Discovery
Extraordinary Claims
“THE CAVE YOU fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.”
—Joseph Campbell
The tap, tap, tap on the car roof announces the coming deluge. June’s darkening afternoon sky makes escape that much harder. The rain hitting the roof escalates into a roar. Headlights flash on, revealing a sea of tiny dancing ripples as the driving rain strikes standing water on the road.
“Are you nuts?” WJ’s mother says.
“I’m not crazy,” WJ’s father replies.
Screech!
“Slow down! You crossed the line again! You’re going to get us all killed! Billy—Jesus!”
Screech!
The high beams of a vehicle illuminate the back of WJ’s parents’ heads. His mother’s fingers reach to double-check his seatbelt and booster seat, feeling the buckle at his navel. The high beams from behind brighten. The harsh light forces her to squint.
“TOO BRIGHT!” WJ calls out.
“WJ, cover your eyes for Mommy! Don’t uncover them until I let go of your shoe.”
WJ slaps his hands over his eyes. He feels the pressure of his mother’s left hand on the toe of his right sneaker. The car swerves hard to the right, pressing WJ’s shoulder into the rear driver’s side door.
“You’re going too fast, Billy!” Mary says. “You can’t see … turn off the high beams … the rain is making it worse!”
Bang! WJ’s neck snaps back against the seat from the jolt of being rear-ended.
“What the hell! Oh my God, Billy! Hold on WJ!”
“I’m sorry, I brought this upon us.…”
“Look out!”
Something immense glides over the hood. A wing swipes the rain from the windshield. Billy jerks the wheel to the right. WJ’s head snaps to the left.
The high beams disappear. The interior goes dark.
“What was that?” WJ’s mother says.
“A bird,” his father says.
“Birds don’t fly in storms!”
“That one does!”
WJ’s mother’s eyes meet his. “Hold on WJ, we’re almost home.” She twists to check him and glances out the back window.
“Billy … they’re gone.”
“No, they’re not. I know them.”
His mother studies the road behind them. “No, they’re not there. Where did they go? Oh my god, Billy, the bird is still here!”
WJ looks out his window. Even through the pelting rain, the majestic flyer is keeping pace alongside the car. A yellow eye stares at WJ, bobbing with each flap of the bird’s wings.
“I’d rather a bird than them,” his father says as he steals a glance at WJ and then the bird.
“Why won’t they leave us alone? You told them no didn’t you?”
“It’s because I told them no.”
Vvvrrowm. The sound penetrates WJ’s entire body; it feels like the time he stuck a screwdriver in the socket trying to fix things like Daddy. The car jostles to the right.
“What was that!” she says.
“I told you. They’re still after us!”
Vvvrrowmmmmmmmmm!
The car fishtails as it is shoved off the road. The rear passenger tire spits gravel, and a spray of rocks pelts the undercarriage.
WJ presses his hands hard against his ears and closes his eyes tight. “It’s loud Mama! Make it go away!”
“WJ, hold on!” His mother claws the air for his shoe.
VVVRROWMMMMMMMMM!
Bang!
A burst of white dust from the deployed airbags fills the car as its hood slams into a tree stump flanked by clusters of saplings at the bottom of a ditch.
The reflection of their car’s headlights on the brush reveals his mother’s hair draped across her airbag. Through the slackening rain, a witness stands silent outside.
Tall, head cocked, a great blue heron stares into WJ’s window. It begins to gently peck at the window with its long, thin, yellow beak but suddenly stops. The heron cranes its neck to locate the source of the crunching of footsteps on gravel.
“Mary! Mary …” WJ sees his father shaking his mother by the shoulder.
The dashboard and headlights flicker. WJ’s father presses the car horn and the bird takes off.
“Mary!” WJ’s father says. His mother stirs. “God … help us!”
“Billy,” she says. “What’s happening?”
“Oh my God! Mary, you’re bleeding …”
The car jostles again—then, a shattering of glass, sudden and loud, like a wave crashing against 10,000 tiny bells. WJ’s mother screams and shields her face as glass shards pepper the interior.
“No! No! No! No! Mary run!”
“Billy … no!”
WJ bursts into tears.
Tattooed hands reach through the shattered windshield and grab his father. His mother swats at the hands. With one hard yank, WJ watches as the bottoms of his father’s shoes disappear through the windshield opening.
“Billy! Nooo … nooo!” His mother struggles to open her car door but can’t. “Billy … Billy …”
The patter of rain on the car and his mother’s whimpers fill the eerie silence. She turns back to check on WJ. Her face is dazed and disheveled.
“WJ, oh my God. WJ, I’m coming,” she cries. Through his tears, he watches her struggle to open her door.
“Let me out!” She twists in her seat to kick at the door window with both feet several times but only succeeds in cracking it.
His mother scrambles in her seat as she turns to reach for him. Her face, dusted with white powder from the airbag, mingles with her blood and hair, making her appear more zombie than mother. WJ screams at her grotesque appearance.
“WJ, it’s okay, I’m here. We’re okay,” she says as she squeezes her way between the front seats to join him. “WJ, it’s okay. I’m going to get us out of here. We have to get out of the car,” she says frantically as her fingers fumble with the buckle on his booster seat. The straps of his seat belt slacken as she releases the buckle and pulls him into her arms. “Hold Mommy tight, close your eyes and don’t let go,” she orders.
WJ grabs his mother’s neck and clamps his eyes shut. His body jiggles in her lap as she fumbles with the rear door handle. A gush of cool, damp air fills the car. WJ clings to his mother as she steps out of the car and into the ditch. Rain clouds, having given up their load, calm to a drizzle. WJ lifts his head from her neck and opens his eyes only to be blinded by a flood of light.
“WJ, don’t look,” his mother warns. “WJ …WJ … WJ …”
Bloop.
“WJ, time to wake up.”
○○○
“Will … I said it’s time to get up!” His mother’s voice slips under the door. She knocks, opens the door a crack, and flicks on his lights.
Will squints hard and shields his eyes, turning off his phone’s alarm. He closes his eyes.
Just one more minute…
“WJ, now!”
Will forces himself to sit up.
One more month of school. At least I’ll see Russell.
He picks up a charcoal grey t-shirt from the floor and gives it a sniff.
Acceptable.
He squeezes into his favorite skinny jeans, a gift from Auntie Joy.
“Phone, phone,” he mumbles.
He lifts the shade for more light; his childhood curtains, of Spaceships and ringed planets, are gone, leaving his windows naked. Spaceships are cute fantasies for kids, but Will is past that. Underneath the window, his father’s old record player sits atop the makeshift shelves-turned-entertainment-center. Its clear plastic cover, marred with soft scratches, has yellowed with age. The vintage silver turntable crowns an old Pioneer receiver. On the shelf below are records scavenged from his parent’s collection.
Catching his phone peeking out from beneath the pillow, he grabs it and stuffs it in his front pocket. Will slips into his white-soled grey sneakers; they still fit well enough to make it through to summer. Belt, belt…
“WJ, pick mine,” his father’s voice calls out in his head.
Will never told his mother that this happens; she might bring him to the doctor. Imagined or real, it did not matter, it was comforting.
His favorite memories of his father were walks in the woods, sitting high on his father’s shoulders. Back then he had his father to himself. His eyes catch the framed photo of him and his dad beside the turntable. It is the best photo he has of them together. He was three, holding a football, his father crouched behind him; his father’s steely, blue eyes showed a confidence Will envied, and his thin-lipped smile brought out his dimples. Will inherited only one of his father’s dimples; it was a family joke that Will’s right side belongs to his father, his left to his mother.
While the football photo was his favorite keepsake, he never cared for the game. He was never athletically inclined. He always wondered if his father’s presence would have made a difference. However, he did enjoy watching the Celtics once in a while, but that was the extent of his sports interest.
Riding his bike and swimming were his favorites. Will has become quite a swimmer; when he was in middle school, he and Russell would swim around the islands at Pawtuckaway and jump off a boulder taller than a Mac truck.
“Dad, can you hear me?” Will says softly.
He waits a moment for a response. Nothing. Will sifts through the pile of clothing at the bottom of his closet. A glint of silver catches his eye.
There it is.
He pulls out a silver-studded black leather belt. He snatched it from the attic years ago. His mother said when his father was younger he wore it whenever he needed to feel badass. It is the kind of belt Russell would wear. Despite Russell’s social challenges he still conveyed a unique swagger.
As he tugs the belt through his pants’ loops, its large studs catch on every loop. He pulls it to the tightest hole, but it is still a bit loose, causing the buckle to droop forward. A quick adjustment of the belt between the loops and it becomes a perfect fit. It feels good to fit into something.
Today, I’m the badass.
○○○
“Willis!” Russell flicks a black polished fingernail through his thick, wild black hair, pushing his hair out of his eyes. His black denim jacket is bedecked with band pins, psychedelic buttons, and sci-fi badges, and a UFO emblazoned across the back.
“Hey, Russell.”
“Guess what I did last night?” They drop their backpacks at adjacent lockers.
“You watched UFO documentaries last night.”
“Wait, what? How did you know?”
“I would say I’m psychic, but you wear your The-Truth-is-Out-There t-shirt whenever you go on a UFO binge.”
“Yeah, I binge-watched Season Three of E.E., but that’s not what I wanted to tell you.”
“E.E.?”
“Extraordinary Extraterrestrials.”
“You gotta cut down on UFO documentaries, people will think you’re strange.”
“I have Aspergers, people already think I’m strange. What I was gonna say is I started practicing leaving my body.”
“Leaving your body?”
“You ever heard of an OBE? Out of Body Experience? I’m gonna have one. I’m this close,”—he pinches his fingers in front of his face— “I can feel it.”
“How do you know if you didn’t just dream you left your body?”
“A fair point— I think I’d know. What about you? Car crash dream again?”
“Yeah, but I had one before that one.”
“Variety is nice. In this one, were you at least driving a car?”
“No, I’m in a field at night. I’m holding a knife and looking behind me because something’s chasing me.” He grabs his Physics book from his locker.
“Cool, a Bond dream. Then what happened?”
“That’s the whole dream.”
“Dude, that can’t be the whole dream.”
“That’s all I can remember.”
“Why, if it isn’t the Freak Force. I hate to break up this nerd-fest, E.T., but you’re standing in front of my locker.” Rich Artman says and gives Russell a shoulder shove. “What’s with all the hair gunk? It’s on my jacket now.” Rich brushes the shoulder of his varsity jacket, a fierce blue and gold stallion emblazoned across the back.
“Russell does rub off on you after a while. You could use a bit of his personality.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rich presses his chest against Will’s.
“Russell’s my friend,” Will says nose to nose. “Leave him alone.”
“Whatcha gonna do, Freak Two?”
“Hi Rich,” Lily Powers, pokes her head out from behind Will’s locker door.
“Hey…” Rich smiles. “What’s your name again?”
“It’s Lily,” she says sliding between them.
“Yeah, the new girl.”
“So what’s going on?” Rich asks.
“Nothing. I just wanted to say hey.” She quickly turns her back on Rich to talk to Will. Still pale from winter, Lily’s fair skin and hay-colored hair suit her. She brushes a golden tendril from her eye. “Will, My Beautiful Corpse is opening this weekend; I was thinking of getting a couple of friends together. Would you like to come? It will be fun.”
“You guys don’t want to go to that yawn fest,” Russell interjects. “The trailer is stupid.”
“Why, Freak One, because it doesn’t have aliens?” Rich slams his locker door. “I’ll take you. I’ll pick you up in my beemer. It’s a little more comfortable than wee Willie’s handlebars. Saturday night?” Rich flirtatiously taps her locker with his book.
“Actually, I have my own bike. Will, we can ride to the movies together.”
“Oooh, Fartman, you just got served.”
“Shut up, E.T.!” Rich shoves Russell hard into the locker.
“I said, stop shoving my friend,” Will steps between them.
The first bell rings.
“Or what?” Rich puts his face into Will’s. “I could bench press you.”
“I know if we get into a fight you’ll probably beat me, but you’ll get kicked off the football team, which would make getting my ass kicked worth it.” Will smiles and waves to the hallway surveillance camera. “Say, hi to Principal Davis! Now, what are you going to do?”
Pffft!
“Dude, did you just fart?” Will scrunches his face and fans the air in front of him.
“We’ve been gassed! “Fartman! You live up to your name,” Russell says, recoiling from the stench.
“It’s Artman, Freak One!” He fires back and gives Russell one final shove as he retreats down the hallway.
“Your fart was worse than your shove!” Russell hollers at Rich as he walks away.
“Stallions!” Rich whoops as he approaches a small group of his teammates with a high five.
The second bell rings.
“We’re late,” Will grabs his Physics book.
“Will, what you just did was really cool,” Lily says.
“Not really. I could have gotten my face smashed. But I had a good feeling he wouldn’t. For once, being a jerk jock came in handy,” Will slams his locker door. Turning to head to Physics, he notices Lily is smiling as she waits for him.
○○○
“My mother said the angel was beautiful and are really beings of infinite love and patience. The angels that came to her and told her the Earth is a classroom,” Allie says, combing her fingers through her chocolate brown high ponytail. She lifts it to examine it for split ends as she speaks.
“God, Allie, you’re so transparent. You can stop campaigning. You’re not getting any more likes. No one believes you,” Ivy says under her breath.
“Ivy, your words are like your name-poisonous. Spsstttt…” Allie sprays an imaginary spray toward Ivy. “Weed be gone, so we don’t have to douse ourselves in calamine lotion.”
“Grow up, toddler.”
“I believe her,” April interjects. “I had an angel experience. But the one I saw didn’t say anything. I just saw it when I got caught in a riptide and almost drowned.”
“Really…” Allie says.
“It’s true. It’s like Allie’s mother says. There is that light.”
Ivy rolls her eyes.
“Ivy, I don’t care what you think. I saw it.”
“Come on April, really?”
“Yes, and I will never forget it.
“Then I have one question for you… what flavor Kool-Aid did you have with your breakfast this morning? Grow up, people. Live in the real world.” Ivy grabs her books and moves to the front of the class passing Lily as she makes her way to Ivy’s abandoned seat.
“Hey, Lily!”
“Hey, Allie,” Lily sits and quickly unpacks her backpack.
Will and Russell slip in the door just before, Mr. Bohr, closes it, and quickly make their way to empty seats near Lily.
“Hey, Russell,” Allie says, biting her lip.
“Hey, Al,”
“It’s Allie.”
“I know, but I like Al better.”
“Al is a boy’s name.”
“Not necessarily. Al is short for Albert, Alan, Alexander, which is the male version of Alexandria. In today’s world and understanding of one’s sexual orientations, Al has become gender-neutral.
“Whatever,” Allie says turning her back on him. “As I was saying, my mom says many of these angels that walk among us don’t even know who they really are—they think they’re regular people. Nobody told them they’re an angel, so they’re completely oblivious! They have to figure out on their own that they’re angels. They asked my mom, ‘How would you live your life differently if you learned you were an angel?’ Ever since then, she’s been a completely different person; she even apologized to people she hurt in the past, including me.”
“So,” Allie finishes, “which one of us is the angel?”
“Thank you, Allie. Every time I hear your mother’s story it inspires me,” Mr. Bohr interjects with coffee-scented breath. “But this is a science class. It’s time to close your mouths, open your books and your minds. As Carl Sagan said, ‘Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence.’”
Mr. Bohr’s wild, thick, disheveled, once-red hair, his bulbous nose atop his prodigious mustache, might mark the brilliance of a genius too caught up in matters of the universe to bother with such petty considerations as grooming. His oversized glasses and potbelly round out a persona so cliché it might as well be a costume.
“So true, Mr. Bohr,” Russell says. “But, check this out… I can bend a spoon, with my mind! Who’s got a metal spoon? Anyone?” He points out across the classroom. “Anyone? No one? Oh, wait…” Russell reaches into his pocket. “I happen to have one right here.” With a flourish, he pulls a metal spoon out of his pants pocket. “An everyday, normal spoon,” he tells his audience. “Here, inspect it for yourselves,” he passes it around.
Allie scrutinizes it. “Is this spoon clean?” Her nose wrinkles and she holds it with two fingers at arm’s length.
“Perfectly harmless. A bit of dried yogurt from yesterday most likely.” His face turns to glee at her attention and she passes the spoon back to him. “Now that you have seen that this is just an ordinary spoon from an ordinary kitchen, watch closely, as the extraordinary is about to take place right before your eyes.” With rapt attention, the class watches as he grips the spoon tightly in his right hand, holding his arm out straight in front of him so all can see.
He closes his eyes. “I’ll quiet my mind, so I can gather energy from the universe. It works better if everyone watching does the same.” He pauses for a long moment, peeking briefly to gauge the audience, breathing slowly and deeply. He opens his eyes. “This metal’s warming up, I can feel it softening.” He brings his other hand up to grip the spoon, then, with a rapid flick of his wrists, the spoon bends, not a bit, but around itself three times.
Audible gasps come from the class.
“If you could see yourselves,” Russell says, grinning ear-to-ear. “You look like you’ve never seen magic before. Tutorial available for $14.99 from AmazingWoodini.com.”
“How did you do that?” Mr. Bohr asks.
“You’re the Physics teacher, you tell me! A little metallurgy and physics… and psychology; people gladly fall for a lie that lets them escape their pathetic realities. It’s not hard. You really wanna know? I’ll teach you… for the low, low price of $29.99.” Russell adds as he slides back into his seat, whips back his shock of thick, wild hair, and then pulls a handful over his right eye, Criss Angel style.
“A quick round of applause for our resident magician,” Mr. Bohr says as he heads to the front of the class. “Let’s return to business… where’s my spotlight?” he chuckles. “Who can recap what we learned yesterday about atoms?” He points to the only student to raise her hand. “Lily?”
“We learned that subatomic particles are so far apart that they are mostly made of space?” She flashes a glance at her neighbors.
Allie scrunches her nose and mouths: brown noser.
“Correct. We’re surrounded by mostly empty space; even physical objects like this table,”—he gives it a rap— “which feels utterly solid. Physical objects have vastly more open space in them than particles.” Mr. Bohr adds, “If we removed all the space between all the atoms in the Earth, our entire planet and everything on it would take up the space of a football stadium.”
Will writes in his notes:
Mostly space. What’s in all that emptiness? Extra dimensions?
“Time for a new lab,” Mr. Bohr announces. “Find a partner and pair up. Come up, get your lab books, and go find a table.”
“Hey Al, want to be my partner?” Russell asks.
“In your dreams.”
“Dreams are good. I can make that happen.”
“I’ll be your partner,” Ivy tells Russell.
“Will, want to be my partner?” Lily asks.
“Uhh… uh, sure,” Will says.
○○○
“Is everyone clear on their lab assignment? Follow the guidelines on your instruction sheet and we should see some pretty interesting results.” Mr. Bohr says, checking the time. “Report is due Tuesday, and I want conclusions to show a clear chain of causality. You’ve got a few more minutes of class, I recommend you use it to set up your working schedules.”
“That’s a good question,” Lily says.
“What is?”
She reads from his notebook, “‘What’s in all that emptiness? Extra dimensions?’ Totally profound. Mr. Bohr’s mind would be blown if we made that part of our hypothesis.”
Will chuckles.
“So, shall we meet at your house or mine?”
“Why?”
“We have to discuss the theory and come up with our hypothesis before we do the labs. It’s due Tuesday, which isn’t a lot of time. So, we have to meet after school to work on it.”
“Yeah… right.” Lily’s piercing eyes made him feel naked. He kept his eyes on his sheet of paper to avoid looking at the gentle swell of her breasts, which was peeking out at the point of her v-neck. He pops his head up to find her blue eyes staring back into his. He turns away and fiddles with his textbook.
“How are we going get this lab report done on time?”
Don’t look at her breasts. Don’t look at her breasts…
“Well,” Will says, “I guess we’ll need to work on it together.”
Duh— idiot!
“We don’t share a study hall.”
“Should we work on it, um…”
Don’t look at her breasts.
“At your house?”
“I was gonna say online.”
“Oh.” She shuffles the papers in front of her.
Idiot, idiot, idiot!
“But I suppose… you could come over.”
“Okay, but I don’t want to wait until the last minute.”
“Yeah, I guess we should get a jump start.” Will rubs the back of his neck.
“Yeah, I want to stay on top of this lab.”
He could not stop himself; his eyes found her breasts again. “Yeah, we should definitely keep abreast…”
Pervert!
The first bell rings.
I mean… you wanna come over to my house after school today?”
“Sure!” She glides her hair back behind an ear and lets out a big, satisfied exhale. She slides her things into her backpack, failing to contain her smile.
“I’ll meet you at the front entrance. We can bike to your house.”
“K…”
“It’s a date. See you at 2:30.” Lily spins on her heels. Her cheeks are lifted by the smile on her face as she leaves the room.
“My bruh has a date at 2:30,” Russell raises his hand to high-five Will.
“Put your hand down, it’s not a date. We’re going to get together at my house to work on our hypothesis for our lab.”
“Do you have to meet her at a specific time?”
“Yeah…”
“At a specific place?”
“Yeah…”
“You have an activity you’re are going to do together?”
“Yeah…”
“That’s a date. I know you like her and she likes you. Take my advice and enjoy the fact that Lily is crushing on you.”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I got gym next… with Fartman.”
The second bell rings.
“Freeman and Laforce, you’re going to be late for your next class.”
“Willis, just be thankful it’s not dodge ball.”
Russell stops under the classroom door. “What gives, Mr. Bohr?” Russell points at the dim LED light above the jamb. “Your cool detector must be broken because my spoon trick was sick. Does that light even do anything?”
“You’re the magician,” Mr. Bohr quips, “you tell me.”
Mr. Bohr raises an eyebrow when the light blips as Will exits.
