After Mr. Hydine’s discharge from the hospital, Karl misses the old guy’s company-for about three minutes. Then he falls asleep.
He dreams he’s wandering down a rocky hillside, into a meadow filled with tall dry grass-a pleasant place, until soldiers start shooting at him, first from the edge of the woods, then from behind the rocks on the opposite side. He understands that they’re not really after him, they’re fighting each other (ragged gray uniforms versus ragged blue uniforms), but these are not noble soldiers, they’re tough, dirty, and sadistic, and they couldn’t care less if he gets shot. So he’s running every which way, searching for a hole he can dive into, but every time he spots one, it turns out to be just a shadow. “I’m not in this!” he shouts at them, pleading for mercy.
His own shout wakes him up. He discovers that he has tangled his sheet in a truly artistic manner. He’s curled on his side, and there’s someone watching him from alongside the bed-a girl in a black sweatshirt with chestnut hair in a short bowl. This confuses him, because Lizette’s hair looked different, shorter, the last time he saw it. Also, she almost always kept it covered with a baseball cap.
“See what happens when you do bad things?” she says. “Eternal torment.”
Almost giddy with happiness, he’s about to say, You broke your vow-you talked to me-but he notices that his hands are on top of his head. Why is that? Because he was dodging bullets a moment ago.
Unscrunching himself, he fixes the sheet so he’s covered up to the neck. “Hi,” he says.
His joy at the sight of her is complicated by shame- because the friend who begged him not to do wrong has returned to find him demolished by his mistake, and she has also seen his underwear, exposed by the twisted hospital gown. He peers at her face, and down at his hands, and back at her face, and down at his hands, and so on.
Lizette has her own confusions and can’t look him in the eye. She picks up the framed snapshot of him with his parents (squinting at the beach) and says, “This is the best picture they could find of y’all?”
“We’re not that photogenic.”
He wishes he could kiss her and hug her, but instead they make small talk.
“So how did your spring break go?” she asks. “Catch up on your rest?”
“Uh-huh. How about you?”
“Pretty dull. A little day trip with the family to Coopers-town, the Hall of Fame, that was nice. You see the error of your ways yet?”
Heart full to bursting, he holds his troubles inside.
He can’t remember, though, why he’s keeping it all to himself. Therefore, he blurts out everything-the whole nasty tale of Klimchock’s coercion and Upchurch’s secret life as the Prince of Sleaze.
He assumes she’ll sympathize, but her face goes cold and distant as he speaks. Maybe she’s saving her compassion for the end.
Or, maybe not.
“I can’t believe you ever got involved with them, Karl. You should have known better. The whole thing is so low-down.”
“I told you, I wish I never started.”
The A/C cycles on, and goose bumps form on Karl’s forearms.
“You dug your own grave, Karl. It’s nobody’s fault but yours.”
By refusing to give him the slightest bit of sympathy, Lizette leaves Karl deeply disappointed. Also, to tell the truth, annoyed.
“Klimchock called Jonah into his office today,” she says.
“Why?”
“He said Jonah was cheating.”
“What?!”
“You know Jonah’s nervous tic, where he turns his neck to the side? Klimchock said he was copying from his neighbor’s test.”
Thinking, thinking… Is it a ploy, a message to Karl? Give in or I’ll crush everyone you care about. Or maybe that’s delusional.
“What happened? Did he get expelled?”
“He got sent home with all his stuff. I helped him empty his locker.”
“How upset was he?”
“How upset do you think?”
That Klimchock would blackmail Karl is one thing. At least Karl really cheated. But Jonah…
“So what are you planning to do?” she asks.
“I don’t have a clue. I wish I could run away and join the circus.”
“There aren’t too many job openings for a lone Flying Stringbini.”
Lunch arrives. Karl and Lizette stare at the pale bread and the green curls of lettuce sticking out past the crust, all strangled by tight plastic wrap.
“They’re just evil,” Lizette says. “Both of them-Klimchock and Upchurch. They deserve to sink in their own vile sludge.”
These are the first kind words she has spoken to Karl in a long time-but they don’t solve the problem, because there is no solution.
A second visitor interrupts their gloom-fest. This one has on a red tank top, tight capris, and red sunglasses worn up above her forehead, right on top of her silky dark bangs, which are new.
“Hello, everybody,” Cara says.
Karl and Lizette are helpless to do anything but stare.
“I heard you were here. Just wanted to stop by and see how everything’s going.”
“I tried to call you, but the number was disconnected,” Karl says.
“We moved to a different apartment. I’m working in my aunt’s hardware store.”
Lizette drifts away, over toward the sink. Cara stands at the foot of the bed. In a way, Karl’s a lucky guy. Two girls he likes both cared about him enough to visit him in the hospital. They would both go out of their way to help him-but they can’t get him out of this predicament, no one can, it’s hopeless, and not just for him, for Jonah, too.
Tears trickle down his cheeks before he can stop them.
“Hey, Edison, what’s up? Why’d you spring a leak?”
Since Karl can’t make his voice work, Lizette explains matters to Cara. Through his teary blur, Karl notices something odd: Lizette never looks Cara in the face. He wonders, could Lizette have a crush on Cara? Was all her criticizing just a way of covering it up?
Cara knocks that thought out of his head with a loud laugh. “Phillip Upchurch? He’s Blaine’s secret overlord? The up-sucking weasel with the pole up his butt?”
She lets out a snort.
“That’s hilarious. I can just see Blaine-‘Yes, sir, Your Oiliness.’ That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all year.”
Karl isn’t laughing, though. His attention has returned to the matter at hand-how Klimchock’s cruelty and injustice are matched only by Upchurch’s fraudulence and general disgustingness. They both deserve to be exposed.
The seed of an idea sprouts instantly: he’ll do it. He’ll tell the world the truth about both of them, no matter the consequences. It needs to be done.
“There’s no way out of this,” he says. “My future is already wrecked. I’m going to expose them both.”
“Hold on,” says Cara. “There’s one little problem: nobody will believe you. We’d better stop and think this over.”
The three of them ponder Karl’s plight in silence.
“This is so frustrating,” Lizette comments.
They’re stumped. Nurse Francesca finds them moping together when she comes to administer Karl’s afternoon antibiotics. She teases Karl while setting the dosage on the IV computer. “Uh-oh, looks like they found out about each other. It’s dangerous, being a ladies’ man.”
Lizette turns a sunburned red. Not Cara, though. “I don’t mind sharing him,” she says. “As long as I get him half the time.”
“If I weren’t engaged,” Francesca says, “I might want to find out what all the excitement’s about.”
Karl blushes redder than Lizette and scrutinizes his own lap. He doesn’t see that Lizette’s face has puckered into a tormented little cluster of features. Cara, on the other hand, not only sees, but understands.
Discreetly, she backs away from the bed and joins Lizette at the sink. Lizette moves away from her-as Cara knew she would-and ends up back at the bed.
As soon as Francesca leaves, Cara says, “If you really want to expose them, you’ll need proof.”
“That sure is helpful,” Lizette complains. “What should he do, go back in time with a tape recorder?”
“You’re going to have to wear a wire, Karl, and get them to repeat what they said.”
Lizette ridicules the idea. “This isn’t TV. Real people don’t wear wires. And even if Karl somehow got them to speak right into the microphone, I still don’t like the idea of him messing up his whole life.”
“That’s because you care about him so much,” Cara answers, smiling.
Jerked alert, suspended in the still space between two heartbeats, Karl focuses eyes and soul on Lizette.
She pretends that Cara didn’t say anything unusual or life-altering. “No, really-I just wish-I wish there were a way for Karl to duck and let them fire away at each other.”
It’s intriguing to Karl how closely this thought resembles his dream, the one with the blue and gray soldiers firing across the meadow, and him in the middle. To him, this means that their minds are connected-complementary.
Wanting to earn her respect, he works out his plan in detail: he will do as Cara says, get the proof, and then mail it to newspapers and local TV stations. Maybe he’ll give Samantha a copy, too. He always wanted to undermine the unjust powers that be; now he can do it for real. If, that is, he can get them on tape.
He admits his uncertainty to his friends. “I just don’t know if a regular person can do this sort of thing.”
Cara reassures him. “You’re not a regular person, Karl. Never were and never will be.”
Lizette adds an encouragement of her own. “I guess it’s like my daddy says: you can’t climb out of a hole without getting dirty.”
She forces herself to look him in the eye, and she’s rewarded for her courage, because, with two girls to choose from, he’s gazing into her eyes, not Cara’s.
Certain confusing questions are beginning to get answered here. Just as some chemical reactions produce heat, this rapid sorting-out produces powerful emotions- powerful enough to send Lizette’s hand over to where Karl’s foot is poking up under the sheet. What, he wonders, will it do there?
She holds his big toe through the sheet. His ecstasy is so complete that he doesn’t notice Cara leaving, even though she’s humming a song-a very familiar song, which Karl and Lizette hear as background music.
Can you guess? Can you deduce? Can you feel the love tonight?