by James McCann
Derrick stared at her with cold, blank eyes. “Maybe it’s what I want.” Then he said to Carl: “You want me to kick your pink butt black and blue? Watch your mouth.”
“Watch my mouth? Don’t play this game if you ain’t prepared to lose.” Carl stood and took off his jacket.
The windows rattled from a gust of wind. At the same time, Kim moved in front of Derrick, and Alix grabbed Carl’s shoulder. Both girls whispered, “Let’s go somewhere else.”
“I’m not afraid of that loser!” Carl stepped into the aisle.
Derrick gently moved his sister aside and glowered at Carl. “What did you call me?”
Alix looked at Kim pleadingly, but the Native girl stared back for only a second. Her muscles turned rigid, her lips pursed, and her eyes grew as cold as the bitter air outside. Alix sat, suddenly aware of the aroma of burgers frying.
“What’s your problem?” Betty asked Alix, as she took out her iPhone and started recording the dispute. When Alix didn’t respond, Betty added, “Do you know how hard it was to get them to hang out with you?”
“Sorry,” Alix mumbled. She hated herself a little for wanting so much to be accepted, but she did long to be a part of their group. Even for one last year of high school.
Carl glanced at the booth and winked. At first Alix thought it was at her, but when Betty pushed forward she realized it was to the camera.
Then he turned back to Derrick, and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders.
Derrick pushed back and yelled, “Come on! Let’s go!”
“What the hell is going on out here?” Bob the cook yelled, rushing from his kitchen. His grease-stained apron barely fit over his belly, but his powerful voice and towering height kept most troublemakers in line.
Kim turned to him first. “All we wanted was a warm place to go–they started it!”
Bob walked behind Derrick and grabbed him, throwing the Native youth hard toward the door. “I never want to see you in here again!”
“I didn’t do nothing! Why don’t you throw them out, too?”
Bob took a step toward him, but stopped when he saw a knife in the teen’s hand. Derrick glared at Carl.
“Tomorrow morning, meet me in Dead Man’s Alcove. We’ll settle this once and for all!”
“I’ll kick your ass! Hell of a way to start the first day of school,” Carl shouted at his departing adversary.
Bob turned to him. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Punk doesn’t scare me.” Then he said to his friends, “Let’s get outta here.”
“Where?” Simon asked. “It’s freezing outside.”
“I got juice to keep us warm.” Carl showed them a bottle of whiskey he had hidden beneath his jacket.
“Let’s go!” Betty squealed, grabbing Alix by the arm and pulling her out the door.
As Alix followed, she wished she hadn’t wanted to be popular this final year of school.
“It is better to die alone than to die surrounded by those who never truly cared. The one may be a tragedy, but the other is a lie.
“Yet to die in the arms of the one you love, to grow old and watch your love do the same, that is the greatest gift of all. For it is not death we fear so much as the circumstance in which it shall come.”
-Wulfsign
CHAPTER THREE
Alix stared into her locker at the contents that represented the final ten months of her life at school–books, love notes, pens and assignments. All the essentials that now seemed so important, but soon would be nothing but trash.
Betty had more clothes and make-up than actual school stuff in her locker. She was not exactly a bookworm, but still somehow managed to be a solid “B” student. How Betty managed even average grades without studying or doing homework no longer seemed important with the end so near. Betty smiled, her slender and curvy body beaming with energy. Her long, dark hair was loose and straight. She wore purple lipstick, fake eyelashes, and black nail polish.
“Can you believe it’s almost over? We’ll finally be out of this prison!” Betty said.
Alix smiled, sighed, and said, “Out of the zoo and into the wild.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing.” Alix looked about herself, slowly turning in a circle. This place had been her entire life for three years. She recalled the first week of secondary school when she had somehow separated from the orientation group and got lost. And the time in grade ten when a boy first asked her out on a date. He might have been a geek, but it sure felt special. Then there was Grade Eleven, when Betty joined cheerleading and became popular. That year Alix was left behind in teenage obscurity. And now, here she was, at the end of high school. Her last chance to be one of the popular girls. She sighed.
“Oh my,” Betty whispered. “You’ll never guess who’s coming.”
“Who? Carl?” Alix said, hope strong in her voice.
“See you later,” Betty said with a mischievous smile. Then, walking away, she sang, “Don’t do anything I would do.”
Alix sighed and turned back to her task. Carl walked up beside her, leaned against the locker by placing his palm flush against the metal frame. His letterman’s jacket opened, his tight shirt hinting at a very muscular chest. Oh my, Alix thought.
“You just missed Betty.” She hoped he wouldn’t notice the tremble in her voice.
“I didn’t come to see Betty. I came to see you.”
Alix blushed and tossed her hair over her shoulders as she turned to look at him. “Really?”
“Yeah.” His eyes shone bright blue and his toothy grin formed dimples in his cheeks. “You hear about Tara?”
That feeling like a heavy push on her chest made Alix wonder why she’d thought Carl could be interested in her. Tara was tall, raven-haired, athletic and exotic in a way that she could never be. It made sense that the star football hero would ask her out.
“She was in my Lit class last year,” she said, staring into her locker.
“She got attacked by a wolf just outside the Farcus Café last night.”
Alix suddenly felt terrible for the jealousy that had consumed her only moments earlier. Standing to face Carl, she asked, “Is she all right?”
“No. In the worst possible way.” He looked serious. “I heard a rumor you ain’t comin’ to my party tonight, and thought it might be about that.”
Betty! Alix screamed silently. Her cheeks burned and her breath was hard to catch. “I, uh, just don’t, you know . . . fit in.”
He laughed, loudly. “What are you talkin’ about, girl? If you don’t fit in would I be here askin’,” he dropped to his knees and several passing students took notice, “beggin’, I am beggin’ you to come.”
Alix couldn’t wipe away her smile. Burying her face in her palms, she started to laugh. Then she met his beautiful eyes. “Okay, I’ll come. Okay!”
“Revelry starts at ten!”
“I still can’t believe you’re having a party so early.”
“Hey, if they’re gonna have the first day of school on a Friday, then we’re gonna party hard!” He started to walk away but stopped to add, “You comin’ to watch my fight in Dead Man’s Alcove?” Carl held out his hand to her.
“Uh, sure.” Alix felt silly with such a big smile, but she still took his hand and walked with him.
Derrick stormed into the alcove, followed by six of his buddies, and Kim clinging to his black leather jacket. Tears rolled from her eyes.
“Please! Don’t fight!” she begged.
“Kim! Don’t embarrass me!”
“Then. Don’t. Fight!” Kim whispered.
Derrick closed his eyes a moment and ground his teeth. When he met her eyes again he spoke through snarling lips. “Do you want to be one of them, Kim? Is that what you think is gonna happen? Go over there. Try and be their friend. You know what they’ll tell you? You’re just a stupid Indian.”
“And what will fighting prove?”
Derrick glared at his enemy and snapped, “It’ll prove I’m not a stupid
Indian. Screw ’em.”
Alix watched from within the gathering crowd as the two adversaries faced off. Betty squealed, holding her iPhone so she could record the fight. Pivoting so she had Alix in the frame she asked, “Tell YouTube how proud you are of your boyfriend!”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Alix blushed, pushing Betty’s hand away. She stared through a window that had started rattling from the gusty breeze outside, to the green field that looked as if it were an ocean with grass for waves.
Betty glanced at it for a second, and then pointed her iPhone back at the alcove.
“Well, he isn’t your boyfriend yet,” Betty said. Then she shrieked, “It’s about to start!”
Alix turned her focus on the impending battle. She hoped Carl wouldn’t get a black eye from this with the school dance just next week. Not that he’d asked her to go. Would he ask her? She couldn’t help smiling, thinking that, yes, Carl might actually ask her!
Carl and Derrick circled one another as if they were beasts of prey warring over the same lair. Carl first pushed Derrick, who shoved back at Carl. Finally, they grabbed one another–and suddenly a deep voice from beside them growled, “Excuse me.”
The two adversaries wondered who would be stupid enough to interrupt their fight. Even the teachers made a point of staying away whenever students settled disputes. They saw a short, stocky youth clad in an open grey leather jacket, baggy black sweats, and a white muscle shirt. Hair, darker than any night, crowned his head like a lengthy headdress. Thick eyebrows met together above his narrow, emerald eyes, and his raspy voice hid a hint of a Gaelic accent.
“Excuse me,” the new kid snarled, as a low, menacing growl trailed his breaths.
Carl waited to see if Derrick might have an explanation of who this guy thought he was. Derrick didn’t, so Carl decided to take care of things himself. Glaring at the stranger as if to say, Excuse me? Get lost! We’re busy!, he grabbed Derrick and again prepared to fight.
This time the stranger reached between them with his bulky arm, saying directly to Carl, “Excuse me!” And, with a little more forced clarity in his words, he told Derrick, “For the last time!”
As they tried to move his arm, his muscles tightened the slack in his jacket into a steel-like texture. Carl and Derrick formed an unspoken truce to square off against the stranger, with Carl moving in first. The jock wasn’t afraid of their new foe’s sculpted appearance–but when their eyes met in challenge, Carl received a glare so fierce that his skin turned pale.
The students watched in awe as their prized football star ran from the alcove with no explanation.
Alix wondered if she should go after Carl. Was this a good time to be there for him, or should she wait?
As if answering her thoughts, Betty said, “You can go to Carl after this jerk gets his butt kicked.”
Derrick didn’t hesitate to take Carl’s place. Shoving his opponent in the chest, Derrick spat on the stranger’s shoes. The stranger didn’t budge, not even an inch.
“What the hell you want in Dead Man’s Alcove?” Derrick turned to ensure his friends were waiting to back him up. Then he faced the stranger again to add, “You want me to make you a permanent resident?”
Derrick didn’t break his lock with the stranger’s sunken gaze. They stood nose to nose, the stranger breathing hard in loud, raspy growls. Suddenly Derrick grabbed his temples and shook his head as if fighting off some unseen force. The crowd stepped back.
Then Derrick threw the first punch.
The alcove echoed with cheers as everyone watched the stranger reel from the blow. He threw his face back and licked his lips as if tasting blood, though no one could see any. When the stranger leveled his vision Derrick hauled off again, and threw a second punch. This time the new kid deftly caught the hurtling fist. Squeezing it tightly, he brought Derrick to his knees, wincing with pain.
Alix wondered if Derrick’s friends might step in, but they looked at a loss for what to do.
“We can choose our lockers?” the stranger snarled in his deep, raspy voice.
“Screw off.”
The stranger appeared as unconcerned with Derrick’s dignity as he did with the kids who had begun gathering around him. Alix expected them to jump him, maybe shank him and leave him for dead–but they did nothing more than stand by and witness their leader’s plummeting reputation.
“I asked,” the stranger began coolly. Then, as he broke Derrick’s fingers one by one, he said, “We-can-choose-our-lockers?”
“Yes!” Derrick yelled in agony, unable to hide the tears pouring from his eyes. But the tears hadn’t surprised his gang nearly as much as the tone in his voice. For, borne in that tone resounded something no one had ever thought they’d hear from him–a hint of pleading.
The stranger released his captive. As the slack in his jacket grew taut from his tensed muscles, he pointed to the locker he wanted. He shouted loudly, so the whole student body would hear, “Then I choose this one!” And he glared, as if to tell anyone else who might think to challenge him to settle their claim then and there.
With that echoing through Fillmore High’s hallowed halls, the sacred locker–the one belonging to the spirit doomed to haunt the students forever–again became occupied.
Quite unchallenged.
As the students dispersed from Dead Man’s Alcove, the stranger paid no more attention to them. He examined his locker, giving the impression he was a person content with being left alone. A demand for which they all showed respect.
Betty tapped off her iPhone and grabbed Alix’s arm. “Let’s go, girl. Your boyfriend really needs your support.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. Why don’t you go without me?”
Betty placed her hand on her hip, smiled, and tilted her head. “And just what are you going to do?”
Alix watched the new kid hang his jacket on a hook inside his locker. He carried a knapsack, and looking at it, he sighed sadly. Alix knew what it was like to be an outcast and feel completely alone. He clearly hadn’t wanted to fight; he’d just wanted this one particular locker. Real badly. Yeah, that was weird. But maybe if someone had welcomed him, he wouldn’t have acted the way he had.
“I’m going to talk to him,” Alix said.
“You crazy?”
“Why don’t you come with me?”
“You go talk to him, girl, you’re on your own.”
“Fine. Forget it, then.” Alix turned from the alcove and started to follow Betty out. But she stopped, again thinking on the last few years and what it was like to be a pariah. She also thought about last night, how things could have gone differently if she’d just said something and broken up the argument between Carl and Derrick. Wasn’t that what this new kid had just done? Broken up a fight that she was too cowardly to do?
“I’m going to talk to him. If you don’t want to, fine. But I am,” Alix said, rubbing the bottom of her nose.
Betty shoved her iPhone in front of Alix, and replayed the scene where the stranger broke all of Derrick’s fingers. Alix pushed her hand away. Betty waited a few seconds before rolling her eyes and storming off.
CHAPTER FOUR
Alone with the stranger in Dead Man’s Alcove, Alix took a deep breath for courage and walked towards him. She waited for him to notice her. When he didn’t, Alix said, “Hi. My name’s Alexandria, but my friends call me Alix. Sorry ’bout Derrick and Carl.”
The new kid closed his locker and met her golden-hazel eyes. She stopped speaking. His eyes turned misty, and his brow relaxed. He wrapped his arms around his chest and sighed, parting his lips slightly as if he wanted to speak but didn’t know what to say.
Alix felt a wave of emotion wash over her like none other she had experienced. It felt as though she was in one of those movies where the camera suddenly starts spinning around the actors, the motion creating a dizzying feeling that takes the audience outside of the moment, and into a place on the edge of time and space. She stepped back, kept her eyes locked with his, and
slowly reached out to caress his stubbled cheek.
But before her hand reached his cheek, he gently redirected it. His touch stopped the spinning and brought her back to this moment–the one where she was standing before a potentially violent teen. They were now alone in the alcove, a place in the school that was completely soundproof. As the stranger opened his locker door to place his book bag inside, she said nothing further.
Just before she could turn and leave, he secured his locker with a combination lock and walked out from the alcove.
What a freak! she thought, as chills cascaded through her spine like little laughs, mocking her for thinking to welcome him.
Perhaps you should have just let him be, a voice said within her subconscious.
“Who’s that?” Alix replied aloud, looking all around herself in the empty alcove.
Your conscience, the voice told her. If you want to help him, show him to his class. Look how lost he is.
This wasn’t the usual way her conscience spoke to her. Normally it came through emotions, an intuition that led her to do the “right” thing. She had, for the most part, stopped listening to that part of her, due to the fact it was responsible for keeping her from being popular. But here it was, her conscience, telling her what to do in a voice that seemed foreign to her.
Not important, Alix decided, as she rushed to catch up with the stranger.
“So, where are you off to?” she asked him, forcing her full red lips into a smile.
He stopped his crawl, examined his timetable, and turned to her. He avoided making eye contact.
“History. Mr. Pausron’s class,” he said.
“That’s my class, too.” She bit her lip. “I can show you where it is.”
He nodded, and she led him out of the alcove. As Alix walked beside the stranger, she turned so she could look at him. Whenever his eyes met hers, he diverted them as if he were hiding something. She wondered what a complete stranger could possibly have to hide.
“We’re here,” she said when they came to a door marked 1H-6. She smiled, and made a motion with her hand that he should enter first.