Disclaimer: Not mine.
"Transformed"
Chapter 1 - Proverbial Diamond
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed"
25th June 2009
John McFarlane licked his lips surreptitiously. Another patient. He sighed. Getting dragged out of bed in the middle of the night quickly lost its appeal after the first 6 or 7 times. Why couldn't he have been a dentist like his mother wanted? Did they get dragged out of theirs beds at 2am? He harrumphed – unbloody likely!
If John was truthful with himself, it wasn't the time that was bothering him, although in pitch black the car park had a certain mysterious menace to it. It was this mental hospital, or as the world tried to remove the stigma it, the Psychiatric hospital. He was a doctor who disliked hospitals, the irony wasn't lost on him. It wasn't so much the hospital in general but the ward he was specifically entering that troubled his thoughts. The juvenile ward. Call him soft skinned if you will, but John just couldn't stomach treating mentally ill children. The elderly sure, but not fit and healthy children who should be out playing, living their lives, a future to look forward to. John sometimes had nightmares of going to work; finding his next patient was his baby girl. He would wake up in a cold sweat and simply stare outside, all the while assuring his wife that he was alright.
John smiled politely at the young novice secretary. He had remembered her first day; she had been a bundle of nerves, mis-pronouncing names, filing the wrong documents. He was pleased to find that she was settling in now. It was nice to have a few sane people in the old 'loony bin' as it were. John had long since become desensitized with derogatory names such as 'the nut house' or 'the funny farm'. He tried to teach his patients to share his view point as well, it wasn't their fault they were like this after all – just a cruel twist of fate.
John grimaced as he fully entered the ward. While the rest of the hospital was embodied with sterile white tiles, the juvenile ward was colorfully painted in blue and green 'soothing colors'. It seemed more like a circus to John, or rather a lie. There was countless epigraphs on the walls with inspirational messages of encouragement. So many smiling faces, happy times – all to hide the truth. Most of these kids would never be happy, they would never live a normal life on the outside. Why did the selfish bastards who decorated the halls have to build their hopes up, leaving him to pick up the pieces? They had had their future cruelly taken away from them, and now they were constantly reminded of this injustice every waking second.
"Sir, you've arrived, thank goodness." That was Simon, his overt politeness irritated him slightly, although it did remind him of when he'd started out himself – believing he could save everyone. How naive he'd been. Still, better to be naive than a cynical old fool.
"Report?" John asked expectantly, holding out his hand. Without a seconds hesitation Simon handed the files to him.
John promptly folded them up and tucked them under his arm. Simon sighed despite himself. "Sir, you really should read those-"
"That's why I have you, Simon. You're better at making judgments than me."
Simon turned crimson under his praise as always. John wasn't lying either, he could delve much more from Simon's words rather than an emotionless piece of paper.
"We don't know his name yet. He's only thirteen we think, but I feel he has a split personality disorder."
"What has lead you to this conclusion?"
"He is almost pathologically shy on first appearance, but when we left him, well, better you see the recordings for yourself."
"What was he officially reported in for?"
Simon looked genuinely surprised. "Sir, have you not seen the news?"
"It's 2am, I was a bit preoccupied sleeping, Simon."
Simon halted, his mannerisms grave. John began to get a familiar sinking feeling in his stomach. What could it possible be to have been reported on the news?
"It's the school in the Lark Creek area. He burned it."
"Burned it?"
"...To the ground; arson," Simon gulped, feeling lightheaded. "The police haven't revealed it yet."
"What! Haven't revealed what?!"
Simon looked directly at him, eyes downcast. "The casualties."
John breathed, only now taking in the seriousness of what they were now dealing with. "My God..."
25th June 2008
The sun was blaring down relentlessly; Jess quickly wiped the perspiration from his brow without halting in his pursuit of Scott Hoager. His feet felt like lead on the unfamiliar tarmac. As he looked down to check that they were still attached, Jess suddenly received a disconcerting image of his trainers dissolving in the heat.
He recalled good old "Monster Mouth Myers" showing the class an image of someone suffering trench foot...but he was sure that was caused by dampness. He shuddered, not only at remembering the effects of trench foot, but at the possibility that Myers was entering his subconscious. Lord, he was definitely losing it.
Despite the weather; Jess had a smile on his face. He realized that it wasn't all bad after all. School would be over tomorrow. Seven weeks of freedom from that prison adults liked to call a "school"...he would smile to that any day. While Myers warning about increased chances of catching skin cancer in the summer, was certainly frightening, he suspected that she got a treacherous pleasure in scaring her classes witless on a daily basis.
"Keep up Aarons, we're almost there."
Hoager's words brought Jess back to earth as he almost lost his balance. He frowned at the blurred form of Hoager in front of him. Easy for him to say riding a bike!
Nonetheless, Jess increased his pace to catch up with Hoager. As he ran, all he could think about was the heat. The heat, well, it was uncomfortable to say the least. Jess could feel the sweat falling down his face, occasionally wincing when the sweat touched his eyes. He could not afford to wipe his face, using every limb possible to propel himself closer to Scott, who seemed like a ghost in the heat, the very air halting before him. It felt like the very rays of the sun were pushing him to the ground. He stuck his tongue out, the way Miss Bessie liked to do as she slept - which was most of the time. What he wouldn't give for some rain.
Seeing the heat visible distill the air in front of him. Jess imagined it was the beginning of a mirage. There was something bewitching about the way the air visible floated and rippled in the heat. Like the air was heavy, sticky - affected by the heat in similar ways to Jess. It reminded him of water. Jess would have almost believed, at that moment, he was underwater, being transported to a far a way undersea magical kingdom...well, if not for the very evident and magic bereft pain in his feet.
He shook his head, somewhat angrily. Lord, Jesse Aarons, soon to be a 6 grader, dreaming of underwater kingdoms. When would he ever grow up? He looked at the painfully blue sky, devoid of any protection from clouds and wondered, what would his father think of him?
Jess had always been a loner. The weird kid that liked to draw. That's what he was to everyone. He accepted that, probably even preferred it. Jess had no earthly desire to be popular; even taking the plunge as a teacher's pet wasn't appealing to Jess...heavens no. Those were either bullies like Janice Avery, or, god forbid, Wonda Kay – the prissiest girl in school, never mind 5th grade.
He certainly didn't want to be another "follower" of the supposed "cool kids". Whose main activity consisted of following around Willard Hughes etc like a lost sheep, with regular intervals consisting of smoking behind the bike sheds in a desperate attempt to look tough. The one thing that he did envy from them, just one thing,...they were respected – a lot. And, well, he'd like a little respect. Jesse Oliver Aarons could settle for that. Respect. Or at least his father could...
When Scott Hoager, another outside much like himself, had approached him. It had immediately got his attention rather than a thousand lectures from Myers. He hadn't known quite what to make of Hoager before. Despite being a loner, he was very athletic and had joined many of the school sports teams. An area that was strictly regulated, sometimes quite forcefully, by Willard Hughes and his "followers". While not fully entering the circle ruled by the older years, he had gained their respect for his talents. Now that was something Jess respected.
Naturally, when Scott had asked Jess if he wanted to "hang out at break", Jess had accepted. So, here he was, three weeks later, following him to lord knows where. Jess had been grateful to Scott for giving him the time of day; despite the consequences of falling behind on his chores, he had enjoyed a whole new world.
He'd had friends before, of course, or at least what people considered friends. Amiable relatives and interesting teachers. Not found lacking in parents or in siblings either. Indeed, if anyone merely spared a glance at Jess, loneliness would be the last thing that came to their mind. Yet that was how he felt. Alone.
He had so many ideas, aspirations and dreams – he was like a shaken soda can, just waiting to burst. But yet despite the friends, teacher, relatives, siblings and parents. He truly had no one to share it with, no one who understood. He thought it might be something to do with Lark Creek. That the longer he stayed here, the harder it would be to leave. He was ostracized and contained in Lark Creek. Trapped in Lark Creep.
He'd tried writing in a diary, but that was a pale imitation. He felt like Wanda Kay, portentously spouting ideas to an unwillingly listener, not caring for anyone's opinion but their own. There was times when Jess felt nothing, no desire to carry on, nothing. What was the point? He'd often fade away into the background, a mere extra, as Brenda and Ellie argued or Joyce Ann cried. Jess was not brazen enough to believe that he could truly call Scott, or "Hoager" as he preferred to be called, a friend yet. Although now, he was more desperate than ever to connect with someone. Anyone. He couldn't be alone in the world could he? He would show Scott his true self...he had no alternative.
By now Jess felt so drenched in sweat, he considered the possibility of asking his mother for that old waterproof jacket Brenda grew out of. Pity it's pink, Jess thought with chagrin. Why did everything have to be pink in his house?
His muscles felt cramped and he had a desire to scratch – everywhere - until he bled. Jess recalled having a similar urge when he was suffering from chicken pocks. The urge to scratch was so intense that his mother resorted to making an oatmeal bath for him. "Concerned" that the oatmeal might clog up the drain. Brenda had suggested that he have the bath outside in the bucket Miss Bessie used for her excrement. The humiliation.
"Hoager, ho- how far-" Jess wanted to continue but his throat was so dry, his voice came out hoarse.
"Not far," was the reply from Hoager, Jess rolled his eyes. That helps, he thought sarcastically.
He looked away from Hoager, gazing at his surroundings but he was running so fast, everything was a blur of speed and heat. Or maybe that was heat exhaustion kicking in.
Regardless, the scenery was gloriously unspectacular. A suburban neighborhood with perfectly trimmed lawns and matching paint jobs on the semi detached houses. The odd plant or gnome seemed like a desperate last ditch effort by the owner to say 'hey, look at me, I'm special'.
The painful similarity between the houses gave Jess the impression that he wasn't actually going anywhere. It was a hideous feeling, enough to make him appreciate his own house. Jess was intrigued as in to how the residents knew which house was there's. His house had character. He felt a small amount of pride.
Well, if he ignored the creaks and groans the house emitted at night, and the way it had a habit of swaying slightly to the left in a heavy breeze. Yes. Yes, Jess concluded. All those imperfections gave it a life of its on. On that day, Jess decided that character was his favorite word.
Well, so much for the scenery then; Jess turned back to find Scott Hoager with an alarming lead. As Scott turned off into another street, Jess suddenly thought the other boy might hide from him, disappear down an alley and hide from him forever. It was a crazy thought, but Jess could not shake the fear of it. Rather than shout for Scott to slow down and look like a fool. Jess increased his pace franticly by leaping at almost every step. Wait for me, Scott. Wait for me! When he turned the corner Jess was relived to find that Scott had eased his pace somewhat.
They had to be getting closer. Jess was desperate. The whole journey had and was murderous on his feet, but Jess gritted his teeth and thought of the one thing that would always cheer him up.
The one thing that Jess truly loved to do, above all else, was draw. Jess was never as content as when he had a pen in his hand. Come to think of it, he was content with any writing device in his hand, not that he could afford much but still...that was him. For that golden shining moment, when Jess put pen to canvas, he could create anything, do anything. The feeling he got was impossible to describe, and it would be a disservice to the feeling to even try to.
The difficulty Jess experienced, was that there was no possible way for him to convey that in words to someone, anyone. He felt trapped, alone, a stranger in his own home. If he was honest with himself, he was afraid. Afraid of rejection. Jess recalled vividly his fathers reaction in second grade. He himself had been filled with uncontrollable joy, his first drawing. In a scene eerily reminiscent of May Belle in later years, he had rushed home, eager to invite his father into his world. Drawing in hand, his world had changed as he watched his fathers reaction. He hadn't said anything, but he knew, somethings were just best left unsaid.
Hoager stopped abruptly and Jess nearly toppled into him.
"Watch it Aarons," he said simply as he dismounted.
"Sorry, Sco-"
"I told you not to call me that!" Hoager snapped; he turned with an aggressive suggestion before pushing his bike toward a derelict driveway. Jess shook his head in amazement. Wondering why Scott would consider being called by his first name a bigger irritant than almost getting knocked down, and people called him weird!
"Is this it", Jess was unable to hide his disappointment. Hoager either didn't notice or ignored it; he approached what seemed like an ordinary, run-of-the-mill house. He had run straight from school for this? Hoager approached the house confidently but instead of heading for the front door, he tapped on, what Jess assumed, was the garage . Jess heard a muffled "it's open" from inside. Hoager immediately lifted the garage door before the voice had finished. Jess was confronted with his P.E teacher bent over; working on what he assumed was his car. Oh lord. Torturous memories of doge ball and dance class came rushing back to Jess.
"Hi, Mr Gotenburg." It seemed polite, but Jess had been around Brenda and Ellie enough to know that there was something behind it, in the very tone, that made it feel like a...threat. The voice immediately got the teachers attention; he wiped his hands on a cloth before vigorously shaking Hoager's hand, much to Hoagers displeasure. Feeling terrible awkward, hands firmly in his pockets just in-case, Jess looked around. The garage seemed like an amalgamation of all the things Gotenburg had picked up in life. Anything from china pots to comic books were bed partners here. Mum, would die if she saw this.
"Well, if it isn't my team captain. The fastest 5th grader this side of America I say, everyday of the we-"
"Thank you," Hoager interrupted contently, as if he got this every week.
Taken aback slightly but regaining his composure, Mr Gotenburg asked, "what can I do for my favorite champion"?
"Oh sorry, this isn't about me today, this is about Aarons, " Hoager nodded in Jesse's direction.
Gotenburg's face visible fell. Feelings mutual, Jess thought savagely.
"He hasn't been causing you any...trouble, has he?" Gotenburg scrutinized Jess, who had a feeling that he came up short in his estimation.
"Aarons here, wants to join the school sprinting team," Hoager spoke slowly and purposefully, as if he really wanted to be understood. Gotenburg's mouth formed a comical "o" of bewilderment. Hoager pressed on undeterred,
"We have a free space on the team with Sidly moving school. Jess(he seemed to choke on the word) seems like the best candidate."
Lord, you could see Gotenburg trying to think of a reason, any reason, to say no. Jess was too shocked to contribute. The sprinting team. What was Hoager thinking? Eventually the sway of Hoager weakened Gotenburg sufficiently. Being the golden boy had its perks after all.
Gotenburg finally turned to Jess as a last resort. "You sure you want this – eh, what was your name again? Oh right, Jess. Well, the sprinting team, you know...it ain't no walk in th' park, ya hear?"
"Well I suppose I could-"
"No wait, there's more," Hoager interrupted again...he has a habit of doing that, Jess pondered.
"Aarons here, is the resident artist in Lark Creek, backed up by me." He wrapped his arm around Jess for emphasis. Neither Gotenburg, nor Jess, saw where he was going with this. Jess swatted Hoager's arm away with a gusto.
"I thought you said you'd keep it a secret?" Jess accused scandalized. Sure, most kids in Lark Creek knew, it was a small town after all; he didn't want – or need - every teacher on his back as well, though. Hoager wiped faux dust off his t shirt where Jess had pushed him.
"I said, I would make it better, Jess, and I am. Mr Gotenburg(he turned to him), remember on the bus back from the state championships?" Gotenburg nodded so Hoager continued,
"You spoke about your brother, and how proud you were of him. Specif-ically(Hoager stumbled over the word), his new job, as the director of media at the...National Art...eh... Museum", he said it, more in hope than expectation it seemed to Jess.
"I remember." Although Gotenburg looked anything but proud to Jess.
Hoager moved his hands across the rough wallpaper in the garage as he continued, "well, since Jess is so...eager. Perhaps if we do well, you give your brother a call, sound fair". It wasn't a question as much as a demand. The rest of the conversation went on just as oddly; they struck a deal that if Lark Creek won the championship next term, Jess would meet with Gotenburg's brother.
Mr Gotenburg excused himself when Mrs Gotenburg called for dinner, so Hoager and Jess said their goodbyes before leaving the cesspit. As they left, Jess wondered why Gotenburg had refused to meet Jess' eyes.
"That went well, don't you think, Aarons." Hoager looked suitable smug with himself.
"You could have told me, you know."
Hoager shrugged, "Nah, you would've just acted funny."
"Do you really expect me to...race?"
"Eh, well, we've got a good team. You should be fine, I guess."
"That's comforting," Jess said sarcastically. Hoager nodded distractedly.
As Hoager stopped to close the garage door, Jesse's mind was still buzzing with questions.
"What do you expect me to do... with this meeting? Lord, I won't know the first thing to say." Jess' sentence was punctuated by the garage door closing with a bang.
"Just- I don't know, talk about art stuff. You know the whole, someone to understand me, gig. Maybe get a job."
"Why now?"
Hoager gave Jess a look that was a mixture of confusion and exasperation.
"I mean, couldn't we have gone...I don't know... in the summer holidays?"
Scott made a show of picking up his bike as if he was stalling for time. "It's Thursday," he said, as if that explained it all.
"So?"
"..."
"Hoager!"
Eventually, Scott mumbled something about Gotenburg's mood being much milder on Thursdays, on account of this being his day off. It was a blatant lie, Jess just couldn't figure out why he would lie over something as trivial as Mr Gotenburg. Scott was obviously adamant about not yielding and had "decided" to take Jess to "Ego"; the community club a couple of streets away, as a cease fire of sorts.
"You've been to the club before, haven't ya?"
"Y-yeah, of course, a couple of times." No!
Jess lived "in the middle of nowhere" or so he presumed. The closest house in his area was the old "Perkins place" and that had been deserted for years. Jess had no idea why it was called "Perkins"; in an attempt to scare him, Brenda had concocted a far fetched tale about an entire family drowning in the creek, their bodies then hung, for no apparent reason, from a nearby tree as a warning. This seemed like a ridiculous notion to Jess, considering the creek only went up to his waist, but it had scared him initially when he was younger.
The last residents had lasted half a year, Jess couldn't even recall their names, it had been so long ago. The only people who ever ventured into Lark Creek now, were those who simply wanted to run away from the world. Although in the past few years that had been increasing slightly. Must be a crappy world if people want to run to Lark Creek.
The "Ego" was certainly not in the middle of nowhere...but he did want to run away. Jess had never seen so many people crammed into one place, and that was saying something considering he went to Lark Creek Elementary. The lighting was dark, so it was impossible to see anything over 2 feet away from him. Jess felt maddeningly conspicuous - sticking his hands out dumbly, so as not to bump into anyone. It was disconcerting not being able to put voices to faces, and it seemed to Jess that he was being bombarded with shouts as the music reverberated against the walls. Half the people knew Scott and Jess felt dizzy with the welcome. "Hey, Hoager!" "Hi there, H" "What up, S.H" "About time, Hoager".
The sounds of computer scorekeepers, electronic voices – beep beep beep-, pong pong pong, mixed with a repetitive techno music that seemed like the heartbeat of the entire club. Jess heard half-shouted conversations and girls' happy screams. He could smell food rather than see any and, lord, he hoped that was just mince pie he stepped on. Assaulted by this violent, aggressive and relentless crescendo, he became claustrophobic. He kept a hold of the nearest wall as he followed Hoager, as if he was a budding swimmer who had just been thrown into the deep end. He felt like an alien, a being from a distant world, trapped on a primitive planet, caught in a mob of hostile, screeching, gibbering, barbaric, loathsome natives. Hoager had offered Jess multiple drinks but as the night wore on, it became easier for Jess to distract him. He'd taken one out of curiosity but after the burning sensation he felt in his throat, he'd managed to "forget" his glass on a counter.
Remarkably, time seemed to be in his favor. For it felt like no time at all before they had left the leviathan. Jess felt a strange sensation; his ears popping as they readjusted to the serenity of the outside. He was sorely tempted to kiss the ground and beg for forgiveness.
"That was a blast wasn't it, Daren," Hoager smiled as he wobbled out of the club, neon lights silhouetting his form.
Jess didn't know if it was just stress or relief that it was all over but he smiled back. "I think I remember being called, Jess," grinning despite himself he continued,
"It was okay, I guess. Well, 'part from that guy falling in his own vomit...that was just, eurgh," he grimaced with playful distaste. Hoager shrugged, as if it was no big deal. It probably wasn't to him Jess thought dryly.
He stood for a moment, as Hoager unchained his bike and took in that beautiful summer breeze... Jess felt time stop. That...cold summer breeze. Jess looked up, up at the sky. Dark. Stars. Moon. Oh lord, he had not wanted time to move that fast!
"We need to get going," he demanded of Hoager as he waited, now impatient, for Scott to unchain his stupid bike.
"Huh, oh right, yeah hurry," Hoager's key slipped from his grasp. Scott fell to his knees grasping aimlessly in the dark.
"Damn it, Scott!" Jess slapped his forehead in frustration.
"Name's Hoager!"
"Hurry up!"
"You're not the boss of me." Hoager's objections were muffled by the street bench he was now under.
Frustrated and worried he might hit him. Jess moved away, always careful to keep in the light of the street lamp. He noticed that the Lamppost seemed to be emitting a quaint foreign noise. He pricked his ears and moved in closer. Was that, no. Jess heard a cry of what seemed like...pain. What was that? He turned 360 but couldn't see anything.
"Hoager, do you hear that?" Not waiting for a reply, Jess followed the cries as they grew louder. He heard vague chanting which sounded like "night". Oblivious to anything else, he followed the noise, like a moth to the flame.
"Aaron's, stop," Jess was surprised to see that Scott had risen from under the bench and was now holding onto Jesse's shirt. Had he been that distracted? He looked into Scott's eyes, was that fear?
Undeterred, he surprised even himself by following the noise into what seemed to be an alleyway between two buildings. Too curious to be afraid, he crept inside, feeling an inexplicable desire to keep quiet, he rounded a dumpster that contained lord-knows-what with extra caution. Without any light to aid him, Jess scrunched up his eyes and struggled to make out shapes in the dark. Finally, he caught a glimpse of a... group of boys, a couple of years older than him, he guessed. They were kicking what Jess could only assume was a football but as he looked closer. No! It was a boy... he couldn't be sure but he seemed about his age, from what he could see.
Said boy was curled up into a fetal position, and it had been his cries that had attracted Jesse's attention. The boy was no longer crying out, however, merely weeping in pain when one of the thugs hit a vulnerable point. They group of boys were merciless, savagely desecrating the boy. They were erratic, primal – like a pack of bloodthirsty wolves. The alleyway was narrow and straight. There was no possible way for the boy to run. They blocked him at every angle.
Every fiber in Jesse's being screamed to help the poor boy...but he couldn't move. Terrified and frozen to the spot, he was sure he saw the glint of a knife in one of the boy's hands. He bit his tongue from crying out; he could only watch.
"Please, no, stop- I- can't- I'm sorry," the boy continued to plead. The thugs seemed to stop as they backed off slightly. The bloodied boy on the ground, looked up – hope in his eyes- before they began their assault again, this time tearing at the boys clothes searching for any valuables. One boy took what looked to Jess like a ring. He felt sick, dirty. Like this very event was contaminating him.
"No! You can't take that, it's my Mum's," the boys yells went up ten fold, to the point where he was screaming, begging, crazed and wild. Dignity forgotten, he wailed and flung himself at the many hands that were pillaging him, biting and scratching. Jess wanted him to stop...the, screaming, it was...
"Look at the punk kid, telling us what to do. You think, you're better than us, huh," the boy punctuated his statement with a blow to the boy's face that made Jess cringe.
Jess wanted to retch, he couldn't stand it! He turned...and bumped into a garbage can. For one heart stopping moment, Jess actually thought he might catch that damn can as it fell. He was too slow; it landed on the dirty concrete. HARD. The noise reverberated off the walls of the alley; Jess closed his eyes in a silent pray. Everyone was silent as the impact of the can echoed in the air.
"Quick, could be cops. Let's bail!"
Jess heard loud footsteps retreat from the scene, thankfully in the opposite direction to him. He only dared to open his eyes, when nothing but the echo remained. They were gone. Jess breathed a sigh of relief. He looked down at the the guilty garbage can with something akin to murder in his eyes. He was about to crush it under his trainer when he heard a sniff. Of course, the boy. Jess had forgotten about him. Turning warily, still afraid the thugs would jump on him any second, he approached the human heap of torn clothes, tears and blood. No lecture from Myers could have prepared him for this.
"Are you...okay?" Jess cursed his own stupidity. Say something, Jess he urged himself.
Miraculously, the boy didn't seem to be too hurt. He had some nasty looking bruises that would be shiners tomorrow, his clothes were a bit ragged but Jess had certainly seen worse...and worn worse for that matter! The blood made it seem worse than it really was, a small gash to the side of the head. Jess was amazed it could produce so much blood. He offered a tissue to the boy to clean up, the boy didn't respond so Jess clumsily left it beside him. He didn't know what to do. He merely stared at the boy, hoping he'd somehow find some kind of instruction, by looking at him. It hit him.
As Jess truly looked at the boy cradling his head in his arms, really looked at him, not around him. He realized words were insufficient. In a moment of clarity, Jess sat beside the boy, slowly – making sure he was comfortable. The boy had been stripped of his dignity, and now he needed time to get it back. He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the opposing wall, while the boy beside him moved ever so slowly, as if he was testing himself. Finally, he spoke,
"I only wanted to go home."
Jess turned slightly, wondering if he would elaborate.
"They wanted me to try their...booze. Needed to stop being a pussy. I- I only wanted to go home," he repeated numbly. It seemed to Jess as if the boy was detached, like he was talking about someone else. Jess didn't dare interrupt the boy as he repeated his mantra "I only wanted to go home". Jess felt, somehow, the boy needed to speak. To accept. Eventually the boy became silent, but his words hung in the air.
Feeling like he had to say something, but not sure what, "I'm Jess."
The boy looked confused for a second before responding, "Rodney."
The boy looked around, as if he had forgotten how he ended up here. Jess tried to keep him talking. "Well, nice to meet you, Rodney."
"Yeah, fantastic."
Jess winced at the boys tone, his bitterness was palpable. He really wished there was a manual for this stuff. The boy was getting to his feet now, albeit slowly. He seemed to be looking for something on the ground.
"What did they take?" His question met only silence.
"I can help"
The boy didn't answer until he had finished his fruitless search. He seemed reluctant to speak. As if naming it would confirm that it was gone. "It was my mum's... it was, it was her wedding ring."
"She gave you her, her wedding ring?" Jess couldn't imagine his own mum doing such a thing.
Rodney gave Jess a look of terrible anger...and pain. "She's...gone."
Jess felt like he'd been shrunk a few sizes. "Oh, I'm sorry – about your mum I mean. I, well, I don't know what to say." What could he possible say?
Rodney spoke again, this time so lightly, Jess thought he was talking to himself more than anyone, "Now, they're both gone."
Jess lowered his head in shame. "I should have helped, I should have at least tried, I could've but, I just – I was scared," he confessed. Rodney's face softened slightly and for the first time he met Jesse's eyes when he looked up.
"Nah, it wasn't your fault. They had knifes." Although he tried to smile in reassurance, his tone betrayed him. Jess had to admit, you'd have to be crazy not to sound a little bitter after just being beaten up.
"Who carries knifes around with them anyway?" Jess inquire, hoping to strike conversation now he had the boy's attention.
"Heck, everyone does it now don't they, for protection you see, where have you been living, a cave?"
"I don't usually come this far into town...those guys didn't look like they needed knifes for protection," Jess added as an afterthought.
"Them, they're nothing but thugs. All it takes is someone to stick up to them." At those words, Jess had a sick feeling in his gut that he had done something wrong. It didn't feel real, he'd imagined, well not really imagined, but, come on, he'd expected crying or shouting...at least something. Yet, Rodney seemed to be acting so...normal. Maybe, this is just a different way of coping
"Jess." Rodney stated with a tone of finality. He didn't offer hands, merely turning away roboticly. Jess opened his mouth to stop him, then thought better of it. Remembering what had been said earlier, he found himself speaking, not fully sure why.
"Why're you not carrying a knife?" he said to Rodney's back.
Rodney did not turn, didn't even stop walking. He was almost completely engulfed by the night when he answered, "I want to make her proud of me."
Jess was in no doubt as to the "who" he was referring to.
Jess stood there for a moment. Staring in the direction Rodney had left. He felt like he had to almost...well, pay his respects. He wished he could've had a re run, a second chance to go through the scenario again. Maybe get it right. Jess pushed his hair away from his face. Hopefully he'd never have to go through that again. Hopefully.
After a time, Jesse moved. Having no desire to stand in a dark alley, begging to be mugged, Jess walked briskly. When he returned to the entrance of "Ego" and found no sign of Scott, nor another sign of him ever being there, he began to panic. Jess turned to the obtrusive front lights of the club. He knew one thing. He was not going to go back in there. Scott wouldn't really abandon him, would he? Not even daring to think about the fact that he had no earthly idea how to get home from here.
Jess wasn't sure if he should stay and wait in the small chance that Hoager might show up, or start walking somewhere, anywhere. Deciding that even if he was lost, it was better not to act like he was. He walked in the direction he remembered coming. Jess hadn't really been paying attention to the scenery when they had come into town. Jess had been too focused on merely not losing sight of Scott. Besides, they had come from school, that was a good few miles from his house to begin with. Any scenery he had managed to glimpse wasn't exactly distinctive enough to remember.
If anything the street lights made him feel worse. At least in the dark he remained unseen. He was used to it now considering where he lived. It could get dark pretty fast in the middle of nowhere. The artificial light made him feel like he was in the spotlight. An easy target. He tried to laugh it off, but it was like whistling in a graveyard. Jess imagined the thugs, and how far it might have gone. Would he have just stood there? Gazing like a, like a - well he didn't know what, but it would definitely be bad. He was half expecting them to jump on him any second. He couldn't resist looking behind every so often, afraid at what he might find. The first people he encountered were beggars sleeping on steps entering a closed shop. He was careful not to disturb them, for they looked much more frightening when you were alone at night.
He was trying to remain calm but when he couldn't even read the dumb map at a bus station for lack of light; he considered simply finding a "comfortable" spot and holding out till daylight, like the beggars. Even if he did somehow find out the way home. He wasn't sure his muscles could take the strenuous journey home without rest, and he certainly didn't have any money for a cab. Or food for that matter, his stomach reminded him.
Jess felt his head get lighter; he noticed almost vicariously, that he was sweating, and it wasn't even hot. Drawing inspiration from the beggars, he studied the steps that were entrances to buildings he crossed.
"Too wet," Jess decided quickly as he moved on, rejecting 'Boots' sorry excuse for steps.
Over the course the of the next 10 minutes. Jess tried numerous steps similar to what the beggar's had been sleeping on. He stopped testing them after he sat, rather ungracefully, on left over chewing gum. Mourning his ruined pants, and the rollicking he'd get from his mother, he decided to trust his eyes.
"Too bumpy," Jess decided of 'M and S'. As he approached the next step, he took one glance and walking briskly past it. He might be desperate but he didn't fancy sharing a bed with half-eaten burgers, flies, dirty needles and those dire toys that 'McDonald's' imagined kids actually wanted. The only time they'd ever came in handy was when May Belle had been teething. Jesse's tiredness increased just by remembering the sleepless nights he had suffered at the hands of May Belle. He had been even more delighted when Joyce Ann had joined the party.
"The babies of the family," his mother had called them. Jess cringed on impulse. Finally, much to his surprise, he found steps that met his approval. The second step was a bit crocked but he'd make do. He should make a career of this. Jess hadn't realized how tired he really was until he almost collapsed on the steps. They seemed to welcome him to a block of flats. The irony wasn't lost on him. What he wouldn't give to be back in his own bed, squeaky mattress and all.
Considering the heat wave, temperature wasn't a problem - even at night. Jess tried to lay his whole body on the steps, but he was too tall to lay straight without being bent like an accordion.
'Now there's a first' Jess thought sardonically.
The steps were also made of stone; which didn't help in regards to comfort. He ended up readjusting himself into a sitting position, with his head leaning on the door to the apartments. Jess hoped he didn't roll onto the street while sleeping...he was a very fidgety sleeper after all. As he thought of the people in the apartment, families, couples, siblings. He wondered about his own family; specifically what they were doing right now. It was a week day, so he imagined his father wasn't even home yet. Brenda, would probably be forced to milk Miss Bessie in his stead. Although he imagined Brenda would probably convince May Belle to do it. She worshiped the ground Jesse walked on, so any attempt to help him would be taken diligently. It was quite annoying really. Brenda was too crafty for her own good. Jess took off his school bag, placing it at his feet, while silently cursing the fact that he had already eaten the entirety of his lunch. He chuckled self-deprecatingly, at least he had had discovered his new profession – step gazing.
He shook his head, how had it come to this?, Jess wondered how he would talk his way out of the whole mess. When he went home tomorrow, his mother would be liable to roast him for dinner, never mind his Dad. He might get away with saying he went to bed early. His mother might fall for that, considering her preoccupation with Joyce Ann and the cleaning. He was quiet anyway. Certainly easy not to notice for a night. Lord, Brenda, herself made enough noise for the both of them. There was only one major hole in that plan. May Belle. The dumb kid couldn't keep her mouth shut if her life depended on it. Particular in issues involving himself. He chuckled humorlessly as he remembered all the times he had caught May Belle following him around. Lord, he couldn't even go pee half the time. A large hoot from a passing car broke his reverie. Despite having what at best was a dysfunctional family. As he looked up at the sky, strange creatures howling in the night, the sheer magnitude of stars. Almost beyond his imagination. As he sat there. His arms wrapped around his body protectively. He realized, he missed them.
The experience of sleeping outside reminded Jess of the great adventures he used to have while camping with his Dad. He found himself laughing uproariously at the memory of his Dad's futile attempts at starting a camp fire.
"Natural is the only way to go. None o' them cheap matches or portable electrics. That's the easy way out. This is all we need, real men, you and I," he had spoken with an indefatigable belief whilst he began rubbing twigs together. It had taken hours for him to swallow his pride and bring out a match from his wallet. He mumbled expletives as the twigs seemed to instantly set a light. It had taken him even longer to get over his sour mood. Staring off into the distance, not even willing to look at the fire, never mind take its warmth. The smell of burning marshmallows had been enough to knock him out of his catatonic state.
He delighted in beginning another speech on "the real mans way to burn marshmallows". Jess recalled how he had merely rolled his eyes and snuggled next to his father. He had never felt more secure in his life. It suddenly seemed to get colder.
It brought back memories of when he had used to wrestle with his Dad. How he longed for that, to show his father how strong he'd grown in the past few years. He imagined the pride radiating off of his father's face as he said to anyone who cared to listen,
"That's my son. What a great man he's turning into," his father would say with reverence in his heart
But that was long ago, before the new job kept him away most of the time. Before May Belle and Joyce Ann had stolen him from Jess. A sudden revelation hit him. He was far too old for those juvenile games anymore. Silly really. Jess remembered Rodney's strength when talking of his dead mother. It was humbling.
He puffed out his chest in an attempt to display his own independence. Despite his denial, it was those memories that he kept with him as he began to fall into an uneasy slumber.
Not long after; he sensed movement inside the block of apartments, too tired to care he merely leaned his head back a bit more to be supported by the door and...
"Wha-!" he gasped in shock; more startled than in pain as his head fell through space before hitting – was that a shoe? He looked up comically, it couldn't be.
"Miss... Edmunds?"
"Jess, w-what on earth."
Both Miss Edmunds and Jess shared a similar expression of befuddlement. Jess opened his mouth, realized he was lying on Miss Edmund's feet, closed his mouth and blushed in embarrassment as he sat up. She had her trusted guitar strapped to her back – which she claimed was "an extension of herself"- just like in school, but that was where the similarities ended. She had obviously gone to great effort with her appearance, Miss Edmunds was wearing a fitting black dress, which complimented her slender legs. She had always been slightly taller than Jess, much to his chagrin, but with the addition of high heels, Jess found himself really looking up at her. Spotless white gloves covered her otherwise bare arms, and her black hair had been set into curls. Her eyes seemed slightly red and puffy to Jess but he was distracted by the most surprising thing of all. Miss Edmunds was wearing make up. Not just on her eyes either. Suffice to say, Jess prayed he wasn't drooling. Maybe it was just the circumstance but she looked even more beautiful to Jess, if that were possible. Jess wanted to say something witty, dashing, chivalrous. Maybe comment on how utterly divine she looked.
Instead, Jess demonstrated his masterful control of the English language with the cultured statement, "...huh."
After her initial shock, Miss Edmunds smiled at Jess in that special way of hers, that made him feel invincible and yet immensely weak at the same time...if it were possible, Jesse's face went a darker shade of red.
"Why, Jess...I thought you enjoyed my classes, but sleeping on my doorstep. I'm touched."
Jess tried to laugh at her joke, but it came out as more of a squeak.
"Are you okay, Jess. You really shouldn't be out at this time, especially on a school night. I want you bright and alert for music tomorrow...(she took a look at the disheveled state of the young boy)You aren't in any trouble, are you?"
Touched by the concern in her eyes more than he would ever admit, he shook his head in the negative.
"I'm with, well, I was with Scott Hoager," he then told her a slightly abbreviated story of how he'd gotten into this mess, he deliberately missed out the alleyway with the group of thugs, he wasn't sure why though. Miss Edmunds listened patiently till the very last word before springing into action.
"Come on then, I'm taking you home." Miss Edmunds walked past Jess and motioned for him to follow. Noticing that he wasn't very reactive and having a good idea why, she added.
"Look Jess, I'm not your mother. I'm pleased you felt enough of me to talk about your problems, but I won't force my opinions on you unless asked first. And if you really want my opinion, I think you should go home. Its been rough day, for you and me both, and your family is most likely worried sick."
"You won't tell my parents will you, please. My Dad would kill me!"
"I hardly think your father woul-"
"You don't understand, I just... I promise I won't ever do it again, never. Just please, don't tell them!" He would have gone on his hands and knees if he wasn't already sitting on his backside.
Miss Edmunds looked like she was struggling with herself. Weighing up her duties as a teacher and a confidant. Jesse's heart was currently residing in his mouth as he didn't dare breath. Miss Edmunds sighed deeply, a good kid, she'd made her choice.
"You don't seem to be in any immediate danger, so against my better judgment, I'll let this slide. Just... don't make a habit of this, okay?"
"Definitely!" Lord, make a habit of this! He'd be dead before he reached his 13th birthday.
"Glad that's settled. Now, where did I leave my car, I wonder." Miss Edmunds walked past him into the darkness so Jess picked up his bag and followed close behind.
Jess held his bag in his lap as he strapped himself in, riding shot gun.
"So only one slight problem," Miss Edmunds said cheerfully as she strapped herself in. "Where exactly do you live, Jess?"
Jess looked at Miss Edmunds, then looked outside at the dark foreboding landscape filled with unfamiliar buildings...this could take a while.
It took a while. The car was filled with dead ends and varying themes of "I think we should have turned left". The air surrounding the car was filled with arms gesticulating and head scratching but eventual, finally, Jess and Miss Edmunds found themselves outside Jesse's drive way.
"Ah, finally," her voice was light and bubbly, but it soon took on a more serious tone. "You should really talk to your parents about this."
"As if that ever worked before."Jess was almost frightened with the bitterness in his own voice.
"Tell me about it, my parents were absolut- hey, look at me alienating my own students against their parents. I'll get the sack in no time!" Miss Edmund's voice was full of mirth but Jess was horrified at the very notion.
"They can't sack you, you're the best teacher Lark Creek ever had!"
"Oh, now I know you're having me own. I only work part time," she paused for a moment thinking. "Hey, maybe that's it. Teachers should only be dealt on small doses." They laughed for a while as Jess savored the moment. He couldn't help but feel dizzy as he unbuckled his seat beat. Here he was, with Miss Edmunds..in her car!
Miss Edmunds handed Jess something that had fallen out of his back. It was his notebook. She knew it too. "I expect to see some more masterpieces soon. You're a smart kid, Jess. More than you know. The proverbial diamond in the rough."
As Jess exited the car, Miss Edmunds continued, "Just...remember to say "no" sometimes, okay?"
Jess was ecstatically pleased. He'd never really had a great relationship with adults in general. To be treated as an equal. Whether sincere or not, Miss Edmunds actually seemed to cared, and was willing to listen.
As Jess walked round the car to get to his house, he felt obligated to say something. Come on, Jess, now's your chance!
"Miss Edmunds, why are you wearing that dress?"
"Hey, teachers can do the girl thing too"
"No, I meant. You look...eh, nice, I guess, oh, and thank you for the lift."
"It was my honor, Jess – I expect to see you tomorrow, with drawings in hand." Miss Edmunds frowned with mock sternness although her eyes, always her eyes, were silently laughing.
"Yes, Miss."
"Oh, please don't call me that, Jess. I feel old enough as it is."
As he watched Miss Edmunds drive away, Jess couldn't help but think it peculiar that Miss Edmunds would have her mascara dry around her cheeks. He waved at her until she was no longer visible. Smiling to himself, he mouthed the words "proverbial diamond". Diamond, was now his favorite word. The pain in his feet seemed all but forgotten; he walked with a slight spring in his step. Past the bus stop, the empty Perkins place and turning right...home.
As Jess walked up the battered, overgrown, but still comfortingly familiar pathway to home. His heart sank as his eyes landed on the familiar pick up truck. His Dad was home. This by itself was not sufficient to dampen Jesse's mood. The company the pickup track had in the drive way was infinitely less appealing. A police car.
Thanks for reading!