Warrior Angel by Robert Lipsyte Read Free Book Online Page B

sure of him, that he felt clear and powerful, the Warrior Angel at the top of his game, out of reach of the Voices and the powers that changed shapes. His vision was laser sharp, he could see around bends.
    Until he lost control on a patch of loose gravel and spilled out.
    They were wearing the helmets the biker had left hanging from the handlebars, and except for bruised shoulders and hips they weren’t hurt. But it broke the spell. Suddenly they were both exhausted. They took a room in a cheap motel off the highway, bought a huge bucket of fried chicken and a six-pack of sodas, and took turns soaking in the bathtub before they fell into bed. She was asleep immediately, so he didn’t have to deal with the touching thing.
    He woke early and booted the laptop. Thank the Creator it hadn’t crashed in the crash.
    I don’t know where to go.
    Hot and cold up his spine. It was the message he had been waiting for all his life.
    The reply was the message he had been waiting all his life to send.
    Dear George Harrison Bayer,
    Meet me at the top of the stairs.
    Warrior Angel

9
    T HEY WERE YELLING in the living room of the hotel suite for a long time before Sonny woke up. He was dreaming again of Donatelli’s Gym. Alfred was leaning against the ropes, watching Sonny spar with himself. Two Sonnys in the ring, unable to slip each other’s jabs, unable to mount the combinations to knock each other out, two Sonnys staggering around the ring while Alfred shook his head.
    Sonny was sweating when he lurched out of his bedroom.
    Hubbard was yelling at Malik and kicking his legs as he scampered around the room whimpering, and Boyd was pleading with him to stop. Hubbard jabbed a thick finger at the laptop, sitting on the floor at a crazy angle. “What’s this, what’s this?”
    â€œE-mail,” wailed Malik.
    â€œI know that, you fool. Tell me how you let someone from the outside slip messages to Sonny.”
    Malik whined, “We didn’t know—”
    â€œNo we, I’m talkin’ to you.”
    â€œHow was I to know?”
    â€œWhat you supposed to do but know?” Hubbard scooped up the laptop and read, “ Dear George Harrison Bayer, Meet me at the top of the stairs. Warrior Angel. What’s this mean?”
    â€œThat was on Sonny’s private e-mail. Malik had to…” Boyd stopped when he saw Sonny.
    Hubbard looked up. “What’s this about, Sonny?”
    â€œYou reading my mail?” He tried to sound angry to cover his excitement. The path was suddenly clear.
    â€œTrying to protect you,” shouted Hubbard. He dropped the laptop on the carpet. Malik flinched. Hubbard advanced on Sonny, jabbing his finger. “Who this Warrior Angel?”
    â€œMy private mail?”
    â€œNothing private from us.”
    â€œEven his mind?” asked Dr. Gould. No one had noticed him come into the room.
    In a moment of dead silence everyone froze. Sonny almost laughed. Hubbard’s big mouth hung open like a steam shovel. Boyd and Malik were crouched at his knees.
    Finally, Hubbard said, “What you want?”
    â€œSonny and I have an appointment.”
    â€œBeen canceled. Send me your bill,” said Hubbard.
    â€œSonny?” Dr. Gould raised his eyebrows.
    This was no time to take a stand against Hubbard, Sonny thought. Fighter has to know when to attack, when to retreat, when to clinch. Alfred told me that once. Know what I’ve got to do now. Warrior Angel showed me the way.
    When Sonny shook his head, Dr. Gould pulled a business card out of a small leather case and handed it to Sonny. “If you ever want to call me…”
    â€œHe won’t.” Hubbard snatched the card out of Sonny’s hand, tore it in half, and let the two pieces flutter to the ground. “He been shrunk enough. Good-bye.”
    Dr. Gould waited a beat, looking at Sonny. When there was no response, he said, “Good luck, Sonny,” and walked