Outcasts

by J. S. Frankel

  After his pronouncement, I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

  “Be careful.”

  Callie walked out a moment later. She seemed in a more positive frame of mind and offered the comment of, “Well, at least I’ll live.”

  Good all around, but what to do now? First things first—Callie paid the bill at the reception desk. Once done, we walked outside. The heat had lessened somewhat, but the day was still hot. A few people stared at Callie’s face and walked on, clucking about domestic violence.

  It made me feel even worse that I hadn’t been around to help her out. “Callie, about before, I mean the way I yelled at you—”

  Her eyebrows went up an inch. “You mean when you said I didn’t have a clue about what was going on? You’re talking about that, yes? And also the fact that I called you an asshat?”

  Right away, the heat of embarrassment rushed to my face. When a person was right, they were right. “Sorry,” I said, saying it and meaning it. “I care for you, and I should have been honest right away, and—”

  “Don’t say anything else.” Her voice was husky, and she put her forefinger to my lips to hush me. “Right now, all I want to do is to go home. I have to take a shower and then call my mother to make sure she arrived safely.”

  “And after that?”

  Callie didn’t answer right away. Instead, she hopped into my arms. “Take off.”

  I did, and once we arrived at her house, I put her down and stood there, feeling distinctly dorky. On the verge of asking her to stay with me, she seemingly read my mind. “Now, since it’s hot outside, you’re going to stay with me until tomorrow night. I don’t want to be alone, and I need you.”

  “Oh, you want to—”

  “Yes, I do.” She looked at me, eyes wide and questioning, and with a hint of concern, but also with a hint of the unexpected, the long-wanted, and the need for someone to be with her.

  “Oh.”

  The concept of having sex for the first time in my life thrilled me, but at the same time, that little demon in my ear asked what would happen if Callie changed during the act. Joe had asked me the same thing.

  After a nanosecond’s thought, my resolve came through. If something happened, then I’d deal with it. I’d made a promise to myself as well as to my girlfriend. “Get lost,” I muttered. The demon vanished.

  “Mitch?”

  That came from Callie. “Yeah?”

  “You were talking to yourself.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Just shut up and walk me upstairs.”

  Say no more. I did, however, call home first to leave a message for my mother. Getting yelled at later on would be worth it.

  Chapter Sixteen: Carnival

  Portland Twilight Carnival, located at the easternmost part of the city, was famous for setting off fireworks at midnight as well as having one of the biggest Ferris wheels in the country. At over four hundred feet in height, it had the capacity to carry more than two hundred passengers at a time.

  Additionally, the carnival boasted rides of all sorts, games, and enough junk food to satisfy even those with the sweetest of teeth. In short, it meant an all-out party for many. Summer was here, and even though it was halfway over, people wanted to get their entertainment on.

  For us, though, it would be our last time together. The citizens had spoken. They were afraid of us. They wanted us gone, specifically me. Joe and his father would make do, and so far, Callie had largely been left alone. She had a different battle to fight, though, something I couldn’t really help her with.

  She showed up in a bright yellow skirt and blouse. With a little makeup to hide the bruises, she seemed pretty up about the night of ensuing fun. Joe had already dropped by and was sitting on the couch, scarfing down a few bacon-and-pear sandwiches before the upcoming night out.

  “You can’t eat later?” I asked, sniffing the air. He’d put soy sauce on them... ick.

  “I will,” he mumbled with his mouth half full. “I need something now.”

  Excusing myself, I ran upstairs to grab a quick shower and shave and then ran downstairs again to find Joe and Callie sitting on the couch, deep in conversation with my mother. My mother glanced up at me. We’d already had a discussion about me staying over at Callie’s place. Surprisingly civil, she’d said, “You’re eighteen, it’s your choice.”

  Now, she said, “Joe was telling me about the carnival tonight. Have a good time.”

  Thanks for not sharing any other details. Mom would freak. “Yeah, thanks, Joe. Shouldn’t we get going?” I asked.

  At the door, my mother wished us well. Once the door closed, Callie repeated her earlier offer. “It’s cool with my mother if you want to stay with us, Mitch. We have extra room. My mother is fine with the idea, and you know I am, too.”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  No point in rehashing the pros and cons. I was on the verge of saying more, but a honk sounded, along with a, “Hey, I’m here,” comment.

  Neil had arrived. I witnessed him in the process of fishtailing his truck around. He yelled, “Hop in!”

  Command given, we piled in, and his truck’s engine labored as we rode along. Halfway to our destination, Joe brought up the subject of us going public again. “All I’m saying is that we should stay and say something about it. Get a lawyer, see if we can win. Call the media, man. They’ll want the story.”

  Right now, I was tired of the media messing with us. They’d never given a damn about our rights before, so why would they give a damn now? “The citizen’s council wants me and my mother to leave. The police aren’t going to protect us.” I hated every word since it was so majorly unfair, but that’s how things stood.

  “So where are you going to go?” he asked once more.

  Nothing came to mind. The thought of being homeless did a number on my mind, and right now anything of that nature made me feel pissed-off. The last thing I needed was an anger attack.

  Joe tossed me a how-can-homeless-people-have-fun look, but said nothing save, “Yeah, okay, we’ll talk it over later.”

  Neil pulled up to the entrance and after letting us out, drove off to find a parking spot. The area was packed, with everyone from eight to eighty taking in the sights. It was half-past-seven, but still light enough. Dusk wouldn’t come for another twenty minutes.

  Callie held onto my hand tightly as if she was afraid I’d fly away. No chance on that, and looking at her, there was no way I would ever leave. She wore her hair in a simple ponytail, and it waved in the gentle breeze that blew in from the ocean. I savored the moment. It wouldn’t last forever, but as the saying went, make each moment count.

  Once Neil had rejoined us, we purchased our tickets and joined the entering throng. A few people tossed scared glances in our direction, and then rapidly moved on. Most of the looks were directed at Neil and me. It figured. I threw a glance at Neil, and he shrugged. No matter what he did, he’d always get those damn stares. So would I.

  “Yeah, I see what they’re doing. Don’t worry about it. You guys have fun, do the rides and stuff. I’m too heavy to get into anything.”

  We left him sitting in a small garden near the entrance. He seemed content to snack on the rocks. Joe murmured something about, “Private time,” and strolled off to see if he could hit a few targets at the rifle concession stands.

  As Callie and I perambulated, a security guard waddled over. Around five-eight, he seemed as wide as he was tall, and breathed hard a few times before saying, “I know who you are, and we don’t want any trouble here, kid.”

  “Not going to be any trouble,” I answered. “My friends and I paid to get in, we just want to have some fun, and then we’re going home.”

  He pulled out a walkie-talkie, spoke softly into it, listened, and then shut it off. “That was my boss. He says he can’t say no to you, but you have to be out before midnight. Sorry, kid, those are my orders.”

  Before
I could protest, the guard waddled off, and two familiar faces appeared out of the crowd, Chief Sullivan along with Upton. Sullivan nodded at me. “I cruised by your house before, and your mother said you’d come here.”

  “So what happens now?”

  He scratched his chin in a slow, thoughtful manner. “You do what you want, but I’m going to agree with the guards. Have your fun. Curfew is at midnight. Sorry, Mitch, but that’s how it has to be. The other guards have jurisdiction here, but I’ll be around and so will Upton, just in case.”

  No fireworks show tonight. As they left, angry thoughts about small-town minds and fascist leanings ran through my brain. Just as I started after them, though, Callie pulled on my arm. “Mitch, it’ll be okay. I can’t stay up too late, anyway. You know, I might change and all that.”

  Wasn’t anyone going to take my side? Apparently not. “Fine, we’ll have some fun.”

  Sheesh, even saying that galled me. We could only have fun for a limited time, sort of like an offer from a television advertisement company. “What are you up for?”

  Eyes wide, she scanned the area, and like a little girl, a smile of sheer joy came over her face. “There,” she pointed. “Let’s go there. I haven’t ridden on one in a long time.”

  She’d indicated a merry-go-round that lay near the Ferris wheel. Ride the painted ponies and duckies. By now, an orange-purple dusk had settled in, and the lights went on, illuminating the area in a friendly yellow glow.

  We got in line, and a tall man, maybe in his late twenties, stood in front of us, scarfing down popcorn from an enormous bucket he held. “Hey, you two look like you’re having a good time,” he said when he turned around.

  The guy was well-built, although by no means huge, with a narrow face, a pencil-thin mustache, and a pair of black eyes that were set very close together. It gave him a slightly witchy look, not to mention making him look cross-eyed.

  Beady eyes—the monsters I’d seen had those same eyes, but on the other hand, Mr. Roberts also had the same look. In his case, though, his peepers reminded me more of a rat’s than anything else.

  This man did dress sharply in a nicely tailored dark blue suit. It seemed out of place here, as it was summer and everyone had gone in for the casual look. Maybe he was one of those stockbroker types who had to dress well for his clients. I couldn’t see him having any, though. Trying to look as nonchalant as possible, I took a quick sniff. No odor, save for that of popcorn.

  “You got a name?” he asked Callie, leaning over and offering the bucket.

  She gently pushed the bucket away. “It’s Callie, and I’m on a diet.”

  He didn’t seem offended. Instead, he flashed a smile, but it looked false and his eyes locked onto mine. “Pal, it’s not polite to stare and not offer your name.”

  “Mitch,” I said, still thinking about those eyes. “And now that I’ve given mine, you got one, too, or do I have to guess?”

  “Scott,” he answered as he crammed more buttery popcorn in his maw. “Zachary Scott, like the actor, but I’m not him. You understand, right?”

  Call me clued out, and when I didn’t respond, he sighed. “He was an actor, an old-time actor.”

  I still didn’t get it nor did I get what his problem was, but it took all kinds. Someone from behind me yelled, “Hey, the line’s moving.”

  It was, and Mr. Popcorn turned around with a snort of disdain for my apparently uncouth ways. The line of people continued to move, and we got on the carousel, with Callie choosing a white unicorn and me taking a white stallion beside her.

  Our witchy-looking fellow rider chose to sit on a bench at the center of the ride, still popping kernels in his mouth every few seconds. He stared straight ahead and didn’t speak to anyone. What, he didn’t like going up and down?

  Callie whispered as I threw a few glances his way, “Mitch, don’t stare at him. He’s looking for trouble, and you’ve got that look on your face, too.”

  “What look is that?”

  “The look that says you’re going to kick his ass in two seconds. He’s a jerk, so let it go.”

  Calm, enhance my calm, and I breathed in and out deeply a few times, letting the emotion of anger leave. She was right. That guy was a jerk, but there were times a person had to let some things go. This was one of them.

  The ride began, and the horses bobbed up and down gently. Callie pulled the rubber band from her hair to let it flow behind her in a wave of spun gold. She let out a shout of joy, leaning over to yell, “We should do this more often!”

  Perhaps so, but reality said otherwise. Soon, the ride ended, and when we got off Mr. Popcorn had already departed, hopefully to ruin someone else’s night.

  While exiting the ride area, Truk and his main man, Paul, just had to show. Surprise, surprise—not. Right now, I’d ceased to be amazed at anything. “Well, enjoying your night out with your boyfriend?” Paul asked, smirk in place and blocking our way. “I read about the switcher in your group of super-freak friends. Just shows that weirdos hang with weirdos.”

  Oh, I so wanted to give him a ride to the top of the Ferris wheel, hang him up with a wedgie and listen to him scream, but no. It would have been fun, though. “If you’ve got a place to go, Paul, then go,” I said, feeling my pulse accelerate.

  “We don’t have to leave,” Truk said, lumbering over and cracking his knuckles as a show of force. “You wanna make us?”

  Did I ever, but a few people had already gathered for the potential free show and getting into a fight was exactly what the haters wanted. Additionally, Callie squeezed my hand—hard—as a warning. “Aw, that is so sweet,” Paul said as he observed Callie’s gesture. “Does he always do that?”

  My pulse began to race, and the urge to let out the demon rose higher, but Callie beat me to it and asked in a most somber voice, “Your name’s Paul, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  Her manner remained stolid. “Do you really think I’m a guy?”

  His smirk increased in width. “I’m betting you got a pair, just like me.”

  Said smirk disappeared instantly when her hand shot out and grabbed his downstairs—hard. She then twisted her wrist, and the torque on his privates caused him to shriek in pain. He started to sag down, but Callie held him up by his balls and stuck her face close to his.

  “Let me clue you in,” she said, and this time her tone portended damage on an apocalyptic scale. “I don’t, but if I squeeze any harder, you’ll be just like me. Got it?”

  Truk, being the good little Stormtrooper he was, rushed in to rescue his friend, but I jumped forward to pop him on his jaw, just hard enough to daze him. He fell on his ass, and the glazed-eyes thing told me he wouldn’t start anything. “Stay there, schmuck.”

  He did. Callie continued to speak to Paul in a low voice. Low, yes, but loud enough so that the onlookers could hear every anger-coated word. He writhed in pain, but she didn’t let go. “Hear me good. I’m a girl. Got it?”

  She shook her arm, and he squealed, “Yeah, got it.”

  “And I’m with my boyfriend. You got that?” Her knuckles cracked as she tightened her grip.

  He nodded, the sweat raining down his face and his eyes radiating agony. “I got it, yeah, yeah, I got it!”

  “Good, so if this ever happens again, what I have in my hand won’t be a part of you anymore. Do we understand each other?”

  A gurgle emerged from his pie-hole. “Okay, yeah, just let me go... please.”

  She did and shoved him back. He landed heavily beside Truk and moaned piteously. The crowd jeered at them, and for a change, didn’t offer one stare in my direction. Callie brushed her hands off and gazed at me, eyes wide and innocent. “I have to wash my hands. They’ve got his stink on them.”

  After a peck on my cheek, she was gone. A few of the local guards had come over to witness the altercation, but they decided to do nothing. Luck was on my side for a change. As for the bystanders, they wen
t off in search of other adventures, while I wandered over to a concession stand, bought a drink, and waited for my date to return.

  While waiting, Mr. Popcorn came over, this time with three hotdogs in each hand. He was taking greedy bites from each. Mustard smeared his face, and I wondered what his problem was.

  “Hey, Kessler, I’d offer you one of my dogs, but I see yours has gone to the ladies’ room.”

  How did he know my last name? Screw how he did and double screw his insult. I hauled off and let fly. My fist connected and while it staggered him, he didn’t go down. “That”—he said, dropping the remainders of the hotdogs—”was the wrong thing to do.”

  Once again, Mitch Kessler fails to learn. I never even saw the punch coming, but I certainly felt it, and also felt myself sailing through the air to land something like thirty feet away on a picnic table where a family was eating dinner. They screamed and scattered. A second later, Joe spun over. “Man, who the hell is that?”

  While I should have figured it out earlier, it hadn’t sunk in until now. Holy crap, the government finally did it. “It’s one of them,” I said, getting slowly off the table. “He’s one of their creations!”

  Scott—or whatever his name was—didn’t bother to run for cover. In the smooth, unhurried motion of someone who knew exactly what they were doing, he took off his jacket and laid it on a nearby bench. The onlookers backed off but kept their smartphones handy. That figured.

  “Well, if we’re going to get it on, let’s do it,” our foe said. “I don’t have all night, and none of you has much time, either.”

  “Try me,” Joe said as he spun over.

  Mistake, as Scott set his stance, and when Joe got within striking distance, he spun around in the opposite direction just as quickly and sent my friend flying. Joe landed with a thud twenty feet away, groaned and tried to rise, but couldn’t. “One down,” Scott said in an obscenely cheerful tone. “Who’s next?”

  “Me.”

  Neil rumbled out of nowhere, grabbing the maniac. The impact lifted the intruder off his feet, and they smashed into a nearby food stand, obliterating it. Neil then dropped him to start whaling away.