Нил Шустерман - The Eyes Of Kid Midas

He suddenly understood.

Kevin coughed out his wind, and no amount of rapid breathing could bring it back.

"Excuse us, Nicole." He grabbed Josh by the shirt and pulled him out into the hallway, still unable to catch his breath.

"Talk to me, Kev," said Josh. "Don't just stand there like a fish gulping air." Kevin grabbed Josh by the shoulders and looked him right in the eye. "Josh, how tall was Nicole yesterday?"

"She was normal, Kevin. You remember what normal is, don't you? About three inches taller than you!"

"Okay," said Kevin. "Now close your eyes and try to remember that. Try to remember the last time you saw her looking 'normal.'"

Josh closed his eyes, and after a few moments, his eyebrows wrinkled and knotted. "I can't," said Josh. "I can't picture it."

"Okay," said Kevin. "Now tell me what happened to Bertram."

Josh took a step away from Kevin. He rubbed his arms, as if he were cold. "You sent him to the land down under."

"And what did Bertram look like?"

Josh thought for a moment, and his eyebrows knotted up again.

"Well . . . he had braces...."

"What else?"

Josh stammered a bit.

"What else?"

"Give me a minute...."

"What about his hair, his eyes, how tall was he?"

"I DONT KNOW! I can't remember, so just shut up about it, okay?"

Josh looked terrified, and Kevin knew why. It was as if someone had yanked something out of their heads. It was like that old trick of pulling a tablecloth out from underneath a perfectly set table. Everything looked fine, but something was missing.

Josh couldn't remember, and neither could Kevin. If he tried really hard, he could remember Bertram's voice, or part of his face, or the smell of his gum, but the memories were fading, becoming harder and harder to find.

"What did you do, Kevin? My God, what did you do?"

"I think...," said Kevin, "I think I've changed the rules, somehow."

Josh scowled at him, trying to understand.

"It's like . . . you know, when you're dreaming; first you're in your house, then suddenly you're at school, then suddenly you're at the mall in your underwear, but no one notices—not even you—because while you're dreaming, you don't notice when things don't make sense. You don't notice when the rules change, you know?"

Josh's lips started to quiver. He was breathing fast, too, and Kevin knew that he was beginning to understand.

Kevin slipped the glasses out of his pocket and put them on. His whole body surged with warmth.

"See, Josh, if I were to say something like 'two plus two equals three,' suddenly it would be true, and no one would know any better."

Josh reached out and plucked the glasses from Kevin's face. They made a suction sound as they came off, like a snail being pulled off a window.

"When I first got the glasses, Josh, they just made things—but now that I've had practice, and gotten better at it, the glasses are doing even more. Now the glasses are re-making the rules. They're re-imagining the universe!"

They both glanced into Kevin's bedroom, where Nicole was bouncing on an eraser as if it were a miniature trampoline.

"So no one's going to notice anything strange about Nicole being six inches tall?" asked Josh.

"No one . . . they'll just look right past it, and not give it a second thought, like it's normal . . . and it's the same with Bertram. Pretty soon, Bertram's going to be completely gone. No one will remember he ever existed—not even his own parents.... Nobody but you and me."

"Why me?" asked Josh. "If you're the one changing the rules, how come I know something's wrong?" But Josh answered his own question. "It's because I was there with you when you found the glasses, isn't it?"

Kevin nodded. "We're in this together."

Josh looked at the glasses, which were still in his hands. Kevin's tone changed. "I'd like them back, please," said Kevin.

Josh's grip tightened on the lenses. "Maybe I should keep them for you . . . so there's no more trouble."

Kevin reached out a hand, and his fingers closed around the glasses as well.

"Let go, Josh."

They stood there, facing off—neither of them letting go.

"Jump ball," said Josh, with a nervous chuckle.

"Let go, Josh."

There was something in Kevin's voice—something so commanding that Josh couldn't fight it. Josh let go, and his shoulders sagged. Kevin shoved the glasses back into his shirt pocket, and Josh rubbed his hands on his pants, as if trying to wipe off invisible blood. "I'm an accessory," said Josh, with bitter resignation. "An accessory to the crime."

Kevin saw Nicole to the door. He offered to walk her home, but she wouldn't allow it.

"I'm fine by myself," said Nicole. "Cats are stupid, anyway."

As she stood on his palm, before Kevin let her down to the ground, she took a long look at him.

"You know," said Nicole, "you should have waited."

"Huh?"

"You should have waited before you kissed me. It was a really dumb thing to do. You should have waited till we were, like, going out or something."

Kevin set her gently down on the sidewalk. "But you'd never go out with me."

Nicole shrugged. "You never asked me." Then she turned and began the long, long walk back to her house four blocks away.

Kevin told himself he wouldn't use them again. No matter how miserable he felt without the glasses on his face, he swore he'd stop once and for all.

Yet as he lay in bed that night, thoughts of the glasses pushed everything else out of his aching head. He knew where they were, so close, sitting there in his shirt pocket, hung on the back of his desk chair.

It wouldn't hurt just to look at them, thought Kevin, and so he heaved his cold, shaking body out of bed, took the glasses from his shirt, and set them open on his desk.

About a foot away from the wall outlet.

The glasses had already drained the heat from the room, but it wasn't enough. They sat there spent and powerless, just like Kevin, in a room that had become as cold as winter. Now the blade of the lenses was a dull, foggy gray, like cheap plastic that had been washed too many times.

In a moment, an arc of blue electricity bridged the cold air between the glasses and the outlet. It looked like one of those mad scientific devices in old monster movies.

Kevin slipped under his blankets and watched. It wouldn't hurt to let the glasses charge up just a little, he thought. Only they didn't charge just a little, they charged a lot. For half an hour Kevin watched and listened to the gently crackling electrical hum while everyone else slept.

Soon the glasses looked perfect again. The smooth visor blade was sharp and shiny—as perfect and pure as a diamond. They sat there, waiting patiently for Kevin.

Now Kevin longed more than ever to have the cold and the emptiness he felt chased away by the glasses.

If I wore them for just a second, it couldn't hurt, he thought. Could he bear that? Wearing them for just a second? Of course he could. Then he could put them back in his shirt pocket. That's what he'd do.

He reached out, crooked his finger, and grabbed the glasses, just as he had the first time, when he had seen them on the mountain. He slipped them on his face.

Instantly the icy night rolled over into a thick, warm quilt for Kevin to wrap himself in, protecting him from anything hidden in the shadows.

He stretched and let the warmth relay down his spinal column until it pulsed in his fingers and toes.

How good it was to feel so warm, so safe, and so comfortable. How could he ever want to feel differently?

Still wearing the glasses, Kevin felt sleep begin to pull him down with caressing hands. He gave no resistance.