by Chris Smith
Chapter Sixteen: Now or Never
The school bell signalled the start of class. Coincidently, it was also the beginning of the fall from his illusions of a different life. The first thing to jolt him back into the reality of his existence was Jake spitting in his hair as they walked into the Art room.
‘Hey Maggot, wash your hair mate, it’s disgusting.’
‘Look, it’s his slime.’ One of the pack joined in.
Then as James walked to his desk, Gus thumped his shoulder on his as they passed. James’ bag fell to the ground, its contents spilling out. He picked up the textbooks. His arm hurt like hell. Then, before he had managed to collect all his belongings, Pete walked over and wiped his shoes on his art scrapbook.
‘Left some shit on them from yesterday. Don’t mind, do you?’ He smiled.
Just managing to hold back the tears, James picked up the rest of his stuff and sat down at his desk, holding his head in his hands. Thousands of emotions fought to break out, but he held them in; he tried to stay calm. Where was the peace he had felt moments ago? Why weren’t things different? Then the voice that he had foolishly assumed was gone forever, whispered in his ear.
‘It was just a dream, you idiot.’
Mr. Preacher walked into the room. Pete and his gang sat down, with all the guise of innocence, and took out their workbooks.
‘Good morning children. Let’s get started on the work we began last class.’ From the moment Mr. Preacher stepped into the classroom, James was aware that he was searching his face; clearly, he knew something was up. Feeling the weight of his unwanted attention, James hid his face, lowering it over his desk.
‘Don’t let them see you cry,’ the voice whispered. ‘They’ll know you’re weak. It was just a dream you know, a stupid dream. Listen to me, try to win their respect. If they see you’re hurt, they will sense a victory and get at you more. Don’t be such a suck.’
James held his emotions in check, afraid that they would break free. He didn’t want to listen to the voice but the pestering kept on. ‘There’s no such thing as shadows, it’s just you and them. Stand up for yourself. Hit Burley, that will work.’
Burley sat at a desk near James. He had been flicking sideways glances at him and had seen James’ humiliation. Their eyes connected. Burley lifted his head and they held each other’s gaze. James recognised the look of understanding on Burley’s face. He’d seen the same look in the eyes of the werewolf.
‘Go on, spit at him. Make him the slime ball.’ James dropped his eyes, breaking the connection. ‘Spit on him.’
Mr. Preacher was writing something on the blackboard. He could do it now and get away with it. James was as sure of this opportunity as he was when the chance to thrust the thorn into the beast’s chest had presented itself in his dream. He responded to the suggestion, snorting back some snot and prepared to project the contents of his mouth. Now wallowing in self-pity, he could not believe how the morning had turned out to be so terrible; how he could feel so bad after feeling so great. He swallowed the spit. Why? Grandpa where are you? James thought.
‘Right here dear boy, right here.’
James twisted his head over his shoulder, but Grandpa wasn’t there. Almost ready to dismiss the idea, James started to think about the possibility of the events last night being real. Perhaps everything he’d experienced last night actually did happen. James reasoned through his thinking: if it was true, then it had been his shadow whispering in his ear a moment ago, and if his shadow was here with him, so was Grandpa. Like two sides of a coin, Grandpa had said, so he had to be here too. James peered over his shoulder. This time his grandfather’s sparkling eyes looked back at him. His heart leapt for joy.
‘I don’t understand. What’s happening?’
‘He’s talking to himself,’ Jake shouted so all the class could hear. The room burst into laughter.
‘Be quiet…be quiet.’ It took a moment or two but Mr. Preacher gained control. ‘I’ll have no more of that Jake, thank you.’
Grandpa picked up the conversation. ‘Just talk in your head James, I’ll hear you, okay?’
‘Ok, but what is going on?’ James replied, hearing his own voice in his head.
‘What always happens, James. These thugs are bullying you as they usually do.’ Hearing Grandpa label them as bullies was, for James, like being slapped across the face with the truth. He had never considered them to be bullies. To him, they were the leaders, the people everyone wanted to be.
‘The journey you went through doesn’t resolve what happens up here. You can’t change anyone or anything. What you can do is choose how you relate to people and react to the situations they put you in.’
James’ mind was calm again, but he knew he would soon have to make a choice: to accept things as they were, or start to change.
‘Look at Pete, James. What do you see?’
Pete bent his head over his work. On his face, a sinister smile was flickering. He certainly wasn’t as magnificent as the monument James had created in the underworld. That piece of work was far superior. Pete appeared to James much as he always did, conceited and arrogant. But now James could also see that, behind him, something dark was cuddling up to Pete. What was it? James gasped. Pete also had a shadow whispering in his ear. He watched the dark figure at its work, unable to make out the words it spoke. He noticed Pete’s face moving with small twitches as he wrestled with his shadow’s words. James knew what that felt like. The eyes of Pete’s shadow reminded him of Mal’s: vicious, mean and cruel.
‘Good, you see it.’ Grandpa said. ‘Check out the others as well.’
Next to Gus, a monstrous shadow loomed over him. Gus scribbled furiously at his work with a blunt pencil; he was really crap at art. James wondered what his shadow was saying to him. Jake’s shadow was like a snake slithering from side to side, whispering first in one ear, then the other. James could see Jake silently moving his lips in a conversation with it. The shadow was clearly disturbing his mind.
‘Didn’t I kill them, Grandpa?’
‘No James, they are their shadows, not yours. You killed, or rather, had the perception of killing your fear of the boys, which appeared in the shadow underworld as their shadows. However, you can’t kill fear, it just comes at you again in another form. In fact, to kill off fear is really dangerous, because it leaves you completely vulnerable. What you experienced in the Kingdom of Shadows was how to progress through your anxieties and fears. Take a look at Burley.
To James’ astonishment, he could see next to Burley a pair of sparkling eyes like Grandpas, twinkling. Dressed in a cloak of darkness, with a bright face shining out from its depths, Burley’s shadow was similar to his own. Burley saw James looking and smiled at him. They held each other’s gaze. James knew without a doubt that Burley could see Grandpa at his side. James returned his smile, pleased that someone else knew.
‘There are more, look around,’ said Grandpa.
Most of the pack had shadows. He could see shadows resembling all kinds of different dark creatures of the imagination: witches, werewolves, ogres and vampires. Occasionally, he caught one of the shadows turning around to reveal other sparkling eyes that twinkled briefly before the flip-side of the shadow returned. James looked at Mr. Preacher. Right next to him was an old man, his face conveying a wisdom born of years of experience and knowledge. The eyes were electric blue with millions of stars racing through them. Then James heard the figure speak.
‘The boy will come to you when he is ready, Henry. All you can do for now is wait and keep a close eye on him, see that he comes to no harm.’ The old man was talking about him, James was sure of it.
The rest of class was uneventful, Grandpa and his shadow having withdrawn as James came to terms with the implications of what he had just discovered. He hadn't been very productive with his class work, not being able to gather his thoughts or focus on his work, as he spent his time studying the shadows.
At recess, James walked alone to t
he playing fields. As he crossed the playground he witnessed one boy’s shadow grow from being a small pixie-like thing into a powerful ogre. He had never seen anything like it before. The boy was arguing with his friends about who was going to play ‘in goal’. They wanted him to, but he had a different idea. As he became angry, his shadow grew more fearsome, feeding off his energy. Then the situation exploded: the boy threw the ball at his friends and stormed away. His shadow smiled and melted back into the small pixie, scampering behind the boy, happy with the outcome of his work.
‘Come and play footy with us.’ Pete interrupted James’ thoughts.
He smiled. Pete had never proactively asked him to join in a footy game in recent memory. He almost said yes without thinking, but he glimpsed the evil eyes of Pete’s shadow peeping over the top of his shoulder. They were definitely just like the eyes of Mal’s shadow. Gus and Jake waited a few yards away with a small gang. The shadow whispered something in Pete’s ear.
‘It’ll be okay, come on,’ said Pete. The dark creature’s eyes sparkled with mischievousness. ‘Look, let’s forget everything that’s happened and start again, okay. We use to be friends, didn’t we?’
‘This is your chance. Don’t mess it up, fool,’ James’ shadow encouraged. His shadow was right: it was his chance, but not in the way he was suggesting. James remembered the shadow underworld and the strength he had found in the gauntlet; he remembered the courage he had found to turn and walk away; he remembered how Pete’s offer to let him become one of them was nothing but a trap, and how each of the treasures in the gauntlet were illusions - powerless artefacts. James decided that again it was time to stop playing their game.
‘No, I don’t think so. Thank you anyway Pete.’ He walked away, trying his best not to antagonise him, but the insults flew as he made his way over to the only friendly face he could see, Burley.
‘Hi Burley, how are you?’
‘Oh, o–ok I s–suppose.’ Burley backed away from James. James sensed the boy’s dark shadow growing.
‘I’m sorry I’ve been such an idiot.’ James said.
Burley smiled and James realised the darkness beside him had gone. They chatted for a few minutes. A lot of the conversation was just finding out about each other. After a while he realised that a few from the pack were approaching. At first, James suspected they were there under Pete’s instruction, but to his surprise a couple of them joined in the conversation. The gathering dispersed quickly though, when Pete and his generals made their way over, confrontation written on their faces. Only Burley stayed beside James to face them.
‘Make him dance, Maggot,’ said Pete, holding out some stones.
‘Go on,’ said Jake. ‘It’s you or him. Ha! He hasn’t got it in him, the spineless vermin.’
James could see the next round of insults coming, just like the well-rehearsed movements of the martial arts shadow he had killed. The snake-like shadow whispered in Jake’s ear. Jake’s eyes narrowed.
‘You–
‘Is that all you can do, Jake, call people names?’ asked James. ‘Just leave us alone. Understand this: I’m not going to do it.’
Gus’ huge frame stepped forward. James stepped back, the sheer power of his physique casting darkness on his heart. He nearly buckled. He nearly ran. He nearly raised his arms to cower behind. However, he didn’t do any of these things. Deciding not to be intimidated, refusing to be a victim of his fear, James stepped forward, accepting the possibilities and consequences of his actions. Taking his lead, Burley followed. Side by side, James and Burley faced up to Gus. The massive boy shuffled on the spot, unsure what to do.
Jake darted to his side, snorted the lodgings of his nose into his mouth and spat at James with all his force. Predicting the attack James turned out of the way of the snot ball.
Pete cut in. ‘Leave him Boys, he’s mine.’ Pete smiled at James. ‘It’s time for you to dance, Maggot.’ In his hand, Pete held a small cluster of stones. He threw one at James’ feet, hitting his ankle. When this didn’t provoke a reaction, he threw another. This time the missile landed on the top of James’ foot. It hurt like hell even through the leather of his shoe. But unlike last the time he’d been force to dance in this way, James wasn’t going to oblige them. He held onto his emotions, determined not to submit or cry out. Everyone in the whole school was now gathering to watch the conflict. James could see that the pack, silently observing the events, had sensed the game’s changing dynamics. Pete had realised it too; fear of losing face was written all over him. More stones hit James’ ankles while Pete stared at him, trying to break his will, looking for a sign of weakness. Inside James was now calm, his mind was clear and his resolve strong.
James bent down and picked up a stone. Pete’s face flashed with a moment of panic. He knew how good James was at throwing. His shadow appeared on his shoulder. It whispered something in his ear and Pete responded to the instructions, smothering any sign of the fear his face had betrayed a moment ago.
‘It’s too late.’
‘What are you talking about, you pathetic idiot. ‘
‘We all saw it Pete. It’s too late to cover it up.’
‘Saw what.’
‘Your fear.’ James dropped his stones. He turned to leave, but was blocked by the frame of Mr. Preacher bustling across the playground.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked. No one answered. ‘James, Burley.’
‘It’s nothing,’ Pete laughed, ‘Just a disagreement we’ve sorted out, hey Maggot.’
‘My name is James, not Maggot.’
‘Ok, James, what is going on? Tell me now,’ commanded the teacher.
At that moment, James felt as if he were caught between the two dragons in the underworld: to snitch or not to snitch. With the pressure of his predicament building, James’ face flushed and sweat beads formed on his face. Mr. Preacher waited for his response. On the one hand, James knew he needed to hold Pete to account for his bullying, and he wanted it to stop. However, on the other hand, if he snitched, then he would be labelled a yellow snitch. He realised the act of snitching would fuel more bullying. But to not tell would leave Pete free to continue. The decision had him trapped. Unable to find an immediate answer to the problem, James stayed quiet.
‘Both of you, go and stand outside my room.’ James had never heard Mr. Preacher command a situation in this way. His mild manner had been replaced with a forceful presence.
Outside Mr. Preacher’s room, Pete and James waited for the teacher to arrive. Pete rested his back against the wall, his head slumped down and arms folded, with his shadow clinging to his side and whispering in his ear. They had walked to the room in silence. James’ shadow was up to his usual tricks, telling him to try and placate Pete with apologies; that if he did this Pete would probably make his life a misery for a while, make him pay for stepping out of line, but after a while things would return to normal. James knew the real challenge his shadow’s request presented him: was he prepared to pay the price for following this new direction, or would he fall back into the usually pattern? James let his dark side babble on without paying it further attention; he knew now that its advice only purpose was to lead him to his higher voice. There was no other choice but to be true to himself, regardless of the consequence.
’If you snitch, you’re dead. I’ll rip your head off.’ Pete’s shadow loomed over him, growing more grotesque by the second. James wondered how he’d ever come to admire him. Footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Mr. Preacher was marching down the corridor, his arms swinging with military purpose. Pete stood to attention, fear etched on his face. James wondered if Pete could see Mr. Preacher’s shadow, an evil shadow that cast a gloominess on the teacher’s face, the likes of which James had never seen before.
‘In here you!’
Pete followed the teacher into the room, throwing James a threatening glare as he left. The teacher slammed the door. James heard Mr. Preacher’s enraged, accusatory voice, but he was unable to make out the deta
ils. However, the tone did not sound good for Pete.
‘So my boy, what are you going to do?’ asked Grandpa. James turned his attention away from the door to the dazzling eyes beside him.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Sure you do, you’re just afraid to say it.’
‘Does everyone’s shadow work like mine?’
‘More or less, but not everyone gets to understand why or how. And even fewer get to see me, or their version of me.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘That doesn’t mean they don’t have the potential to, it just means that they aren’t ready, or they find another way. Anyhow, their shadow keeps on chipping away in the hope they may discover him, and then the process of freeing themselves begins. Pretty much like it happened for you.’
The door opened. With his head hanging, Pete scuttled down the corridor, his shadow bickering in his ear. At that moment James felt sorry for him; after all, he knew and understood what it felt like to be a victim of your own shadow’s attacks.
‘You can’t save him James. The only thing you can do is save yourself. You know what to do, so have courage and do it.’
‘Come on in,’ Mr. Preacher invited, the darkness cast by his shadow gone. The room was cold, but the teacher’s friendly smile warmed James. ‘So, James, is there anything you’d like to tell me?’ James’ heart leapt, it was now or never.
Telling Mr. Preacher his story was the hardest thing James had ever done. He realised that with each word he was probably condemning himself to the pack as a snitch, and he expected the consequences of his action to be horrendous. For it was not only Pete who would be after retribution; James was well aware that he was giving everyone more reason to hate him. But at least he wouldn’t hate himself or have to deal with his bullying shadow. Grandpa would support him in that he was sure.
Mr. Preacher listened to the story without interruption. James saw the grave expression on his face. Throughout the telling, James’ heart was pounding as he relayed the humiliation he’d been subjected to. He also confessed to the disgraceful acts he’d committed against Burley. Refusing to let his shadow impose and turn him from his path, James gave Mr. Preacher as much detail as he could remember. He spoke quickly, with barely a pause, knowing that if he stopped, his fear of the consequences would bubble to the service and his shadow would seize the opportunity to confuse him with doubts. When he had finished recounting everything, James breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He waited for his teacher’s reaction.
‘I found one of your paintings that they destroyed yesterday,’ said Mr. Preacher. ‘It must have blown across the fields. I picked it up in the playground. Thugs!’
James expected to see the wise man on the reverse side of Mr. Preacher’s shadow instructing him, but instead he saw the teacher’s evil shadow whispering in his ear. The dark figure vanished suddenly, as if Mr. Preacher had turned him off.
‘Do your parents know?’
‘No.’
‘You realise, of course, that people are going to call you names, a wimp or worse.’
James nodded. There was a pause.
‘You do know that we can’t keep this between you and me.’
’Yes, I understand.’
‘Good lad. You are extremely courageous. I’m very sorry that you’ve had to put up with all of this. You understand that things are not going to get easier straight away?’
James nodded again.
‘Good, well, the first thing I need you to do is to tell your parents. Once you’ve done that we can work out what to do next. Until then it’s just between us, okay?’
‘Yes, sure.’
James spent the rest of the day trying to avoid Pete, Gus and Jake by staying close to a teacher. When asked by one of the pack to spill what happened in Mr. Preacher’s room, James just replied, ‘nothing’ and walked away. Both Grandpa and his shadow left him alone as well, so James was free to think about how he should go about telling his parents. His mother, in particular, worried him. Over the last few years, they had never talked about real stuff. He had kept her at a safe distance.
When school finished, James escaped the pack by choosing a new route home. It was a long walk but because he was absorbed in his thoughts, it seemed to be over in the blink of an eye. When James came through the front door, his mum greeted him with a smile. His well conditioned response, built up over the last few years, kicked in and he rolled his eyes and then busied himself unpacking his bag, as his way of rejecting her warmth. When he lifted his head back up, he saw his mother’s dark shadow appear on her shoulder.
‘Don’t let him get away with this, he never tells you what’s going on. He never talks with you. Have it out with him and get this rubbish sorted.’
The sight of her shadow threw James off balance. He wasn’t sure what to do next. He could see his mum preparing to launch into an inquisition, and he felt his defences beginning to rise. However, something changed in her, which stopped him in his tracks. His mum’s shadow flipped over before his eyes and to James’ great surprise his grandmother was now standing at his mother’s shoulder. Her eyes twinkled like Grandpa’s.
‘It’ll be okay, Janice,’ Grandma said. ‘Just keep yourself open and be there when he needs you.’
Mum looked up at me and smiled.
‘Would you like a snack James?’
‘Mum, there’s something I need to talk to you and dad about.’ James’ voice, charged with emotion, wobbled as he spoke. ‘I’m being bullied at school.’
Grandma’s twinkling eyes smiled at him with delight. His mum moved towards him and hugged him. James knew tomorrow would be just as horrible. He knew the bullying would start all over again. Concern stilled weighed on him, and he had no idea if his actions would change things for better or worse. But at least it was a start, and for the first time since he could remember, he felt hopeful. Sure, dark creatures would still grow in his mind, fear and doubt would try to take over, and his shadow would continue to plague him. However, James now knew that he was his shadow’s king, the King of all his shadows. So he had the power to take control. And on the other side of the dark figure, of course, was his grandfather, with his sparkling eyes and his wise words. James smiled. He loved his grandpa.
The End