The Crossing Point Read online

  “Where did he go?” she asked, looking around with alarm.

  “Don’t know. He just got up and ran off,” said Jacob, staring off in the direction where he had watched Jasper run off, disappearing around a nearby corner. “Guess he was just knocked out for a moment.”

  Even more of a relief to Jacob than knowing they had not snuffed the life out of some helpless pup was when he glanced back down at his arms and saw the pronounced state his veins had revealed themselves through his skin had dissipated and faded back to invisible normalcy. Whatever freak thing had caused it, whatever momentary hallucination, he was just glad it was gone.

  ~~~

  Wray and Jacob got back in the Jeep and continued along the street lined with poplar and maple trees towering high above with their tentacle-like branches intertwining to form a kind of protective canopy around the quaint quiet neighborhood. Turning the corner onto Tudor Drive, Wray quietly mouthed along to Stevie as she drove halfway down the narrow block before pulling over across the street from a cozy-looking, lived-in two-story home with pale yellow wood siding and charcoal color trim. She shut off the engine, turned down the volume on her stereo which continued to play and sat back into her seat.

  “Do you think he’s really alright?” she asked.

  “Who?” said Jacob.

  “What do you mean who? The dog, of course. What if he’s wandering around hurt and in need of care?”

  “Believe me, he’s fine. He didn’t have so much as a limp when he took off,” said Jacob.

  Wray could tell something far weightier than the dog’s near-death experience was occupying Jacob’s thoughts and she knew what it was.

  “So...are you going to sulk about it now for the rest of the night?” she asked.

  “Any objections if I do?” Jacob muttered with a quiet surliness. His eyes remained fixed looking straight ahead as they had for most of the drive home.

  The “it” being the details of Jacob’s visit to Dr. Gilkey’s office that morning, which he decided to share with Wray along with an order of chili cheese fries at a nearby fast-food joint when school let out before the drive home. He needed someone to talk to about it, and while he felt bad he hadn’t been completely honest with Ty about his examination, he had good reason, namely his best friend’s unmalicious tendency for letting his loose lips flutter. That and, frankly, he wasn’t in the mood for whatever off-the-wall diagnosis would surely come if he had confided in his friend. Wray, however, was different.

  “I know it’s frustrating.” Her voice had a way, when necessary, of feeling like a cozy blanket being wrapped around the shoulders on a chilly day. “Just remember the doctor did say you’re not the only one who’s had to deal with this uh...um—”

  “Scapula dysrhythmia,” Jacob muttered under his breath while at the same time cringing inside at the sound of the word.

  Dr. Gilkey’s diagnosis was more dire-sounding than it actually was. Jacob much more preferred the less threatening, more commonly known name used for the malady he suffered: Winging scapula. Jacob didn’t even know anything was wrong with himself until one day he was changing in the locker room after wrestling practice when he noticed one of his teammates down the row looking at him strangely. “You in an accident or something?” the boy asked. It wasn’t until Jacob got home, stripped off his shirt and with the help of a hand mirror while standing in front of the larger mirror in his bathroom did he see what the boy was talking about. Two rounded oblong-shaped lumps were visibly beginning to balloon from his upper back region where his shoulder blades were located. He slowly leaned forward while twisting his body slightly to the right to try and get a better look, and as he did, his flexing made the anomaly more pronounced. To his horror, it appeared as if two stems or stumps were trying to push their way through his skin. He reached over his shoulder with his free hand to examine one of the lumps. It was definitely his shoulder blade. He could feel the hardness of bone pushing back beneath the surface of his flesh. He straightened back up and as he did the two protruding masses diminished in appearance.

  “We usually see this sort of thing in athletes and people whose jobs involve the lifting of heavy objects such as furniture movers where the shoulder blade of the person afflicted is abnormally positioned giving a wing-like appearance,” Dr. Gilkey explained to Jacob during his first examination. “The cause is usually the result of blunt trauma or paralysis of the long thoracic nerve in the shoulder and weakening of the serratus anterior muscles which leads to the winging.”

  Jacob’s first thought was he had somehow injured himself during one of his wrestling matches. He was used to taking hard body slams, but he couldn’t recall any particular moment when he had been consciously hurt, at least not so much as to cause what was happening to his back. The good news, Jacob learned much to his relief, was that the condition was caught in its beginning stages and treatable. Dr. Gilkey prescribed a rehabilitation regimen that included strength training and other physical therapy exercises, along with strapping Jacob’s body into a specially designed brace, an unwelcome and frankly embarrassing contraption which only served to freshen the jibs and jabs that came his way when Yul and his cronies caught sight of it in the locker room and immediately branded it the “man bra.” Jacob chose to suffer in silence. After all, Dr. Gilkey had touted great success treating others with the same condition, and if wearing the embarrassing gizmo and suffering a few taunts in the process was the price he had to pay to successfully alleviate and diminish, if not completely cure, what was ailing his back, then so be it.

  Six months later, however, Jacob could tell by the knotty look of puzzlement on the doctor’s face when he went to see him that day that the results were not what he was expecting. Not that it was of any surprise to Jacob. His own bathroom mirror, which he found himself standing in front of for hours staring at his back since his deformity was first brought to his attention, was a constant, day-to-day update that his freak-like condition was not improving. If anything, it was getting worse.

  ~~~

  “I don’t understand, I thought you said earlier the doctor told you he could still fix your back,” said Wray.

  Might be able to. Might!” snapped Jacob with an irritable edge to his tone.

  “Alright might. It’s certainly better than not being able to at all. So why get yourself all worked up over something when you don’t even know the outcome yet?” said Wray.

  “Oh sure, why get myself worked up? It’s not like we’re talking about my only option left at this point is surgery, except that it is.”

  “You see, this is where I end up confused,” said Wray. “Your back is not improving—in fact, it’s getting worse—and yet your doctor signs a permission slip for you saying it’s okay for you to rejoin the wrestling team. Why would he do that?”

  “Because I asked him to,” answered Jacob matter-of-factly. “I mean, what difference does it make? Either way, I’m going to have to go under the knife.”

  “Oh, well, that makes a ton of sense,” Wray remarked snidely. “Here you are whining over the possibility of your back not getting fixed, yet you want to risk possibly injuring yourself and making it even worse by wrestling. I mean, are you really that—”

  “Stupid?”

  “I was going to say reckless,” corrected Wray.

  “What’s so reckless about not quitting?” Jacob spat. “Maybe I’m not ready to let life sideline me this early in the game. Maybe I refuse to allow this...condition to force me to surrender doing the things I enjoy doing like it has the last year.”

  “And maybe by doing so you could end up making matters worse,” said Wray.

  The gentle look in her eyes reflected not an intent to fight, but a genuine concern. Jacob didn’t see it, or he refused to as he leaned forward and began hurriedly grabbing his things tucked between his feet on the floor board.

  “Look, I don’t want to talk about this anymore, alright?” he grumbled angrily. “How can you possibly understand having your back tw
isted into some deformity that has even your own doctor baffled, who has no idea what is even causing it or if it can be corrected, and even if it can be corrected you have to A) wait until you turn eighteen to have the necessary surgery, or B) find the guts to tell your grandmother to get the permission needed, which you’re not too keen on doing while she’s still in mourning over losing her daughter, and in exchange you get to live out your vital teenage years existing as some sort of side-show freak in a backwoods circus? But for you I will definitely try to chill out and turn my frown upside down.”

  Wray sank heavily back into her seat with a sigh of exasperation, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Fine...if that’s the way he was going to be, she wouldn’t say another word. If he was looking for sympathy from her with that attitude, he was in the wrong Jeep.

  “I guess it’s lucky for you then that there’s a bell tower downtown,” she muttered instead under her breath.

  The comment stopped Jacob cold before he slowly turned and fixed the disbelieving look in his eyes on her.

  “I’m sorry, was that...did you just infer I was Quasimodo?”

  “If the hump fits,” she mumbled sourly. “Or in your case two.”

  She gave him a sideways glance that raised doubt on whether the remark was meant to be funny or a painful jab. When she saw, however, the smile beginning to take shape from behind Jacob’s glum expression, her own scowl eventually softened and the corners of her tightly lipped mouth couldn’t refrain from turning upward ever so slightly. Jacob was the first to break out in laughter. If there was anything that could crack a foul mood that had taken hold of him, it was inappropriate humor, especially when he was the butt of it. And Wray had acquired a knack of shattering many of his moody dispositions with such a technique, helping to tighten the bond the two had shared for so long.

  Despite his friend Ty’s inference earlier in the day during lunch that Wray and Jacob were an undeclared item, Jacob had no designs on her. They were good friends, nothing more. At least, that’s what he had convinced himself. Still, in that moment in the Jeep as the two shared a light-hearted laugh, Jacob found himself suddenly struck by Wray’s smile. There was an infectious way about her, subtle and intangible, that every now and then seemed to draw him in like a honeybee to the powdery pollen of a blossoming flower. And just like all the times before, when he suddenly became aware of the changing rhythm to the steady beating happening inside his chest, he was quick to turn his focus elsewhere. This time it was to the stereo where the warbling of Stevie Nicks’ voice continued to leak. “Sanctuary”—he recognized the song. It was Wray’s favorite. In fact, Jacob couldn’t remember a time riding as a passenger in Wray’s Jeep that the song didn’t materialize without fail at some point along the drive.

  “Seriously, don’t you ever get tired of this song?” asked Jacob.

  Wray responded by joining in and bellowing forth a verse along with her rock goddess in a pitchy tone worthy of an “American Idol” reject.

  “Forget I asked,” Jacob interjected with a pained look usually reserved for moments when fingernails and blackboards meet.

  “Come on, you can’t deny it’s a great song. It’s one of the music world’s great travesties she’s never officially released it, and I will forever be thankful to the Internet gods that this bootleg demo exists,” said Wray.

  In fact, thanks to Wray’s constant loop of the song playing in her Jeep, Jacob had come to like the tune quite a bit; even catching himself singing a few bars of it every now and then when he was alone. Although, not nearly as marring as Wray’s rendition.

  “You know, the homecoming dance is right around the corner,” Wray remarked out of the blue.

  Jacob gave an indifferent shrug. “And? Does anyone really go to those things anymore? Seems kinda cheesy.”

  “Of course it is. That’s what makes it fun, like prom, or the winter formal,” said Wray with a giggle. “It gives everyone the chance to get dressed up and have their picture taken in front of some god-awful backdrop so one day twenty years from now when you’re feeling all nostalgic you have something to look back upon that will most likely horrify you and leave you wondering what possessed you to wear such a hideous-looking dress.”

  “See, this is precisely why I’m not a big fan. I don’t want to be reminded when I’m old how horrible the dress I chose to wear to some dance actually was,” said Jacob with a dry seriousness. “Besides, there’s a monster movie marathon that’s going to be on. They’re going to be showing all the classics: ‘Frankenstein,’ ‘The Invisible Man,’ and you’re favorite ‘The Creature from the Black Lagoon.’ I thought the two of us could watch it together.”

  Ordinarily, such a proposal would have brought a twinkle of excitement to Wray’s eye. Afterall, the two first forged their friendship over their mutual love of the classic horror movie genre. Instead, Jacob’s invitation caused Wray’s smile to slowly deflate.

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to,” she said with quiet remorse.

  “What do you mean? We always watch these kinds of marathons together. It’s like a tradition.” Yet he suddenly understood without Wray having to offer any explanation. “Oh, I get it…the dance. So, uh...I guess you’ll be going with Yul.”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t really decided yet,” Wray replied with a sigh.

  “What do you mean you haven’t decided? Isn’t it pretty much a foregone conclusion that two people seeing each other would go together to the dance?” asked Jacob. “Or are you worried one day twenty years from now when you’re all tingly with nostalgia you’ll end up looking back and wondering what possessed you pick the douchiest douche for a boyfriend?”

  “Yul is not a...what you called him,” snapped Wray unable to bring herself to utter the “D” word, not because she was so prim and proper, but because she refused to take something associated with the feminine and support its being reshaped as a putdown. “And who said anything about him being my boyfriend?”

  “Oh, please—” Jacob chuckled out loud. “It’s pretty obvious by how cozy the two of you look at school.”

  “I don’t care how it looks, we’re just friends.”

  “Friends...” snickered Jacob.

  “That’s right, friends,” stated Wray emphatically. “I don’t know why you have such a problem with Yul unless it’s because you’re jealous of him. Or do you just automatically develop a dislike for anyone who is a Get?”

  “No, I’m pretty much one hundred percent sure it’s because he’s simply a douche,” said Jacob.

  Frustrated—and bristling once more at that use of that term—Wray launched into a wordy defense of Yul attempting to convince Jacob there existed a nice guy once one got past the rough edges. Yet she knew her attempt to shorten the fangs Jacob had doodled on the mental image he carried around in his head of the jock had fallen on deaf ears, especially when her suggestion that the two boys could wind up friends if given the chance was met with an immediate sneer of “when hell freezes over” mockery.

  Grabbing his backpack resting between his feet with one hand while pushing open the passenger door with the other, Jacob had one foot out of the Jeep when he turned suddenly, leaned toward Wray and gave her a quick parting peck on the cheek. Wray inhaled deeply, feeling her chest swell as though she were about to submerge herself inside a swimming pool, and closed her eyes savoring the friendly gesture for all it was worth. Smiling nervously, she tried to retain her composure when he pulled away and brushed her cheek with his hand. She was certain he had felt her tremble.

  “Thanks for listening...you know, earlier,” said Jacob.

  “What are friends for?”

  “Oh, and by the way...the day me and Yul become friends is the day I sprout wings and can fly,” Jacob added with a sarcastic smile while quickly closing the door behind him before Wray had a chance to respond.

  Wray watched as he made his way around the front of the Jeep and across the street toward his house.

  “I’ll cal
l you later,” she called out after him.

  Giving a wave over his shoulder, Jacob smiled as the sound of Stevie Nicks’ voice turned up and wailing from the Jeep faded in the distance as Wray drove away.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Gotham

  O

  n the day wrestling tryouts finally rolled around, Coach Mercer stoodwith his hands on his hips looking over the two dozen or so prospects who were huddled together on the bottom rungs of the bleachers inside the gym and asked, “So, which one of you’s wants to go first today?”

  It wasn’t a question so much as it was a dare. One didn’t just try out for the Harpus High wrestling team; one had to prove himself worthy of the honor of being part of such an exclusive group. Coach Mercer was not a subscriber to the belief of inclusion—that every kid be afforded the right to participate in the name of school spirit. He only cared about one thing—winning—and every boy who had assembled inside the gymnasium knew the coach was far from easy to impress and had no patience for what he deemed “weak links.”

  No one felt like more of a weak link than Jacob. He had already quietly scouted out the competition and placed bets with himself on who he thought would be quickly sent on their way. But it was a short list. There were a lot of hearty contenders, many of whom he had already seen in action on the mat from when he first managed to be part of the team. Sure he had gone up against many of them during practice, and come out the victor more than not. He had also committed the most unforgivable sin; he’d quit the team. In Coach Mercer’s eyes, there only one thing worse than a loser, and that was a quitter. It didn’t matter whether or not Jacob’s reason was medical. If anything, it only made it that much worse; the coach now knew one of his once promising wrestlers was flawed, and that made Jacob a dreaded weak link.