And He Was Gone - 5. Five

“Well, whatcha gonna do when Tommy comes around then?” Mark asked as we strolled to our first block the very next day; English. For some reason, the wave of students seemed to part and let us through. Some even sneaked glances at me, as though I was something cold and contagious.

I cocked an eyebrow. “Nothing, that’s what. What’s he going to do? Tackle and body slam me?”

“What?” He stooped to kiss Stacy as she passed by, and even she shot a cautious look at me before smiling and high-fiving me like we always do before turning away. I puffed out my chest.

“Do I have something on my face?” I demanded loudly to my strutting friend, running my hands over my features. He looked back at me, nonplussed.

“You looking for something ugly and contagious?”

“Nah. I stare that something in the face everyday.”

“Damn, well, I’m glad I’m not you. How many mirrors did you manage to break now?”

“Just one. I was trying that medusa thing when I first met you.” And backhanded Mark, broke into a random chorus of We Are The Champions and flipped open the doors to our class, then stopped dead in our tracks, music dying in our throats.

I blinked once, not comprehending, then groaned as Ms. Bridge pointed at the clock.

“Late.” She announced coldly, flesh quivering. I noticed the cast on her right arm and leg, as well as crutches leaning against her new table.

“But you’re supposed to be dead.” Mark spluttered, confusion clouding his face.

He was ignored. “Detention for both of you. After school. You’ll be scrubbing toilets with the janitor.”

We took seats. “Just as long as it’s not your toilet.” I groaned. “That’ll take about three years just to circumnavigate.”

That earned laughs and a cold stare from Ms. Bridge.

“Are you insulting me, Mr. Shawn Cotlin?”

I shook my head meekly. “No, madam. Just practicing my sentence structure and vocabulary in the English language.” Then added, “I could give you the definition too, if you want. But then it’s not my place to educate you, is it Ms. Bridge?”

That earned a silence, and I could almost see the gears and wires sparking in her brain, trying to comprehend what I just inferred. She ended up not responding, and just heaved her body towards the white board and started to scream about the elements of debating, picking on students for examples and in-class questions and managing to humiliate every single one of them, until I became annoyed and started on the arrogant retorts once again.

It irritated me that she, even as a substitute, was able to break school rules yet didn’t get her ass toasted by the principal. It irritated me that she seemed acted like she owned the world. It irritated me that she tried so hard to constrain our opinions. It irritated me that she was mean. That she never stopped talking. That she wore horrible clothes. That she wore her hair in plumes. And, it irritated me that she was interrupting my thought patterns.

I don’t remember the details of the buildup, but it eventually came to the point when I got the class to sing the national anthem and I was leaping from table to table, synching in with the beat, and snatching paper airplanes from the air and bombarding Ms. Bridge. She tried to call the Principal but couldn’t reach it when Perry borrowed her crutches for a trip to the washroom. It was furiously delightful.

Until, that is, the door opened.

No one thought much of it at first, because we had thought Perry had just returned to the washroom, but he had not.

Instead, standing at the door, was the boy.

The boy. The one I’d spend the past two days obsessing over like some girl staring into a Pop magazine, wishing, sighing, dancing. The one inscribed deeply into my mind. When I looked into his eyes, I felt almost light headed, as though just finishing a three days worth of work on a four million pieced jigsaw puzzle.

I almost started on a chorus of Crazy In Love but obviously thought better of it. Plus, my throat was uncomfortably dry. It was suddenly very quiet, paper airplanes whirling down from the ceiling in a silent symphony.

What was he doing here?

“We have a new student.” Ms. Bridge announced, running her hands through her tousled hair, trying to climb back into her seat, then added, almost grudgingly, “Make him feel welcome.”

Oh.

Subconsciously, we felt the hyper active energy ebb away from our veins and instead replaced by buzzing curiosity as the boy was guided into a seat. I blinked. A seat beside mine. I swallowed, felt a grip in my chest… then almost punched myself.

What was I feeling? Was I nervous? But that was impossible. I almost never get nervous. Never shy. Never scared… Hell, I even felt butterflies or whatnot fluttering in my stomach.

As he sat down, I could see his throat moving as he swallowed, his dark eyes blinking, the veins in his arms and thick chest rippling as he retrieved a paper and pencil from his bag. I marveled at his grace, his artistic beauty; caught. Then, he spoke.

“Yo. Bad time to step in?” He muttered from the corner of his mouth, taking notes as Ms. Bridge started to rant about the importance of adjectives in a speech.

His voice was something that I didn’t expect, coming from someone so gorgeous. It was a warm, bright, friendly voice, as though laughter was just running underneath the surface; lightly sanded, it was almost coarse, and a tone above low. Needless to say, it was also a sexy voice.

I smirked. “You could say that. If you hadn’t, the ambulances might have arrived five minutes short of the bell.”

He blinked once, then pulled an incredulous face.

“You serious?”

“Dead serious. We did numbers on her already. Just look at the fatass’ limbs.”

He shook his head. “Are all the people around here this…”

“This what?”

“I don’t know.” He seemed to consider it for a moment, lips pursing and longish nose twitching in thought. “Scary, maybe.”

I laughed and he grinned back, dark eyes crinkling, right dimple flashing. My heart did a bungee dive through my intestines.

“Don’t worry kiddo, I’ll protect you.” I patted his back. He rolled his eyes.

“You can try.”

It took me a few seconds to drink in his words. I was too busy sucking in the air through my nostrils like a vacuum, taking up every bit of that salty scent from his skin. He smelled of the wind, of the sea, the sky, of raging beams of sunshine and crushed leaves. And damn was it nice.

You can try?

I straightened slowly, and shoved my face into his. “Was that a challenge?”

He laughed and patted my heart shaped bruise. “You want a challenge?”

“Yeah I want a challenge.”

“I dare you to…”

We fell silent when Ms. Bridge shot a murderous glance in our direction, in which the boy smiled innocently at her and quickly set to work. His eyebrows had almost a feline slant to them, I noted, as he turned his profile to the whiteboard.

The bell snapped through the air a minute later, and the class streamed from the seats. The boy grabbed my arm and yanked me outside before Ms. Bridge could serve me a double detention, laughing when I nearly tripped over her crutches.

“It’s Devin, by the way.” He said, extending a hand.

I shook it, forgetting to give my name, and asked what class he had next. He peered over at my schedule, said that we shared P.E. classes, grinned one last time and vanished into the crowd.

The butterflies in my stomach were on Ecstasy.

**

I couldn’t find Devin during lunch break. Mark thought I was strange, dragging him with me and with Stacy bundled up in between all over the school, looking here and there. I even searched the trash cans and women’s washroom, but he was absolutely nowhere to be found, and so I had spent the rest of the break climbing roofs and throwing stolen eggs from the cafeteria at random passer-bys.

My boredom was replaced when P.E. finally arrived.

Coach ploughed us on with the basketball, pounding drills into our bones and whipping our already abused muscles into pools of lead. I think we were close to committing mutiny, but it was cut short after he split us up into teams.

I kept checking the door for Devin, turning my head in mid-pass, mid-shoot, mid-dribble, only to see that there was no sign of him. Why did I care so much, anyways?

Frustrated and annoyed to the point of insanity, our class played dirty today. Every few minutes, it was bruises, split lips, and shattered teeth. Still, I remained untouched. The people kept on avoiding me, even more than usual in this class for I tended to get rough; averting glances, ignoring, whispering… it was really puzzling. Tom cut through it all.

“Hey, Shawn.” He had said, just before the jump ball.

“Hey yourself.” I shot back, readying myself.

“Stay out of my way, Shawn.”

I laughed, and shook my head. The chances of that happening were close to negative three.

“Did you hear me, Shawn?”

The ball flew up. Alive. This was going to get messy. Action. Tom jumped, and I leapt after him, deliberately slower, threw my arm up, and positioned my other elbow so it was hidden from view, then drove it with vehemence into his stomach. He let out a deep grunt.

“Yea I heard you, Tom.” I smiled as he doubled over, dribbled the ball in a full circle around him, pivoted when the defense got in my face, and passed the ball to the swing man. He took a shot, missed, and I closed in for the rebound, successfully driving it into the hoop. Cheers.

Coach called it a day, and I high-fived my way through my team. Gone were the sneaky glances. At least for a minute.

When Tom recovered and flicked his gaze upwards, all the others diverted theirs. “You have someone to walk you home today, Shawn?”

I turned my back on him, scoffing, which proved to be a mistake, but not one that I couldn’t correct.

“Watch out!”

I flicked my eye backwards just as Tom started to charge. The fool. I stepped to the right, flicked out my leg and he flew into the wall, hands just stopping a titanic collision.

“The trash cans over there.” I snapped, pointing to the far corner of the gym and laughed my way out, but my voice sounded hollow even to myself, ringing cold and emotionless, the scream of an insect when it dies, the whisper of a man when he’s already dead.

**

I had never been superstitious in my whole life. When a black cat crosses my path, I kick it. If I spill salt, I lick it up. When the pennies fall out of my pocket and land tails, I chuck them at people. What was the point to heaving yourself out of convenience, to something that solely intends on giving false hope and confidence, on something someone can’t even prove?

That afternoon however, when two pennies slid from my pocket and landed both heads and tails, I knew something was going to happen. I could feel it in the air. Of course, there was also a chance that nothing would. Heads gives you good luck, Tails gives you bad, so would both cancel each other out? Then of course, there was an inevitable factor of exactly when the two pennies landed, and how shiny in comparison they both were…

Stupid.

Still, I fidgeted, and it didn’t help that I still found it easy to move through the school. Mark started to avoid me, too, and pretended not to see me when he left for home. Then mom called and told me to take the bus.

Within the next ten minutes of the dismissal bell, the school grounds became deserted. One moment filled with pouring bodies, the next moment, a piercing silence, ringing and calling. I shivered, but not because it was cold, weighing the possibilities, and suddenly, I knew.

It was Tom. He had probably threatened his way around and gotten everybody a good scare, and called up his mates to come beat me up. Usually, he doesn’t get in my hair often because I have my own set of backup -- discarding the coward Mark, temporarily -- but this time, I think I pissed him off pretty bad.

The wind blew, low and pulsing. My ears perked.

Voices sounded, and even from here, I could hear the clink of blades and faraway shades of empty eyes, the drip of a single droplet of saliva, and a growl from deep within; where it was dark, damp and ugly.

There was nothing there, but there was something here.

I stood frozen to the spot.

Nothing.

Then, as the first edges of the shadows appeared near the glass doors of the school, I ran.

It had occurred to me for a fleeting second, that perhaps I should have just stayed and taken in the blows, but Tom’s friends were vicious. I have guts, but I wasn’t a fool. I have my dignity, my pride, my life. I have fear.

It took quite a few minutes to recognize that feeling, with me tearing across the fringe of the suburbs, rickety shards of concrete and the roar of cars on the highway tearing into my brain, and the pumping of feet behind me, but eventually I did.

More voices, but unlike what I expected, there wasn’t shouting, there wasn’t any jeering, there was only sounds above a whisper. I looked back, could not see them, but I knew they were there. Just a few turns back.

Nothing.

Run.

How many were there? Ten? Twenty? More.

I paused at an intersection, gazed to my left where the silent houses lay rooted in a convolution behind a thick row of hedges, then to my right where the vehicles roared by. I had a better chance to survive in the local neighborhood, but if I was spotted, then I was a goner. If I turned right then I would come into plain view. Decision time. But before I could pick one of them, Tom slinked up behind me, grinning. I whirled around.

Just him.

Footsteps were drawing closer. I could almost see the cold faces, hard, knives gripped in their palms.

I wouldn’t show him that I was scared. I couldn’t.

Tom had this perfectly calm expression on his face, left eyebrow arched in a way that was despicable, but gorgeous all in one. It was disgusting.

I scowled.

He smiled.

“So, who did you say was walking you home today again?”

There was something in him that made me mad; something in his stance, something in his poise, the sweetness in his voice, the ice in his words, the smirk, and his cowardice underneath all those folds of fake confidence. He acted like he knew everything and everyone. That was, after all, my job. Waves of anger coursed through my veins, and everything else was a blur. It was just me, and him. Without really thinking, I jerked my chin to something behind him, saying;

“She’s right there.”

He turned back for a second. Just a second. I swooped down, gripped a large piece of concrete, flashed my arm back… Then, from behind, a hand clamped over my mouth, and I felt strong hands wrap around my waist and hoist me silently under the hedges.

I was surprised, but angry enough to shoot a fist to my uninvited assaulter, but was immediately subdued in a bear hug. I took in a familiar scent, and I was suddenly stupidly sure that this assaulter had immobilized my heart as well.

“What are you doing?” I snapped, as Devin released me. He mouthed a shut up and beckoned me to follow him out of earshot of Tom. I heard numerous amounts of footsteps, all in synch, like androids marching to an extermination approach.

We crept farther along the hedge, and stopped, waiting with bated breath as Tom wondered where I went, discussing first softly, then in raised voices with his gang. Silence. I thought my chest was going to explode from anxiety as the twenty five pairs of feet disappeared from the view underneath the leaves and the bickering faded into the distance.

“What…” I began, but Devin once again clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me back down, flat on the grass and in the safety of the shade.

“Tom’s coming back.” Was all he said, and nodded to the quizzical expression on my face.

And we waited. But not for long. Soon enough, a single pair of footsteps amid all the soft, bubbling traffic rang into earshot, a single voice cursing, and I flinched when he aimed a kick at a rock. There was a pause, in which Devin stood straight up, face set. His eyes were no longer smiling.

“What…”

Before I could stop him, he burst out from the hedges and I heard the air singe as he took a violently accurate swing. Thud. Silence once again. I leapt out in turn, eyes wide when I scanned Tom’s prone form, a bruise on his cheekbone and a seam of blood matted on his light hair.

Jesus. I thought he had killed him, but as I bent down to examine Tom, he seemed to be simply unconscious. I got him into recovery position, checked for his pulse, and just rested there, crouched low. I felt a hand on my shoulder.

The element of surprise is a powerful thing.

And it was over too fast. I told Devin just that. He acknowledged it with a smile, and we stood like that for a long time, until a loud horn sounded and blasted me back to my senses.

“Now what?”

“Let’s drag him into the bushes.”

I stared, and shook my head. “You’re crazy.” But helped him heave the body underneath the hedge nonetheless.

“Did he see you attack him?” I asked, after a double check at his pulse.

Devin shrugged his strong shoulders. “Yop.”

“You know he’s going to come after you, don’t you?”

“That kinda was the whole point yo. It’ll give you some time off.” Then thought for a second. “Well, my initial plan was to distract him from you enough so you could escape, but I kinda got carried away…”

I eyed the half hidden Tom critically. “I noticed.”

**

The ravens swooped down at us when we started back to our destinations, while the chickadees danced in circles above us in a ring of feathers. The minutes melted slowly into an hour, and by then, the initial shock had eroded from my veins. Get a grip on yourself, I thought, then turned to Devin and said, “Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?”

I blinked, not understanding, then continued, “For saving me and shit back there. I would have been dead meat if you didn’t bail me out of that sticky situation.”

A pause. Then…

“Oh, it was nothing bro.” A tease. I rolled my eyes as he flicked a piece of leaf from my hair.

He was beautiful, just strolling along my side, the sunlight flooding into his skin, slanted eyes half closed in relaxation, a playful smile creasing his lips, with this sort of warm happiness radiating from his pores that seem to intensify every patch of the sidewalk he treaded on.

“Sorry I missed P.E.” He said sheepishly. “I was kind of busy, and only got around to coming like, almost too late.”

I shrugged. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Isn’t tomorrow Saturday?” He asked, puzzled.

“Oh yea. Alright. Monday?”

“Monday yo. You have my word.”

You have my word?

We walked for a few more minutes in the direction of the bus stop before Devin told me that he had to go, wheeled around in opposite direction, and left with a simple “Cheers.” I watched him walk away with a smile on my face, fingering those two pennies in my pocket.

I bussed home that day in a way that I would normally never do. I didn’t scare the old ladies. I didn’t annoy the bus driver. I didn’t scribble profanity on the windows. I was just there, hands clasped on the handrails, barely even thinking, just perfectly calm, with a sort of blissful happiness pouring from my skin.

**

It was on. The staring contest with the ceiling. It began at eleven thirty five, after I had taken a shower hot enough to scald my skin, scrubbed myself clean of all the grime and dirt, then flopped down into bed, asking myself questions that perhaps could be never answered.

It was Devin, Devin, and more Devin all night long. What was his last name? Where did he live? Why did he decide to enroll when there were only a few weeks of school left? Why was he here? The words swirled around and around in a maelstrom until I almost fell asleep, only to push me back over the brink of slumber when I started to imagine him without clothes. And man, was that a thought.

~