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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/527695-Chapter-3-Malachai-Meets-Two
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Rated: 18+ · Book · Fantasy · #1304672
A fantasy tale of friends facing off against foe.
#527695 added August 13, 2007 at 2:31am
Restrictions: None
Chapter 3: Malachai Meets Two
It all started the first afternoon of school. His mom had decided to drop him off at school that morning, only because he’d slept too late and missed the bus. That’s what she said anyhow. The bus came for him at six in the morning and he’d been out there by five until the hour. The bus never showed. That wasn’t his fault. The ride to school was tense and there wasn’t much said, except for when she told him not to fuck the whole day up. If he missed the bus home, he was walking. He’d protested that it was a forty-five minute walk but she seemed unfazed. He didn’t know why he wasted the breath.

That afternoon, he got onto the bus and carefully scouted somewhere to sit. He was a big guy by every definition of the word. He hated sharing seats because he’d inevitably end up with some beefy jock and then there would be the silent argument about who got what space. Heaven forbid one brush against the other when they were shifting positions as well, because that suddenly made them gay. He dealt enough with that already. There was no need to invite it onto the bus, where he should be unwinding from a treacherous day of school.

The very last seat in the bus extended the entire width. He had no idea how that was conducive to getting off in an emergency but he didn’t much care either. He took his place behind any other kid, pressed right up against the window. Now if someone felt the need to sit next to him, they’d have plenty of room to sit in. His right knee bounced and his left elbow rested on the sill near the window. Cupping his chin in the palm of his hand, he was intent on staring outside for the entire ride, which wasn’t too terribly long to begin with as he was first to be picked up, first to be dropped off.

Mr. Edwards was the van driver. Mr. Edwards had been in the military when he was younger and was damn proud of it. Mr. Edwards was probably old enough to be his grandfather. Like his grandfather, Mr. Edwards hated his hair. He didn’t see what the big deal was. Blood red by nature, Malachai took great care in spiking his thick hair on top of his head every single morning of his life. His spikes stood proudly four inches off his scalp. That added to his natural height of 6’3. He thought it was rather becoming of him.

“Siddown. I can’t see out my mirror.”

Glancing around, he tried to figure out who was blocking the aisle. There was no one standing in it, so that couldn’t be it. Everyone else turned to see who he was talking about as well. All eyes eventually fell to the back of the bus, right where he was sitting. Blankly he stared back. Surely he couldn’t be talking about him. He was sitting as far to the left as he could.

Just in case the perpetrator couldn’t hear his raspy voice the first time, he picked up the intercom and spoke into it, announcing it to the entire bus that way. “You there, the thing in the back seat. Siddown so I can see out my window.”

Squinting, he shook his head a bit and slouched down a little, just in case the crazy old man really was talking to him. Before he could point out how ridiculous he was being, making him slouch when he was obviously out of range for what he might need to see, his voice cut in again. “Further.” This elicited a few snickers from those on the bus. A few others groaned, just wanting to get on with it. The bus behind them was surely wondering what the hold up was.

So he slouched a bit further, crossing his arms over his chest. There were a few boys in particular that found this too amusing. One of them was sitting on the opposite end of the bench they shared.

“If you just shaved it off, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“It’s not a real problem. He’s just being a grouchy old bastard.”

“Impaired vision could jeopardize his ability to see, and my life.”

“The only thing impairing his vision is being as ancient as he is.”

He rode the rest of the way in silence, slouched down in his seat so that his hair wouldn’t be an issue any longer. The next day was quite similar, only that after they finally started driving, he moved over to the middle of the seat and sat as straight as he could, making good use of his tall upper body and spiked hair. His driver threw a fit over the intercom but he just crossed his arms over his chest and refused to move. To stop the route would be detrimental not only to getting home in time to watch reruns of his favorite show, but to his job. His supervisors didn’t want to hear about how some mohawked freak wouldn’t listen to his directions.

As he stepped off the bus that day, the driver swore he’d get him kicked off his route for good. He doubted any such thing could happen, especially since he lived so far away.

His prediction was correct. Day after day he was allowed back on the bus, but the driver exacted his own revenge. The small group of guys that often sat together took to picking on Malachai. Anything from his hair to his clothes to being overweight, and most of the time the driver thought it was just as hilarious as they did.

One of them had seen him at lunch with Alex, had watched them together, and believed she was male. Alex would be happy to hear that. He came to sit next to him on the bus, having plenty of room now that he’d taken to occupying only the left side of the bench again, rather than the middle.

Leaning in, he whispered with a sneer, “I hear you’re a fag.”

Indifferent to what he thought, he continued to stare out the window. A lot of people thought that and it never really bothered him before. Now he could only hope his stop would come soon so he had a reason to push the guy out of the way. If he acted without reason, he was sure he’d be kicked from the bus, unbearable distance to walk or not.

There was nothing else said, so he figured they were through. He didn’t leave though. Glancing up, he tried to catch a glimpse of him in the reflection the window offered. He didn’t see any movement that would have worried him though, not until it was too late. Jeremy reached over and grabbed him right between the legs. Drawing in a sharp breath, he spat out at him, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re a fag, so you’ll like this, won’t you?”

There was nothing pleasurable about it though, not even if he did like the touch of another guy, which, to date, he didn’t. There was only pressure. He had him in a death grip and he didn’t seem to be letting go. Malachai did his very best not to breathe, not to show pain, and not to give him the satisfaction of thinking that he hated him for what he was doing. Indifference was the only thing he could think of to irritate him.

“She’s a girl, you fucking asshole.”

The bus finally came to his stop. He saw it out the window. So he mustered everything he had and shoved Jeremy away from him, watching as he slid along the vinyl seat and nearly onto the floor. Storming up the aisle, he jumped down the stairs and out of the bus. It was still something of a walk from the bus to his apartment, but he would have walked a considerable amount further just to be away from those guys on the bus.

Now he just opted to walk home, rather than dealing with anything on the bus. He already had a bad reputation, just from his size alone. The black clothing with silver studs all over it didn’t help much at all either. He wasn’t the only one on campus that dressed like that, but he seemed to be the most disliked. He didn’t even know why. Usually he stayed quiet, kept to himself, and just wished for the school day to be over like everyone else.

At any rate, he’d heard Mr. Edwards was happy about his permanent absence. At least he was doing good for him.

Taking the steps two at a time, he let himself into the tiny apartment. When divorce became the trend in America and single moms were all the rage, most kids came home to an empty home. He was sure psychologists had something to say about that but he didn’t pay much attention. The wretched ‘latch key kid’ label came to mind every single time he stuck that key in the lock though. He was sure there was some psychoanalytical babble regarding how he actually looked forward to being home alone every day.

Shadows filled every corner almost as successfully as the dirt and grime did. He’d seen a few cobwebs crop up and that reassured him he co-existed with spiders. A fun little fact he picked up along the way, as he was a sponge for useless trivia, was that most people swallowed an average of seven spiders in their lifetime, done in their sleep of course. He was positive he’d met and exceeded that already in his life. Truthfully, he’d rather not know for certain.

Without turning on a light, he threw his backpack onto the couch and made a beeline for his room. This was what he’d been looking forward to all day. This was why he’d cancelled on Alex. He just needed some time to sort all of this out, to figure out what it was he’d pulled from his head. This was the only time he felt safe in here. Brian sometimes came home early though and so he kept an ear out for him.

Sitting on his bed, he pulled the strange object from his pocket and looked it over again. Rather than appearing solid black, it was a bit green this time around. Of course that might have something to do with the lighting of the room. As he let the strange thing tumble from finger to finger, palm to palm, he realized it wasn’t quite as solid as before either. Now it was taffy, almost as it’d been melting in his pocket this entire time. He knew this change had nothing to do with the poor lighting in his room.

At first he’d been convinced he ought to throw the disgusting chunk of migraine afterbirth away. Now that it had molded to his fingertips and seemed to absorb his identity onto its surface he thought maybe he should keep it. At least until he could give the situation more thought.

Malachai had no doubt in his mind he could have spent the next twenty minutes or so studying the brain taffy, if it hadn’t been for the sound of the front door. He’d been so caught up in looking at this that he forgot entirely to erase the message off the answering machine. Maybe the computer at school glitched and it didn’t call at all. That’d been happening lately, from what he heard.

The heavy footsteps led straight from the front door to the kitchen, where the phone was. Pressing the playback button, he knew there was at least one message for Brian to hear. The first was reminding his mother of an appointment she had the next day. The next was the school calling to say he’d missed his fourth hour. The last message that played was strange in that it sounded like someone had dialed, got the machine, and then was trying to dial again. Only as he played it back in his head, he realized they were one digit away from a phone number. Maybe they started pressing when the recorded voice of his mother was still running.

“Damn freaks.”

If he didn’t try to get out of the house now, he’d never make it out at all. Since Brian was only the boyfriend and not the step dad, he didn’t have much jurisdiction in the punishment and consequence area of his life. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t throw in his two cents like someone might have asked for it.

“Your mom is gonna kill you when she finds out you ditched school.”

To most kids that meant they’d get their new sports car taken away fro the weekend. It meant they’d be doing more than their fair share of chores for the next week or so. Maybe they’d be grounded. He longed for a punishment so simple. In his case, depending on how liquored up she was by the time he got home again, she very well may kill him.

“I probably wouldn’t come back home tonight, if I were you.”

Such was said with a grin on his face. Maybe he just wanted the place to himself, to the two of them rather. They were rarely apart. He hoped the grin wasn’t actually in favor of him dying. There was something morbid about Brian being that excited about his death.

“Like that’s ever a problem.”

Brian snarled back at him, “You’re always talking shit man, but the day you try your key and it don’t work, you’d think more about what’s coming out of that filthy, ungrateful mouth of yours.”

It sounded more like he was telling him of their dirty little plan than just venting. Changing the locks probably came right after fucking in his bed. Grabbing his backpack, he headed for the front door and made sure to slam it extra hard before galloping down the stairs. He figured his best bet would be Alex. She might still be mad at him for originally canceling on her, but he doubted she would stay mad for too long.

It only took him a minute to get out the main door of his building to cross that small alley in order to rap at her window. When there was no reply at her window, he tried to peer inside. Dark as usual, she would sometimes leave a light on or a note on the glass for him to read. Her dad didn’t ever bother to walk into her room and pull away the curtains to see if she’d written anything. Who would do that anyhow? Tonight her note said ‘Fuck you’ and that was it. Obviously she was a little upset about how he had cancelled. He seriously thought he’d have more time to look that blob over and didn’t want to have to hide it away until after he got home. It was every day he pulled out a brain tumor after all.

Glancing down at his watch, he realized that he was going to have to do something with himself for the next couple of hours. He hated being out while the sun was still up because everyone always thought he was getting into trouble. He didn’t have many friends though, so his options there were limited. Finally, he settled on going over to Kenneth’s.

Not long ago he was exploring a few new alleys around where he lived. Out of one of them walked a buff looking Latino man. He was fairly sure that he was going to get his ass kicked but the guy was cool. Turned out there was a theater not far from where he stood, which was where he came from. Ever since he learned that, he liked to hang out on that street at night, hoping to catch a glimpse of other kids his age. He saw quite a few faces and after seeing Kenneth a few nights, he invited him back to his apartment.

Most of the time they did their own thing despite being in such close quarters. Kenneth had just come out of a relationship and was playing the field again. Malachai just wanted somewhere to be when he couldn’t be at home. Eventually the spare bedroom was just set up for him. On weekends, if he visited, they’d usually watch porn and get wasted together. Kenneth always had a good supply of pot in the house and Malachai wasn’t adverse to the idea. He didn’t want to get caught with any on him though, so he made sure such adventures were done in that apartment only.

One night, out of the blue, the porno they were watching changed from guy and girl to guy and guy, just like that. At first he was a little uncomfortable but Kenneth seemed all the more eager to participate alongside the images on the television. He’d never quite put two and two together before. Not long after that incident, Kenneth brought home one of his conquests. A pale, fragile looking boy seemed to have caught his fancy. He stayed that night and the next day he caught them on the couch together. They were hardly sleeping. Homosexuality wasn’t his flavor, but he couldn’t say anything against it either, being the open minded fellow that he was. However, he did see that as a prime time to leave.

Oddly enough, a few minutes later, it wasn’t Kenneth who came after him but the guest instead. He was pretty sure they’d gone to school together. He apologized for him catching them like he did. Malachai told him he really didn’t care, that he just needed to get home. Before he knew what was happening, they were talking. Seriously talking. Kenneth was good for hanging around, but he didn’t know how to connect with another human being to save his life. This guy knew how to get to the core of him.

Before they parted ways for good, Malachai kissed him. It wasn’t all that different from kissing Alex, which surprised him.

Now he headed over to that apartment filled with old memories and used to key to let himself in. Kenneth wasn’t home, which was fine by him. Retreating to his room, he closed the door behind him and could breathe for the first time in a long while. If only he could be out on his own. That might remedy a lot.
© Copyright 2007 Adla Brown (UN: adlabrown at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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