The Fallen Prince

“Get your kung-fu ass away from him,” Leo shouts and pushes Wyatt back.

Pain is a funny thing. Usually I would recommend avoiding it, but suddenly my head is a lot clearer. I pop back to my feet, gritting my teeth and babying my leg. It hurts so badly, I want to laugh/cry in that way your funny bone isn’t so funny, but is.

Wyatt points to Leo. “My ass is pure Brazilian jujitsu. Get your facts straight.” He then shoves a long finger at me. “Can you limp now?”

I glare at GI Jerk. “Yeah.”

Leo steps between us, using his height and smooth voice to instill a sense of calm. “Words are what separates us from other bipeds, bro. You could’ve asked him to limp.”

“Now he doesn’t have to fake it.” He pushes Leo beside me. “Help him.” He stares at me. “And for the love of God, try to look like you’ve just escaped with your life.”

Wyatt rushes out the door and we follow, though a lot slower thanks to him.

“Okay,” I say, my mind trying to catch up to what’s happening, “so I’m in trouble?”

“You and Wyatt are arsonists. Or terrorists have decided to wipe out Oregon. That rumor sent Mrs. Hess to the hospital with chest pains.”

I groan. This is Grandpa’s worst nightmare. He worried I’d start something, and now I have.

“I can kind of see why Wyatt’s in a huff,” Leo continues. “It’s a bigger problem for him. He can be charged as an adult if we can’t play this off as an accident.”

“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to blow up the barn.”

“There is no rational explanation for what happened, at least not in this world. Spontaneous human combustion happens, but there are a lot of extenuating circumstances around the phenomenon. Most of it involves large quantities of alcohol and a cigarette.”

When we enter the living room, I whisper to Leo, “I’ve got something to tell you.”

“What?” he whispers back.

Just then, Kera turns from her post by the window and gasps at my appearance.

I can’t tell him about my dad now. The dream is all jumbled in my head. I need time and quiet to think it through. “Later, when we’re alone.”

“Great. Another secret. I’m not a priest, you know.”

Kera rushes to my side, tucking herself under my other arm, and glares at Leo. “What happened? He was fine the last time I saw him.”

It feels like forever since I’ve seen Kera. I stroke her cheek and kiss her temple. “Where have you been?”

She narrows accusing eyes at Leo. “You said you’d watch him.”

Leo hushes her. “Wyatt thought it would be better to present a more beat-up version of Dylan. Authentic, huh?”

“I am nothing if not thorough when it comes to deception.” Wyatt stops at the front door and grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Listen up, kid. I know your head’s spinning, but all you need to know is that you and I aren’t popular right now. When we get out there, don’t do anything. Don’t say anything. Hell, don’t even breathe too loudly. Got it? Now let’s make this convincing.”

I sigh. “I’m taking the fall, aren’t I?”

“Hell yeah you are. It is your fault.” He inspects me, eyeing his handiwork, and leans close. “Cough.”

The last thing I need is him punching me in my gut to get the response he wants, so I immediately put my fist to my mouth and cough.

Satisfied, he pushes the front door open and we step outside. “Here he is. Singed but alive.”

Grandma and Grandpa turn around, and the front yard crowd peers up at me. Grumbles and gasps roll through them. I cough and wince, giving Wyatt all the support I can.

Ed Tanner, a neighbor with a complaint or a doomsday theory to share every other week, steps forward and points at me. “And there’s the proof. Ever since that boy showed up, we’ve had nothing but problems. Pop is dead. Jason Delgato is missing and now this.”

Wyatt takes a threatening step forward. “Dylan was in the barn with me working out.”

“Working on mischief is more like it.”

A rumble tumbles through the crowd.

Grandpa shakes his head and moves down a step, holding out his hand for silence. “How many times do we have to say it, Ed? The boys smelled gas and got out of there. Dylan was the last to leave before it blew. We’re lucky he’s alive.”

“I’m telling you, Tanner Utilities checked that line last week. I did it myself, and it was tighter than a rusted bolt on a tractor.”

“Liar.” The word is hidden in a cough that bursts from the crowd. Tanner turns and points a shaking finger at the group. “Who said that?”

“This about saving your sorry reputation, ain’t it?” a man growls, stepping forward.

“That’s Mr. Cavanaugh, Wyatt’s dad,” Leo whispers out of the side of his mouth.

I would have guessed. They have the same coloring and square jaw. That jaw slides out at a stubborn angle. “Accusing someone of arson is serious. That boy is no more an arsonist than Wyatt.”

Tanner blusters for a second. “I caught your boy that time with your lighter and—”

“I was eight,” Wyatt says, the insult deepening the color in his cheeks.

“Think about what you’re saying.” Mr. Cavanaugh takes a step toward Mr. Tanner. “You telling me my boy came home on military leave solely to light up my barn with some punk kid too dumb to know when to run? That’s plain stupid even for you to believe.”

Mr. Tanner doesn’t bother listening. He turns to Grandpa and grumbles loudly, “Newman, it looks like you’re having trouble doing your job. Let me tell you what I think. Jason Delgato and your grandson get their jollies out of starting a fire. It gets out of hand. That old sheepherder comes on them and the boys beat him up good, but not before Pop gets in a good shot to your boy, there. They both go down. Jason skedaddles, leaving them to die. Pop does, Dylan recovers, but he hasn’t learned his lesson. What stupid-ass kid does? Back to his old firebug ways, someone recruits him to facilitate an accident and he helps them blow up the barn. Now everyone is looking at me like I’m the bad guy. How’s that for a theory? Looks plausible from where I’m standing.”

Grandpa has nerves of steel and stares down Mr. Tanner. “Speculate all you want, Ed. I deal with facts.”

“Then do your job,” the little man hisses. “I want a real investigation. I suspect Wyatt and that boy of burning down John’s barn so John can collect on the insurance. Times are tough, and I seen it happen a million times.”

The crowd moves restlessly, and many shake their heads while a few seem to take what Tanner says seriously.

“No, sir.” John Cavanaugh rips off his baseball cap and slams it on the ground. “You did not just say that.”

Wyatt and Grandpa bound down the steps and put themselves between the two men. It’s starting to look like there’s going to be a smackdown in the woods. Both men are turning beet red. Even my heart begins to pound at the possibility. I was told to stand here and act pathetic, but this is getting out of hand.

“I smell a cover-up,” Mr. Tanner yells over Grandpa’s shoulder at Mr. Cavanaugh.

He’s right about that, and it makes me squirm with guilt.

“Ed,” Grandpa says, his tone pushing closer to aggravation as he holds the older man back. “I was there.”

“You have connections to both parties, which will pollute the investigation. One more reason why we need to bring in someone else. A specialty unit. Like a bomb squad or an arson team or the FBI.”

The crowd focuses in on the men, and Kera moves restlessly at my side. “They’re very angry. Should we do something?”

“Nah,” Leo says with a smile. “Mr. Tanner goes off like this all the time. It’s better than going to the movies.” Leo nudges me. “I bet you ten bucks Wyatt’s dad messes that little man up.”