Spoonbenders

“Did they?” Smalls asked. “Perhaps. But perhaps they merely stopped performing. The question I have, naturally, is if you’ve seen any new activity. Perhaps among your cousins?”

“Like what?”

“It could be anything,” Smalls said. “The ability to move objects. Sense water moving underground. See things from far away.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Matty said. Thank God Smalls didn’t have his mother’s ability.

Agent Smalls smiled. “All I’m asking is that you keep your eyes open. Can you do that for me?”

Matty thought, Does he want me to spy on my own family?

“The threat to America didn’t end with the Cold War, Matt. Not by a long shot. The Soviet Union is dead, but the Russians still have their own psychics, don’t doubt it. How many other governments have their own operatives? How many fringe groups and terrorist organizations? Worse, how many of these bad actors are trying to recruit gifted Americans?”

Smalls delivered this line with Old Testament gravity. Or at least Old-Hollywood-Bible-Movie gravity. Matty sat back in his seat, milk forgotten.

“That would be bad,” Matty said.

“Not only that, these foreign powers might decide that they can’t afford to have us hire these people, either. They might decide to neutralize the psychic.”

“You mean, like, kill—?”

He shook his head. “I’m sure that won’t happen,” he said, in a way that suggested that was exactly what could happen. “But there are other ways to neutralize the psychic. There are devices that can simply remove those abilities.” He snapped his fingers. “Like turning off a light switch.”

Oh God, Matty thought. He’d neutralize me.

Smalls reached inside his jacket, and Matty gripped the arms of the chair. The agent’s hand came out holding a business card. “I’m on your side, Matt. I want to protect your family. I want to help them. Your grandfather doesn’t want me talking to any of you, because he thinks you’re too young to understand how important this is. Another Telemachus could step into your grandmother’s shoes. The nation would breathe a sigh of relief.”

Matty looked at the card, then put it in his jeans pocket.

“If there’s anything I can do, reach out to me,” Smalls said.

—

Matty emerged from the van with the feeling that much time had passed, though it had only been minutes. The sun shone at a more oblique angle. The trees whispered together conspiratorially. Even the milk jug seemed heavier, weighted now with hidden significance.

Cliff shook his hand again. “Great to meet you, Matty.”

“I…yeah.”

“Someday I want to tell you about something your grandmother did for me once. She took me along on one of her long-distance journeys, way beyond what I could do on my own. It was one of the most profound experiences of my life.”

“That would be great,” Matty said. Unless Destin Smalls turns me off like a light switch.

He walked home and into the house. He was sure his family would see all this new knowledge cooking his insides like radiation, but no: Grandpa Teddy barely looked up from the newspaper, while across the table from him, behind a fence of empty beer bottles, Uncle Frankie explained something about the Van Allen belt. “Sure, robots could get past the belt to the moon, but human beings?” Mom was busy at the stove. Only Uncle Buddy, chopping onions and green peppers at the counter, looked him in the eye. Matty, suddenly embarrassed, tucked the milk into the fridge. But before he could escape to his room, Mom told him to set the big table.

He was forced to ferry plates and glasses from the cupboards to the dining room, walking back and forth like a duck in a shooting gallery.

Matty went to his mother and said in a low voice, “Is Uncle Frankie staying for dinner?”

“I don’t know. Ask him.”

“Can you do it?”

Mom frowned at Matty as if to ask, What’s your problem? Then she said over her shoulder, “Frankie, you eating or not?”

“You don’t have to make more on my account,” Frankie said.

“Jesus, there’s enough pasta to go around. Yes or no?”

He sighed elaborately. “Wish I could. But Loretta and the girls are waiting.” He stood up, drained the last of his current bottle, and set it on the table.

“You’re welcome,” Grandpa Teddy said.

Frankie raised a hand in salute. “Hey, Matty, help me get something out of the van.”

Matty froze.

“Come on,” Frankie said, already in motion. “The rest of you, enjoy your fine repast. It’ll probably be mac and cheese at my house.”

Matty hesitated, then finally followed his uncle out to the driveway.

“So anything happen today?” Frankie asked.

“Nothing happened,” Matty said.

“No trips? No visits to the tavern?” He was so eager. So desperate. “We really need that combination.”

“I can’t do it,” Matty said.

“What? What’s the matter? Is your mom getting in the way?”

“No, it’s not that, I just don’t think—”

“Self-confidence. I knew it.” He put his hand on Matty’s shoulder and leaned close. “I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to doubt yourself. You just have to push through.”