Sagaria by John Dahlgren Page A

his palms as if to show he was only repeating what other people had said, not that he believed a word of it, you understand. “Sure, your grandpa’s as sane and normal as they come. Every normal person builds strange machines that spend half their time exploding. Every normal person walks around in the middle of the night dressed in nothing but his long johns, muttering to himself. Every normal person leaves food out in the evenings for the gnomes and the trolls. Every normal person—”
    â€œHe just likes to do things his own way, okay?” shouted Sagandran. He could feel tears welling up. If this taunting carried on much longer, he was terrified he was going to shame himself by starting to cry.
    â€œYou mean he is crazy?” said Webster earnestly, rubbing his chin. “So my father was right after all.”
    This dialectical coup de grâce sent Blunkett and Sprode into howls of laughter. Blunkett doubled over and clasped his thighs so that he could laugh all the louder. Sprode tried to imitate him but, because of his bad ankle, almost fell. He started glowering at Sagandran instead, as if the twisted ankle was all his fault.
    Once the other two had quietened down a bit, Webster, his hand still on his chin, kept on talking as if he’d been thinking things through. “’Course, at least I have a father, Sacks. I hear yours has run away with another woman.”
    â€œThat’s not true!” screamed Sagandran.
    Before his inner voice of caution could stop him, he’d launched himself at the bigger boy, arms outstretched, hands forming claws. He wanted to rip this bully into shreds. He wanted to smash his ugly face so he’d never be able to smirk again. He wanted to—
    In fact, he stumbled and came down heavily on one knee. A sharp stone tore through the denim of his jeans and into the flesh beneath.
    Blunkett, the least rotten of the Thickwit Trio (which was rather like saying some tarantulas are better than others) took half a step forward, as if to help Sagandran back to his feet, but then reason got the better of instinct and he was joining in the uproarious mirth of the other two.
    â€œCouldn’t have done it better myself,” said Webster once he had his voice under control. He stared down for a moment or two longer at Sagandran floundering on the ground, then kicked Sagandran’s spectacles out of his reach, turned on his heel and trotted off down the road. Blunkett and Sprode followed him.
    It had been a pretty typical school day for Sagandran.
    Except for the frog.
    He’d saved a frog’s life.
    That was something.

CHAPTER 2
E AGLE L AKE
    he Sackses lived on the third floor of a dingy apartment building on the unfashionable side of town, in Waterslab Street. Most of the time, Sagandran would go bounding up the stairs on his return from school, but today he opted for the elevator.
    From outside the door, he could hear his mother talking loudly on the phone. It sounded as if she was angry with somebody. She usually was these days, ever since Dad had gone off to live somewhere else. In fact, Sagandran thought, listening closely at the door before opening it, it was probably Dad she was angry with right now. As if to prove it, he heard her shout “Hamish!” in her sternest Ice Queen voice.
    That was Mom: always wanting to be the Ice Queen. Dad was totally different. He was a cheerful man, laughing a lot of the time. He liked playing with Sagandran and thinking up tricks with him, plotting terrible pranks. Once they put a big plastic spider in the shower and Mom had screamed the place down. Sagandran had thought he would die laughing, and Dad hadn’t been in much better shape. Dad later apologized profusely to Mom and produced a bunch of flowers he’d bought, and finally he’d coaxed a watery smile out of her. It was as if she’d forgiven him, but still wrote down the details of the crime in a notebook for future consultation, should evidence