Deleted Chapter: Puberty Quarantine (after chapter 5)

AN: I suppose 'deleted' isn't really the right term for these chapters. They were in their infancy in my head when I originally wrote From Nashton to Nigma. I just had no way of scooping them out, so I just kind of summarized them and tacked them onto the end. I've noticed that whenever I read Stephen King I tend to catch the writing bug really easily (I'm about ¾ of the way through 'Duma Key' at the moment) trouble is: I'm running out of King books…

"You walk on like a woman in suffering, won't even bother now to tell me why. You come alone letting all of us savor the moment, leaving me broken another time. You come on like a blood-stained hurricane. Leave me alone, let me be this time. You carry on like a holy man pushing redemption. I don't want to mention the reason I know that I am stricken and can't let you go." ~ Disturbed, 'Stricken'

Puberty Quarantine. I can't remember which of us said it first, though I'm sure Ev would insist it was her idea. Either way, the pseudo-title is perfect. Middle School is hell, as any other adolescent on our end of the scholastic food-chain would agree – the bullies that were fortunate enough to follow us here had just discovered their testosterone reserves and were itching to try them out on the next passing bookworm.

Evelyn began to wear baggy t-shirts three sizes too big for her and even on days where the temperature exceeded eighty degrees, she would don a heavy coat despite the sweltering heat. One day, she bought herself a pair of thick-rimmed spectacles, her eyesight was twenty-twenty and the lenses were plain glass. She allowed her hair to grow oily, resulting in pimply skin. The other girls would tease her for her appearance, Evelyn never seemed to care. I asked her once, if anything was wrong – she avoided the question like a quizmaster, changing the subject three times in one sentence. Her sudden change in behavior perplexed me until one day I found a way to solve this riddle. The answer, however, was an image I would beg any deity who would listen to erase from my memory…

I walked her home as I had done for the past seven years. Seven? God – in three more, I will be alone all over again… the best and worst ten years of my life will fill no more than fifteen pages in Microsoft Word. Ah, I'm drifting off again, my apologies. When we reached the lobby of her apartment building, I told her that I would not leave until she removed her coat. She knew I had a curfew and how strict my father was that I kept it. It was cruel of me to use her concern of me against her on this day and I will regret it forever. There: another lament, and not the last, I assure you. She looked at me with pleading eyes, I'm sure she often used the same look on her father whenever he got in one of his 'moods.' I do not want to say that I was like either of our fathers, but that day, I took a page from Everett Nygma's book and did not falter, no matter how that look pained me.

A bruise on her left bicep, nothing new there – she knew she had no reason to hide such a thing from me. Evelyn blushed and dropped the coat to the floor, "You know that's not it, Eddie." The frog in her voice played my heartstrings like a harp but I kept my face stern. I was desperate for the truth, no matter the cost to either of our pride, and I was sure Ev would thank me for forcing her to come clean. She kept her face downward, completely hidden from my gaze. Slowly, Ev shifted both her hands to the small of her back and pulled her t-shirt taut. Barely visible, but existent nonetheless, were a pair of budding breasts smaller than my fist. No big deal – all the girls in our grade were getting them, hell some of them even flaunted them. Evelyn Nygma was the only one who was ashamed of them. Why, you ask? I've already mentioned him twice in the last paragraph…

Everett Nygma stumbled down the stairs, breaking the silence. Instantaneously, Ev released her shirt and tugged at the hem, swiped up her coat and uttered just one word: "Go."

"Lishen thu hur, booyy," I never knew you could slur every word in a single sentence, but Mister Nygma managed it just fine.

I looked at Ev and shook my head, there's no way in hell I'd leave her now. But, oh how a little boy's resolve can waver when the little girl he loves begs him to reconsider.

"Please, Eddie, you'll only make it worse," I could never understand why she would say such a thing, or why I even obeyed her. You should've stayed with her, you stupid little coward! All girls need protecting, remember? When I turned to leave, I tapped a five words for her in Morse on the wall: Y.O.U.K.N.O.W.W.H.E.R.E.I.L.L.B.E.

Mister Nygma bounded forward and slammed the door behind me, I turned at the noise and, through the small windows, I saw him grab Ev by the arm – the left one that he'd already left his mark on. It wasn't that that bugged me – it was seeing him shift his other hand to her buttock that made my blood boil. And everything clicked into place like cogs in a clockwork soldier.

"Are you happy now?" I don't know how long I waited for her, only that if felt like eternity. Now that I knew what Everett Nygma was really like towards his daughter, my imagination had tortured me until her voice set me free.

I wanted to smile when I heard her, if only because I knew she was still with me. Instead, I awkwardly got to my feet – these growth-spurt things are a bitch – and embraced her as gently and as hard as I could bear. "I'm sorry, Ev, I am so fucking sorry." For about fifteen long minutes, she only cried, by the time she looked up at me, her eyes were so red they made my own itch. I wiped the tears from her cheek with a thumb. "How long?" I eventually found the courage to ask her.

"Since I've had 'these'," she answered, folding her arms tightly over her chest.

"Has he ever…?"

"No,"

"Did he make you…?"

"No, he only… touches…"

"Ev?"

"Yes, Eddie?"

"We have to get out of here. Soon. Or one day something so terrible will happen to one of us, the other will be left a shell." So sayeth the Great Prophet Edward Nashton.

"A winning love is hard enough to find. When you've got it never leave it behind. Hold on and give it all you have. When it's given back you'll be a powerful man. And, well, here she comes – in walks my baby. Her smile is more than enough to tell me why: shouldn't you oughta be in love? Wouldn't you rather be in love?" ~ Dave Dobbyn, 'You Oughta Be in Love'

Enough of this, let's fast-forward to a happy memory for once, shall we?

In the first week of Term 3, posters began to appear advertising the school dance. Attendance was compulsory for all students. But, of course, in the days leading up to the event, I had to get caught trying to crack my father's safe and become grounded for the next seven days. Evelyn had other plans though: she waited until my parents were glued to the television before rapping on my bedroom window. I looked up from my book (my favourite author at the time was Terry Brooks, I was half way through the 'Landover' series) and was stunned by the figure outside. Ev's fiery hair was pinned up at the back and left to fall over her shoulders. Her eyes were painted with a stunning violet, silver earrings were hooked through her lobes, and a spectacular moonstone pendant was draped around her neck.

I don't know how I found the strength to get up let alone open the window, but somehow I did.

"Come on, Eddie, we can't be late," she smiled radiantly.

"I don't have a suit…"

"Solved," I didn't notice the bag she had draped over her shoulder until she swung it around and handed it to me. "I won't peek," she added playfully as she dramatically turned around and crossed her arms over her chest. That dress… my god, that dress… there's no way I could ever forget that dress. She had chosen a beautiful satin number in my favourite colour: emerald green. It was a halter-top that clung to the angles of her body as though it was a part of it. When she turned, the skirt hurried around her legs like it didn't want to be left behind.

I dug the suit out of the drawstring bag - more green, with purple buttons and a matching top hat – and hurried into it. I didn't need to ask where she got it all: evidently, she had been on her own five-finger shopping spree.

"Are you ready yet, Ed?" She was getting impatient but she still didn't turn around.

I took the opportunity to scare her out of her skin: "I guess so," I answered, leaping out the window to land next to her. She stifled a squeal and tried to suppress a giggle.

"Don't do that!" she faked irritation and added: "Happy birthday, Eddie."

Ah, I guess I neglected to mention that little detail, didn't I? Oh well, you know now.

When we reached the Gotham Memorial Hall, all you could hear was the music. Sure, the students were there, but they – like most adolescents – just weren't getting into the whole 'dance' thing. The music itself was all the clichéd-school-dance-tunes everybody's familiar with: the Proclaimers' 'I'm Gonna Be' was played at least five times before Ev and I got bored enough to sneak out and find something better to do.

That 'something better' was across the road at the football field. To be more precise: in the storage shed, behind the training equipment, in a locked safe with all the professional-grade fireworks. None of this was planned, I might add, we just happened to find ourselves underneath the stands with half a dozen Sky Rockets, a couple of Waterfalls, several Air Strikes and a box of matches. We knew we'd have to set them all off in quick succession: surely the noise would lure a teacher or two, a dean and a vice principal all eager to sign our expulsion papers before the last Rocket diffused. Best birthday EVER.

I know, Ev was doing all this for me and I probably should've been watching the fireworks – surely they must've been spectacular – but I couldn't take my eyes of Evelyn. Every time a shot went off, the shadows on her face would dance to the distant music and her eyes would fill with wonder. A couple of months ago she was a mess, purposely hiding her beauty from an unwanted gaze; tonight she was Disney's Ariel finally finding her feet.

"Did you see that one, Ed?" her voice trilled with excitement.

What I can see is much better than fireworks. That's what I wanted to say, but my throat was dry and my voice had fled. I opened my mouth to speak and had nothing to say so I closed it again.

"Eddie? You ok?"

I will be, Ev. Just say my name one more time and I will be. Please? On the Fourth of July, I would often find myself under some punishment or other, struggling to sleep through the bass of each shot. Tonight, all I heard was her.

"Eddie…"

Thank you, Ev… "Evelyn, I… um… hang on…" I scratched the back of my head nervously and she smiled: she seemed to understand what I couldn't say.

She took my hands in hers, placed one of mine on her cheek and the other of hers on mine. She kissed my other cheek. "The boy has to do it first otherwise it doesn't count," she whispered enigmatically.

I nodded and kissed her, fully conscious of what I was doing, yet not knowing how in the hell I was actually doing it.

When the kiss ended, Ev smiled sweetly at me and wrapped her arms around my neck, burying her face in my collar. The five words she said next were so muffled they were almost unintelligible but they rang in my ears as though she spoke through a megaphone: "I love you too, Eddie."