The Song of David

“I told her she was like a sumo wrestler,” Henry said softly.

“You said that to her?” I yelped. “Ah, Henry. Don’t tell me you said that to her.” It was all I could do not to laugh. I covered my mouth so Henry wouldn’t see my lips twitching.

Henry looked crushed. “Sumo wrestlers are heroes in Japan,” he insisted.

“Henry,” I groaned. “Do you like this girl?”

Henry nodded.

“Cool. Why?”

“Sumo wrestlers are powerful,” Henry said.

“Henry, come on, man. You don’t like her because she’s powerful,” I insisted.

Henry looked confused.

“Wait. You do?” Now I was confused.

“The average sumo wrestler weighs over 400 pounds. They are huge.”

“But she’s not huge, is she?”

“No. Not huge.”

“Does she look like a sumo wrestler?” I asked.

Henry shook his head.

“No. But she’s big . . . maybe bigger than other girls?”

Henry nodded. Okay now we were getting somewhere.

“So she punched you when you told her she reminded you of a sumo wrestler.”

Another nod.

“She blacked your cheekbone and split your lip.”

Henry nodded again and smiled slightly, as if he was almost proud of her.

“Why did you say that, Henry? She obviously didn’t like it.” I couldn’t think of a girl who would.

Henry gritted his jaw and fisted his hands in his hair, obviously frustrated.

“Sumo wrestlers are awesome!” he cried.

“Hey man, I get it. Talking to girls is hard. I said all kinds of stupid things the first time I walked Millie home. Luckily she didn’t punch me.”

“Amelie isn’t a fighter!” Henry said, and laughed a little, releasing his hair and taking a deep breath.

“You’re wrong about that, buddy. She’s a fighter. She’s just a different kind of fighter.”

We were both quiet for a minute, mulling that over.

“I l-l-like her,” Henry stuttered sadly, as if such a simple statement was so much harder than spitting out trivia. And maybe it was.

“Because she’s powerful,” I repeated, hoping he’d give me something more.

“Yes.”

“And has she been nice to you? Before she hit you in the face, I mean.”

“Yes.” Henry nodded vigorously. “Like a bodyguard.”

“She looks out for you?”

Henry nodded again.

I felt light-headed with relief and I started to laugh. “So nobody, no giants, no jocks, nobody is pushing you around?”

Henry shook his head slowly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I messed up.”

“And I’m going to help you fix it, man,” I said suddenly, shifting my truck into drive and pulling away from the curb.

Henry pulled on his seatbelt as if he were about to go for a wild ride.

I slid into the parking lot in the front of the school, turned off the ignition and climbed out. Henry was staring at me, his eyes huge.

“Let’s go, Henry. I’ll help you smooth it over with your friend. Come on!”

Henry walked beside me, holding onto the straps of his back-pack like he was getting ready to parachute from a plane. His face was grim.

“You can do this, Henry,” I encouraged. He nodded once, but his eyes stayed forward. A few people stared, but the hallways were thick with kids, and, for the most part, the only heads that turned were of the female variety. I would have felt flattered, except everybody looked like they were about fourteen, especially the guys. It was weird. I thought I was such a badass in high school. I thought I was a man. These kids looked like they still secretly sucked their thumbs.

Henry stopped suddenly, and I laid a hand on his shoulder. He was shaking so hard he was vibrating. He pointed toward a girl standing alone next to a row of red lockers.

“Is that her?” I asked.

Henry nodded, still staring. I choked, swallowing my laughter. She wasn’t huge at all. But she was Japanese.

She was short and softly rounded, maybe a little bit chubby, but most of her weight was in her chest, which told me a lot about where Henry’s attention had been. Henry continued toward her and then stopped next to her, his eyes darting between the lockers beside her head and my face. He looked desperate.

The Japanese girl stared at me and raised one eyebrow expectantly. She had a row of loops through that eyebrow, a tiny diamond in her nose, and two rings through her bottom lip. Her ears were practically bedazzled.

“I’m Tag Taggert.” I stuck out my hand and gave her a smile of dimpled sincerity. It was my money grin.

“Ayumi Nagahara,” she answered, extending her small hand. I almost laughed. Her voice was impossibly sweet and high.

I gave her hand a brisk shake and released it. Then I folded my arms and got serious. “Henry likes you. He thinks you’re amazing. He’s told me all about you.” Both eyebrows shot up, and I had a feeling it had more to do with Henry confiding in me than the fact that he liked her.