I FOUND BUTT IN the parking lot. "Let's go," I said. He got in his van and opened the passenger door. I climbed in. "It's all happening. You understand? They took Relly as a hostage. They want me. We've got to fight back, rescue him."
Butt nodded. "So where are we going?"
"You understand what's going on, right?" I'd never actually talked with Butt about who and what we were. "Knacke's grabbed Relly for a hostage. They want me to join their tetrad." He nodded again. I guess Relly had explained it all to him. Or maybe Butt wasn't as dimwitted as he acted.
"How long have you known?" I asked. "I mean about being—"
"The god of dirt?" He smiled, kind of sheepish. "When I was a little kid they couldn't keep me out of the mud. One time I filled the bathtub with dirt when nobody was home. I turned it into mud and played in it for hours. They beat me, I mean bad. Mr. Belt came out and I was crying all night. Still, I kept going back."
He put the key in the slot and twisted it to make his motor roar to life. "I was nine when I got my first drums. That was all it took. I could drub them hard as my old man beat me. Harder. I could put all that hate into my hands and pound the skins and it felt better than anything in the world."
"That's why you joined Relly?"
"Blam!" he said, punching his fists into the air. "I just want to make the biggest noise in the whole world. I want to hit and hit hard."
"What about the—"
"Relly told me about tetrads and elements and stuff. I get it, I guess. Or maybe I'm too stupid to really—"
"You're not stupid."
"OK, sure. I'm not stupid. The point is, I don't care much about Relly's weird stuff. All I know is he plays like nobody I've ever heard. And when the four of us are together it's amazing, like we're breaking on through."
I got what he meant, even if I wouldn't have put it that way.
"Something opens up. A door, a window. I don't know. Jerod gets it, too. Only, all he cares about is looking good and having people rave about him." Butt started the motor. The whole van rattled and throbbed.
We pulled out and edged past a fire truck. Hundreds of kids were milling around, talking, huddling, trying to keep warm.
"Where we going?" Butt said.
"Knacke's house," I told him. "I looked him up in the phone book. He lives out by the airport. Just the other side of the canal."