Chapter 9 – The Blow-up
It took about thirty seconds before Chandler’s truck pulled up alongside me as I walked down the road. Faedra was leaning out of the open window.
“Dylan, come on. Please get in the truck.”
“Not now. I need time to think,” I responded.
“We need to talk.”
“We needed to talk months ago, maybe years ago, or whenever it was that you started lying to me,” I said. “Suddenly, you want to ‘talk’. Well, news flash – I’m not in the mood right now.”
A car pulled up behind Chandler and started blowing its horn. I heard Chandler say something to Faedra, but couldn’t quite make out what it was. A few seconds later, his truck drove off down the road.
Funny thing about being angry. When you’re angry, the mind often promises what the body can’t deliver. Thirty minutes later I was still walking. Only, by then I was beginning to get tired. I was hot, sweaty, and thirsty on top of everything else. My resolve to refuse to take that ride had begun to seem like a mistake. I was tempted to pull out my cell phone, call Chandler, and beg for a ride.
Just then I saw a car approaching from the direction I was heading. As it came closer, I began to make out the outline of the vehicle. In another hundred yards, I could tell it was Chandler’s truck. A smile crept across my face. My frown temporarily returned as I thought that Faedra might be in the truck with him, but a few seconds later I could tell that she wasn’t, and my smile came back.
Chandler pulled into a driveway directly in my path and yelled out the passenger window, “How about that ride now?”
“I thought you’d never get here!” I yelled, jogging the remaining distance and jumping into the cab of the truck.
We were happily cruising along in silence the way only two teenage guys could do, when Chandler broke the ‘guys looking cool and not talking’ atmosphere.
“She cried practically the whole way home.”
“Yeah? Well, serves her right. She should feel bad about lying to me... to us.”
More silence. I thought about turning on the radio but didn’t.
“I get that you’re upset, Dylan. Nobody likes being lied to... but we did what we set out to do, right? We got her to show her powers, and now everything is out in the open.”
I didn’t say anything. I just sat there looking out the window.
“Chandler, do you believe there’s a God?” I finally asked.
“Whoa, where did that come from?” he asked.
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, whether or not there’s a God. I mean, are we just accidents and there’s no purpose to our existence beyond propagating the species and having a good time while we’re here? Or is there some reason behind it all? Is there some reason I got passed over when God handed out the superpowers or is it all just some big cosmic lottery, and I’m one of the losers?”
Chandler took the next turn in the road before he answered. I honestly didn’t know what he was going to say.
“When I was three or four, I don’t remember for sure, I got a big box of books from my grandmother for my birthday,” he began. “It was filled with a bunch of really cool old books. That was the best gift. I read through all of them in a week, and then I read them again. It was great. One of the books was a book called Case for a Creator for Kids by a guy named Lee Strobel.
“At one point in the book, he starts talking about the statistical probability of life developing on planet Earth. He mentioned how, if the force of gravity varied even the slightest bit, that life on our planet couldn’t exist. Then he mentioned something called the cosmological constant...”
“The cosmo-whatical-what?”
“The cosmological constant. It’s the energy density of empty space.”
“You’re losing me here, Einstein. I just want to know if you believe there’s a God or not, not learn how to build an atom bomb.”
“Well, the point is that if the cosmological constant varied even slightly, if the energy density of empty space was one tiny bit more or less dense, then either the stars would never have formed or the universe would have collapsed in upon itself.”
“So how did that help you decide if there’s a God or not?”
“Well, the probability of either gravity or the cosmological constant occurring randomly is astronomical. But scientists have calculated that the probability of both of them occurring randomly at the same time in such a way that life could occur on planet Earth as it has is about one chance in a hundred million trillion trillion trillion trillion trillion trillion. I checked the math, and they’re right.”
“You did that when you were three?”
“Well... I might have been four. I told you I don’t remember exactly how old I was. It’s not as hard as you think once you learn calculus and a bit of advanced probability and statistics.”
“You’re losing me, genius,” I prodded.
“The point is, I don’t believe that life on Earth could have happened by chance. I believe there had to be some super-intelligent design behind it. For all practical purposes, you could call that super-intelligence God.”
At that point, I was very confused.
“So... you do believe in God?”
He laughed. “Yes, I believe there is a God. Do you?”
I frowned. “My mom says she believes in God, but she never goes to any kind of church or talks much about it. I guess she wants me to figure out that part of life for myself. I mean, I look around at everything that exists on this Earth and I see some pretty complex stuff. It’s hard to believe it all happened by chance. I guess I haven’t made up my mind about it yet. But if there is a God, I sure wish He, or She, or It would give me a clue why I got stuck in no-superpower-loserville.”
“Don’t say that. You’re not a loser, Dylan. You’re my best friend. That’s a pretty coveted position.”
Then it was my turn to laugh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I wonder if Faedra is going to replace my position in her friend list with another super?”
“What are you going to do about the Faedra situation now?” he asked.
“Honestly... I don’t know,” I admitted. “I think I need to pull out the big guns for this one.”
“Okay, sounds good... What does that mean, exactly?”
“I’m going to talk to Mr. Franklin.”
* * * * *
My mom gave me pretty good advice most of the time. We talked about a lot of stuff, but sometimes a guy just needs to get some advice from an older, more experienced guy. Since my dad had died before I was born and my mom had never re-married, I didn’t have another guy at the house to talk to, so in times like these, I went to talk to Mr. Franklin.
I had Chandler drop me off at the Anglican Church instead of at my house. I texted my mom to let her know where I was so she wouldn’t worry about me, and then I went inside to search for Mr. Franklin. I didn’t think Tuesday afternoon would exactly be a hotbed of activity at the church, so I thought my chances of finding Mr. Franklin and getting to talk with him were pretty good.
I opened up one of the large wooden doors at the front of the church and walked into the familiar foyer. At the far end, next to the doors that led into the main sanctuary, there were two six foot long tables placed end to end. There was a printed banner taped across the two tables that read, ‘Seniors for Service Training’. An elderly man and woman sat behind the tables, and they smiled at me as I walked up to them. The woman had a cheery voice and was the first to speak to me.
“Well, hello there, young man. How are you today?”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
“Can we help you with something?” the man asked in an equally pleasant but not quite so cheery voice.
“I’m looking for Mr. Franklin.”
“In that case,” the man replied, “you had better look in the gym. When I saw him earlier, he said something about replacing the basketball nets.”
“Do you know where the gym is?” the woman asked.
“Yes ma’am, I do. Thanks.”
I jogged off down the hall to the left and out the door at the end. It didn’t take me long to reach the gym annex out behind the main church building. When I went inside, I saw Mr. Franklin standing near the top of an eight-foot ladder diligently re-threading a new net onto the basketball goal. A threadbare, tattered net lay on the floor below the goal. The gym was fairly old, but you could tell it was kept in good condition. The surface of the court had been made out of wood, and the afternoon sun reflected off of the polished floors as it shone through the windows above the bleachers. Aside from us, there was no one else in the gym. He turned his head and looked my way briefly when I opened the door.
“Well, hello Dylan. What brings you here on a Tuesday afternoon?”
“Remember that friend that I mentioned in group on Saturday?”
“The one who lied to you?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. She... my friend... well, I need some advice.”
He finished looping the final piece of the net into the goal and then climbed down from the ladder. “Let’s have a seat, and you can tell me all about it,” he said as he motioned over to the bleachers.
“What seems to be the trouble?” he asked after we were seated.
I let out a long sigh, not quite sure where to begin or what I should say considering the delicate nature of the offense. “Well, I decided to trick my friend into basically telling me the truth about what they had lied to me about before.”
“And how did that work out?”
“Well... it didn’t work out like I planned. Honestly, I’m not sure what exactly I expected. After I tricked my friend into revealing the truth, I was just as mad as before. So I’m not sure if my plan accomplished much.”
He didn’t respond right away. He just sat there for a few seconds. It was nice to have someone to talk to who was really listening. I just hoped he had some decent advice, because I was stumped.
“What did you want to see happen?” he asked at last. Now it was my turn to pause as I racked my brain, trying to answer what should have been a simple question.
“I don’t know. I guess one thing was to get the lie out in the open. Beyond that... I don’t have a clue.”
He nodded his head up and down. “When somebody lies to you, they have violated your trust,” he began. “If you want to restore the relationship, then you need to talk to this person about the fact that they lied to you. Now, it sounds like you also lied to them when you tricked them, correct?”
“Yeah...” I replied sheepishly.
“Well, then, I recommend that you tell them about your deception as well. You see, if you want to save the friendship and restore trust, you have to start with the truth... the whole truth. It’s the only way you can forgive each other and begin to rebuild the relationship.”
It made sense. But just because it made sense didn’t mean I wanted to do it.
“Thanks, Mr. Franklin.”
“Anytime, Dylan,” he said as he clapped me on the shoulder and stood up. “Let me know how it goes.”
“Okay,” I replied.
It took me about ten minutes to walk home. The whole time I was thinking about how it might go if I took his advice. I had no clue.
When I got home, my mom had one of my favorite meals ready to eat – Chinese take-out. My favorite was General Tso’s chicken. The spicier, the better.
“Thanks, Mom!”
“Well, I figured we could use a change of pace, shake things up a bit.”
“Cool.”
“Let’s eat, and we can tell each other about our day.”
I smiled and thought about how I couldn’t tell her about the most important part of my day without betraying the promise I had made to Faedra. As she started talking about some things that had happened at her work, I thought to myself that relationships were complicated sometimes... way too complicated.
“...and after that, I called the supplier and ordered the parts for the second time. I’m just glad that they had the right parts after all,” she concluded.
“That’s great, Mom.” I hated to admit I hadn’t been listening to what she’d just been saying. I loved my mom, but sometimes hearing about her work day was just plain boring.
“Soooo, tell me about your day at school.”
“Well, not much happened. I had a quiz in math class, and we have a new reading assignment we have to write a review on by the end of the week. That’s about it.”
“Did you find Mr. Franklin at the church?”
“Yeah, I did,” I said, secretly hoping she wouldn’t ask me what I talked to him about. Mom usually gave me space to work through my issues without being too pushy. I was thankful for that. But then, she uttered the words every teenager dreads like the plague.
“I got a call from the school today...”
“Really?” I asked, my voice squeaking at the end of the word, so I said it again, trying to recover. “Really?”
She reached her hand across the table and put it on top of mine.
“Dylan, I know about the video and what Bruno did to you. I know about the name-calling...” She let out a sigh. “I know it’s not easy not being a super, and I just want you to know that I understand. Do you want to talk about it? Are you okay?”
Most of the time, when your parents tell you they understand, you don’t believe them. It’s just hard to imagine your parents as teenagers who faced similar circumstances. But in this case, I believed her. She was a super-not, after all. I had heard enough stories about her childhood to know she had endured her own share of persecution and ridicule over it. Faedra and Mom had always been the people I counted on the most to understand what it was really like. Now that I knew that Faedra was a super...
“Mom, Faedra’s a super,” I blurted out, immediately wishing I hadn’t.
“What?” My mom’s jaw dropped open and she stared at me. I had already let the cat out of the bag, so I went for it.
“She can fly, and she’s super-strong. I found out when she saved Chandler from falling off of a cliff when we went hiking last Friday.”
My mom slowly closed her mouth. I could tell she was processing the information as she nodded up and down slowly for several seconds.
“Wow...”
“No one saw it but me, and I didn’t say anything to Faedra. I was upset that she’s been lying to me, so I challenged Bruno to a fight in the gym, hoping to out Faedra as a super. I thought she would use her powers to stop Bruno, but it didn’t work out like I planned – thus the video and the office visit.” I stopped there and didn’t say any more. I wasn’t planning on telling my mom about the near-death scrape with Bruno behind the trailer at school if I could help it. She had enough to worry about as it was and I didn’t want a lecture about risking my life in a fight with a super.
“So the whole thing was just to get Faedra to admit she’s a super?”
“Yeah, I know it sounds stupid now, but at the time it made sense to me. I wanted to expose her for lying to me... to everybody.”
“Dylan... why don’t you just talk to her?”
“Yeah. That’s what everyone keeps telling me to do. I’m starting to see that’s probably the best way to handle it, but...”
“But, what?”
“But I’m still mad at her right now.”
“Okay. Well, no one says it has to happen this instant. Give it a few more days. Clear your head. Then tell her you need to talk to her. She’s a sweet girl, and you guys have been friends forever. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for why she didn’t tell you. Maybe her parents told her not to come out as a super for some reason.”
“Maybe. I guess you’re right. I can’t screw things up worse than they already are just by talking to her.”
I didn’t usually go to my mom for relationship advice. She was a great mom and all, but she wasn’t Dr. Phil or anything. Still, what she was saying sounded an awful lot like what Mr. Franklin had suggested.
“Thanks for listening, Mom.”
“Sure, honey. Anytime.”
After we were done eating, I helped clean off the table and took out the trash. I had just put the lid down on the trash bin when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out and saw it was a text from Faedra. I clicked on the message icon, and my blood froze.
hlp me home bsmnt hury