LOTS OF OOC in here cuz it's an origin, therefore making ONE PERSON ITO ANOTHER PERSON, okay?
there is parental violence here. If you don't like the idea of abusive parents, go away. Actually this is a pretty dark fic. Live with it.
Johnny stared at his parents, aghast.
"We're moving?"
"Yes, honey, we have to," his mother said.
"Why do we have to move? Or, again, why do we have to move to OHIO? I like California!"
"We have to move because there's no work in California. I can get a job in Ohio, one that'll pay better," his father said sternly.
Johnny hid an insolent look. It would pay until his dad got drunk again, and ruined it like he'd ruined every other job, ever.
Johnny said none of this aloud, of course. That would just get him another arm of bruises and a weekend locked in his room again. Johnny was never rude to his parents. Ever. Not that either of them really needed an excuse. They blamed him for everything. According to them, he was an uppity little brat, but nothing a good beating wouldn't cure him of. This was normal enough to Johnny he sometimes found it hard to believe none of his friend's parents hit them.
"You better go pack up your stuff, now. We're leaving as soon as we can get someone else to rent our flat."
"That soon? That'll take, like, a week."
"And?" His father said, an edge to his voice.
"Nothing."
Johnny walked down the hall to his room. It was the one at the end, by the road. At night he could hear cars going by all night. Sometimes he heard gunshots, but not recently. His room was white, the cracks and water stains showing clearly. Johnny had wanted to paint it, a nice color like blue or green, but his father had said no, it was too much money for paint. There was always money for booze, Johnny had thought, but he didn't say anything.
Johnny got an old suitcase out of his closet, which was also his storage place, and started to fold clothes into it. He didn't have that many. He had been growing like a weed recently, almost two inches in the last month, and most of his clothes didn't fit anymore. Now he was limited to about four pairs of jeans and five or six T-shirts. These he fit into the bag with room to spare. He put in on top of it his comics, and a few Stephen King novels he had. Then there were just the two posters on his walls and his stars, from the ceiling. Johnny loved the stars. Once, long ago, his mother had taken him to a planetarium, and he had seen them, in all their glory. He soon discovered that you couldn't see stars in the city, though, and now the closest thing he had were the glowing chunks of plastic he stuck to his ceiling. That was it.
Johnny lay down on his bed, an old thing that would soon be too short for him, and went to sleep, the one place he was really happy, at home with his dreams.
The next day at school, Johnny broke the news to his friends. They sat at the lunch table they had sat at since they were freshmen, two years ago. They were the one implacable clique. They were smart, but not Nerds. They were cool, but not Popular. Somehow they always seemed to be one step short of everybody else. That suited them just fine.
"You can't move!" Sam said. She had that look that no one wanted to argue with. "We've got half a year left until graduation, we have to stick together! Remember, we were gonna have our own senior prank!"
The others grinned. The lake out in front of the school had a fountain; they were going to fill it with bubble bath.
"I know. I want to stay here, but my parents said we're moving to Ohio, we're moving to Ohio."
"You should run away," Josh said. That was Josh's answer to everything. He was a hard-core anarchist. He had run away so many times his parents had stopped calling the police when he left.
"Wait, Ohio?" Jess asked. "There's nothing in Ohio but snow and, like, corn!"
"And the corn is rare," Sam said.
"Will you stop trying to make me MORE miserable? I know there's nothing in Ohio. I DON'T WANT TO GO, got it? But I have to."
"At least come back after you graduate," Josh said. "We're still going to college together, right?"
"Duh!" Everyone said in unison. Then they laughed. But it sounded forced.
Four days later, Johnny was gone. His dad had made a late-night deal with a man who was going to move into their flat, and the next morning, they packed up and moved out.
At his new house, Johnny stared at his ceiling. He was lying on his floor; his bed wasn't set up yet, even though they had been moved in for a week. The pieces of it leaned up against a far wall, waiting for someone to stick them together. He had gotten most of his stars up, but some had gotten lost in the move. Somehow. His room here was bigger; everything was bigger, because they had a house instead of an apartment. The ceiling was bigger, too, and the stars looked tiny and spread out on the vast white plain. He would have to get some more.
He went to the little bookshelf he had, also dwarfed by the big white walls, and took out his favorite book, Firestarter, by Stephen King. Inside the front cover was about seven hundred dollars in tens and twenties. He had so much because in the city, he had done odd jobs, and pretty much everything else he could to get money. The biggest part of it came from the summer before last, when Josh had convinced the other three that they could save up enough money to get a car and head for the border.
That had kinda fallen through, though.
Johnny had to spend it slowly, on things his parents wouldn't notice. If they knew he had any money they would say he stole it. He had gotten a bike a while back, and told his parents he had found it in a dumpster. They believed him, but grudgingly.
Taking out a five, he slipped it into his pocket and headed outside.
He climbed onto his bike; it was too small for him, at more than five feet tall. But it was better than walking everywhere. He walked it to the end of his driveway… and realized he didn't know where anything was. Biting his lip, he walked back inside, finding his parents on the couch watching TV.
"Hey, Mom," he started, but she shushed him pointing to the TV. It was some gameshow. Johnny obligingly waited for the commercial before asking again.
"Oh, you can't get to it from here," his mom said, looking at him as though he were retarded. "We're in the country now, everything's about six or seven miles away. You'd have to take the car."
Johnny winced. He hated asking his dad for the car. But this time, his dad took the initiative.
"There's twenty bucks on the counter. Go find somewhere that sells beer, eh?"
He threw the keys at Johnny, and he caught them. Grinning a bit, Johnny grabbed the twenty off the counter.
His dad's car was an old, grey thing that he had had since dinosaurs roamed the Earth. It ran, but only when it felt like doing so. This time, it did. Johnny drove off.
At the store, once he found it, Johnny picked up a giant bag of glow-stars and a case of Killians. It was the only kind his dad would drink. He dropped the two things on the counter, the twenty-five dollars already in hand. The cashier, a blonde girl about as old as him, stared at the beer, then at Johnny, then back at the beer.
"I know you're not twenty-one," She said at last. Johnny looked at her, puzzled.
"What?"
"You have to be twenty one to get alcohol here."
Johnny dimly remembered a law like this, but it was never enforced at the place he had always gotten at in the city.
"Can I get the stars, then? I'll take this back."
The girl nodded, and he handed over the five dollars, and started back to the back of the store. He was just about to put the case back when he saw it. At the back corner of the store, there was a door that led to the Iggle Video next door.
Go right through, a voice said in his ear. Johnny swung around, trying to see who had said that. There was no one there. But the idea was planted. Johnny tried to ignore it. He set the case down, and started to walk toward the door. After a few steps, he stopped. His dad would think he just didn't get the beer for no reason.
Johnny bit his lip, thinking which would be worse, stealing or getting beaten again. A few seconds later, he made the choice, grabbed the case again, and walked slowly out the door. No one noticed.
See, wasn't that easy? The voice said again, one he was back in the car. Johnny ignored it, and didn't respond, but in his head, he thought about how easy it really was. Too easy.
He started the engine and started to drive back home.
There was a lot of snow falling, and this made it a bit hard to drive, but he made it.
Back at his house, he put the stolen bottles in the nearly empty fridge. His dad yelled at his to bring him one, and Johnny saw that his parents were still watching the TV. He almost asked if his dad would come help him set up his bed, but he knew what the answer would be.
"I can't get beer after this," Johnny said, handing his Dad a bottle. "You have to be twenty one, apparently."
His dad cursed, and Johnny's insides went icy. What if his dad asked him how he got this case? He'd have to tell the truth. But his dad didn't ask. Johnny walked slowly up the stairs, and went into his room. He stuck up his new stars, forming two new constellations and adding some small stars to the Milky Way he had running diagonally along his ceiling. By the time he was done, the room looked kind of nice.
He picked up a book, and read until he was too tired to see the words.
The next morning he woke up to a pounding on his door.
"What?" He yelled. The door opened, and his Dad stood there.
"Wake up, stupid, you have to go to school today, and I have to drive you, the bus just went by. Hurry up." The door slammed shut again, and Johnny quickly got dressed in a pair of crumpled Jeans and a T-shirt. There wasn't time to mess with his hair (not that it would have made any difference, the blue-black spikes never lay down,) so he grabbed a pop-tart, and got in the car. It was a short, quiet drive to school.
Johnny was ten minutes late, a fact that the white-haired old lady in the office seemed too aware of. She seemed to be the kind of person who saw anyone under the age of twenty five, and judged them to be a troublemaker. Especially if they were late for school.
Johnny's dad had dropped him off in front of the school, and drove off. Johnny had asked someone hanging out in the hall where the office was. The boy had given him a look that suggested that he was a retard, exhaled some smoke through his nose, and pointed up the stairs. Johnny had thanked him, and ran up the stairs. He saw a big cafeteria, leading to a maze of passages, and wondered if they made maps of the school.
That had left him sitting in the office, waiting for the vice principle to get out of a meeting with a young mother whining about how her son, a kid named Steven who sat just outside the door sulking, wasn't a bad kid, he as just bored. Johnny had his own opinions about this, but kept them to himself.
After a few minutes the VP managed to shoo the woman out, and he grinned at Johnny.
"You must be Mr. C. Come on in, please."
Johnny walked into the VP's office. It was a place meant for intimidating people. There was a big VP's chair, and then a smaller wooden one. Johnny sat in the wood chair, and felt small and a little scared. It reminded him of being a little kid, and he didn't like it at all. The VP grinned real big at him, and Johnny didn't like that much, either.
"Well, Mr. C, welcome to Highland! (homeoftheHighlandHornets!) I hope you will have a great time here. My name is Mr. Kubilus, but you can call me Mr. K.! Monkeys."
Johnny blinked.
"Did you just say monkeys?"
"No, don't be silly." Mr. K's neck sparked. "Here's your schedule. Your homeroom is C131, and your locker is number 5231. Your combination is written on your schedule. Any problems?"
Johnny looked over his schedule. He was in all the advanced classes, but he had been at his old school, too. He was a pretty bright kid. He had to be, taking 12th grade when he was sixteen years old.
"Wait… who signed me up for Spanish? I've never taken Spanish."
"I'm sure you'll be fine," Mr. K. said, pushing Johnny out of his office.
"Wait, where is everything?" Johnny asked, but the door was already slammed shut. Johnny waited a second, then knocked, but there was no response from the other side of the door. Johnny started to walk away. There was a screaming noise from the other side of the door. Johnny turned around again, but thought better of it and walked out into the hall.
Several minutes later, with the aide of a fire escape map, he found his first period class. He was about five minutes late for that, too.
"And why are you so late, young man?" his teacher, Ms. Phillips, asked.
"I'm new. I got a bit lost. Actually I get really lost."
"Hmm, a smart alec, huh? Well if you're ever late again the whole class gets four hundred extra homework problems. I suppose you'll be wanting a seat, then, too?"
"That would be nice, Ma'am," Johnny said, embarrassed by either the kids' laughing at him, or his teacher's obvious insanity.
"Uuuum. There's only one extra seat so sorry, you have to sit by Abbey, the crazy girl."
Ms. Phillips pointed to the only empty seat in the class. Next to it was a girl dressed all in black. She had black boots, a black skirt and a black shirt with happy bunny on it. Her hair was brown with red-purple streaks through it. She popped her gum at him in greeting.
He sat next to her, and got out a sheet of paper and pencil from his backpack. It was actually a drawing pencil and paper, but he had to improvise this morning. His teacher threw a book at him, and he grabbed it out of the air before it slammed into his head, the teacher groaned: she was hoping to hit him. He opened the book to the right page, and some insanely easy problems stared up at him with deceptively cute eyes.
With a quick glance to make sure he was on the right page, he started to do the problems. At the front of the class, (Johnny was in the back) the teacher yammered on about something that wasn't what they were working on, and quite possibly wasn't even math. The level of monotony was so high it was difficult to tell what she was talking about. Johnny was almost done with the problems she had assigned for homework (they were written on the board, in no particular order,) when Abbey passed him a note. Discreetly, he opened it up, and read it under his desk
New kid, Huh? It read, is a spidery, slightly gothic writing. Anybody this weird at your old school? I think our teachers are mentally retarded, but I don't know if it's specific to our school.
He scribbled a note back.
It is. None of our teachers are so weird. Is everybody here like this?
He passed it back to her. A second later, she passed it to him again.
Yeah, pretty much. Some are worse. Wait until you meet Mr. Brooks. Do you have him?
Johnny pulled out his schedule, looking over it quickly. He did have Mr. Brooks. Apparently he taught speech.
He wrote this to Abbey, but before he could pass it to her, the bell rang. Abbey was gone like a shadow at noon. Johnny didn't even see where she went. Stuffing his book into his backpack, he headed to his next class.
The rest of the day passed mostly uneventfully. His classes were almost insanely easy, except for Spanish. He understood nothing. His teacher seemed to have a 'no English' rule, which she broke only once to tell them that if they didn't stop pretending not to understand the assignments, they were all going to get F's. Johnny didn't say anything.
The voice in his head, however, seemed to like that class. Johnny hadn't heard it all day, but from the moment he walked into Spanish to the moment he walked out, the stupid thing kept telling him to ask his teacher what "matando' meant. Johnny didn't.
After school, Johnny threw his books into his locker. The combination had taken him about ten tries to get open. When he finally did, he realized he'd been carrying all his books around with him all day. He didn't have any homework, he'd done it all in class.
He slammed the locker door, and got a surprise because Abbey was standing behind it.
"Geez, where did you come from? You scared the crap out of me!"
"Yeah, I do that to most people. What bus are you on?"
"Uhhh…"
"That's kind of important to know; considering they're leaving in…" she looked at her watch. "Two minutes."
"DAMN!" Johnny yelled.
"It's too late now. You'll never catch the right one."
"Crap. I don't even know the way home."
Johnny contemplated the pros and cons of just staying at school all night.
"Where do you live? You could probably walk."
Johnny rattled off his address. Abbey nodded.
I know where that is. Man, that place has been empty for pretty much forever. Can I walk home with you?"
"Umm… sure, I guess."
They started off along the sidewalk. Johnny tried to memorize the turns they took, but he might have missed a few. But, either way, after about ten minutes, they came to Johnny's house.
"Thanks. Umm… you want to come in?" Johnny asked.
"Nah, I gotta get home. See you at school though."
Johnny looked at the ground.
"Okay, see you…"
But she was already gone.
'She's nice, isn't she?' The voice in his head asked.
"Fuck," Johnny said. Voices in his head were not something he wanted to deal with right now.
'Oh, very good. Fuck.'
Johnny started to walk inside, trying pointedly not to hear the voice, but it was still talking to him.
"Where were you? Why didn't you get off the bus?" his mom asked. "I was worried I'd have to go looking for you."
'Tell her you were out with some guys smoking', the voice said.
"Your mother asked you a question," his dad said. He'd been drinking again. Wonderful.
'Dad's drunk at three in the afternoon'
"Answer me"
"I missed the"
'point. Shut up, bitch'
"bus?"
"Yeah, I missed the bus"
"Why," his dad asked. "Did you miss the bus"
'I was off getting some drugs, retard'
"I forgot to"
'get the shit out of my locker'
"Check which bus I was on."
"oh, that's all. Don't do it again, stupid," His dad said, turning around. But his mom wasn't convinced.
"All day, you didn't check, didn't you think it would be important?"
'isn't it important to stay sober half the day, bitch?'
"I just didn't think"
"You never do," his mom said, turning back toward the TV.
'that was close, Johnny. You have to stand up for yourself.'
"How, by cussing out my parents?" Johnny said, once he was clear of the living room.
'don't just cuss them out. Clean them out. Next time they're passed out in their recliners, just take some knife and'
"NO! come on. Fuck, you're creeping me out really bad."
'You're creeping yourself out. That's all I am, is you.'
"Yeah, whatever."
The next day after school, Johnny walked again. This wasn't for any real reason, he knew which bus he rode now. He just liked walking here, in the country. Abbey had to walk past his house to get home, but that was just coincidental.
They talked on the way home, talked about anything and nothing, really. Abbey talked about how she had to go to her aunt's house tonight, and Johnny talked about a book he was reading. Abbey had read it already, but she wouldn't give away the ending. They were about halfway home when the blue car pulled up next to them.
It was a car full of the self-proclaimed 'popular people.' There were three guys and their girlfriends. To fit the six of them into the car, one girl had to sit on her boyfriend's lap, a fact she looked excessively happy about.
"Hey, freak girl, you get any calls from the Devil lately?" one guy asked. Everybody else laughed. Johnny and Abbey kept walking. The car kept their pace.
"The devil doesn't call, retard," Abbey said without turning her head.
"I'm sure you would know. I bet he comes to your house every night, doesn't he? I bet you're his favorite."
Everybody else snickered. Abbey picked up her pace the tiniest bit. It was a ruse, Johnny knew. He could see the glimmer of mischief in her eyes.
"Who's this guy? Is he gonna be your sacrifice or something? He can't be your friend. You're too freaky to have friends," one girl said. Her boyfriend, a jock who most likely only liked her for her boobs, laughed really loud for no reason.
Abbey swirled around, facing the car with her arms upraised. Johnny saw that her arms were covered in black fishnet gloves.
Abbey stared at the driver in particular.
"Silflay hraka, u embleer-rah," she said in a chanting voice. "Gandit kman, y d'arvit u ya sirn."
She pointed one finger at the girl who had mentioned Johnny.
"Y tu, sierra la boca."
"Yeah, whatever, freak," the driver said, but he was freaked out. They drove away, tires squealing.
"That was cool. What did you say?"
"I just cussed them out in… Lapine, G.S.L., Gnommish, and, uh, Spanish."
"Neat. Where do you learn crap like that?"
"All sorts of books."
Johnny realized he was passing his house.
"Oh, sorry, this is my stop. See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah, sure."
Johnny did a full one-eighty spin, but when he turned around, abbey was gone.
"I gotta get her to teach me that," he said, walking in his door.
'She's neat, isn't she. I like her.'
"Eff, not you again."
"Well sorry for offending you, but I live here, stupid. And watch your mouth," his dad said.
"Sorry, not you dad."
"Nobody else here, retard boy."
"Yeah, I know."
'Lots of knives in that drawer, I believe, the one just to your right.'
Johnny's eyes flicked to the drawer. It was open a bit, and there were knives in there. For a horrible second, his hand started to reach out, but he stopped it, and walked into his room.
'You can only walk away for so long, Johnny-boy. Someday you have to stand for yourself.'
"Yeah, but maybe not with a knife," Johnny said. But he couldn't stop thinking about it. And the next morning, before he went to catch the bus, he slipped one of the knives into his pocket. It made him feel strong.
Oooooohh, longie dropoff. It is good, no? Yes, I think so. It's kinda fun to see him deteriorating so well. I like making Eff just start to appear, before he even got a body, really. Sorry if I didn't do his parents well, my parents are great, and so I don't really know what drunkard abusive parents are like. Abbey is loosely based off a friend of mine, and this kinda long chappie is dedicated to her.
Silflay hraka, u embleer-rah, gandit kman, y d'arvit u ya sirn, roughly translated, means (SKIP IF YOU DON'T LIKE CUSSING) Go eat shit, king of stink, shitting fick, and damn you to hell. Y tu, sierra la boca, that's Spanish, it means and you, shut your mouth.
Lapine belongs to whoever wrote watership down, Gnommish belongs to Oin Colfer, and GSL, (galactic standard language,) belongs to ME!
Cookies for anyone who reviews and knows what Matando means!