Climatic Climacteric Omnibus

by L. B. Carter

  “Yes sir, right here.” Nor’s partner for the day, thanks to Sirena’s absence, was Stew. He pointed with the eraser end of his pencil, then used it to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

  Nor didn’t question Sirena’s disappearance into hiding after the melodrama of the clay incident; he wasn’t allowing himself to.

  “Excellent. And did you—?”

  “Identify the ventricles? Already done. We’ve sketched them here. I went ahead and labeled their various functions, as well.”

  Mr. Sanderson peered over their shoulders to see the paper, an appeased smile and gleam lighting his previously dead eyes.

  Though Stew had used the plural, Nor had done very little in the lab. It wasn’t that he didn’t know the parts and purposes of a mammal’s organs. His mother would have something to say about that, given that she’d home-schooled both him and Reed without the need for an extraneous physical example, though there were plenty of ill-fated corpses that found their final resting place in her colleague’s lab due to natural causes, notably. Nor had studied hard, with the intention to take over her work when he grew old enough. He hadn’t had the chance.

  It wasn’t the boredom from being unchallenged due to that prior knowledge, either. His disinterest in contributing stemmed from his preoccupation on the sickening way public schools were taught.

  “Well done, Mr. Lin. Carry on.”

  Stew looked up at Nor. “Do you want to do the next part?”

  Though it was probably the last thing he wanted to do, they were a team. “Sure, what’s next?”

  “We have to remove the heart.” How fitting. “Then we can look at the ribcage.”

  Nor closed his eyes for a moment. It felt almost like he was about to remove his own heart and join the unfeeling top-of-the-food-chainers around him, lusting after a high grade. Sorry, little piggy. Nor opened his eyes and tried to see a task before him instead of an extinguished life, adopting his father’s colder get-it-done-with-no-personal-input attitude.

  He took the scalpel and removed the crucial organ. “Okay, Where should I put it?” He hadn’t paid attention to where Stew had put the other parts.

  “Oh, here’s the biomedical waste bin.” Stew held up a small orange bucket in one purple-gloved hand, lined with a plastic bag.

  Perhaps Nor wouldn’t want to have his mother’s job, with the knowledge that there was little he could do to combat this frivolity. Depressed, Nor searched for motivation in the empty cavity that had been a pig. He couldn’t even will himself to ask Stew about the car accident when the atmosphere was already so morbid.

  For a Friday, things weren’t looking up.

  ◆◆◆

  Surrounded by the vivacious students whose energy and spontaneous school spirit permeated the massive gym like the suffusing chants of the perky cheerleaders, the day got worse. Nor’s mood fell as flat as the announcer’s echoing jokes.

  “There you have it, our teams this year. Although, we all know the only people to watch are our cheer squad!” the kid screamed into the microphone from behind the row of athletes spanning the basketball court, evidently unaware that the purpose of the object was to amplify his voice so he didn’t need to destroy his vocal chords or Nor’s ears. “Are we having fun yet?” the announcer teased.

  No. Clearly Nor’s opinion was a minority. The cheers from the hoards of packed bodies swarming the bleachers facing them heartily disagreed, yelling in a cacophony of excitement.

  “What do you think, ladies? Can we turn up the heat a bit more?”

  The dozen or so girls in short skirts immediately broke out into some dance routine that involved a lot of inappropriate thrusting of body parts. Tumblers bounded past Nor, flipping and cartwheeling, marginally impressive.

  “Check her out!” Surfer shouted in Nor’s ear to be heard over the racket, giving him an accompanying nudge to the ribs.

  Nor followed his eyes and found Shayna at the front of the gyrating formation, hands on the floor, eying the crowd upside down through her legs. Nor didn’t ever remember being this horny at that age. Was it a public school thing to be so overtly sexual?

  Surfer wolf-whistled, cupping his mouth to be heard over the other jeers. “Shake it, girl!”

  He was supposed to be making progress on the mission. The building headache, a result of the pungent melange of body odor and roar from the undulating sea of students, was distracting him.

  “Hey!” He leaned toward the guy next to him, someone from the lacrosse team, grateful the newbies were last in the queue, leaving him at the end of his team’s cluster. “I’m Nor,” he shouted, leaning upward. The guy was ridiculously tall. Why wasn’t he on the basketball team?

  ”Hey.” The gangly teen nodded back, before returning his eyes to the lap dance the front row was receiving. Unfortunately for this guy, being an athlete meant they weren’t privy to the intended lascivious rear view. The kid smiled lustily regardless. Nor glanced over. Then again, boobs were visible from this angle.

  “And you are?”

  The kid’s eyes didn’t turn to meet Nor’s; he didn’t have the same draw that Shayna and her friends did. “Sam. You new here?”

  Nor nodded, trying to spare his vocal chords where he could. “Just here for my last year; senior. You?”

  “Junior. So is Todd.” He jerked his head at another athlete beyond him.

  Nor waved from around Sam and Todd gave a cool-kid chin lift of acknowledgment.

  ”So...” Nor had no idea how to breach the subject he wanted or claim their attention over the cheerleaders. “Did you hear anyth–”

  Before he could finish that thought, the cheerleaders finished their dance with a boudoir style pose and Nor was jostled around in the ensuing mosh-pit of jumping, fist-pumping and hooting.

  The announcer was barely audible even at his deafening decibels. “Now we’ve met our warriors, let’s bring out the God to introduce their newest padawans! Ladies and gents, our coaches!”

  Nor winced at the conflation of references. This time, the chant didn’t cause ear pain as the athletes all turned around and joined in a deep whooping until the first coach to the middle of the floor alleviated the kid of his microphone duties and sent him to sit happily with the cheerleaders. He mashed himself between Shayna and Jessica on a metal bench against the back wall who daintily crossed their legs, probably to make their short skirts just that much shorter. The guy’s face was mostly one big smug grin.

  “All right, all right,” the gravely voice croaked. Nor was pretty sure he was a history teacher. “Settle down.” His weathered face remained apathetic as he palmed the air in a calming motion like he was dribbling a basketball. “This year, we have one new freshman on the football team.” A lone whistle sounded from the waiting crowd. The coach consulted a piece of paper from his back pocket. “John Higgins.” The bulky guy who was shoved a step forward from the line gave a salute. He was evidently somewhat popular based on the hearty claps and cheers, as most football kids were.

  A lady took the mic. “On the women’s ice hockey team, we are thrilled to welcome our newest member, freshman Sarah Rodriguez!” High-pitched calls of delight rewarded the sporty girl who hopped forward and waved enthusiastically. Nor sighed. This was going to take forever.

  His anatomy teacher stepped up. “Our lacrosse team has two new players, a freshman–Don Livingston–and we also welcome sophomore Jeff Wright.” Sam and Todd joined the rest of their team in forming a ring around two kids further down the line, who were quickly lost under the other players layered left hands. They all yelled something Nor didn’t care to discern, lifting their arms and meandering back to their places with many en route high-fives. Don and Jeff looked a little pink as they tried to pat their suitably mussed hair back into place.

  Mr. Sanderson continued, “Until Mr. Tate’s replacement arrives in a few weeks, I’ll also be stand-in coach for the men’s ice hockey team.” He sounded as thrilled about this prospect as he did about grading the pile of l
abs they turned in to him earlier. He glanced at a piece of paper in his hand, before adding, “However, there are no new students on the team. Talk to team captain JT Williams if anyone wants to join.”

  Nor felt the urge for violence well up as JT stepped forward from his place next to Liam and bowed his head at the crowd nobly. How Liam could stand next to him calmly, Nor didn’t know. Then what Mr. Sanderson said registered, piquing Nor’s interest, raising his hope for the day’s potential.

  “Who’s Mr. Tate?” Nor asked Sam, who was already focused on his phone.

  “Chemistry teacher.”

  “Did he quit or get fired?”

  “Died.”

  “He died?” Nor felt like a pointer dog, ears perking up in the direction of a scent. “That’s terrible,” he amended. “When did it happen?”

  “Spring.”

  “This past spring? As in a few months ago?” At the nod he inquired, “How did he pass?”

  Sam shrugged, fingers still moving on his phone.

  Shit.

  “Accident,” Todd spoke around his friend, glancing up for a moment from his own phone, sounding bored.

  Nor leaned forward. “Car accident?” he asked.

  They didn’t hear, distracted by their phones. Getting responses from these two was worse than when his mother had made him assist in the lab and he’d spent hours just watching the periodic drop from the pipette into a solution. He tried again.

  “What was his first name?”

  Both boys looked up, baffled as though the concept of teachers having first names was inconceivable. “Uh, I think my yearbook had him in there as something old sounding. Eugene? Clarence?”

  “Richard,” Todd blurted, suddenly recollecting.

  “Yeah, that’s it.” Sam nodded at Todd.

  “Car accident?” Nor repeated, while he had their attention. “Was he–”

  From his other side, Nor was shoved hard, forced to take a step toward the bleachers. He tripped over nothing, quickly turning his ungainly fall into a forward dive-roll to avoid a face-plant on the buffed floor. Once he’d vaulted back onto his feet, he turned to shoot a menacing look at Surfer for interrupting his interrogation and found that all his team was gawking at him in admiration. The voice on the speakers finally penetrated his overworked brain.

  “...and we are grateful for the expertise he brings with him all the way from Canada. Welcome, Norton!” The thin red-headed lady with glasses was beaming a pearly smile at him from behind the mic that contrasted with her naturally tanned skin.

  Double shit. It was his introduction as the newbie on the sailing team. Evidently that was his coach. Nor nodded at her and then gave a half-hearted wave to the audience, who was maniacal after his surprise gymnastics, feeling like an idiot.

  In some horrible hazing initiation move, his team one by one ran behind him, slapping him on the ass. Reed wasn’t allowed to complain about their respective covers anymore. Nor pasted a strained smile on, reminding himself that it was worth it, that he’d at least made some headway with the mission.

  Honestly though, weren’t schools not supposed to condone hazing let alone physical or sexual harassment? When Nor looked over at the bench of coaches he found their coach. Her cheeks were pushed up high in glee. She was clearly one of those overly energetic teachers who thought they could ‘osmosis’ excitement for learning as well as knowledge in their unwilling students. He’d guess she taught English or Spanish. The contrast was stark next to Mr. Sanderson whose comical frown and slumped posture made it appear like he was debating his willingness to continue existing. Feel ya. The first two coaches who’d announced were chatting together and another that Nor must have missed pushed his half-moon glasses farther up his nose and flipped the page of the newspaper in his lap. They weren’t going to give a damn about the abuse he’d just suffered at the hands of some teens.

  Nor shouldn’t be surprised that a school that let JT still be captain of a sports team, let alone even attend school, after being accused of sexual assault wouldn’t put a stop to medieval traditions.

  Justin was last, as captain and gave a dramatic wind-up like a softball player that finished in a painful spank followed with two additional taps to the cheeks on Nor’s face. Nor barely refrained from turning around and returning the favor with a little more oomph. His version of a “double-tap” was a little more lethal.

  The principal was back on the mic, announcing the date of the first school dance and reminding everyone not to run in the halls or leave their lunches in their lockers for longer than a day. As though it were some unheard bell, when the frazzled voice ended, so did all order.

  Having been about to resume questioning, Nor was tossed around in a sea of students alternately vying for the exit and trying to keep together with their team. Surfer clapped him on the back, dragging him with their group.

  At least he’d learned something, a potential something. Reed was going to love the vague lead he’d gotten. Well, Nor didn’t want to hear any grumbling about it.

  His ass hurt.

  ◆◆◆

  “Maybe you should join the cheer squad, dude. You could get us all in with the hotties.”

  Nor listened with half his attention to the umpteenth comment from his team, this one, surprise, surprise, from Surfer, about his ‘fucking awesome flipping skills,’ wishing once again that he’d skipped the day like Sirena. The cheerleaders had been more acrobatic. Nor didn’t understand what the big deal was.

  Though Barb’s was as packed as the previous week, if not more, thanks to all the town’s teenagers still high on school spirit like it was a drug, they’d somehow managed to pile out of their carpools from school right when another of the teams left to find more illegal forms of celebration. So they’d snagged the few long tables shoved together.

  Nor was much more relaxed in a chair, instead of boxed in to a booth like last time. With his back to the corner of the room, he could even glance out both the front and side windows if he leaned forward slightly, which, with his elbow on the table and chin in palm, was his current viewpoint. That way he kept an eye on everything inside as well as the parking lot and the forest beside the diner. The position had an added benefit of propping his head up.

  “With that kind of coordination, there’s no doubt you’re going to be a huge asset to the team.” Justin was practically bouncing in his seat. He’d even given up the prime spot at the table for Nor this time. The only offer he was glad to accept from all the bombastic praise he was receiving. He’d gotten enough phone numbers to make Reed jealous.

  Nor swept his gaze around the diner again, ignoring Justin’s comment. The cheerleaders of course had the biggest table next to the juke box by the front door, where they could be admired by everyone entering and exiting. They weren’t interspersed with their male VIP companions this time, as most teams were still huddled. Nor had noticed JT was sitting next to Liam and a bunch of other hockey guys at the next table over, the tall asshole, Dylan, was at the table by the bathrooms, which was hugely appropriate, and the quiet polo kid with his female clone were sitting among a very subdued and small group that included Stew at a table in the far corner. One person Nor hadn’t noted before and still didn’t on this pass was a certain silent girl.

  Nor’s eyes swept back the way they’d come and he paused, noticing Liam wasn’t keeping JT company anymore. Searching, Nor found him just leaving the counter where Reed was punching something into the old, clanging register. Nor needed to do some more digging. He felt a little more comfortable with Liam than his team after last weekend. Something about stressful situations bonding people psychologically.

  “I’ll go check on our order,” Nor lied, totally interrupting someone’s re-enactment of their reaction when Nor popped back to his feet in front of the bleachers. He didn’t wait for a response before pushing his chair back in a screech of metal on tile and heading over to Liam who’d returned to his seat. How to get him out of earshot of JT was the tricky part. At the
last minute, Nor deviated to the counter, realizing he had an easy out.

  “What can I get you, sir?” Reed used a falsetto pitch to convey his insincerity.

  Nor ignored that too, mind on the mission. “I need you to head over to the table at my four o’clock and ask the guy with the Irish accent who was just up here to come back.”

  Reed glanced in the direction indicated, identifying his target. “The guy from the beach?” Immediate mistrust dripped from his tone. “Is this about that chick?”

  Curiosity drove him to want to ask but— “No. This is about the mission.”

  “I’ll just say I fancy some alone time to chat, shall I?”

  “Just say you wanted to check something with his order. What did he just come up here for? Use that as an excuse,” he said with exaggerated insolence.

  “He ordered some fries and a shake to go. Why I can’t just confirm with him at the table is going to be suspicious, dumbass.”

  Nor thought for a moment. “What about needing his payment up front rather than when the order is ready?”

  Reed frowned as he considered it. “Again, could be done at the table. But I’m sure I can make some argument to convince him. I mean, I am a genius.” He grinned and Nor rolled his eyes.

  Nor snorted as Reed came around the counter, revealing a pink frilly apron tied around his waist that matched the neon sign outside. “Cute tutu,” he mocked. He got a middle finger in return as Reed made his way across the floor.

  Nor turned back to the bar, to dissociate himself from Reed’s errand while trying to stretch his hearing across the room. Annoyingly, the number of jubilant voices clashing in the tiny space made for poor eavesdropping acoustics.

  With only a few minutes to himself, Nor, ever vigilant for other hints, kept an ear on nearby conversations. To his dismay, he only overheard a truly thrilling account of some movie star’s shirtless fight scene from the ladies on the barstools to his left, by the time Liam arrived on his other side in front of the register. Reed slid back around to his side of the counter.