Blood Heavy (Blood Heavy Series)

by S. L. J. Shortt

  After about another ten minutes driving they reached the car park of Newton High School, (named after the man himself). In terms of high schools it was pretty standard: there was a big main building with a few off shoot sections that had been added after the original construction. It was Grey, boring and completely unoriginal.

  “Shit!” Goose yelped.

  BANG!

  The car jolted to a hard stop as it struck a BMW M5. Goose immediately jumped out of the driver’s seat, Jerry right behind him.

  “Are you okay?!” he asked frantically.

  Another voice interrupted. “Shit Goose, look what you did to my goddamn taillight!”

  It was Mike Stranden, popular football jock and ladies’ man. As much as he looked the part, he couldn’t really be called a Jock. The whole football stereotype was becoming more and more diluted by individuality these days; Mike was a great player, but he was also pretty damn good at history and wasn’t relying on a sports scholarship to get to college.

  He seemed fine, but his rear taillight wasn’t looking so good. Typically, Goose’s Volvo didn’t have a scratch on it.

  “Why didn’t you signal?” Goose shot back.

  “I did signal! You weren’t watching where you were going!” Snapped Stranden. “Your insurance better cover this!”

  “Screw you, it wasn’t my fault! You just pulled out in front of me!” replied Goose heatedly.

  Several other students were beginning to gather around the accident. Two of them were Stranden’s fellow team members. They stepped up behind him, ready to back him up.

  “I signaled!”

  “Jerry, did he signal?” Goose suddenly turned, putting his friend on the spot.

  “I don’t know man, I was part of the Revival back there,” Jerry replied honestly. He hadn’t been paying attention; he'd been enjoying the music.

  “You’re paying for my taillight!” Stranden repeated, walking up and getting in Goose’s face.

  “The hell I am!”

  This wasn’t good. Mike Stranden was a solid foot taller than Goose, but that was of no consequence. Goose had way too much scratch to back down, especially from something like this. Now Jerry was just waiting for the inevitable dust up.

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  WHAM!

  Mike’s fist connected with Goose’s cheek and sent him staggering back. Nothing short of a punch from Arnold Schwarzenegger would bring Goose down, though, and he was already rushing back at Mike. Goose speared him straight into the side of his own Beemer, causing the other two football players to run up and get involved. Jerry cut one of them off with a heavy right hook to the face, just before the other one grabbed hold of him. They grappled around and Goose laid several shots into Mike’s stomach. Then Stranden managed to get the upper hand and swung Goose around, slamming him into the side of his car. He punched him hard in the stomach, causing Goose to emit a very nasty squelching sound.

  Everyone stopped fighting and looked at Goose.

  “Did you just fart?” Mike said, unable to quite believe it.

  “I had eggs for breakfast...they give me gas,” Goose admitted, out of breath.

  There was a short pause before all five of them burst into laughter.

  “Ahh, man that is nasty!” Mike groaned and laughed at the same time after getting a whiff of it. “You’re paying for my taillight you smelly prick!”

  “Blow me!”

  Mike, still wincing slightly, stepped forward to attack Goose again, but someone bigger than him stepped in front, causing him to stop.

  “Enough guys!” It was Steve Holden.

  If anyone looked the part of a Jock more than Mike Stranden, it was this guy. Yet like Mike, there was more to him than owning a resident’s permit in Jocksville. Steve was one of the nicest guys in the entire school and had taken it upon himself to be a sort of unofficial sheriff. He made sure people weren’t bullied and was always willing to lend a hand if someone needed help. In addition, he was about six foot five and made of stone, blond hair down to his ears. According to the female population of the school, he was the hottest thing this side of the Mississippi. It would certainly explain why he was dating the sexiest girl in school; Sarah Helmsley.

  “Come on, Mike. It’s not even that much damage,” Steve said, trying to calm him down.

  “He’s still paying for it!”

  “No he’s no-ot,” Goose chanted.

  “Nobody has to pay anything. Jerry, you could fix that, right?” Steve said, turning to Daniel.

  “Of course I can, I’m amazing,” replied Jerry, still panting. He probably should have offered to fix it right from the start, which could have prevented this little tussle, but he just hadn’t thought of it.

  “Goose, please tell me you didn’t shit yourself,” Steve asked looking a little apprehensive.

  Goose shuffled around on the spot for a second, moving his ass cheeks around. “Nope, I’m good.”

  Everybody laughed.

  “Okay, so problem solved right?”

  They all nodded, agreeing to the peace treaty, and the crowd of people began to disperse.

  “Move your car and signal!” Goose yelled as Mike walked away.

  Mike turned. “Yeah? Here’s your damn signal!” he replied, raising his middle finger.

  Both boys managed to park their cars without further incident while Steve and Jerry stood by the entrance to the school.

  “We could have taken them,” Jerry mumbled.

  “Yeah, sure, and then you’d have got suspended again,” Steve snorted.

  About three months ago, he’d been suspended for having a fight that had practically turned into an all-out Battle Royale.

  “Hey, they had it coming!”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  Goose rejoined Jerry and Steve at the entrance a few moments later. He was holding his gut and taking deep breaths.

  “I really shouldn’t eat eggs,” he sighed.

  “No shit!” Jerry agreed, wincing.

  “Almost, it was touching cloth,” Goose said absently.

  “No, I meant – never mind,” Jerry grimaced and shook his head.

  “Hey baby!”

  The three men looked up to see The Blonde Bombshell, Sarah Helmsley walking towards them. Sarah was the type of girl you’d expect to see on the front cover of a mens’ magazine in nothing but her underwear. She was all kinds of sexy; from her long golden locks, to her perfect athletic figure and her angelic face. Naturally, she was on the cheerleading squad and was regularly voted most popular girl in school. (Someone had actually made a Facebook page where people could poll that sort of thing.)

  She hadn’t witnessed the fight and had no idea what had just happened.

  Sarah quickly walked over to the boys. She was carrying her backpack, which was probably full of her books and cheerleading gear. Her blue shirt hugged her frame and her short skirt showed off her legs well - several eyes were following her.

  “Hey sweetheart!” Jerry said, opening his arms wide, ready to give her a big hug. “Oh, no, wait, that’s right…I’m destined to be eternally single,” he groused, and got out of her way so that she could hug her real boyfriend.

  “Still moping, Jerry?” she asked with a wink, before throwing her arms around Steve and planting a huge kiss on his lips.

  “No…more like drowning in a sea of never-ending despair,” Goose corrected.

  “Come on, I’m not that bad,” Jerry objected.

  “Prove it. Go get yourself a goddamn date for the Prom!”

  “I’m working on it...” he said halfheartedly.

  “Don’t worry hun, if you haven’t found a date by next week, we’ll buy you a mail-order bride,” Sarah smiled.

  “Oh, you’re all heart,” Jerry smiled back, trying not to look annoyed.

  Sarah resembled the typical hot cheerleading super-bitch type that appeared in so many teen movies, but again, like Mike and Steve, she was anything but. Kind, loving and always su
pportive, so far, the only flaws those two seemed to have, included indulging far too many lovey-dovey public moments and a propensity to spend most of their free time sucking face.

  “Oh, before I forget,” Sarah said, contriving to pull herself away from Steve’s lips. “My parents are stuck in France for a few more days. Snowed in. So, I was thinking about having a little gathering at my place tonight. Nothing wild, just few friends and a lot of booze.”

  “Sounds great. Invite every single hot female friend you have,” Goose commanded.

  “Sorry, most of them already have dates for the Prom,” she said sympathetically, whilst looking at Jerry.

  “Not for him, for me!”

  “Why, you finally get that Rohypnol you sent away for?” Jerry asked with raised eyebrows.

  “The Rohypnol is for me, my body is for them,” Goose replied, actually sounding half serious.

  None of them were surprised at this comment. Goose’s hormone imbalance was pretty well documented in St. Cloud, as was his penchant for getting confused between reality and porn. Even though he was a giant hard on with arms and legs, he was harmless, at least to women.

  “You need professional help, Goose,” Steve remarked.

  “No, no, he has to stay like this! Everyone knows that Goose vowing celibacy is one of the signs of the coming apocalypse,” Jerry warned.

  “That’s right! I must hump to save the world!” Goose stated proudly.

  “Well, we’re definitely doomed,” Sarah quipped before walking inside with Steve.

  “Your confidence is inspiring,” Goose mumbled after her.

  The busy school corridors were filled with students talking, pulling stuff out of their lockers and walking to class. They didn’t get very far in that direction themselves before a voice interrupted them.

  “Goose, Jerry,” a familiar voice stated.

  The two of them turned around to see Mr. Parker, their biology teacher standing behind them. He was in his late thirties, had short brown hair and was dressed in a simple blue shirt, jeans and a tie. He was easily their favorite teacher in school. Mr. Parker made all of his lessons interesting and unlike most of the other teachers, he didn’t appear to have had a stick lodged up his ass, circa 1982. He was actually way more laid back than a teacher should be, but Jerry and Goose weren’t complaining. Parker had the attitude of a guy that had seen and done a lot in his life: he had a solid immunity to the type of teenage mischief that drove the other teachers up the wall.

  “Did I just see you two getting into another tussle outside?” he asked in a slightly bored tone.

  “No...we were...rehearsing a play,” Goose stuttered.

  “Really? What’s it called?” Mr. Parker asked with raised eyebrows.

  Queue the worst possible thing to say: “Fight Club...”

  Goose looked at Jerry with a strained face. Personally, he would have said West Side Story.

  “Uh huh...if you two can’t find any other way to dump some of your testosterone, at least do it outside of school. Your uncle will rip you a new one if you get suspended again,” he pointedly looked at Jerry.

  “I really don’t require a ‘new one’, so I’ll do that,” Jerry grinned apologetically.

  “Go to class,” Mr. Parker ordered before walking away.

  And so they did. The rest of the day went by pretty quickly. Jerry spent most of the afternoon thinking about the quickest and cheapest way to fix Mike’s taillight. It wouldn’t be difficult. He’d just head down to the junkyard and pull a cover from one of the cars down there, replace the light and glue the whole thing on. And now that he’d thought about it, it did seem like a pretty stupid thing to fight about, but then again, it was good to have a little brawl like that every once in a while. It made it a lot easier to relax when all his pent up rage had dissipated afterwards.

  He didn’t really have any reason to be pent up. Sure, his dad had died eight years ago and his mom had lost her life giving birth to him, but there were plenty of other people out there who had it much worse. A lifetime in the military had left Uncle Joe without much parental inspiration, but he was a good man and he took care of Jerry. Joe also passed on everything he knew about mechanics, and Jerry loved that.

  It was probably boredom that got under his skin. He already knew without a doubt that he’d go into engineering once he finished school, so most of the classes seemed kind of pointless. When the final bell rang, Jerry got a lift back to Joe’s house with Goose. As they approached the driveway he noticed that Joe’s car was there; he must have finished work early.

  “Ask Joe if he can give us a lift to Sarah’s. If there’s gonna be booze then I ain’t driving,” Goose called out, as Jerry walked toward the house.

  Jerry nodded vaguely in reply and went inside.

  Joe was sat in front of the TV with a beer, watching highlights from last night’s Hockey match. He was wearing his typical check shirt and his oil stained jeans that made him look the part perfectly. He was a big guy too. He stood at about six foot three and packed a lot of muscle. He had dark hair and brown eyes, same as Jerry’s dad, but there was a much more rugged look about him. After eighteen years, he had retired from the army as a Major, but didn’t stray far from his days in the Motor Pool. He’d learned his mechanics skills from working on tanks and helicopters, which proved more than enough experience to fix cars.

  “How was school?” Uncle Joe asked without turning away from the TV.

  “Mercifully short. You busy tonight?”

  “Why?”

  “Sarah’s having a party at her place, I was gonna see if you could give me and Goose a lift over there.” He dumped his bag on the table.

  “What time is this?”

  “About eight.”

  “Can’t. Got a poker game, but I’ll give you some cash so you can get a cab,” Joe said simply.

  “Cool. Thanks,” Jerry grinned at his uncle before grabbing some OJ out of the fridge. “Oh, shit, by the way...we kinda clipped Mike Strandon’s car this morning and busted his taillight. I said I’d fix it for him. Do you know if Vince’s got any Beemers down at the junkyard?”

  “What model?”

  “M5.”

  “I think he’s got one,” Joe nodded.

  “Sweet.”

  “Did you fight?” Joe asked suddenly, but without much concern in his voice.

  “What? No.”

  “Sure,” Uncle Joe wasn’t convinced. Sometimes Jerry suspected that he was psychic. That, or some kind of human lie detector. You couldn’t put anything past Joe. There was nothing left to do now but come clean.

  “It was nothing. You could barely call it a tussle.”

  “You get detention?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good, but if you get suspended again I’m shipping your ass off to military school,” he said casually before chugging down his beer.

  “Sir, yes Sir!” Jerry chuckled and saluted.

  “Oh, hey, before you go,” Joe said standing up and walking over to him. He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Jerry. It was a small silver chain with a pendant on it. “I was looking for some old paper work in the back and I found this. It was a gift to your dad from your mom. I thought you might want it.”

  Jerry looked at the pendant for a second. There was a detailed engraving of an angel on the front of it. A female angel with her wings spread open.

  “An angel?”

  “Yeah, that’s what he used to say about her. She was his angel,” Joe sounded a little uncomfortable. He really wasn’t good at this sort of stuff and Jerry really wasn’t great with anything remotely religious.

  “I thought you were in the Middle East the whole time they were together?” he quizzed.

  “I was. But I spoke to them over the phone a couple of times. Wish I could have met her.” He shuffled.

  “Yeah...me too,” Jerry sighed.

  “You know...although I never did meet her, I knew how much my brother loved her and that was good enough
for me,” It was a bit awkward - Joe didn’t really do sweet and earnest.

  This was odd. Uncle Joe wasn’t usually this sentimental, especially when talking about his brother. Then it hit Jerry. The anniversary! How could he, Jerry, have forgotten that? His dad had died eight years ago to the day. In fact, he now remembered, the anniversary had been yesterday. Suddenly Jerry started to feel very guilty. In truth, it had just slipped his mind, but it felt so wrong. Did this mean that he was a bastard, or just moving on with his life? Should he be allowed to move on?