in disbelief. "How did you get this number?"

"Who cares? From Sci-Clops. We're both members, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. What do you want?"

"I'm in trouble, Dimond," Mitch.e.l.l said. "I need your help. Now."

SECOND EARTH.

(CONTINUED).

Mrs. Dimond, Mark's mother,gave Mark a ride to a lonely, country lane in Stony Brook that Mark knew well. It used to be part of his paper route. There, at the corner of Riversville Road and Carroll Street, they found what they were looking for. It was a beat-up, seventies-looking station wagon with fake wood paneling. Leaning against the hood, smoking a cigarette, was Andy Mitch.e.l.l. When he saw the Dimonds' car approach, he quickly stubbed out the smoke.

Mrs. Dimond stared at Mitch.e.l.l like he was a walking disease and said to Mark, "Are you sure you're going to be okay?" To her, this guy looked like bad news. Mrs. Dimond was a smart lady.

"Yeah, he's a friend. He's in Sci-Clops," Mark said.

"That hoodlum is in Sci-Clops?" Mrs. Dimond asked incredulously.

"Believe it or not," Mark answered with a smile. "Thanks, Mom. He'll give me a ride home."

Mark got out of the car, opened the rear door, and pulled out a full can of gasoline. Andy's big problem was that he had run out of gas.

"Thanks, lady!" Andy called, sounding as polite as could be. "You saved my life."

Mrs. Dimond waved and smiled, then turned the wheel and drove off, but not before giving Mark a final, concerned look that said: "Are you sure about this?" Mark waved as if to say, "Don't worry."

"Thanks, Dimond," Mitch.e.l.l said as he took the gas can from Mark. "Really. Thanks."

It sounded to Mark as if he meant it too. Mitch.e.l.l went to the rear of his beater and started funneling the gas into the tank.

"How could you run out of gas?" Mark asked.

"The gauge is busted," Mitch.e.l.l said. "Whenever I fill it up, I zero out the trip odometer to tell me how many miles I go so I know when to fill up again."

"So what happened?"

"The trip odometer's busted too. Piece of garbage car." Mark had to keep himself from laughing. Mitch.e.l.l truly was an idiot.

"I got this call to make a real important delivery. Big rush. I picked up the flowers, got here, and chug chug chug. Dead. You really saved me, man."

"What's so important about the delivery?" Mark asked.

"Huge client," Mitch.e.l.l answered. "Big-shot corporate guys. They're having a meeting tonight at seven o'clock, and they ordered a bunch of flowers for the tables. Last minute. Those guys don't care. Money talks, you know? But if I don't get *em there in time, we'll never get another order. Those guys don't fool around. One mistake and you're gone. My uncle is the same way. If I don't deliver, I'll be gone too. And I need this job."

"So why didn't you call your uncle for help?" Mark asked.

"Yeah, sure," Mitch.e.l.l replied sarcastically. "So he'd know how bad a screwup I am? I may not be smart, but I ain't dumb."

That surprised Mark. Hearing Andy Mitch.e.l.l call himself a screwup was out of character. This was turning out to be a day full of surprises. Mitch.e.l.l emptied the can and put the cap back on.

"Time?" Mitch.e.l.l asked.

Mark checked his cell phone. "Six-oh-five," he announced. "Plenty of time."

"Let's go!" Mitch.e.l.l said, and jumped into the car. He truly had to jump because the driver's door wouldn't open. He had to slither in through the window.

The meeting was taking place not far from where Andy broke down, at a posh country club. As Mitch.e.l.l drove, Mark sat in the pa.s.senger seat thinking two things. One was that he couldn't believe he had come to the rescue of his archnemesis. The other was that he feared the sticky, vinyl car seat was infested with Andy bacteria. The only reason he didn't gag at the putrid car stench was because the sweet smell from the flower arrangements in the back masked the vile odor. He feared what would happen after they made the delivery and the flowers were gone. It was going to be a long ride home.

"So, why me?" Mark asked.

"Why you what?" Mitch.e.l.l asked back.

"Why did you call me for help?"

"Sci-Clops," Mitch.e.l.l answered. "We gotta stick together, right?"

"Well, no," Mark said. "It's a science club, not the Boy Scouts. Why did you call me? You hate me."

Mitch.e.l.l didn't answer right away. At first Mark thought the imbecile had forgotten the question.

"I don't exactly have a load of friends," Mitch.e.l.l finally said. "I know, hard to believe, but it's true."

"Not so hard to believe," Mark said.

Mitch.e.l.l shot him a glance, but didn't fire a shot back. Instead he shrugged. "Okay, I had that coming. I've given you a hard time."

"Hard time?" Mark said, incredulous. "You've bullied me for years. You've hit me. You've stolen my lunch money more times than I can count. You've hit me. You've robbed my house. You've hit me. Need I go on?"

"Guilty, guilty, guilty, all right? What do you want me to say?"

"I don't want you to say anything. You're a jerk. End of story." Mark was feeling bold. He no longer feared Andy Mitch.e.l.l. That stopped a while ago. His fear turned to pity when he realized that the guy was such a lamebrain. But lately, after seeing what a brilliant mathematical mind he had, Mark actually found himself envying Andy. It was all so twisted and weird.

"If it makes you feel any better, you aren't the only one I stepped on," Mitch.e.l.l said.

"Oh, good, now I can rest easy," Mark said, dripping sarcasm.

"Hey, you asked, I'm tellin'." -"Sorry, go ahead."

"I ain't the sharpest tool in the deck, in case you hadn't noticed," Mitch.e.l.l continued.

"I noticed," Mark said, rolling his eyes. Mitch.e.l.l couldn't even get the figure of speech right.

"But that only has to do with words and talking and whatnot. The thing is, with numbers I'm pretty good."

Mark didn't argue. He'd seen Andy at work. With numbers he was better than pretty good.

"That didn't go down so well when I was a little kid. It was like, how do you say it, I had the worst of both worlds. Half the guys gave me a hard time because I sounded like an idiot. The other half gave me grief for being a brain. I was too smart to hang with the tough kids and too dumb to hang with the geeks. That works on you after a while, you know? Not fittin' in anywhere."

Mark knew. He was an old pro at not fitting in. "So I guess I kind of built up this, I don't know, this sh.e.l.l. I didn't let n.o.body in; didn't put myself out there in case I might get whacked; and didn't take nothing from n.o.body. It's not like I had a choice. It was either that, or hide under my bed. But it was tough. I was angry all the time. I guess I took it out on a lot of people, including you."

"Especially me."