Chapter 55
No Child Left Behind
I had never been any good at school. Not ever. But that didn't mean I was stupid. I just didn't function within a system or a schedule. I learned in my own way, and what I did learn, I gobbled up eagerly. Once presented with a subject that interested me or seemed relevant to projects I was currently in the middle of, I became driven to learn anything and everything I could about it. But give me numerous tasks throughout the day so it became too difficult to catch up or focus on one individual thing already, then I became disinterested and spent the better part of my time zoning out in my seat.
To Negan, it didn't seem too important whether I was good at school or not, he just wanted me to attend. And when he returned from his trip to Alexandria that evening he was pleased to hear I had voluntarily attended the remaining two hours of school on my own. From that day on, I continued to attend, if at all reluctantly.
That didn't mean I had gotten any better at it. I often shirked whatever homework was assigned to me, though, consuming my interest with other things like Vanessa's spell book. It seemed far more productive to pour over that rather than learn about a battle at Gatesberg that took place a thousand and ninety-three off years ago that relatively meant nothing today. There were no more reenactors left to honor such an event so it made no difference whether people remembered it or not.
It was all irrelevant.
Those first few weeks the teacher often lectured me or tried to get me to participate and then ended with lecturing me more when I ignored her. I never learned anyone's name. They were more irrelevant than the words they tried to shove in my head.
Sometimes we had guest speakers, the same way we had back in Alexandria, talking about how things used to be before or demonstrating special skills like safety measures when dealing with walkers or strangers from out of town and other stuff like that. One time, Eugene came in to do some sort of science experiment that was probably going to blow up.
I wasn't sure what it was and I never found out.
The sight of him brought forth a furious rage and if I remained to hear anything drop from his mouth, I was going to end up throwing something at him.
With an audibly loud screech from my chair, I rose briskly and left the room without a word or explanation why. The teacher's voice sounded as she tried to call me back, but I only ignored her, slamming the door on my way out. I spent the remainder of the day in the room, simmering down by throwing a bouncy ball against the opposite wall of the bed then catching it over and over again until dinner time.
The days passed with the only constant thing being the biweekly checkups and donations. Dr. Carson was disappointed to find that I still remained stubbornly small and had gotten even skinnier than when I arrived at the Sanctuary.
"Damnit," he muttered under his breath while taking my measurements. "You've lost another half-pound."
"I can't help it." I growled back, folding my arms stubbornly.
"You could try eating once in a while."
"I do eat. I just don't gain anything."
He ignored my insistence and went on. "I'm prescribing you a new diet."
"Fine." I huffed, deflating in my seat.
"I want you to eat a minimum of one thousand, one hundred and sixty calories a day." He wrote a note on his clipboard. "If you don't want to eat with Negan I suggest you start putting a bit more effort into cleaning your plate at meals. Otherwise the extra help will be required to monitor you."
I wanted to growl with that but I only submitted to the decision grudgingly. "Fine."
It was nice when I could ditch my guard for a few hours of peace. Not that the old lady made much noise or protest when she was around, but her constant presence irritated me and if there was an opportunity to slip away from her, I took it.
Today I was hanging about on an overhanging ledge near the classroom. I had excused myself early because Eugene had decided to make another presentation that day and I was in no mood to listen to anything he had to say, useful or otherwise. I dangled my legs over the side of the roof, watching while the autumn clouds drifted in the sky. In my hand was an old wooden broom handle which I'd found discarded somewhere. It was crooked and the brush was scruffy with bent twigs, probably the reason why it was thrown out, but I still saved it from the woodpile with thoughts that maybe I'd repurpose it as more of a decorative piece I could hang on my wall or use it as a prop for a witch costume.
October would be coming up soon and with it, Halloween. Since I was six, I had been the exact same thing every year with only small alterations made towards my costume. Of course, Carl said I was supposed to dress up as something I wasn't. Still, the idea of just flying away on a broomstick was a fantasy that I entertained quite often, especially here.
My eyes closed against a daydream I sometimes kindled, involving my thirteenth birthday and leaving home and family to spend a year making it on my own in a distant beautiful city, accompanied only by a small sack of essentials and my sarcastic little black cat.
Cawing interrupted my thoughts just then and I spotted a few ravens fly overhead and perch on a few of the building wires. Ravens... they'd always remind me of John. There was a flock that used to follow him wherever he went. Maybe they were with him now.
My thoughts were jarred just then when the door of the small attachment swung opened just then and four kids filed out.
"Do you think it's true, all the stuff they say about her?" A boy of about eleven years old asked his companions.
"Who knows?" A tall girl scoffed.
"She says she's a witch. Do you thing that's true?" A girl, maybe twelve, added curiously.
"No way. She's just exaggerating. Dumb Alexandrian brat trying to impress us…" The tall girl answered back.
"But the dead really do flee from her," a boy with wavy blond hair added. "I've seen it! If that's not a sign of being a witch I don't know what is. And if she wasn't why would they take her in the first place?"
"She's the cure. That's the only reason they bothered with her."
"Well, she does have some really ancient spell book she reads from sometimes." The other boy interjected. "It gives her premonitions and lets her see ghosts and stuff."
"I heard she broke Lucille. She snapped it across her knee right in front of Negan and he didn't even do anything."
"No, no, my dad was there. He said she launched it across their lake and it shattered into a million pieces. That's what he said happened at least."
"It's not true." The tall girl scoffed yet again. "People just want to make a big deal over bullshit."
"Oh, it is true." I interrupted calmly from above them. They all jumped and spun, craning their necks to look at me from where I was perched. I wouldn't have bothered contributing to their conversation; it shouldn't have mattered what they believed. They had small minds and all their parents were going to die brutal deaths. But they should still know to fear me.
"Wha—how long have you been sitting there?" The girl, whom I assumed was their leader, demanded.
"The whole time, and just to clarify, yes, I am a witch."
The girl scoffed yet again. "You're lying."
"I lie about a lot of things, but not about that… or that bat."
The three others looked at me with mixed expressions of awe and suspicion. "…You really shattered Lucille?"
"Guilty as charged."
"Like hell you did. I bet the bat just got lost on a raid. You're full of shit."
"And you're full of piss and vinegar, but I don't judge based on that; I judge based on how much of an asshole you are, and you're teetering over the edge."
"You think you're better than us." The girl deduced.
"I don't enslave others or dehumanize them, nor do I support people who do. So yes, I'm better than you."
"It's not enslavement if payment is presented."
"Payment?" I snorted with a grim chuckle. "Is that what your parents tell you happens out there? Your ignorance could almost be adorable, or maybe you're just as stupid and delusional as they are. And in that case, you're just as guilty."
The tall girl wasn't moved by any words I had about it. "We know what goes on out there. And we know your people killed first. If they got themselves this deep into shit, it was their own damn fault. They deserved whatever happened to them."
"And what of the people who were murdered by their hands without any cause or provocation? They were forced to their knees while they begged for their lives. They didn't get any mercy, though. You live with monsters and someday you're going to be just like them."
A few of the kids looked uneasy by the news, shifting slightly. The tall girl didn't seem disturbed by my words though, smiling sinisterly.
"Yeah, I heard all about the night Negan cornered your people. I heard that Negan bashed in some ginger prick's head in and then a little Asian boy. I heard your dad cried like a little bitch, too. I heard he begged his heart out when Negan told him to cut your brother's arm off."
With those words, I leapt from the roof, still holding the broom in my hands and rolling nimbly when I hit the ground, rising to face this belligerent shit. She stepped back, taken off-guard by how spritely I moved but waited for my response to see how she would counter.
"You seem to know an awful lot about that night for someone who wasn't even there." I murmured softly, dangerously. "Do your parents get a kick out of reliving hell for others? Do you turn on when you get to hear about those little anecdotes? You want to know a secret? I hope you do. If you felt guilty at all for the things your parents have done, it would have complicated things and I need to make sure you're full monsters before I put any bullets in your heads. If you weren't then I may feel guilty myself, so I'm glad any worries I had were put to rest. That makes things easy."
The girl seemed to take another uneasy step back, clearly not expecting that to be my reaction. She wanted me to react with some outburst. Instead, I had a devious spark of intrigue now, one that set her on edge and made her warry. Apparently not enough to detour her, though, and she rebuffed my statement with a heated hiss.
"Yeah, well it's too bad your dad's a sobbing fuckup, maybe then someone would've been able to teach you how to act like a good little slave, already!"
With those words, I saw red, and no it wasn't from my cloak this time. My body moved forward, acting on its own before my emotions could even actually register the fury spawned from those words. The broom struck out, striking her squarely across the nose where a spout of blood squirted instantly from the blow. With her distracted by the pain, the entirety of my weight slammed into the girl, knocking the breath out of her with the action. Wrapping my arms in an iron-lock grip around her waist, my momentum was strong enough to hoist her up, effortlessly. I moved forward taking the girl with me and leapt onto a small step ladder that someone had left in the yard and launched off of the top step. We both dropped, with me on top of her as her back connected with the ground, hard.
I felt the breath leave her body a second time and her whole form was frozen, thrown into shock for landing on her back at such a height. I took advantage of her state to straddle her and there I slapped and punched her repeatedly.
"Hard to talk shit when there's no breath in you isn't it, you troll!" I muttered, gripping a fistful of her shirt and using it to anchor her more towards my blows.
"Holy shit!" One of the other kids cried in shock.
"BODY-SLAMMED! SHE TOTALLY JUST BODY-SLAMMED HER!"
Quite suddenly, there was a ring of children surrounding us that had grown much larger than it was a moment before. Shouts were uttered and a rounding chant of "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" echoed through the yard.
I continued to hit the girl, landing blow after blow, until her face was a mess of blood and tears and I had her begging for mercy.
The chanting suddenly dispersed when I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders that tore me away from the girl and dragged me to my feet.
"Break it up! Break it up I say!" I looked up to find a woman Savior, the lady who'd been assigned to guard me, holding me up angrily as she viewed the scene with rage.
"What the hell is going on here?"
There was no answer. The girl on the ground was too shaken to speak and none of the other kids seemed inclined to explain to the intimidating women. A few had even run off at the woman's involvement. I remained silent as well, my arm locked in her grip as she looked around the circle of kids.
She seemed to realize that she would get no answer and turned around, dragging me behind her as she fumed. "Alright then, let's see if you're a little more talkative in private."
I wasn't.
So, she got a different kid to explain what happened. He neglected to inform them that the girl had started it in the first place with her trash talk, but I didn't care. I never expected them to take my word for it so I added nothing to the statement.
We waited in the classroom, the girl I'd maimed had gone off with her parents after they'd shouted up a storm in another room, furious for the state of their daughter. When they finally chose to leave, I chanced a glance and spotted the girl holding an icepack to keep the swelling down against her face and there was a wad of toilet paper up both her nostrils. About an hour later, Negan walked in, looking irritated, probably because this spat was keeping him from tormenting some other poor individual.
Well, I was always happy to help someone out.
"Alright," he growled, approaching the teacher and guard. "What the hell did she do this time?"
"She attacked another student." The old lady said first. "Punched and body-slammed her apparently."
"Who was the student?"
"Miss Parapenski."
He looked down at me and I refused to meet his eye out of indifference. "Judy, did you really do that?"
I only shrugged, disconnected from this whole discussion. "They say I did it; I must've done it."
"May I ask why you would do that?"
"Who cares?" I said, unwilling to go into detail. He didn't need to know that. It was better that he thought I was some delinquent that would spring into a fight for no reason than spring into a fight if pushed just the right way. I didn't want to give them that sort of ammunition.
"Ms. Parapenski is in pretty bad shape. Her parents are very angry."
"Like he cares," I muttered under my breath too low for any of them to hear what I said clearly.
He made my uncle beat me till my arm dislocated, so I was pretty sure his tolerance for children beating on each other was pretty liberal. Any judgment he had about it was curved so it didn't matter what reasons it was for. He had already made his decision about this spat before he even came in the room, and I assumed that it was less likely in my favor.
That's what he did after all, decided things before he needed any information about it.
"Judith, talk." He ordered firmly. "Why did you do this?"
"Because I could." I snapped out, knowing he wanted an answer in some form. "You don't even care! Just punish me already and get it over with."
There was a moment of silence while I kept my gaze firmly away from him. Then he asked the teacher to leave us alone for a moment. She didn't even hesitate.
I expected I was in for a beating of my own and inwardly prepared for a slap or backhand the moment the door had closed behind the woman.
Instead, Negan only leaned against the teacher's desk, facing me expectantly with his arms crossed.
"You're not known to be someone who rushes into fights unless provoked. So, what happened? Did Imogene get a little mouthy for your taste?"
I grimaced at the thought and bit out angrily towards his inquiry, "I guess you could say that I had to… put her back in line. That's all people do here after all; put others back in line?"
He considered my words carefully and I chanced a glance towards him. There was a small smile on his face with the declaration and he nodded. "Hmm. That we do. Maybe you're learning after all. So Parapenski was talking through her ass again? Guess I'll have to remind her folks to teach her where the real power is, and how their little girl ought to learn who she's allowed to fight around here."
It didn't sit well to think he would resolve this issue for me. I didn't need him to step into fights on my behalf. He wasn't supposed to be on my side. He wasn't supposed to even care.
"I think I got that message across. I don't need you to do more for me."
"Still, I would prefer it if you wouldn't tear your peers apart anymore. People don't need to watch two little girls fighting each other, after all."
I scoffed, refusing to believe he would ever be against anyone going at each other to the death. He lived for blood and bruises after all. "What? Only adults beat on kids? But kids beating other kids is just out of the question?"
"Now don't start that with me. There's a time and a place for fighting. It's not here and it's not now."
"We weren't fighting." I contradicted with a glower. "I was kicking her ass. She was begging me to stop, but I didn't because it felt good to hurt her. I liked it—but only during. I don't feel so good about it now."
His head tilted in thought by that announcement. He wasn't angry or even really surprised, just thoughtful. "Hmm."
I glanced up by that.
"'Hmm?'" I repeated uncertainly. "What's 'hmm?'"
"Nothin'. Just thinkin' about that. Wondering if it's a good thing or not."
I said nothing about it, wondering if it was a good thing myself.
"Why don't you punish me?" I demanded in confusion. "I thought you'd leap at the opportunity."
"Well maybe I don't think there's much to punish you for."
"Why not? I just told you I kicked another kid's ass and I liked it? Isn't that reason enough?"
"You were putting her back in line. Imogene is a dog's kid. She'll probably be a dog when she grows up. Dogs need to know their place, need to know who their alpha is. You can't let one growl at you and get away with it. They need to know who their pack leader is and to always mind them, otherwise they'll never respect you. I'm proud you stood up for yourself."
I looked back at him, stunned completely, and maybe even a little sick by the thought. In that moment I realized that Negan wanted me to assert my dominance even if I became a complete tyrant among these kids.
His words came back to me, just then.
I want to give you a position of leadership someday!
But I didn't want it. I didn't want to lead these people and I didn't want these kids following me. I hadn't done anything to earn their respect, anyways. All I did was make them wary of me. Fear was not the same as respect and it would have been nice if Negan would stop associating one with the other.
"I would like to make something clear though." Negan began again. "Pick your fights well. I don't want you getting into tussles with kids from higher ranks around here. That could make things awkward if I had to win approval once again. Assert your dominance but make sure it's justified. Try not to take things so far a second time. I'll give you a break for it today, but next time I won't be so proud."
I cringed with the withering look he sent towards me and knew the unspoken threat in his voice. My mind was still having trouble processing the strike of luck I had landed on. I was certain Negan would have turned my insides out when he was told what had happened. It didn't seem possible that he would pass up an opportunity to punish me for this transgression.
In a secret sort of way, I almost wish he would.
We walked out of the classroom to face Imogene and her parents who were both angry but mindful not to start anything with Negan about it. The man himself faced them without worry and passed over the issue with a delicate dangerousness, suggesting that they ought to teach her daughter who she's allowed to challenge and who she isn't. The totem pole was in place for a reason, she should have learned her place better.
It seemed after those words, her parents were cowed again and the fire and anger they had had before was snuffed out immediately.
They both nodded, promising they would make sure she understood next time and there wouldn't be further trouble.
We walked off after that, turning our backs on the family like the lower-ranked gnats they were. The act didn't sit well with me, but I had to admit that I suddenly had a better idea of the precise position I actually held in this place. Transgressions against lower ranks were forgiven, but I could not so easily get away with pulling that same sort of stuff on Negan or his generals.
Just how exactly did the hierarchy work here?
Frankie had explained it to me when I first got here, but it still held some confusion for me. Maybe if it was better visualized.
Back in the room, I tried to sketch out the position everyone may have held. Negan was at the top, obviously, his generals probably came next, then his wives and the doctor (Eugene might have been worked in with either the doctor or his generals, I really couldn't tell if he was lower or higher than that), then came higher-ranking Saviors, lower ranking Saviors, workers like the teacher and the people that minded the gardens and animals, and last on the totem pole were the prisoners like Daryl, who could be pushed around by just about everyone.
I suspected that any families were ranked in accordance with the highest-ranking member of their family.
And I ranked… somewhere with the wives, like I had been told upon my first day here. But by all technicalities, I was still a prisoner, just like Daryl. Yet I was a prisoner that could get away with beating up a lower Savior's kid.
Maybe the status of my position was unique in that way. I was told that I ranked with the wives and they were given certain freedoms like I was, but they were still reminded that they were owned by someone.
I looked over to the horrible red cloak I was always forced to wear.
We all wear collars here. We're all owned by someone; if you fight against it you'll just end up choking yourself.
But I didn't believe those words. I was only owned until I broke my collar or tore off the hand that ensnared me, then I'd be free. But tearing off his hand was harder than it sounded.
If only there was someone—not a prisoner or a traitor—that was able to help me, that was on my side for a change. Someone I could talk to, confide in and seek aid when I needed it.
My thoughts turned to Vanessa and the other ghosts, but they were out of reach. I didn't know where they had gone, but it didn't look like I would be able to count on them, not since Merle had helped me that one time. They had gone somewhere I couldn't sense. Occasionally I had glimpses of spirits I didn't know, but no one spoke to me.
If there was just someone I could talk to about all this…
I closed my eyes, remembering the sight of a dark black coat and long hair pulled back by a leather string, white skin, and a poetry book.
My heart clenched at the thought of but it was useless thinking about him. He had made his decision and as much as it hurt, he was never coming back. Maybe it was time I stopped thinking about it and just moved on.
But where the mind longed to forget the heart just wanted to keep holding on, so it was impossible.
Author's notes: Big chapter coming up! I am so super excited for you guys to read it. There's a bit of foreshadowing that I've inserted in this chapter. I can't wait for you guys to see it. If I can, I'll try to have it posted next week.
If you guys liked this chapter or if you have any questions on your mind, definitely feel free to leave a comment. You really have no idea how much I appreciate your thoughts.
On another note that's not really related to the story so far, I've started watching the new season of TWD and I gotta say, it's seems to be going a little slowly. This whole business with the Saviors really makes me angry.
Rick made a decision that wasn't his to make. After everything the Saviors did, people deserve justice and they deserve closure. There shouldn't be a statute of limitations on unprovoked murder and if that murder had been justified there is no reason, absolutely no reason, to take pleasure from it, or to pour salt and the wounds of the people that had to watch.
Those Saviors killed CHILDREN! They deserved what happened to them!
If some people want to forgive and forget well they have that right, but don't write off the people who can't let go as easily. The nonviolent pacifist area of thinking is a nice story, but in the kind of world that they live in, it's incredibly impractical. There's too much bad blood, too much violence that these people had to endure and it's not fair to ask them to work beside people who have done such wrong to them. They need to be held accountable for their actions and there needs to be penalties.
Oceanside wasn't wrong for wanting that, and neither is Maggie. As long as those people survived while their loved one didn't, it's all they'll think about until the wrongs are righted. If Rick wants to work together to build a better future, then good for him, but he does not have a right to make everyone else do the same. That's what dictators do. If they want a better future, then there should be something called democracy and majority vote that's paving the way for that, and if the Majority wants to see murders hang for what they've done then that power is theirs, for good or bad.
That's my opinion at least. What do you guys think?
As always, I just want to remind everyone to review and comment, because I love hearing your thoughts.
Luv ya guys lots!