Chương 17: Learning New Things

Orion and I sat at a table in the middle of his secret lab, aka the abandoned classroom on the third floor where he ditches class to play with his gadgets. There were no wires and circuit boards out today however. The room was pretty bare except for a stack of lined paper and a copy of "The Grapes of Wrath". Tutoring sessions with Orion weren't the worst things in the world. It was kind of nice to talk about something I was knowledgeable in and he was a pretty willing student.

It wasn't like in class where the kids were either giving out the rote SparkNotes answers or none at all because the only thing they'd ever read about the book was the title. You could tell however that literary metaphor for him was the same as rocket science to everyone else.

"All I know is that I get to the scene where they're all in a barn and there's a starving man and his son and then… Sharon just… opens the top of her dress and starts… nursing …them. And the book ends, just like that. And you're trying to tell me that there is some kind of message to this?" His face was pale, blue eyes wide behind his glasses- like he'd seen things that he'd never be able to forget, but he was going to try to from the safety of a psych ward.

"Yes, it's an allegory for giving nourishment to those in desperate need." I began ticking off my fingers.

"Finding hope in the face of grief, extending generosity beyond your own family- to the whole human race. There's even a Madonna and Infant symbolic image in there." He flopped the book onto the table as if it would burn him if he touched it.

"I think Steinbeck had issues and dark secrets but hey, put it in a novel and it somehow becomes social commentary." I shrugged.

"That's probably an angle that your teacher has never heard before and it will be interesting to see what her reaction will be. I don't think it will get you an A grade, however." Orion groaned, dark head falling into his hands.

"You know what's nice about making things? A bolt is always a bolt and a screwdriver is a screwdriver and when I've put something together, it's not some hidden message about politics or socialism or whatever, it just helps people in their actual lives! If Steinbeck wanted to help migrants so much, he should have done it in real life." My lips turned up and I squinted at him.

"You clearly don't agree with the phrase 'the pen is mightier than the sword', huh?" He got up from the desk and began to gesticulate wildly.

"A pen with the kind of weapons that I could create given enough funding? Yes. A pen that only writes letters? No." I leaned back in my chair as he wandered around the room.

"Well, that's another different opinion that has probably not come across Mrs. Carter's desk so maybe she'll give you bonus points just for that. I have this theory that teachers will pretty much give anything different a good grade as long as it doesn't sound like the student was high when they wrote it." He came back to the desk and sat down again "That's the problem with this class. There are no right answers, just pretentious arguments written in essay format.

Give me math where A squared plus B squared always equals C squared, or chemistry where reactions are consistent and measurable." I shrugged my shoulders.

"There may not be right and wrong answers, but there's good and bad arguments. It's closer to science than math. You create a theory and then prove it. Your theory is that Steinbeck is a pervert. All you have to do now is prove it." I leaned towards him.

"That pen is a weapon, you just need to learn how to use it." He sighed, starting to write down the beginning of his essay.

"Speaking of weapons, how is the taser holding up?" It took me a moment to figure out what he meant.

"Oh yeah! Works great." He looked up at me.

"You used it?" Oops. I shook my head quickly.

"Not- no, not like with an attacker or anything. I just mean I pressed the button- while in my room- and you know, it was sparking and everything so it seems like it was… good." No need to detail how I took down a two-hundred and fifty pound rhino with it. And a deeply-voiced fourteen year old boy. Orion nodded, looking to the side.

"And the smoke bomb?" I scratched my head.

"Yeah, no, I keep forgetting to use it." He stared at me.

"I mean I keep forgetting to bring it with me… when I walk to work. Guess I'm just… really confident that I'll be able to shock people into submission if they try to hurt me." He looked down again, writing for a minute in silence.

"It's not as easy as you might think." My eyebrows raised, chin resting on my hand.

"Have you used it before?" Orion's eyes stayed on his paper as he continued to write.

"It would be pretty stupid of me to give away weapons if I didn't know they worked." He'd better tell me he had Brandon Meat Tower locked up in his basement for his fiendish testing, because if I learned he used that shock baton on animals, I was going to turn his own weapon against him.

"Well, I mean, what- or who- are you testing them on?" He rolled his eyes.

"I have five cousins. All obsessed with fighting, all insistent that they needed to use me for practice. I eventually got my revenge." I nodded my head slowly.

"So you electrocuted them until they peed their pants?" Possible Sadist pointed a finger.

"Only once I got the final mechanics right. Before that it was just a mild tickling sensation and believe me, I got punched in the face for it." Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

"Ah, so that's why you became obsessed with making weapons. To get back at your Neanderthal cousins?" He wrote a whole paragraph before answering.

"Partly."

"Well, I'd say I'm sorry but as someone without any siblings or cousins, I'm kind of jealous. Without them to beat you up, you have to rely on the world to do it which is not nearly as fun."

"You live with your grandmother, right?" Everybody knew my story. Weirdo girl without powers, lost her parents, and now resides with her crotchety old grandma.

"Yep. I have an uncle too, but he lives across the country. You don't have any siblings?" The pencil kept moving and his head stayed down. When he answered, it was in a low voice.

"I used to." My shoulders shrank a little and I looked down. I'd only become aware of Orion and his group of Trekkies and Techies since a few months ago. There had been a rumor going around school that someone's brother had died earlier in the year, but I'd never connected the dots that it was Orion. I was never sure what to say or do in situations like this. I'd never been good at consoling others because, well, they've never really consoled me.

And to be honest, if I'd lost a family member recently- a sibling no less- I doubt an "I'm sorry" from a stranger would make me feel much better. Orion continued to write silently for a while and I took that as a request to change the subject. I got up and walked around the table to look over his shoulder.

"Your argument is strong, young Jedi, but you'll have a hard time finding evidence to support Steinbeck's obsession with mammaries being the motive behind the ending." He turned around and looked me in the eye.

"How are you so sure it means something more? How do you know he wasn't just some guy that threw it into the end of his book because he was into it?"

"Because he was gay." Orion blinked a few times, dropped his pencil, then took his paper in his hands as if he were going to crumple it, so I plunked a hand down.

"Just kidding. That was Oscar Wilde. Steinbeck got married three times and had tons of affairs, so you might be right about him having an obsession." He looked up at me for a long pause with a blank expression on his face.

"You couldn't have just told me that?" I held up my hands.

"Hey, I am your teacher, this is my class, and yes, I will give out pop quizzes whenever I deem necessary. It's not my fault you failed." He sighed, and went back to his essay, the pencil scratching away the only sound in the room.

"Well, any new weapons of mass construction?" I asked. His hand paused on the page.

"I'm always working on something."

"Any chance I could get a sneak peek at some of your new gizmos?" You never knew when you might need something new, something that might be exactly what could save me in the right moment. I could always offer more tutelage in exchange. Reading what I could of his essay, he needed it. Orion looked up from his writing to stare at me.

"Did you just use the word gizmo? What are you eighty-seven?" My eyebrows raised in defense.

"My Gran says gizmo all the time, so yeah, that makes it cool." He shook his head.

"I'm sure your Gran Gran is great, but it's normal for her to talk that way. Calling remotes 'clickers' and talking to the TV, that's an old people thing. So that makes me question if you're not some old lady trapped in a sixteen year old's body." This was serious business now.

"Ok, first of all," I planted my palms onto the table in front of me.

"Nobody calls my grandma Gran Gran but me. Secondly, she raised me old school so I'm practically a product of ye olde 1990s. That doesn't make me an old lady, I'm just … linguistically vintage." His eyes squinted at his paper and he tapped his pencil against his jaw.

"You know, that's exactly what an old lady in a teenager's body would say. Is this some kind of vampire thing or like a Highlander situation?" How did Orion know about Highlander? No one did, because no one ever watched it even when it was in theaters. Except for pot-smoking ex-boyfriends, says Gran.

"Neither. There's a painting in my attic of a hideous old lady. It terrifies me so I keep it locked up." He stopped writing altogether.

"Umm … you lost me. Do vampires have special paintings?" Robot: 0 Cass: 1"You know what, Orion? I'm not mad that you have no idea about Oscar Wilde's one and only masterpiece of a gothic novel. I'm just disappointed."

"My grandma used to say that to me all the time." One day, I would freeze time and do terrible things to this boy.

"Shut up and show me your cool gadgets." He started shuffling his papers, lifting and tapping the group on the desk until they were neat and orderly.

"Ok ok, don't get your granny panties in a twist. I'm working on something over in that cabinet. I'll show you." Orion hopped off the stool and shoved his B- essay into his bag before striding over to the large cabinet in the corner. I followed after, standing with my arms folded across my chest. He opened the doors to reveal… almost nothing. All of the piles of wires and metal bolts, the red buttons and digital screens, the graveyard where C3POs go to die- it was all gone.

The shelves were beige and empty except for one item in the middle. Orion took it out with both hands and held it up for me to see.

"A drone?"

"Yep."

"Is this the same one you had before when I first asked for your help?"

"Yep." I gestured to the empty cabinet.

"Where did all the cool stuff go?" He shook his head.

"It's really not responsible to have those kinds of things on school grounds. They could easily get into the wrong hands and I don't want that on my conscience." I nodded slowly.

"Okay, you're right. But wasn't that a consideration earlier?" He put the drone back on the shelf, then closed the cabinet doors, locking them.

"It was, but I didn't realize how it would feel until I finally gave them out." He stared at me pointedly. I raised up my hands.

"If you want me to swear an oath of using them only in defense, I will. I can assure you, I have no plans for world domination until the zero-calorie donut is perfected." He glanced at me.

"Pretty sure you don't need to lose weight." I shrugged.

"I'm doing it for mankind." Orion started walking to the desk, slinging his backpack over a shoulder.

"Well, except for your insults, you seem pretty harmless to me. That's why I'm trusting you." I sighed, looking down at my sneakers.

"Yep, nothing dangerous about being a zero." He opened the door and I followed after him.

"Well, you won't have to worry about being reported now, will you?"