He came home with his share of scrapes and bruises but nothing we could pin on a single bully. I cornered Betts in the spring when she was in sixth grade and Brian was in second. Brian had come home with a bruise on his right cheek and said he got it playing football on the playground. Football! He was still the smallest in his class and I wasn’t sure he could lift a football much less play the game.“Betts, do you watch out for Brian at school?” I asked. “What was he doing playing football.”“Um ... He’s okay. Jessica says.”“Exactly what does that mean?”“He was playing with some first graders and they were too close to the sports field where the older boys were playing touch football. It was just a stray pass and a boy got pushed into him. Jessica says it won’t happen again,” Betts said.“And how would Jessica know this?” Betts shrugged and went out to brush and saddle her show horse, Paprika. She’d pretty much abandoned Silk and Brian adopted her. Unfortunately, Brian was still too. “Bobby, put the shaker back where I got it.”The salt lifted, sailed across the room, and settled gently on the bar.“Fuck me to tears,” said Eric. His eyes looked a little wild.“Now you can touch him, but don’t try to hurt him. Just put your arms around him so you know there’s no trick going on.”Bobby stood up and Gator enveloped him in strong arms.The salt shaker lifted, but Eric said, “No. Not the salt. Bring me the Crown Royal.”“Which one is that?” asked Bobby.“Top row, third from the left,” said Eric. “Squatty little bottle.”The bottle lifted, and gracefully drifted to the table, landing right where the salt had been.“You want me to get you a glass, too?” asked Bobby. “I’ve never poured anything, but I could try.”Eric let go of him and sat down. He looked flustered.“I see why they’re so excited.”“No, you don’t,” I said. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg.”“Show me more,” he said.“If we do, you’ll be in over your head,” I warned.“What’s the worst thing he’s done?”I didn’t.
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