Hey folks! Tis moi, Selene. Before you begin, I'll give a word of warning; this is, what I like to call, "Gadd-centric." If you know your suffixes, you'll know what that means. But this story also contains about three OCs, one of who is not mine, all of who are related to Professor E. Gadd. If you really want to know about his relatives further, I suggest you look at their profiles on my DeviantArt page.
Now, remember, he's only eight here, so I haven't really included a whole lot of references from his older years. Just lettin' ya know.
Ahem. Let us commence the readage of the one who is Gadd who I be crazy about!
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Rolling green hills spread in all directions from the family estate, dotted by trees, and some ways away, a large drooping willow tree. Behind the estate the fishpond resided, the large koi-fish within swimming unaware of the world outside the glassy surface. Hugging the faux-marble columned mansion was a fence of skinny trees to shield the occupants from any wind that could possibly spoil the occasion.
In the driveway before the façade of the mansion, fidgeting angrily in his seat, his legs hanging out of the open car door, a little boy of eight or so sat annoyed, as his mother kneeled before him to clean his supposedly dirty face. He leaned away, disgusted, as she licked her thumb to rub his forehead.
"Eww, mom! No!"
"Elvin, please, you've got a little spot on your head, now let me clean it for you."
She grabbed his head, tenderly as a mother does, yet firm enough to make her point, and touched that spit-moistened thumb to his head, rubbing it diligently. Elvin grimaced and wrinkled his nose.
Her duties finished, she reached for the navy blue cap on the car seat and placed it delicately upon his head, leaning back to admire her handiwork. Dressing little boys could be daunting, yet she had accomplished the impossible.
He crossed his arms with all malicious intent and hunched himself, trying with all his might to convey to his mother that he, in fact, did not like what she had so forcefully dressed him in, and did not want to be there.
Certainly a subtle boy, eh?
His mother was sadly ignorant to such foreign concepts and her smile didn't help that matter. Truthfully he felt like kicking her for taking such amusement in his displeasure, and running like all Hell had been loosed, back home. She wasn't really reveling in his pain -- she was a mother, how could she? -- but he took it as such. She just didn't understand the complicated laws and clauses of childhood; no adult could.
She grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the sight of his father as the lad continued pouting fiercely.
"Lookit our little man. Doesn't he look handsome?" Elvin scowled harder to only contradict her point further.
"Ey, sport! Just lookitchya! Why, one day all the ladies'll be clamoring for a guy like you!" his father said, closing the door of a car that looked strikingly similar to a 1920's Chevy Coupe.
Ew, girl-cooties.
Elvin only narrowed his eyes. His father was just as oblivious as his mother.
"Now, why don't we head inside, and say hi to everyone, and show off your charming clothes!" his mother cooed, taking his small hand and pulling firmly as he resisted, planting his heels into the cobblestone. If anything, going inside was the last thing he wanted. However, his powers were too weak in the face of such a great foe as his mother, and she dragged him up the steps and through the front doors like some untrained dog on a leash, the cream-colored, rather fruity ribbon of his hat waving lethargically behind him.
Upon passing the doorway, the boy and his stupid parents were met with cheers of "Hey, how ya doin'?" and "Nice to see ya!" and energetic handshakes of people they barely knew, and barely talked with, only smiling because of a common blood-link. Some were truly congenial, but most weren't. The only other link was physical; with a few genetic changes, most were absurdly short, wore spectacles, and sported an unusually large and rotund head.
Elvin had the worst of the attention; pinched cheeks, hugs to crush the life out of you, and enough old-lady attention to his navy blue sailor-suit and cap to make him vomit.
He could already tell what a glorious day this would be.
Crawling between a few legs (and keeping his eyes closed in case of any possible horrors he might see) he found his way to the expansive backyard. Cliques of a sort had cropped up; a troop of redheaded family members near the fishpond, a band of Cossacks in the gazebo, and various other assorted candies.
The shouting of the Cossacks jerked his attention. He remembered them from last year; they were the quiet ones usually. But now, they were throwing up cheers and adorations to some small figure waddling between a circle of adults seated in chairs. A small figure he hadn't seen before.
Curiosity took hold of his short legs, and he ran to the gazebo. Peering eagerly through a gap in the chairs, he spied the tiny person., dressed in a thick, black coat (or was it a dress? Elvin couldn't tell) and a black fur ushanka. Wobbly and unsteady, the little boy fell backwards onto his behind on the stone floor. A wave of "Aww!" ran through the crowd, and even Elvin couldn't help but inwardly join them. The beauty of a baby reaches all ages, they say.
The baby rolled itself over and unsteadily propped itself up off the floor. The bright blue eyes of the wee babe flickered around the room, and stopped on the boy dressed in blue, peeking between two chairs. It babbled nonsensically to the boy behind the chairs, calling to him, but this boy didn't understand, apparently ignorant in the ways of children.
The babe, seeing that it could not get the boy to come to it, instead waddled bow-legged to him, and reached out uncoordinatedly for his face. The boy in blue leaned back, hesitant as to what to do.
"Go aheyd, boy!" a thick Russian voice called, "He joost wants to say 'Hello!'"
Elvin, seeing that he was in the clear, reached for the baby, and the baby took the initiative and hugged him. A little surprised, Elvin returned the warm embrace of a thick, soft jacket, and another round of coos sprang up.
"Elvin," that same voice, belonging to an older gentleman, perhaps a grandfather, called, "Thees ees the newest meymber of the famihly. Say hyello to Nikolai."
"Nikolai…" Elvin repeated. From under the babe's hat, Elvin spotted wispy black hairs, like his own hair color.
Elvin extended his arm and let Nikolai wrap his tiny hand around Elvin's finger. Such a miracle, this tiny life. To have grown from almost nothing into a human being, truly the work of something beautiful.
Or the stork, as Elvin knew.
Elvin suddenly retracted his hand, careful to hurt the child. Nikolai had instinctually been slowly bringing the finger towards his mouth. Not wanting a hand full of slobber, he quickly turned as he said, "I gotta go now."
An hour later, Elvin sat on the edge of the small wooden bridge overlooking the fishpond. His legs swung freely, and he looked lost in himself, the waving light from the pond illuminating the bottoms of his shoes. Not one for sports, he took pleasure in gazing at the world, pondering its mysteries.
That, and the redheaded girl in a man-skirt (or a kilt, unknown to Elvin) he met earlier had smacked him upside the head for a rude comment he had spouted, and he was still recovering.
Sudden footsteps alerted him to someone's presence on the bridge.
"Hey Elvy…" a snobbish little voice whined menacingly. Elvin winced; he hated that name. Turning his head slowly, fearfully, he spotted its source.
At the end of the bridge, a monster stood. A little boy, roughly the same age and height as Elvin, stood evilly, his fists on his hips. He, too, had been adorned in a sailor suit, this time white, with baggy pants as opposed to Elvin's baggy blue shorts, and a white gob cap with a blue pinstripe following the curve of the hat. His light brown hair lay duck-tailed and slicked back underneath.
How Elvin hated this boy with a passion. Every year. Every. Year. This boy tormented poor Elvin, pushing him down, calling him names, flicking his ear, spitting in his face… the list went on. If Elvin knew of the word "asshole," this little boy at the end of the bridge would have defined it.
"Horatio." Elvin spat. The name was acid to his tongue.
Horatio walked closer, arrogance in every step, and in a single swift movement, punched Elvin hard on the arm. Elvin fought back tears, biting his lip. He didn't want to give Horatio the pleasure of seeing him cry, though every part of Elvin wished to do so. He whipped towards Horatio and snarled. Elvin would have loved to punch him back, but couldn't stand the thought of approaching that demon's level.
And, honestly, he was something of a coward at times.
"Whatchya gonna do, Elvy? Wouldn't wanna mess up that cute widdle outfit o'yours, wouldjya?" He put his hands to his cheeks and disgustingly imitated the older women who had adored Elvin's suit, making kissing noises, and looking quite a bit like the fish in the pond.
"At least I don't look like a deck-washer!" Elvin jabbed at Horatio's clothes. Not that his were much different.
Horatio paused, a look of intense rage in his eyes., his upper lip curled. But a sudden cruel smile snaked from ear-to-ear as he relaxed. Elvin grew terrified.
"I'd rather be a deck-swabber…" Horatio began.
"Than overboard!" He gave a ferocious push, and sent Elvin tumbling into the shallow pond.
The redheaded girl at the edge of the pond gave a shout, shaking her fist at them. They'd interrupted her intense study session of the Koi.
"Ey, yeh stupi' twits!!"
Elvin stood up, absolutely drenched in the pond-water. His hat floated unceremoniously a few feet away.
He looked up to Horatio, now laughing his head off on the bridge. His lip quivered, a dull pain in his throat, and hot tears welling behind his eyes; he was absolutely miserable. First, he'd been forced into these dumb clothes, then he had to meet his dumb relatives, and then his dumb cousin pushed him into a pond with gross fish.
Horatio walked away, still laughing demonically. Elvin picked up his hat, tromped to the grass at the edge of the pond, and making sure Horatio couldn't see, put his face to his knees and cried.
He failed to notice the redhead girl sit next to him.
She watched him for a few moments, her face stoic. She could only pity the poor boy. Horatio didn't dare pick on her; she was seven years older and seven years bigger. And she would have slapped him across the hills before he would even have touched her if he tried anything stupid.
But this little boy really didn't have much to defend himself with. A scrawny little thing, really.
Still, the least he could do was grow a backbone.
"Ge' up yeh grea' git!" She cried in her foreign Scottish accent, stinging the back of his head with a nasty little smack. Great motivational skills.
"OW! Knock it off!" he wailed.
"Listen. Ge' th' yelleh off yer belleh 'n' stan' up tuh th' grea' beastie!"
Elvin looked to her, his eyes, puffy and red, shimmering with tears behind his huge spectacles.
What a strange situation for Elvin. Here he sat, soaked to the bone, crying his eyes out, and here was the strange girl with flaming red hair, dressed in a man-skirt, giving him advice.
He put his head on his knees again and stared to the shimmering pond. The Koi had returned after being viciously frightened by Elvin, and now swam gracefully, unheeding of his sorrow.
He realized she was right, in her own violent way.
Picking himself up, he sniffled, and wiped away any residual tears. He left without a word.
The girl stared, and then returned to her fish watching.
"Freak."
Elvin rushed down the path from the bridge. He soon spotted that spawn of Satan, indignantly poking a poor frog trying to cross the dirt path.
"Hey!" he said, cupping his hands like a megaphone. Horatio looked up, and snarled as the frog escaped to freedom.
"Whaddyou want, shorty."
Elvin huffed. "You need to knock it off!" he cried, getting so close to Horatio as to feel his breath. "You been hittin' me and kickin' me and spittin' on me every year. I'm sick of it! I want you to stop, now!!"
Horatio was surprised, to say the least, and quite amused by Elvin, who stood dripping on the dirt path, leaving tiny circular stains.
"Gonna do sumpin' 'bout it, Elvy?" He said snarling, pushing Elvin's chest. Elvin clenched his fists as the blood rose to his face. He then did something incredibly… stupid.
He leapt on Horatio.
Kicking and punching, he certainly gave Horatio something never to be expected: an actual fight. Horatio returned every hit with equal force, detesting the idea that this little punk might really have stood up to him.
Horatio kicked Elvin from him, sending the lad flying into the grass. Elvin rolled over, and again sprang after Horatio, this time his fist prepared. He sent it crashing into Horatio's nose.
Horatio swaggered back, his hat falling into the dirt. Instinctively he clutched his nose, and pulling his hands away, found moisture in the form of bright crimson blood. Ignoring the pain and oozing liquid, he whirled furiously towards Elvin, his snarl giving a new path to the blood. Elvin faced him, mutually enraged. He wasn't taking this little boy's crap any longer.
Horatio swung madly, blood spattering from his nose, his blows hitting every now and then. One landed in Elvin's stomach, another on his jaw. Elvin also got in a few well-placed hits, ending for the most part in a fractured glasses-lens for Horatio.
Horatio seethed. His cousin, a month younger and an inch shorter, a world of difference to an eight-year-old, had succeeded in standing up to him. He had disrupted the natural order.
In one last power-housed blow, Horatio swung once more, all his might devoted to this last hit, which would hopefully knock some sense into Elvin.
It knocked something out of him certainly.
Elvin fell to the ground, clutching his mouth in pain. He could feel something smooth and hard wiggling around his mouth, and a strange, soft, gummy substance. He spat the obtrusive object out, and stared in horror. He had spat out a pearly, blood-covered, round tooth.
Eyes wide, his head jerked to Horatio, now breathing heavily, his shoulders moving with every breath. The two young boys locked gazes, and synchronistically, scrambled towards each other with all possible haste. Rage gleaming in their eyes, they coiled their arms, only to be suddenly grabbed by a pair of strong hands each before they could deliver that fell-blow to the other's face.
"Elvin!"
"Horatio!"
Both looked up to see their mother's worried faces, and for Elvin, his father's as well. Each was carted off to a separate room in the mansion.
"Elvin, how could you do this? He's your cousin!"
"Sport, when we get home, you are in a world of trouble…"
Elvin paid them no heed, staring sadly into his lap, bleeding from the mouth as he sat at the edge of a freshly laundered bed. They could never understand. He'd tried to tell them before about Horatio; they'd never listened.
A mushroom-man doctor came a half-hour later. Surprising that they still made house calls.
He held Elvin's mouth wide as he inspected the new vacancy in Elvin's mouth, after looking over the assorted bruises and contusions everywhere else.
"Hmm…" Just what every parent wishes to hear.
"Seems your son got a helluva wallop to the mouth. I'm afraid it might have done some damage to the permanent tooth underneath, though I'm no orthodontist. You'll want to get that checked out by a specialist. I really don't think it should affect his looks though, aesthetically speaking."
Oh how wrong he was.
The doctor left, leaving Elvin with a small ice pack for his mouth. His parents had decided this was the best time for leaving before any further embarrassment from questioning relatives, and were quickly heading towards the door, and the car outside.
Elvin wondered what had become of that little brat, Horatio, and his bloody nose. His curiosity overrode his parent's wishes, and he snuck away, crouching low through the hallways of the mansion, ice pack still to mouth.
A few doors down he heard the doctor's voice. That had to be where Horatio was being taken care of.
Peering ever-so-slightly around the corner, he watched Horatio as his mother coddled him, dabbing his face with a towel to rid him of the drying blood. His mother looked so worried… and Horatio, he looked…
He looked as Elvin had, sitting on that unfriendly mattress, waiting to be chastised by his parents.
No! That couldn't be right.
He couldn't look… normal. Could he? He could, and in fact, the only difference to his own scene with he doctor was the absence of a father for Horatio.
Elvin had been given a sudden epiphany. Never, at any reunion, had he seen Horatio's father. Hell, none of the adults even mentioned the man.
His curiosity satiated, he ran to the driveway and joined his parents at their side. They hadn't even noticed his digression. Elvin climbed into the backseat of the car, his father turned the ignition, bringing the car to life, and the family sped away. No one, even Elvin's chatty mother, spoke.
The silence was deafening.
Elvin could only stare into the leather of the back of his father's seat in deep contemplation. Why did Horatio hate him? Why hadn't he ever seen Horatio's father? Who was Horatio's father? Finally, he could stand the gnawing voice in his mind no longer.
"M-Mom…?" he asked, fearful of any lashing out from his mother.
"Yes, Elvin Gadd?" his mother said, enunciating each word of his name in reserved anger. Elvin scratched his hands in anxiety.
"H… How come… Horatio's dad has never… you know, been there… at the reunion? Is he always busy or sumthin?"
Elvin's father cast a look to his mother, and mouthed something Elvin could not decipher. His mother nodded and twisted around to look directly towards her son, and his father turned his gaze back to the rode.
"Hun… Horatio… Horatio doesn't really… have a father. I mean, he had one; it takes two to call the stork… but… his father left before Horatio was born… before even getting married to Horatio's mommy."
Elvin looked up, horrified. No father? How could that be?
"Son," his father grunted. He was getting impatient. "Your cousin's a bastard-child."
"Hun!" Elvin's mother scolded, pointing an accusing finger at her husband.
"Dear, if he can survive a fight like that, he take the word 'Bastard' too," Elvin's father retorted. His mother called something back, and the two went off on their tangent, leaving their small boy to look disheartedly into his hands.
Elvin thought and thought, turning the word his father said over and over. A bastard child… no father… could it be… could it be that was the reason Horatio picked on him? That Elvin had a father, and Horatio didn't? Quite a complicated idea for an eight-year-old to comprehend.
He closed his eyes and thought back to he fight. No matter what Horatio had said, Elvin had actually started the tussle, and made Horatio's nose bleed. He was the one who had leapt on a poor boy without a father, who lashed out in bitterness over his stigmatic title acquired at birth. He was the one who had picked on another in rage.
He was the monster.
A painful lump clutched his throat. He couldn't avoid the evil he had committed against his own kin, no matter how hard.
He perked at an idea. Maybe…
Looking out the window, he saw they were already far down the road. There would be no turning back for another year.
Dejected, he clenched his fists, unheeding of his parents conversation in the front.
"Next year…" he whispered through his teeth, "Next year I'll make it right."
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Lawl, bad ending. Hope you enjoyed! Now get out of here, yeh bloodeh twits!
I left it as incomplete because I juuuust might do another, kind of, "epilogue,' chapter with older versions of the chracters. If you know about Horatio, you know there's quite a difference between the younger and older stages. Still not sure though.