“You’re sure that’s the name?” Data asked. “Pretty sure,” said Travis. “Frances A-see-see, or something like that. She didn’t spell it out for us.”
Data had been fiddling with his tablet. He was supposed to be looking for a new invention for Nish, but Travis had interrupted his research.
Later in the morning, the Owls would be heading for the rink and Game 3 of the Paul Revere Peewee Invitational, but right now Travis wanted to know what was up with this strange woman who seemed to have put a spell on Sam.
Data was taking quite a long time, his fingers dancing as he jumped from one website to the next.
“Very, very strange,” Data finally said.
“What? What have you found?”
“There are a couple of news stories here concerning a ‘Frances Assisi,’ who was arrested for throwing paint over fur coats at a fashion show.”
Data began reading. “Isobel Twining, a.k.a. Frances Assisi, forty-three, was detained and later released by Boston police …”
“What’s a.k.a.?”
Data looked at Travis as if he couldn’t believe he wouldn’t know. “It means ‘also known as.’ It means Frances Assisi isn’t her real name – she’s really Isobel Twining.”
“Why would she do that?” Travis asked. “Such a strange name.”
Data’s fingers moved over the tablet and a new website popped up.
“I think this is your answer,” he said, spinning the tablet so Travis could see.
It was an encyclopedia entry on St. Francis of Assisi. St. Francis was born in 1181 or 1182 and died in 1226 – nearly 800 years ago. He was Italian, and his real name was Giovanni di Pietro di Bernardone. His “a.k.a.,” Travis noted, was Francesco, or Francis – and Data pointed out that “Frances,” with an e, was the feminine version of the name. St. Francis had been a Catholic preacher and was renowned for his love of all creatures. A couple of years after his death he was named a saint and was still known as the patron saint of animals.
Travis nodded. Now he understood.
He read more on the patron saint of animals. He found that the real Francis Assisi claimed to have seen visions and was the first person known to have the signs of the crucifixion appear on his hands and feet – signs taken at the time to be nothing short of a holy miracle.
So, Travis thought, that would explain the tattoo in the palm of the woman’s hand. He didn’t need to see the other palm or her feet to know what he might find there. This was getting really weird.
“Do you think she’s crazy?” Travis asked Data.
“I have no idea,” said Data. “You met her, not me. But obviously Sam doesn’t think she’s crazy. And they aren’t the only two people in the world who believe you shouldn’t eat animals. There are millions who hold that view. So it’s pretty hard to call her crazy based on a fake name.”
Travis couldn’t argue with Data’s logic.
“Don’t you have a game to get ready for?” Data asked.
Travis snapped out of his confused thoughts. A game, yes, they had a game to play. That’s why the Screech Owls were in Boston, after all.
“Thanks for this,” Travis said. “See you at the rink.”
“Get your head back in the game, too,” Data said. “Okay?”
Travis nodded. “I will.”