you to steal if it meant saving you from dying? Well, I may not be starving after eating those two baked cheese
sandwiches, but I need help and there’s no one here who can help me.
I need help. I need help so bad …
‘Somehow I knew you’d find your way in here,’ a scratchy old voice said, managing to come from behind him and from within
the closet at the same time. ‘Just like I found my way into you.’
Noel backed into a box of supplies and cried out as hestumbled to the floor. He whined in fear of the punishment he would now receive and a few hot drops of urine leaked into his
underwear. When a minute passed in quiet, Noel got up and took two tentative steps out of the closet, his eyes darting across
the rows of empty desks and dusty chalkboards. The darkened classroom was empty.
‘You have a problem,’ the scratchy voice continued, from nowhere and everywhere. ‘You can’t use a phone to call a cab, not
to mention pay the driver. Whattya think the suckhead’s gonna do when an invisible boy hops in and tells him to beat it to
North Boulder Park?’
Noel’s lips began to tremble. That weird person in the playground might have been Dimples, but this wasn’t Dimples’s voice.
He didn’t know who this voice belonged to, even though it did sound a little familiar, kind of like it belonged to a thug
on TV. Fresh hot tears burned down both cheeks.
‘Aw, now, don’t be a baby,’ the man said, and there was a creak, as if he had just sat down on one of the desks. Noel looked
to Mr Hendren’s chair and he was pretty sure it was leaning back now in a way it hadn’t been before. Also, the air around
the chair was darker, as if a special shadow was hanging all over it. ‘We can find a way out of this, Noelski. You did the
right thing getting away when yous did. They wouldn’t understand your powers. Know why? Because they ain’t special like you.
They ain’t got no powers and they’re frickin’ dumb as stumps, ’cause they can’t do the things you and I can do or see the
things you and I see. Ya see?’
Noel was a long way from being able to respond, but his tears stopped when the speaker said the word ‘powers’. Noel had never
thought of it that way, like something a superhero owned, and it sounded a lot better than a bubble or a freak condition.
The shadows were fuller now, with the suggestion of big belly, thick chest. Above the wide shoulders, the outline of a smaller
head sitting next to, or part of, a larger head made Noel think of Mr Potato Head and maybe his little brother.
His visitor sighed. ‘You don’t remember me, do you, kid?’
‘No.’
‘No, you wouldn’t. You were just knee-high to a god-damned grasshopper when you walked out in that road.’ A pair of dark but
still blurry shoes propped on Mr Hendren’s desk. Behind them, pants, and now a white t-shirt with dark blotches of something
on it. ‘Ah, hell, it wasn’t your fault, I guess. Wasn’t even Ronald Lee’s fault, I see that now. If I was to blame anyone,
it should be that fucking willow tree. If that hadn’t a-stopped me, I mighta plowed into that fucking house and eaten the
sofa … well, your mom remembers me, I’ll bet. Pretty little gal, she was. But she can’t help you anymore than she helped me,
kiddo. That’s the sad fuckin’ truth.’
‘I love my parents,’ Noel said, defensive but scared. He didn’t understand who this man was or what he wanted.
‘I know you do, Noel. Your parents are good yolks.But they ain’t here now, so it’s all up to you today, isn’t that about the tits?’
‘I guess so.’
‘But you’re not alone in this. No, sir, my friend. Because Anthony Sobretti, the Italian Torpedo from Toledo, is here and
he understands everything.’
Noel wiped his nose and stepped out of the closet. A smear of small white teeth smiled at him from the shadow at the desk.
‘You do?’
‘Of course I do,’ Mr Sobretti continued, the
sandwiches, but I need help and there’s no one here who can help me.
I need help. I need help so bad …
‘Somehow I knew you’d find your way in here,’ a scratchy old voice said, managing to come from behind him and from within
the closet at the same time. ‘Just like I found my way into you.’
Noel backed into a box of supplies and cried out as hestumbled to the floor. He whined in fear of the punishment he would now receive and a few hot drops of urine leaked into his
underwear. When a minute passed in quiet, Noel got up and took two tentative steps out of the closet, his eyes darting across
the rows of empty desks and dusty chalkboards. The darkened classroom was empty.
‘You have a problem,’ the scratchy voice continued, from nowhere and everywhere. ‘You can’t use a phone to call a cab, not
to mention pay the driver. Whattya think the suckhead’s gonna do when an invisible boy hops in and tells him to beat it to
North Boulder Park?’
Noel’s lips began to tremble. That weird person in the playground might have been Dimples, but this wasn’t Dimples’s voice.
He didn’t know who this voice belonged to, even though it did sound a little familiar, kind of like it belonged to a thug
on TV. Fresh hot tears burned down both cheeks.
‘Aw, now, don’t be a baby,’ the man said, and there was a creak, as if he had just sat down on one of the desks. Noel looked
to Mr Hendren’s chair and he was pretty sure it was leaning back now in a way it hadn’t been before. Also, the air around
the chair was darker, as if a special shadow was hanging all over it. ‘We can find a way out of this, Noelski. You did the
right thing getting away when yous did. They wouldn’t understand your powers. Know why? Because they ain’t special like you.
They ain’t got no powers and they’re frickin’ dumb as stumps, ’cause they can’t do the things you and I can do or see the
things you and I see. Ya see?’
Noel was a long way from being able to respond, but his tears stopped when the speaker said the word ‘powers’. Noel had never
thought of it that way, like something a superhero owned, and it sounded a lot better than a bubble or a freak condition.
The shadows were fuller now, with the suggestion of big belly, thick chest. Above the wide shoulders, the outline of a smaller
head sitting next to, or part of, a larger head made Noel think of Mr Potato Head and maybe his little brother.
His visitor sighed. ‘You don’t remember me, do you, kid?’
‘No.’
‘No, you wouldn’t. You were just knee-high to a god-damned grasshopper when you walked out in that road.’ A pair of dark but
still blurry shoes propped on Mr Hendren’s desk. Behind them, pants, and now a white t-shirt with dark blotches of something
on it. ‘Ah, hell, it wasn’t your fault, I guess. Wasn’t even Ronald Lee’s fault, I see that now. If I was to blame anyone,
it should be that fucking willow tree. If that hadn’t a-stopped me, I mighta plowed into that fucking house and eaten the
sofa … well, your mom remembers me, I’ll bet. Pretty little gal, she was. But she can’t help you anymore than she helped me,
kiddo. That’s the sad fuckin’ truth.’
‘I love my parents,’ Noel said, defensive but scared. He didn’t understand who this man was or what he wanted.
‘I know you do, Noel. Your parents are good yolks.But they ain’t here now, so it’s all up to you today, isn’t that about the tits?’
‘I guess so.’
‘But you’re not alone in this. No, sir, my friend. Because Anthony Sobretti, the Italian Torpedo from Toledo, is here and
he understands everything.’
Noel wiped his nose and stepped out of the closet. A smear of small white teeth smiled at him from the shadow at the desk.
‘You do?’
‘Of course I do,’ Mr Sobretti continued, the
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