The Hercules Project

Bring Your Parent To School Day I hated Bring Your Parent to School Day. Yeah, yeah. It's not like I was in the same boat as the Brandson twins. But at least they were exempt because of their stay in foster care. I unfortunately had zero excuses, having at least one parent. If you could call him that. And what kind of freaked-out high school still held Bring Your Parent to School Day? I thought I'd left the embarrassment behind in elementary. But oh no. My principal was one of those guys who thought parental participation was a good thing. He had no idea. I winced as Miss Kelley bent over my wheelchair and smiled, raspberry seeds lodged in the slim gap between her front teeth. Her sympathy was as obvious as what she had for breakfast. "Maybe we can try again next week, Wyatt?" The giggles and snickers from behind me crawled over my skin like a physical attack. I wished my already withered body would just dry up and blow away so I didn't have to deal with the humiliation. "Sorry," I said. "Guess he forgot." Again. And again. My father was nothing if not absent. No, not absent- minded. Absent. "Shall we get into our next lesson then?" Miss Kelley left me to simmer. When the class groaned, I knew I was in for it later. Boy, was I ever. It didn't take long after I wheeled my way to my usual hiding place on the nerd side of the student parking lot for my more disgruntled classmates to express their dissatisfaction with my father's habit of being a no-show in my life. "Why Gnat." Jimmy Anders should have graduated already. Nearly a head taller than most of the other kids, he towered over me like an old oak, shaggy mud colored hair hanging in clumps around his wide face. "I didn't feel like learning anything today, Why Gnat." He thought his nickname choice so clever. Which was why he was still, and probably always would be, in eleventh grade. "Parent's Day is like a day off and you screwed it up. Where's your daddy?" I considered trying to escape. The benefit of having a place to hide was being outdone by my need for notice by a teacher. But my chair only moved so fast and my arms were already exhausted just from moving over the pitted asphalt. "Good question." It seemed the most non-offensive comeback from the variety of lines popping into my head. Sarcasm and snark would only put me in deeper trouble, experience warned me. I didn't feel like waiting for a teacher to find me just so I could brush the dirt from myself and get help back into my wheelchair. Anyone who thought being disabled was some kind of bully defense had never met Jimmy Anders. "Probably too busy with all those alien dissections." Jimmy's best friend, Paul Kramer, snorted his donkey laugh, gapped teeth showing as his lips peeled back. Jimmy smacked Paul's chest hard enough to make him back off a step. "That true, Why Gnat?" Jimmy bent closer to me. His deep-set eyes showed not a glimmer of intelligence. Blackheads sat in his sullen pores, wisps of hair hanging from his chin. I shuddered. He had an odor reminiscent of old cigarette smoke and cabbage that reminded me of my dead grandfather's casket. "Not as far as I know," I said. He grunted right in my face. I tried not to gag and held my breath, easing my head to the side. Apparently a toothbrush had nothing to do with his daily routine. Quite a crowd had gathered by then. I spotted Melody Adams looking at me and forgot all about Jimmy for a moment. She even smiled, twirling a perfect blonde curl around her index finger and giggling to someone next to her as she posed like a super model in her skin-tight jeans and t-shirt, contact-tinted blue eyes sparkling like rare jewels in the sun. She had the best giggle. My chair shook and me with it, the personal earthquake caused by two huge fists grasping the arms until the metal groaned in protest. I jerked my attention back to Jimmy. "Answer the question, Why Gnat!" Oops. There was a question? Melody and her friend giggled again. "Um... no?" Best guess. I had a 50-50 chance. Wrong answer. "You being a smart a*s?" Jimmy shook my chair again, the front wheels clearing the ground for a moment as I popped an involuntary wheelie. "You said your daddy is a secret scientist." "He is," I backpedaled, trying to guess his question. "Works for the military." "So why'd you say he wasn't?" Melody played with her gum. Lucky gum. "Sorry, my mistake." I hunted through my brain for something to make him stop shaking me. "Top secret stuff, you know? Can't tell me anything." Wouldn't, that was. "Cool," Paul said, head bobbing. "Area 51, right?" I didn't bother to answer. Santa Fe was two whole states from Nevada. But it seemed to do the trick for Jimmy. He backed off, still annoyed enough to kick my front tire. "I missed out on a free class because of you." Jimmy snuffled some mucus and spit to the side, just missing my sneaker. "Instead I had to take notes." Right. Like he even had an idea which end of a pen to use, let alone what the term "notes" even meant. "Tell your daddy he better show up next time." He reached around and liberated my lunch from the back pocket of my chair, proving just how grown up he really was. "Or else." So original. And yet, despite knowing how tiny his imagination could be, "or else" to Jimmy likely involved physical harm and I was in bad enough shape. Show over, the crowd quietly dispersed. I settled further into my seat and ignored the rumbling in my stomach. This wasn't the first time my lunch was stolen. I'd previously tucked a snack bar away for just such emergencies, but didn't have the energy to fish it out. "Is your father really a scientist?" I looked up to find Melody standing nearby. A small knot of her pretty and popular friends hovered just behind her, whispering to each other and looking at me like it was funny. I didn't care. I may have been dying by inches every day, but at least I didn't look like a wannabe clone of the prettiest girl at school. "Yes," I said. "He really is." "That's cool," Melody said. "I'm sorry Jimmy is so mean to you." She was talking to me. The girl of my dreams, the head of the cheer squad and shoe-in for prom queen no matter what grade she was in, was talking. To. Me. The disabled kid in the wheelchair. "Thanks," I said. "It's not so bad. As long as he doesn't breathe on me." She laughed at my joke. My heart jumped out of my chest and landed at her feet, panting like an adoring puppy. "Does it hurt?" She eased a bit closer. I wasn't sure what she meant, distracted by the breeze carrying the fragrance of her shampoo to my nose. There were cherries involved. I loved cherries. Well, I did now. "What?" She laughed, covering her mouth with one hand, pointing at my wheelchair with the other. Her friends' chatter fell silent. Now I got it. The freak show was being called on to perform. "Yes," I said. "Sometimes." All the time, but Melody didn't need to know the details. How sometimes I woke up screaming from the agony in my useless legs, or the knife-like stabbing in my spine traveling to the base of my skull. As much as I was sure telling her would win me sympathy, her compassion wasn't exactly what I was after. "Were you always... you know?" I could tell she was really curious, and not in a nasty way. So I answered her. "It's genetic." She stared openly, like I'd given her some kind of permission. So did her friends. I never realized before how much it bothered me most people just glanced at me and looked away rather than being honest. But the staring? Yeah, just as bad. "Will you get better?" Her sympathy was almost more than I could take. I'd never win anything other than pity from Melody and I knew it. My happiness fizzled. "No." I looked away, wishing she would leave. The curiosity in her eyes ruined my fantasies about her. She took the hint. "Okay, well, see you, Wyatt." Melody turned and went back to her friends, making some remark I couldn't hear, and they all laughed. I didn't want to consider what she told them probably wasn't nice and instead retreated to my imagination, letting it take me where my body couldn't. *** I waved as I ran, the football bouncing in my hand, the crowd going wild as I bounded the last stride, well ahead of the panting pack, to score the winning touchdown. Melody ran to me, her perfect body quivering in her cheerleader uniform, long lashes blinking rapidly at me as she clutched my arm. "Oh, Wyatt," she breathed. "You're amazing!" Jimmy jogged up, a goofy grin on his face, both hands outstretched as he fell to his knees and offered me two bottles of water. "Wyatt," he said, "you're my hero!" As the team and the audience cheered and clapped, Melody grabbed my face in her hands and pulled me down, her warm lips pressing against mine while other parts of her joined the fun- *** The bell rang, jerking me out of my happy creation. Sad and pathetic, yeah. But it was how I made it through my days. "Wyatt Simons?" The sun went out. Probably because a big, hulking guy in a black suit filled the sky where it used to be. "Yes?" I took note of the standard issue sunglasses and the transparent coil running to his left ear. "Your father sent us." Only then did I notice there were two black suited men blocking my light. The government probably had a clone program for this type of agent. I could never tell them apart. "You need to come with us." Make that triplets. My chair started to move as someone behind propelled my chair forward before I could ask another question. That didn't last long. "Where are we going?" I hated the squeak in my voice. "I'm afraid it's classified," Black Suit No.1 answered in his deep voice. Visions of a zombie apocalypse double-tapped my heartbeat. "Is everything okay?" I twisted around as much as my body would allow. The guy pushing me had the same tank-like jaw line of his two buddies. "The world's not, you know, ending or anything?" "Dr. Simons will explain everything when we get there," Black Suit No.2 said in a similar rumbling voice. I felt heat flush my cheeks as my chair rolled through the parking lot and toward the front of the school. It seemed like everyone watched and even though it was kind of cool having three military agents escort me to some secret rendezvous, I wasn't sure if I should be embarrassed or not. My appreciation would have been more forthcoming if I wasn't so freaked out. Especially considering Jimmy and Paul gaped like dying fish. They both backed off immediately when the suits walked by them as if the two boys were invisible. I caught a glimpse of No.1 glaring at the local bullies like they were in some kind of trouble. My last look at Jimmy was most satisfying. I think he may have had an accident. But Melody's wide stare and little wave felt the best of all. I think that's why I didn't protest until it was too late. They wheeled me up to a giant black SUV even before any of the supervising teachers had time to react. I spotted Mr. Pendergast huffing his way over, but knew my physics instructor was outclassed before he even reached us. "You can't just take this boy," he wheezed around his walrus mustache, round glasses fogged up from the exertion it took him to haul his bulk to the SUV. No.1 flashed a slick black ID holder. I caught a flicker of gold and an official-looking document inside. Impressed the hell out of me, though I'd seen stuff like it my whole life, thanks to Dad's involvement with the army and his research. Still, there was nothing like having agents and soldiers show up for secret meetings in the middle of the night to embed a feeling of awe and apprehension at their presence. "Mr. Simons is coming with us. National security. Back off, please, sir." No.1's "please" wasn't all that heartfelt from the tone of his voice and the way he and No.2 blocked my teacher with their considerably massive bodies. Mr. Pendergast didn't stand a chance. No.3 transferred me smoothly to a soft leather seat in the third row of the vehicle, stowing my chair and slamming the door shut before the concerned teacher could even say my name. I watched him argue with the two agents through the heavy tint of the glass, but his words were muffled. I caught his brief "call the police" as the agents entered the front, only to be cut off again as the passenger door closed firmly in his face. No.1 turned the key, No.2 beside him while No.3 climbed in to sit directly in front of me, blocking my view. His shoulders probably had their own time zone. I wasn't opposed to adventure, but these guys were seriously freaking me out. "I want to talk to my dad." The SUV pulled smoothly away from the curb, building speed, forcing me back into the padded seat. "Just try to relax, Mr. Simons," No.3 said. "I want to know what's going on." Now I wasn't in a position to do anything about it, my fight or flight reflex decided to make an appearance. Helpful. "I'm afraid it's classified," No.3 said. "We would appreciate it if you remained calm and quiet." He glanced back at me over his shoulder, sunglasses still hiding his eyes. Yes, I was scared of him. He didn't do anything threatening, but it didn't matter. I sat back in my seat and tried not to worry. Fail. ***