Face the Dragon

1

Black clouds towered in the east, blocking the sunrise. It was an omen, confirming what Eric had known since he opened his eyes that morning—today was going to be an adventure in terror.

Eric felt one of his greatest talents was his awareness of approaching doom. It was a useful gift, giving him time either to escape or to adjust. He never fought.

Today the feeling of doom was as thick as the humid, shadowy September air. It hung like layers of wet chiffon on Eric’s chest. First day of high school. Doom. Accelerated program. Doom. Competing with geniuses. Doom. Physical education. Doom. Close proximity to Melanie Church. Doom.

Only Paul Price stood between Eric and despair. Paul Price, who couldn’t be counted on to meet you in a food court unless you reminded him twenty times. But now Eric clung to the hope that somehow Paul would make this terrible day all right. Paul would be fearless about high school and would help Eric not to panic. Maybe it would even be fun.

Eric jumped as thunder roared in the distance.

Although they lived only five blocks apart, Paul’s condo wasn’t as nice as Eric’s. Coral Springs was the kind of community where everybody knew things like that about each other. You knew who lived in an executive town house or a flat-plan conversion or a luxury club home like Melanie Church. Eric’s friends knew all the real estate details about each other. It wasn’t as if people treated you differently. But they knew.

Paul and his mom lived in a converted apartment on the third floor of a five-floor mid-rise. It had two bedrooms and two baths, but somehow it didn’t seem big enough for the two of them. But maybe no place on earth was really big enough for Paul Price and his mother.

The sky was a solid wall of gray now as Eric turned in at Paul’s complex. There was an egret hanging around the entryway. Paul had a canal next door, and there was always some kind of Florida wildlife invading the place. Mrs. Price said once she’d found an alligator in the swimming pool, but nobody believed her.

Get out of here, said Eric, shooing the egret with his hands. Go back to the wetlands and breed or something. Usually he wasn’t that mean, but the sense of doom was wearing him down. The egret stared at him defiantly for a few seconds, then strolled off toward the incinerator, bobbing its head as it walked.

In the elevator Eric almost threw up, but the sensation passed. Lots of people probably throw up their first day of high school, he told himself.

Mrs. Price answered the door in an ocelot-print housecoat. Underneath there was a glimpse of black lace. Eric looked at it and then felt guilty. Good morning, Mrs. Price, he said, hanging his head.

Good morning, Eric. She sort of pulled him into the entry hall. There was an excess of gaiety and energy in her voice, which meant Paul was giving her a hard time. She circled into the kitchen and shut off something that seemed to be burning. Don’t you look nice this morning, Eric! she called loudly over her shoulder. "I can see you take your first day of school seriously, not like some people!"

On this cue Paul shuffled groggily into the hall. Paul was a handsome guy—the image of his beautiful dead father, according to Mrs. Price—with thick dark hair and arresting pale blue eyes. Right now, however, his hair was mussed and his arresting eyes were half shut. Paul had never been a morning person. He stumbled into the hall, holding the hair out of his eyes with one hand and squinting at Eric. Then he turned to his mother and the kitchen. Coffee, he moaned.

Are you crazy? She whirled around, looking at Eric instead of Paul. Do you think I would allow a fourteen-year-old boy to drink coffee in the morning? Do you think I want to keep your bones from developing? I want you to eat a nice bowl of oatmeal and drink a glass of milk. I’ll bet Eric had a good breakfast at home, didn’t you, Eric?

Eric did, but he was too loyal to say so. I don’t know, he muttered.

Well, Mrs. Price continued, "I know Mrs. Henderson, Molly, wouldn’t send you out … Paul, what are you doing?"

Paul had, during this speech, worked his way past his mother and was pouring himself a cup of coffee. Give it up, Mom, he said. Aren’t you supposed to be dressed by now? I thought you had a hair appointment or something.

She walked aggressively toward her son and jerked at the collar of his shirt, which was turned in the wrong way. Not until eleven, she said. Do you think I would run all over town on my son’s first day of high school? The first day he begins his accelerated program?

Paul was gulping his coffee, as if afraid she might take it from him. I must have lost my head, he admitted. Are you ready to go, Eric?

Yes, Eric said immediately.

Aren’t you going to eat anything? Mrs. Price cried. "How can you expect to do any accelerated work on an empty—

It looks like you burned up the oatmeal, Paul said, trying to look reasonable.

Well, take a doughnut or something. No one can perform well on an empty stomach.

Mom, we’re going to be late, Paul said, still pretending to be calm. You don’t want me to walk into an accelerated program late, do you?

Take a doughnut, she cried, getting a box from the top of the refrigerator. Eric, do you want one?

No, thank you. Eric’s words were jarred as Paul grabbed him and hauled him to the door.

You take this with you! Mrs. Price yelled, advancing on her son with a cruller.

It’ll clog my arteries! Paul yelled back, turning the door handle. I don’t want it!

Take it! she screamed, and shoved it into Paul’s hand.

He threw it in the canal on his way out.

For a few blocks, Eric knew, he had to let Paul calm down from the stress of his mother. The sky was an unnatural greenish-gray. Eric wondered if a hurricane was coming.

Are you nervous? he asked Paul.

Paul was still angry, so his answer was invalid. Nah, he said. His head was down and his fists were jammed into his pockets. When he walked, his feet seemed to stab at the pavement.

She means well, Eric said.

Stay out of it, buddy.

Doom. Eric decided to come right out and beg for moral support. Paul, I’m really scared.

That snapped him out of it. Paul was an altruist. People in distress attracted him like a magnet. Scared of what? he said.

Well, you know. Eric made sweeping gestures with his hands. All of this. High school. The whole stupid accelerated program. All the … you know, the different kinds of pressures that are going to … I don’t know.

What pressures? Paul snorted. We used to walk five blocks south and get harassed. Now we walk five blocks north and get harassed. That’s all. The accelerated program is a lucky break. Those things are always bullshit. We’ll be in smaller classes. Teachers think we’re smart, so they won’t mess with us. If anything, this will be an improvement over junior high. And anyway, nothing has even happened yet. You’re always worrying about everything before it happens. Wait until you really have a problem, Eric. Meanwhile enjoy your life.

Eric immediately felt better. Not that Paul had actually said anything. Usually he didn’t. It was just his tone. It always gave Eric a glimpse of real fearlessness. Eric dreamed that someday, through association, he would acquire some of Paul’s courage and know what it was like to live without fear and worry all the time.

They turned the corner at Sample Road, and Holiday Springs High School came into view. Both boys slowed their steps a little, as if they were approaching something dangerous. It was a much bigger structure than Coral Springs Junior High. There was a long flight of stone steps leading up to a huge double door. All around the steps and the yard were teenagers. Adult-looking people. Some of them were couples, doing things Paul and Eric weren’t used to seeing on school grounds. All of them looked about twenty years old and seemed happy and calm. They’d been in high school all their lives. They weren’t fourteen-year-old kids from down the street.

Paul, as if sensing Eric’s fears, quickened his pace. Let’s find somebody we know, he said, plunging fearlessly into the school yard. That was how Paul coped with fear. He walked right in and challenged it.

Eric was already imagining how he could fake a stomachache and try to go home early.

There’s Melanie, said Paul, who had been scanning the strange crowd. That’s better than nothing.

Eric’s heart jumped. No, that was too much. Not yet. Not before he was over his preliminary nerves. He wasn’t ready to deal with Melanie. But Paul was already striding toward her, and there was nothing to do but follow. Eric certainly didn’t want to stand alone in that place.

Eric had been in love with Melanie Church since fourth grade. She had never been a little girl, always a small, grown woman waiting to come into her own. He used to sit behind her in class while she brushed and shook out her dark waves of hair or rearranged mysterious packets and cases in her purse. She had fawn eyes and a ballerina body and a sexy hint of an overbite. She wore eye makeup. And perfume. Eric was pretty sure it wasn’t any Love’s Baby Soft or Jean Nate either. It was real perfume, smelling like decayed flowers and wine-bottle corks. Last year, in the eighth grade, Melanie had developed to the point where Eric could hardly breathe in her presence. Many, many times he had been on the verge of declaring his love. But he always chickened out.

Now she was a high school girl. An accelerated tenth-grader. Just about as close to womanhood as a girl can get. All summer, knowing she’d be in the program, Eric had nurtured fantasies about this year, some of them so graphic they shocked even him. But now that reality was here, Eric only felt sad. Melanie would go to some young god—a varsity football player or something. Eric would never get to tell her how he felt. The best years of his life would be shadowed by a romantic tragedy. It wasn’t fair.

She stood alone in the middle of the school yard, a faint breeze teasing the edges of her hair and the hem of her skirt. She looked peaceful and happy, as if she liked being alone. She wore a silky dress, cream-colored with pale pink flowers printed on it. Other girls around her were in jeans and denim skirts and cotton skirts and poplin pants. Nobody else had a flowered dress but Melanie.

Hey! Paul called when they were within earshot. Aren’t you one of those stuck-up accelerated brats?

She turned and smiled, flashing her overbite. Hi, Paul! she said. I was wondering where you were. Hello, Eric.

She was wearing lipstick. Eric felt the urge to throw up again. Hello, he mumbled.

You guys feel accelerated yet? she teased.

I’ll tell you what I feel like, Paul said. I feel like a little kid at a grown-ups’ party. Do you realize we’re the only people our age standing around here?

Melanie pretended to sigh. Yeah, I miss all the kids in our class already. They’ve got it easy for another year. But I don’t know. I kind of like the idea of being in the tenth grade all of a sudden. It’s kind of … exciting. She tossed her hair back.

Aren’t you guys afraid of the work? Eric cried. My God, we have to take algebra and geology and tenth-grade English! And French! Do you guys think it’ll be easy to learn French?

"Oui, said Paul, which made Melanie laugh for some reason. Careful, Eric, you’re starting to worry again. Listen, you took the test. The test said we could handle this stuff. So if we mess up, they’ll just fire the guy who came up with the test."

That’s right, Eric, don’t worry, said Melanie. She patted him on the arm, sending shock waves directly into his heart.

Are we the only ones from our school in this thing? Paul asked.

Yes, Melanie said. There’s three of us and three kids from Coconut Creek. Six in all. Melanie knew the details of everything because her dad was on the school board. Her dad was on the board of almost everything.

I hope they’re not geeks, Paul said of the Coconut Creek students.

Why should they be? said Melanie. We’re not!

All three laughed nervously.

I just hope there’s at least one cute boy, Melanie said wistfully.

Oh, so do I, Paul said, imitating her tone.

She jerked Paul’s arm affectionately. You’re just awful! She flashed a warm, brown-eyed smile up into his face.

Doom, thought Eric.

The bell rang just as the rain began to fall.

They were sent to wait in a dark auditorium, occupied only by a slim Oriental girl with a rigid back and a straight-ahead stare. Apparently one of the geeks from Coconut Creek. If Eric had been alone, he would have respected the girl’s obvious desire for privacy and gone to the farthest corner of the auditorium.

But that wasn’t Paul’s way. He was high on coffee and this was the first good challenge of the day. He took a seat in the same row with the girl, about five chairs away. Eric glumly sat next to him. Melanie, for some reason, took a seat way in the back, lost in the shadows.

Immediately Paul leaned forward and looked hopefully at the girl. She was like something carved out of wood—hands resting in her lap, her hair a perfect, unbroken line down her back. She wore a black tank top that showed off a lean, exercise-sculpted body. Her watch was expensively sporty. She stared at the stage as if the most absorbing play in the world were being performed.

Eric knew Paul wouldn’t be able to tolerate this. Hi! he said aggressively.

She turned and looked at him shyly. Hi, she said in a low voice.

Were you meditating or something? Paul asked.

She looked horrified and amused at the same time. No!

Paul didn’t, or wouldn’t, notice that his attention was making her uncomfortable. Are you in the accelerated program? he asked.

She seemed pleased with questions that had definite answers. Yes.

So are we. I’m Paul Price. This is Eric Henderson. That’s Melanie Church back there. We all went to Coral Springs.

Hello. She glanced at each of them. I’m Kim Fitzpatrick. I went to Coconut Creek.

Fitzpatrick! Paul laughed. You don’t look Irish.

She had been warming up, but this remark seemed to stun her like a blow to the head. I’m not! she said. She went back to staring at the empty stage.

Paul turned to Eric, asking What did I do? with his eyes.

Eric shook his head sadly, to let Paul know he was hopeless. Then Eric turned around to see what Melanie thought of all this.

For some reason she seemed to be having a tantrum back there, taking things out of her purse and stuffing them back in, snapping cases open and shut, brushing her hair as if it were an enemy. When Eric caught her eye, she glared at him with rage. He turned around, confused and shaken.

The next person to arrive was a guy in a wheelchair. Eric figured he must have broken a leg or something because he was obviously no invalid. He was handsome and muscular with a deep tan and sun-bleached hair. He looked like the guys in soft-drink ads, who play volleyball and have little dogs jumping around their feet. He wheeled himself down the ramp, into one of the aisles, and parked. Hi, Kim, he said. He had a deep, adult voice.

Hello, Larry. She made no attempt to introduce Larry to her new friends, and by now Paul was feeling hurt and in no mood to keep the party going. Eric was glad. He didn’t want to imagine what kind of remarks Paul would use to break the ice with a guy in a wheelchair.

The final Coconut Creeker arrived, a red-haired girl with a flushed face and a brassy, confident stride. She took in her companions at a glance, smiled briefly at Kim, and started toward the wheelchair guy. Hey, Larry!

Hi, Annie, he said, keeping his head down.

What’s been going on? she asked. Did I miss anything?

He took a deep breath. No. Mostly these three kids from Coral Springs have been trying not to stare at me and wondering what’s the matter with me.

The redhead froze in her tracks. She glanced at all the others, who were looking up, alarmed. Why don’t you tell them, then? she said to Larry.

Larry lowered his head, either ashamed or too angry to look at anyone. "It was