A/N: I'm really pushing to get this fic off the ground... that is unless, of course, you people think it already is! I'm getting more inspiration as the hours pass, and there's a point I'd love nothing more than to arrive at, so... here's the next chappie!
Yoshimi: Augh! Yes, I hate it when you cry! *grabs a box of Kleenex and hastily passes it off to you* Here! And here's chapter 9, as well! Does that make you any happier?
Lumen: KUDOS! You gave the correct answer, even though you weren't sure of it.
Monica: "Emanate" is a very cool word. I think it shows up somewhere below. Take a look for it. And your guess was close, but not quite the one I was looking for. Good try, though!
Skraku: KUDOS! You also submitted a correct answer... several times. Great analysis on the conversation, that gave me a good view of what you were thinking, as a reader. Analyses like that do me well sometimes... though not all the time.
And as for everyone else, the correct answer is: Kyle didn't swear.
Okay, that's enough from me. Enjoy the chappie!
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Two Weeks Later
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Ever since their return to the States, Kyle found his dreams haunted by the sight of Rieger, the statue, and the strange golden shield. He saw the man die, over and over again. He saw the statue pounding away at the ceiling of the cave, all the while staring down at him... daring him to call it a figment of his imagination. He saw the shield, moving from between his hands to his right arm, strapped there inescapably.
He lost hours upon hours of sleep to the images. They didn't follow so readily into his waking moments, however. The days found him falling asleep later and waking up earlier. At first, the schedule was so taxing that he could barely keep up with it. Thankfully he was on the last leg of his winter vacation, and so didn't have to be quite so fastidious about his hours.
He became adjusted to a daily sleep period of about five hours. Granted, he tended to yawn during the first hour of his wakefulness and about the last three hours before going to bed, but he still managed to keep himself awake – if nothing else, then for the fear of seeing the haunting images assault his dreams once again.
Yet he had not discarded the necklace from which the shield-shaped pendant now hung. If anything, he'd steadily grown more protective of it.
He tried to write out his feelings about the entire matter on several occasions, but words seemed to fail him. Intelligent words, anyway. He saw little point in writing all the different combinations of curses he could think of. If I can't articulate myself any better than that on a piece of paper, I've got no business calling myself a writer. I'm just a foul-mouthed lowlife.
The most that seemed to want to come out onto the paper was the collection of strange reactions he'd gotten from the native Egyptians as he'd passed through their midst. They'd all given him glances that were a little more than furtive. They'd all seemed to say, What is this devil-kin creature, anyway?
He'd found it amusing at the time. Now he found it rather disturbing.
The evening before his inevitable return to school, he found himself sitting at his desk, free-writing something random – even he didn't know what category it would fit in. The sun had plunged his world into darkness many hours before, leaving him with only his desk lamp to help him guide his pen.
He emitted a long yawn and leaned back in his chair, then set his pen down and ran his fingers through his long, unnaturally black hair. His eyes flitted around for an alternate activity.
His gaze moved across his trash can, which still hadn't been emptied, and probably never would be. Not as long as he didn't bother to take its contents to the dumpster they kept in the garage for that specific purpose.
He leaned an elbow on an arm-rest and allowed his head to fall into his hand, his fingers scratching absently at his temple. He reached out with his other hand and half-heartedly picked through the materials he'd already deemed to be trash once before. What's in there, anyway? A couple magazines... some junk mail...
Oh. The Duel Monsters deck.
He plucked the small box from the recesses of the receptacle and frowned at it for a few moments. I wonder why people like this game so much. The holograms are cool, and all that, but by themselves, the cards seem like they'd be a bit of a drag.
He glanced at his clock. 1:38 a.m., and he still wasn't the slightest bit tired.
He shrugged and opened the box up – for only the second time since he'd received it. May as well take a look at the rulebook. And if it turns out I don't want it after that, I can always find someone else to pass it off to.
Kyle pulled the rulebook out and began to flip through it.
--
It was the start of the new semester. Some kids had transferred out; others had transferred in. Most of them knew to stay away from Kyle, though; to them, he didn't look like the kind of guy they'd want to hang around with, anyway... and besides, when had the "veterans" known him to want friends, anyway?
He didn't mind. He enjoyed the solitude. Don't have to fall to anyone's expectations here, except those of the teachers. And I don't mind those so much. They expect me to get my work done and get good grades, and I get my work done and get good grades. So there.
He'd finally finished out his P.E. credit, which gave him cause for joy. So what if he got a C? It was the least important course of the bunch, really. He had, for a long time now, hated the idea of running around and making a fool of himself. And this year, he'd only done it half the time and still passed the class. Screw what everyone else thought about the plan.
Lunch hour came. He trudged into the cafeteria, intent on seeking out his table and then finding something to eat–
Someone was at his table.
Kyle blinked in surprise. Well. What do you know. Someone apparently has no idea of my reputation. He glanced at the people populating the tables immediately surrounding the one he'd taken residence at for 3 ½ years. They were giving surreptitious looks to the stupid kid who'd decided to approach Kyle's table and snickering quietly... supposedly in anticipation of seeing Kyle get another suspension because someone was taking up his private space.
Kyle felt a small lick of annoyance. He wanted to be left alone, and people who approached his table, whether well-intentioned or not, had a habit of ignoring – or worse, disrespecting – that desire. As he made his way across the cafeteria, he began conjuring a way to get the guy to go away.
And then the kid sat down in the very chair that Kyle had always sat in.
Kyle blinked in surprise once more, and let loose a little smirk. Boy, this guy is either entirely ignorant or entirely ballsy. He chewed the inside of his cheek. Of course, the others are EXPECTING me to do something completely horrible to the guy. I'm sure they'd get a hell of a laugh out of that.
Hm. Since when did I ever have to live up to their expectations? Why don't I just find out what the kid wants, for once, instead of chasing him off like some insect?
He blinked at himself on that thought, and it even gave him cause to stop mid-step for a moment. Wow. Since when did I start thinking like that? He frowned, blinked once more, then shrugged. Eh. What does it matter? It's what I think. Try changing THAT, Dad.
And so instead of chasing the kid off with a rant, Kyle simply approached the table and sat down on another side of it.
The guy who was already seated was obviously an underclassman, maybe about two years younger. He was stocky, with just the slightest hint of overweight, but it didn't look so bad. He wore dark cargo pants and a hooded blue sweatshirt with an orange dragon splayed across the front. His short, brown hair was highlighted blond, and his sharp brown eyes caught every single one of Kyle's movements. His expression was a cross between jovial and cautious. This was a look Kyle knew very well. Transfer student. Has to be.
The kid looked up at Kyle. "Hi, there."
"Hi," Kyle said, willing himself not to say anything rash just yet. "You sure you want to sit here?"
"Would you prefer I didn't?"
"Some people have gotten that distinct impression from me," Kyle responded carefully. "But at the moment... I'm not sure I really care, one way or the other."
The kid raised an eyebrow. "How shall I take that to mean?"
"However you want to." Kyle let his backpack drop to the table surface. "It's as close to approval, I think, as you may ever come to hearing from me. So... if you want to sit here, go ahead. I won't stop you from doing so."
"Fair enough," the kid responded. "My name's Cody. Cody Smith. People tend to call me 'Chubs', though."
"Kyle McCraine." Kyle scoffed. "People tend to call me 'asshole'."
"I think I'll call you Kyle," the other said in amusement.
Kyle rocked his head to one side. "Is 'Chubs' meant to be an insult?"
"It was at first. But I decided, 'What the hell? It's not like it means anything.' So the insult goes only as far as you think you can take it. Makes absolutely no difference to me what people call me. I am who I am."
"Well, then, in that case, I think I'll call you Chubs."
"Whatever works for you." The stocky boy crossed his arms and grinned. "Upperclassman, right? Senior, I'll bet."
"Yeah. Freshman?"
Chubs shook his head. "Sophomore. Spent my freshman year and half this year with a private tutor. Decided that really wasn't for me after a while, so I got my mom to put me here, in the public system."
"You might have done better on your own," Kyle snorted, taking a seat. "In case you hadn't noticed, there's more than our fair share of people like myself here."
Chubs raised an eyebrow. "You haven't done anything yet in the span of this conversation which would, to me, warrant the name 'asshole'."
"Hnh. Everything I do is an attention-getter. That's the point. See the way I dress? My hair? My tattoos?" Kyle indicated all these things with gesticulation of his hands. "These earmark me as someone to be watched, dude. Most people tend to stay away from me just because I have a bad attitude, even forgetting my gauche appearance."
Unexpectedly, Chubs laughed. "I think you're the only person I know of who's dressed like that and made use of the word 'gauche' in a sentence – not only use, but proper use. Is that a word that's commonly taught in the regular school system, or did I just happen to stumble upon the stomping grounds of a learned man?"
At this, a hint of a grin cracked across Kyle's features. "If you must know, my family happens to be well-to-do... and therefore a bit snotty, as well."
"Oh, yes, I've heard about the famous McCraines. Or should I say infamous?"
"Whichever fits your preference." Kyle snorted. "Infamous would probably be the more accurate of the two. I take it you've never met my dad."
"No, I haven't, but my mom did, once. Something about environmentalists filing a lawsuit against landscapers a few years back. The landscapers were hired by Mom's real estate company."
Kyle blinked. "My dad works for prosecution."
"I know." Chubs offered a wry look. "Trust me, I know."
"You sure you want to be sitting with the enemy, then?"
"Where else have I got to sit? All the other tables are jam-packed." Chubs glanced around. "Speaking of which, I'm noticing a lot of people giving this table some funny looks. Are you seriously the only one who ever sits here?"
"Reputation is everything in this school." Kyle crossed his arms and slouched forward. "Mine's bad enough that nobody wants to sit with me."
"Cold-hearted bastards," Chubs stated candidly.
"Nah, that's me. The ones who wanted to sit here, I scared off myself."
"Oh?" Chubs raised his eyebrow again. "Why's that?"
"Because I like solitude, plain and simple."
"Company must not be such a bad thing for you, if you're willing to put up with me." Chubs smirked and got up. "I'm going to go grab something to eat. I need to fill this belly of mine before I start shrinking into what other people might actually consider a normal size. Can I get anything for you?"
Kyle raised both his eyebrows at the offer. "Um. Sure." He plucked his wallet out from his back pocket, pulled out a couple bills, and handed them to Chubs. "A Coke and a candy bar. Preferably one with no nuts or caramel, if you can avoid it. Besides that, open season."
"Allrighty, then." Chubs headed off to one of the lunch lines.
Kyle gave the stocky boy an incredulous stare. I wonder if he even has a clue where he's going. Today's only the first day of the semester, and he said he spent the first semester in home schooling... maybe he went through orientation? Possible.
He frowned. Why am I even caring? Very unlike me. And where did all my cursing go? I didn't hear myself utter a single foul word in that entire conversation... save for "asshole", maybe. And that doesn't count because I was using that in context.
How very strange. I'm hardly the most sophisticated person on the planet, but... didn't I used to be just a tad more foul-mouthed than this?
He sighed and rummaged through his backpack for his writing notebook. He found it in a matter of moments, and along with it, a writing utensil; he pulled these out and opened the notebook up to the last page on which he'd written.
His frown only deepened.
That page had writing on it, yes, but only half of it was occupied by letters.
The rest of it was virtually covered with copies of the same strange eye symbol on his mysterious pendant.
Some of the symbols were small, completed with only a few small strokes of a pen. Others were large, ornate, their features virtually brought to life by the detail put into them. All possessed a circle in the center, surrounded by lines that created the impression of eyelids, plus two curving lines underneath the lower "eyelid".
Eye of Horus. That's what it's called. The iris and eyelid parts, anyway. Kyle looked over the images. Not sure where these lines below it factor in, though.
He looked them over a few moments longer. Weird. I don't even remember drawing these.
Chubs came back to the table – Kyle had almost forgotten about him by this point – with hands and arms full of food. Sandwiched between his forearms and his sides were the selections he'd made for Kyle; piled high on a Styrofoam plate in his right hand was what food he'd gotten for himself (including three pieces of pizza atop a mountain of pasta and meat sauce); in his left hand he bore a 20-ounce bottle of Mountain Dew.
"Sixty-five cents change," Chubs said, as he carefully put all of the food items down on the table. He dropped the change in front of Kyle, along with the Coke and Snickers Crunchers bar he'd bought.
"Snickers? I guess they're out of the Reese's," Kyle snorted, going for the drink first.
"Never had a Crunchers bar, have you? Try it out before knocking it. No caramel or nuts, just like you said. Weird at first, but it grows on you."
"You make it sound more like a fungus than a candy bar."
Chubs adopted an expression of disgust. "Ugh, thanks for that image. I don't want my pasta now."
"I'll take it, then."
"Fine, gimme five bucks and you can have it."
"Five bucks? The sale price is two twenty-five!"
"Up-charge," Chubs shrugged. "Besides, you've got money out the ass, and your dad won the landscaping case. That should count for something, right? How hungry and lazy are you feeling?"
"Hn. Enough to pay five bucks." Kyle rolled his eyes, but pulled his wallet out again and handed a five to Chubs. "Don't think I'll start making that a habit."
Chubs seemed about ready to say something to that, but apparently thought better of it, because he closed his mouth – for all of two seconds, before opening it again, to shove half a pizza slice into it. Kyle watched in amazement. "Whoa."
The sophomore, to his credit, was not so impolite as to try to talk around the considerable amount of food he was currently consuming. He even managed to keep his lips closed over it, which was no small feat, considering the size of the portion he'd just ripped from the crust. However, it didn't stop him from grinning around his bulging cheeks at Kyle's response. He pointed at his full mouth, as if to say, This is why I'm called Chubs.
Kyle nodded once in understanding. "Yeah."
Chubs emitted a noise of something like amusement, then focused his concentration on his food. Kyle, meantime, opened up his candy bar and took a few bites of it. He chewed thoughtfully, then slowly nodded in approval. He's right... kinda weird, but something I could get into.
It was then that he noticed the dragon on Chubs's sweatshirt. It didn't seem like one of the random caricature-type dragons one saw on silk shirts and such... it looked like it distinctly belonged somewhere.
He made a point of remembering to ask, once they were finished with their food. And apparently, he was more hungry than he thought, because although Chubs finished chewing first, Kyle wasn't far behind. He nodded at the shirt. "That dragon looks pretty cool."
"Hm? Oh." Chubs glanced down at his shirt and grinned. "Yeah. Tyrant Dragon. One of the best."
Kyle blinked. "Best what?"
"Dragons, of course. In Duel Monsters."
Kyle gave Chubs a blank look. In response, Chubs almost laughed aloud. "Don't tell me... you don't play, do you?"
"Eh. I have a starter deck. But no, I don't play."
Chubs shook his head. "Starter decks are good for only a few cards. If you really want the goodies, though, you have to rummage through booster packs. Which starter did you get? Red?"
"Black."
"Hrm. Summoned Skull's the biggie in that one, then." Chubs raised his eyebrow, apparently a signature expression of his. "Tell me you at least know what Summoned Skull is. Then I'll know you looked through the deck."
"I looked through it, yeah. But it's not really like the names mean anything to me since I don't play the game."
"Care to learn?"
"I glanced over the rulebook. Seems horribly complex to me."
"That's because rulebooks aren't reader-friendly. You need to see it for yourself." Chubs leaned back and laced his fingers over his full stomach. "If you'd like to get to know the game a little more, I can show you some of the real basic rules."
"We've just met each other and now you're offering to teach me a game?"
"Have you got anything better to do with your time?"
"What makes you think I don't?"
"I didn't say that." Chubs smirked. "I was just asking. Do you have anything better to do with your time than learn about something that's fun?"
Kyle chewed the inside of his cheek and chose his next words carefully. "I've been under the impression that this isn't a game I would necessarily want to know anything about."
"Hey, like I said, don't knock it if you haven't tried it," Chubs countered, using a reasonable tone. "Basic rules. Child's play. And then we can work from there."
Kyle glanced at his watch. "We've only got about three minutes before the end of lunch period."
"Wouldn't have to do it today. Tomorrow, maybe. I've heard about block scheduling, but as I understand it, this school doesn't institute that, so you'll have the same hours tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah..."
Chubs emitted a small chuckle. "Just give me one lunch period. After that, if you still don't want to know anything about it, I promise I won't bother you with it again."
"Hm." Kyle considered this for a moment, then gave a nod. "Fine. I guess you're right, it's not like I've got anything better to do."
Chubs chuckled again. "I told you once already, I didn't say anything to that effect. You did."
The bell rang. Instinctively, Kyle got to his feet, but Chubs took his time in this endeavor. Kyle took his turn to raise an eyebrow at Chubs. "Not used to a bell schedule?"
"Not on a full stomach, I'm not." Chubs harrumphed. "I used to be in the public system, but Mom didn't like how the other kids kept teasing me about my weight, so..." He shrugged. "I got pulled out in sixth grade."
"Just as well. That's when people like me started making fools of ourselves."
"If you say so." Chubs hefted his backpack onto his shoulders. "Same time, same place. I'll bring some cards along for demonstration."
"Sure."
--
Kyle trudged his way through classes the next day with a distinct lack of enthusiasm – this appeared normal enough to his classmates, who generally had a tendency to ignore him anyway. His mind was on the little "training session" Chubs had in mind for him. Oh, goody. Yeah, I looked through the rulebook, but it hardly made any sense to me... it might not be so bad if I learn it from someone else. And like he said, I can forget all about it if I decide I don't really want to get into it.
He kept his mind focused on his studies, but a small fragment of his focus was devoted to curiosity about this strange card game that had proven strangely addictive for so many people across the world... including Monica Zocallos.
He rolled his eyes at the very mention of her name in his thoughts. Oy. That woman is insane. I dunno what it is she's got against me personally. Wasn't she the one who started this whole hostility deal with me in the first place? Certainly not the other way around... I would have preferred it if she, just like everybody else here, had just left me alone. But no, she had to go trying to irritate me.
As if she had somehow heard him during their studies, she caught his attention during the next passing period. As usual, she was with her posse. Kyle rolled his eyes again. Brainless invertebrates.
"I heard you actually let someone sit at your table yesterday!" she exclaimed. She laughed at him mirthlessly. "Don't tell me the asshole's gone soft all of a sudden."
"If an asshole were going soft," Kyle responded, "you would be the first to know, I'm sure. Because it would be aimed right at you in the midst of its diarrhea."
Monica's face scrunched up in disgust. "You are the most goddamned gross creature I've ever met." She turned heel and began walking away.
Kyle scoffed. "Why the bad mood? Don't tell me you lost that card tournament."
At that, she stopped and stood perfectly still, her back ramrod straight. She seemed on the verge of responding to the challenge, and her posse meantime was muttering "oohs" behind her back.
But then she kept walking.
He sighed. Maybe the focus should be not to try and egg her on, but to find a way to get her to go away. Maybe I should act really weird. He scoffed. Like I'm not acting entirely weird now, as compared to my behavior in the past. But... find a way to creep her out, maybe? Get her to decide that bothering me the way she does really isn't worth her time?
Hmm.
Kyle was still trying to formulate a plan to get Monica to stop bothering him when he arrived in the cafeteria. Chubs had already taken his seat at the table, and today, more people seemed to be paying attention to that table. News had indeed gotten out about Kyle actually – gasp – letting someone else sit there. People seemed rather intent to watch.
This annoyed Kyle. He's going to be teaching me something, no less, at my own table. Couldn't they just stick their noses back towards their own tables? It's not like we're doing anything really special over here.
He made particular mention of this once he sat down. Chubs nodded. "Yeah, I know, I noticed. A few people have asked me about it. Like I got instant popularity for pulling off some miracle – but at the same time, people are starting to poke fun for hanging out 'with the likes of Kyle McCraine, the asshole'."
Kyle winced slightly. "If my rep is rubbing off on you, don't feel obligated to stick around or anything..."
"What did I tell you yesterday? No one else sits here, and you're okay with it, so it's as good a place as any. I don't care what they think. In two or three years, nobody's going to care anyway. It's all temporary."
"If you say so," Kyle said, and although the statement was uncertain, he felt he had to agree with Chubs. People will talk, sure. But only for a while.
"Meanwhile!"
Kyle glanced at his companion, who had pulled a stack of cards out of his backpack and placed it on the table. Chubs smirked. "Ready to do a little learning?"
"I'll have to forget other people are watching us, first." Kyle shot glares at the tables surrounding them; the occupants of those tables quickly got the point and turned around, if only for a few moments.
Kyle turned back to Chubs. "Sure. As ready as I'll ever be."
"Great. Then let's get started."
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Is this a cliffie? I'm not entirely sure. I'll leave that up to you, my faithful readers, and hope that you are enjoying the story thus far. Next up, we get a little bit of the lesson Chubs teaches, and Kyle begins to develop entirely new – and unexpected – facets of his personality. Stay tuned! Review!