The Ables Read online

  Ooph!

  … we were there.

  “That was awesome,” Freddie giggled. Not everyone had a mother who could tele-port, so it was the first trip for some.

  “See, what did I tell you?” James bragged. Then, quietly to Bentley, he added, “This is the right room, right?”

  “Yes,” Bentley said, a smile in his voice.

  Everyone took in the room quietly for a few moments, while I wondered what it looked like. Henry was the first to speak. “Jeez, Louise, Bentley. This place is amazing!”

  “Yeah, well, what can I say? My dad’s loaded. I try my best not to make a big deal out of it.”

  “You do a fine job at that, because I had no freaking idea until tonight,” Henry marveled. “You’re, like, richer than the president!”

  “I doubt that,” Bentley said. “Anyway, this is it. Over in that corner is the chemistry set-up. I play with electrical stuff over there.” He was obviously giving a standing tour of the room, pointing out the various areas as he went. It was easy enough for me to tell which area was where just by how the direction of his voice changed as he moved his head.

  He continued, “Robotics shares space in this corner over here with my woodworking stuff—I don’t do much of that anymore. And then behind you is my brainstorming corner.”

  “Whoa,” Freddie gasped, “you have a pinball machine?”

  “It’s the same one they have at Jack’s,” Bentley said, trying to make it seem less special.

  But Freddie wasn’t having it. “Yeah, but this one isn’t at Jack’s. This one is in your freaking house, man! That’s incredible.” He quickly paused to sneak in a puff of his inhaler before continuing. “Man, I don’t think I’d ever get any work done if I had a pinball machine in my workshop.”

  “It’s only there for when I need to take a break and get my mind off something for a while. That happens a lot, though,” he added.

  “So let’s see some of these inventions already,” I said, ready to get this show on the road.

  “Oh, no,” Bentley said, “I never show anyone my inventions.”

  “What?!” Henry was outraged. “You brought us all the way up here to show us where you invent stuff, but we don’t get to see any of it? You gotta be kidding me!”

  “They suck, honestly,” Bentley argued. “Almost none of them work. It’s embarrassing, okay?”

  “Dude.” For a twelve-year-old, the word “dude” can often be the most serious way to start a sentence. “You’re a kid. You’re twelve. I bet your failed inventions are better than most grown-ups’ successes. Give yourself a break. You’re supposed to be watching cartoons and playing flag football.”

  “Not with my legs,” Bentley reminded us, somewhat somberly. It made me realize how left out he’d probably felt most of his life … just like me. Where I’d turned to comic books and stories, he’d turned to inventing and building things on his own. His inventions were probably more personal … more private than we had initially thought.

  “Are there any that work that you’d let us see?” I asked, hoping for a compromise.

  “Well, my eco-friendly bug zapper works,” he said, suddenly less concerned. “I guess I could show you that one.” He walked as briskly as he was able toward the sidewall, and I heard a door open. A few seconds later, the footsteps returned as he rejoined us in the center of the room. “Here it is.”

  I presume he held it up for the others to see while he spoke to point out the features. “It uses these little modified LED lights here, which I altered to mimic the same kind of light you see in a traditional bug zapper. But then, instead of zapping them, I decided to let Mother Nature take care of it. So all we have here are these little light strips, which you apply to the corners and eaves of your house outside—you know, where spiders live. The moths and mosquitoes are attracted to the light and end up flying right into the spider webs. No mess, no fuss, all solar powered.”

  It sounded impressive, that’s for sure.

  “That’s pretty, cool, I guess,” Henry allowed, not sounding like he meant it. “What else you got?”

  “Well, let’s see,” Bentley responded before walking back over to the closet again. It must have been a walk-in closet, because he went all the way in and closed the door, no doubt to keep us from following him. A moment later he returned.

  “Robot fire hydrant,” he declared joyously. A round of oohs and aahs followed from the sighted kids to a level appropriate for something called a robot fire hydrant. Any invention that started with the word “robot” was going to impress this audience.

  “What does it do?” Freddie asked.

  “Puts out fires, duh,” Henry said.

  “Actually, no. Putting out fires is the one thing it definitely does not do … it’s actually started a few fires, to be honest. The fire hydrant is just a disguise. It’s like a remote-controlled car, only instead of a car, it looks like an authentic fire hydrant—at only one-tenth the weight of a real hydrant.”

  “Why would anyone want a remote-controlled fire hydrant? It’s not like they do anything special, you know … like a car or something.”

  “Well, it’s designed for surveillance, I guess. The idea is that you could put a camera in there, and then it would be a pretty versatile thing, right? Because fire hydrants are everywhere … so it would never look out of place. And people never pay attention to those things, so there’s little danger of anyone discovering the camera.”

  It probably wasn’t the most specific surveillance device ever conceived, but I had to admit it had a certain level of coolness to it. I’d never really built anything in my life, and certainly, never a working robot.

  “So, it works?” Henry asked.

  “Yeah, I just have to put a camera or microphone in there, and it’s a fully functioning spy robot. The remote even functions up to one hundred yards away.”

  “Hm,” Henry said, not convinced it was cool.

  “Hey,” Bentley protested, “I made that thing when I was nine, okay? That’s not too shabby, even if I do say so myself.”

  “I suppose,” Henry admitted. “What else you got? What about some of the ones that don’t work?”

  “Oh, I have lots of stuff in that pile. A customizable digital bumper sticker, an electronic flower I was trying to make for my mom, about a half dozen versions of a time machine, and a toaster that’s incapable of burning toast—except that it doesn’t work properly, which basically makes it a normal toaster. There’s a bunch more, but we won’t be looking at any of those yet. I’ve already bent my rules enough for one night.”

  “Aw, man,” Freddie groaned.

  “No laser guns?” Henry asked hopefully.

  “No, Henry, sorry,” Bentley said. “No laser guns. Not yet, at least.”

  “Well, as long as you’re considering it,” Henry said, trying to find some optimism. “I guess that fly trap thing was pretty cool.”

  Bentley smiled—I could hear it in his voice. “Thanks, Henry, that really means a lot to me.” He was a grouch, but as long as Henry was honestly trying to be nice, we tried to see the glass as half full, even if he frequently knocked it over. “Hey, you guys wanna see something really cool?”

  When asked to an audience like this one, that was a question that required no answer.

  ***

  Ooph!

  We reappeared inside a huge office—his father’s office. The room had double-tall ceilings—that part I could tell for myself. Henry said later that nearly every visible surface was either wood or leather and that the room was what we might imagine Bruce Wayne’s office looked like.

  “I’m not supposed to be in here, but, well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Bentley declared, just a bit of his nervousness showing. “Anyway, there.” He must have pointed, because the others all oohed and aahed a bit.

  “What is it?” Freddie asked.

  “It’s the emergency call button to Goodspeed. If the city is ever in trouble, under attack or something, my da
d can press that button, and a bunch of reinforcements would be here in moments.”

  More impressed cooing.

  “So it’s like the Bat phone,” I said casually.

  “Oh my God, it is like the Bat phone,” Henry exclaimed.

  “I’ve never heard of this,” James said flatly, almost mildly offended. “I never knew anything like this existed.”

  “Well, they don’t publicize it,” Bentley explained. “There are only three of these in the city, all at the homes of board members.”

  “So what happens if a board member resigns?” Sometimes, I was just a slave to my innate desire to understand the reasons behind things. “Does he just have a useless button on his office wall the rest of his life? Do they install a new one at the new guy’s house?”

  “Honestly,” Bentley said, “I don’t think board members ever resign. I’m pretty sure it’s a lifetime appointment.”

  “Jeez,” Henry scoffed. “Sounds like a crappy job to me.”

  “Anything involving work seems like a crappy job to you,” I joked.

  “Hey!”

  “Has anyone ever pushed it—” Freddie paused to refuel on his inhaler before finishing his thought. “—on accident?”

  “Man, I hope not,” Bentley said. “I can tell you firsthand you don’t want to make my father angry, that’s for sure.” This line of thinking prompted Bentley to get nervous again and insist we return to the guest-house before being discovered. “Come on, guys, I don’t want to get caught.”

  “Well,” Henry said, “This was pretty cool. Definitely saved the best part of the tour for last.” Even when giving a compliment, Henry was kind of a jerk.

  ***

  Back in the guesthouse, the conversation then turned quickly to the SuperSim and the fast-approaching school board hearing.

  We sat on the floor in our sleeping bags in a giant circle. It was like we were sitting around an imaginary campfire. Henry sat across from me, with Bentley on his right. Then James, then me, then Donnie, Freddie, and back to Henry.

  Bentley was laying out the challenges ahead of us if we were even lucky enough to win the appeal. “One of the things I’ve been thinking about that we’re going to have to overcome,” he said, “is speed.”

  “Speed?” Henry asked.

  “Yeah. We’re not very fast.”

  “Ah,” I said in agreement.

  Bentley continued. “I have a hard enough time walking, let alone running. You’re in a wheelchair, Henry. Donnie is … well, Donnie. James and Phillip might be able to run the best out of all of us, but they can’t see where they’re going. And Freddie’s going to break down from an asthma attack as soon as he takes three steps.” It was true, particularly the part about Freddie. He puffed on his inhaler just about as often as James talked about his transporter business. “We’re not going to be able to get involved in any chases, you know?”

  He was right, and it was something I hadn’t considered. How could we catch criminals when we couldn’t even run? I was about to do my usual thing of looking for the silver lining when Bentley interrupted, “Did you see that?!”

  “No,” James and I deadpanned, almost in unison. That would become a staple joke for the two of us, and it never failed to make us laugh. We called it “blind humor.”

  “No, seriously: I think Donnie was just laughing at me.”

  “Donnie wasn’t laughing at you, Bentley. He’s not even paying attention to you,” Henry said bluntly. “He’s in his own little world, as usual.”

  “I think you’re wrong,” Bentley said curiously and slowly, like a scientist peering into a microscope at something interesting. “I think maybe Donnie’s been paying more attention than we thought, haven’t you, Donnie?”

  “Yes.” I nearly soiled my pants when Donnie answered verbally. I had only ever heard him say yes or no a few times in school, and then it was only to his teacher’s aide—and almost always at inappropriate times, like in the middle of the teacher’s lecture. But answering questions and speaking conversationally? This was a stunning development, and I gasped out loud before slapping my right hand over my mouth.

  We talked to Donnie plenty—don’t get me wrong. We would say something about Old Lady Crouch—that’s what we called her, somewhat affectionately—and then turn to him and say things like “Isn’t that right, Donnie?” We weren’t sure he understood us, but we always wanted him to feel like he was part of the group.

  But he had never answered us verbally. Ever. This was unprecedented.

  We were all stunned. Bentley recovered and grabbed the reins again. “Donnie, what’s so funny?”

  Nothing. I could practically hear the gears in Bentley’s brain turning. “Donnie … did you have something to add to our conversation?”

  Again, nothing.

  “Donnie, can you run?”

  “Yes.”

  Holy crap! He did it again!

  Somehow, it was even more remarkable the second time.

  Donnie’s disability left him with a mild speech impediment, and from what little I’d heard him speak, he seemed to slur his words a little bit. But there was no mistaking that he had answered in the affirmative and had done so in direct response to Bentley’s question.

  “Donnie,” Bentley said carefully, “Can you run fast?” There was no immediate response that I could hear. I wondered if the breakthrough moment with Donnie had ended just as abruptly as it had begun. Bentley tried again, speaking more deliberately. “If I asked you to go outside and race one of us around the guesthouse, would you win?”

  Without warning, I felt Donnie bolt up to a standing position and leap away from the circle of sleeping bags.

  “Donnie!” Bentley yelled.

  “What the heck?” Henry exclaimed.

  Before anyone could fully process what was happening, Donnie ran to the front door of the guesthouse and sprinted outside. He’d taken Bentley’s question literally, not hypothetically. He had completely misunderstood the meaning of what he’d been asked and was now outside running around the house, absolutely trouncing all of us in a race none of us were running.

  Bentley and Henry scrambled and chased after him, calling his name in a shouted whisper, trying to avoid waking Ted and Olivia. I wasn’t sure what the guys were thinking taking off after Donnie like that because they were the least likely people I knew to catch up to anyone—outside of myself and James, that is. But there wasn’t anyone else around that could go after him either.

  James, Freddie, and I just sat there shrugging in disbelief. I wasn’t about to go running anywhere in a house I barely knew. I shook my head trying to clear the cobwebs and get a grip on the situation. “Is he really outside racing around the guesthouse right now?”

  I was asking myself as much as anything, thinking out loud, but James answered anyway. “I’m pretty sure he is, yeah.”

  “Wow.” I couldn’t believe it. I was still reeling from the fact that Donnie could understand direct sentences and questions. “I didn’t know he could understand us that well.” Right away, I started searching my memory for anything I might have said previously in his presence that could have been embarrassing or hurt his feelings. I couldn’t think of anything, which was comforting.

  “I don’t know, Phillip. All Bentley did was ask if he could win a race, and Donnie thought that meant it was time to race … immediately. Maybe he understands us more than we thought, but I wouldn’t say he understands us well … you know what I’m saying?”

  James was right. I realized only in that moment how true it was that Donnie’s mind wasn’t as mature as his body. We’d been told that on the first day of school, but I guess I didn’t give much thought as to what it really meant.

  After a few more moments of quiet, the front door burst open again, and in three great strides, Donnie reached his sleeping bag, plopping to the floor with a light thud. His breathing was quickened, but he wasn’t gasping for breath or anything. And he just sat there … breathing rhythmically, as though
nothing strange at all had just occurred.

  I wanted to speak but couldn’t think of anything to say. I was afraid of Donnie misunderstanding again and doing something unpredictable.

  After a few seconds of the four of us just sitting there in stunned silence, I heard the door open again. Henry and Bentley entered, and they seemed relieved to see Donnie. “There you are,” Bentley said with a sigh of relief. He used his cane as he made his way back to the circle, with Henry’s wheelchair wheels squeaking behind him. They were both gassed, panting and wheezing from a level of physical exertion neither of them was used to.

  “I guess we do have one person on our team after all who can run fast.” Bentley paused before sitting back down to scold Donnie the way a loving father would. He spoke for all of us when he said, “You scared the crap out of me, Donnie, do you know that?!”

  “I win,” Donnie said, beaming.

  And that’s when the entire group just lost it. It was one of those moments where the situation hits you just right, and you cannot help but laugh uncontrollably. “Yes, you did,” Bentley managed to say between gasps. “You certainly did win, Donnie.”

  The giggling became infectious—even Donnie started chuckling.

  We laughed so loud and so long that we woke up Ted, who had to come out and tell us to quiet down and go to bed already. It struck me as humorous that it was ultimately the ruckus after the fact that woke up Ted; not the incident itself—not the sounds of the door opening and closing or kids running around the house outside—but the laughter.

  We tried our best to calm down, and as Ted turned out the lights and headed back to his room, we all got situated in our sleeping bags and prepared to go to sleep. There was a bit more giggling and chatter for a few minutes, but it died down pretty quickly. It was later than I’d ever stayed up, and most everyone was exhausted.

  As I lay there trying to fall asleep, I felt a new sense of responsibility for Donnie, and it was heavy. We all took care to look out for him and be inclusive with him, and we had already grown a bit protective of him from an emotional standpoint. But now, with a fresh demonstration of our influence over him, I began to worry for his physical safety.