Chapter 41: I Could Do This All Day
New JerseyBergen County — Westfield High School
Knock knock.
"Leonard Hofstadter?"
Adam addressed a locker in the hallway with an expression that was equal parts amused and genuinely concerned.
He'd checked out of the hotel that morning and driven to New Jersey, working through three public high schools before finding what he was looking for — specifically, a name on the academic honor board accompanied by a face he recognized immediately. Jimmy Beckman. Star of the football team, apparently, based on how people talked about him when asked.
Adam had approached a random student in the hallway and asked where Jimmy was.
The student had laughed. "Wherever Jimmy is, check the trash cans, the lockers, and the girls' locker room entrance, in that order."
Adam had checked the trash cans first, then moved to the lockers.
"In here," came a cheerful voice from inside the one he'd knocked on.
Adam blinked. Cheerful was not the tone he'd expected from someone locked in a locker.
"Your mom is a neuroscientist? Dad's a sociologist?"
"Yes, both of those things," the voice said quickly. "Could you possibly let me out first? It's a little tight in here."
"Where's the key?"
A pause. "Jimmy has it. He said he'd let me out when he was done with basketball practice." Another pause. "He's very committed to basketball."
Adam stood in the hallway for a moment, looking at the locker.
"Leonard, I'm going to go get the key. Just hang on."
"You don't have to do that," Leonard said, his voice shifting to something more careful. "Jimmy is— he's very large. Please don't get hurt on my account. I'm honestly used to this."
"I read your mom's book," Adam said.
Silence.
"You read it?"
"I did. She completely underestimated you. I came here specifically because of that." Adam paused. "Also you're going to be my friend, so this is non-negotiable."
The silence from inside the locker had a different quality this time. Processing, rather than waiting.
Leonard Hofstadter had wanted a friend for a long time. The word felt both familiar and strange when applied to an actual situation involving an actual person who had specifically sought him out.
Adam didn't wait for a response. He went to find Jimmy.
Jimmy Beckman was exactly what Adam had expected — large, confident in the way that people who have never been seriously challenged tend to be, and currently in the gym hallway with a basketball under one arm and the easy posture of someone who owned the school.
"I need the key to Leonard's locker," Adam said.
Jimmy looked at him. "Who are you?"
"Someone who needs that key."
"Yeah?" Jimmy's expression shifted into something less friendly. He stepped forward and shoved Adam hard into the row of lockers behind him.
The bang echoed down the hallway.
Inside the nearby locker, Leonard flinched.
"Adam? Are you okay?"
Adam stood up, assessed his condition with some surprise, and found it better than expected. The shove had hurt, but the pain was already fading. His endurance was sitting at 400, and apparently that had practical applications beyond just needing less sleep.
Huh, he thought. Good to know.
He looked at Jimmy.
He thought about the situation — the locker, Leonard cheerfully enduring it because he was used to it, the key in Jimmy's pocket, and the system that had given him absolutely no feedback despite everything he'd said to Leonard through the locker door.
Words weren't going to cross this particular threshold. That much was clear.
"Leonard," Adam called out, "I'm fine!"
Then he looked at Jimmy. "Give me the key. Leonard's my friend and I'm not leaving without it."
Jimmy stared at him with the expression of someone encountering a type of person he hadn't previously catalogued.
Adam, who was aware that his declaration sounded like something from a Saturday morning cartoon, also didn't particularly care. Sometimes the earnest approach was the right one. And if it also happened to be the approach most likely to get through to a thirteen-year-old kid locked in a hallway locker, then so be it.
"Adam—" Leonard's voice was different now. Something had shifted in it.
"I've got you," Adam said.
Then he punched Jimmy in the stomach.
It was a solid punch — 180 strength, concentrated, unexpected. Jimmy bent over. Adam followed up before he could recover.
What followed was not, by any reasonable standard, a clean fight. Jimmy was fourteen, not fully grown, but still significantly larger and operating on pure territorial instinct. He grabbed Adam and put him on the floor twice. Adam got up both times. The hallway floor was not comfortable. Adam noted this academically while getting back to his feet.
The thing that shifted the dynamic was the endurance.
Jimmy kept hitting him. Adam kept getting up, and his punches kept landing with the same force they had at the beginning. The pain was real but it wasn't accumulating the way Jimmy expected it to. After a certain number of exchanges, Jimmy's expression changed from angry to something more like unsettled.
"I could do this all day," Adam said, with a bloody lip and what he hoped was a credible grin. "Genuinely. I have nowhere to be."
Jimmy looked at him for a long moment.
Then he pulled the key from his pocket and threw it on the floor.
"You're both pathetic," he said, with much less conviction than he'd started with, and walked away.
"If I see you bother Leonard again, I'll find you," Adam called after him.
He picked up the key, checked his reflection in the scratched surface of the nearest locker, decided the current state of his face conveyed appropriate dramatic gravity, and unlocked Leonard's locker.
Leonard Hofstadter stepped out, blinking, took in Adam's condition, and stared at him.
"You fought Jimmy Beckman."
"Little bit," Adam agreed.
"For me."
"You're my friend," Adam said. "It's not complicated."
Leonard looked at him with an expression that was trying very hard not to be overwhelmed and not entirely succeeding.
"Adam."
"Leonard."
Ding!
Intelligence +3
Ding!
Strength +20
End of Chapter 41
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