Part-Time God

by E.W. Pierce

  "I know you feel conflicted," Philmore said. "What you do today will help guarantee that thousands of American children can live free of fear. Good luck, and God be with you."

  The building loomed large on the radar, and now I could pick it out through the front window. Our target looked no different than the other half-dozen buildings in the area. A surge of panic closed my throat. What if the radar had painted the wrong building?

  But then I saw the hospital, and the schoolyard, and I knew that we were descending upon the right target.

  Philmore's voice grated over the radio. "Fire at will."

  White-winged dragons dove from the sky, breathing fire.

  *

  Because collateral damages were within an 'acceptable range', the mission was considered a success. I didn't want to know what the grinning military men considered acceptable. The post-mission scan revealed that the school had taken some damage when the terrorist hide-out had collapsed. In the days after the mission, all I could picture was bloodied children, six or seven years-old, wandering around in a cloud of dust.

  I stopped eating, slept in. Didn't go to school. Mom watched me with slow eyes. Josh tried to distract me. Dad stayed away.

  After two weeks, Mom started talking about shrinks and post-traumatic stress. The next day, I got dressed for school. She smiled and made pancakes. They were thick and soggy.

  Kids mobbed me when I boarded the bus. I had hoped everyone would have forgotten about the mission, but my absence had only intrigued them more. When one-word answers didn't satisfy them, I stared out the window until they went away.

  It was worse at school. Even the teachers had questions. I ignored them all, staring off into space until they grew uncomfortable.

  Tommy found me at my locker after 2nd hour. "Dude, where ya been?"

  "Home."

  "No shit." He leaned against the lockers. "Why didn't you return any of my calls?"

  I shrugged.

  "It's about time you showed up. I've been dying to tell you - Stevens broke his leg last week. Got tackled awkwardly." He laughed. "Prick."

  He waved a hand in front of my face. "You in there?"

  "Yeah."

  His backpack slid to the ground. "What's going on man? You alright?"

  Even in my disoriented state, I knew something was wrong. I felt empty inside, like something had ripped open my chest and tore out my heart. I didn't care about anything, didn't feel like doing anything. Time passed without notice.

  I thought about telling Tommy, but wasn't sure how to put it into words. And besides, wouldn't he just think I was overreacting? As much as I wanted someone to fix me, I couldn't bear the thought of being ridiculed. And I knew that Tommy made fun of everything he didn't understand.

  "I'm fine. Really." I forced a smile.

  "You're not still down about Judy?"

  I blinked. I hadn't even thought about her since the mission. It seemed silly now. "Nah, I'm over her."

  "Good." He grinned and patted me on the shoulder. "Cause here she comes." He grabbed his bag and took off.

  I didn't turn to face her, even when she said hi.

  She ducked her head around my arm. "Are you mad at me?"

  I pulled some books from the locker, deliberately not looking at her. "For what?"

  Pause. "The movies. Because I…"

  Stood me up? My face flared, but I wasn't mad at her. I knew her well enough to know that I shouldn't have been surprised that she ditched me. No, I was mad at myself for acting like such a blind fool, to think she would magically like me because of the VCF.

  Something I was feeling must've peeked through, because she took a step backward. "I'm… I'm sorry."

  I shrugged and turned my back on her. She didn't follow when I walked away.

  *

  I heard the commotion before I saw it. There was a crowd huddled at the bus stop, and from the way they were standing, some yelling, I could tell that someone at the center was feeling the abuse.

  I stopped well outside the circle. Despite feeling less morose after I had snubbed Judy, I still didn't want to bother with anyone. It was better that someone else was getting attention, even if it was negative. I did feel a little guilty - I knew what it was to be picked on.

  I suspected that my celebrity-like status might be enough to stop the harassment, and I considered it, briefly. Maybe if I helped someone, I would feel like something good had come out of the VCF.

  Still, I held back. I just wanted to be normal again.

  "Hey - Jordan," someone shouted. "Come here."

  I recognized the voice instantly, and though I knew Kyle would not let it go, I pretended not to hear.

  "Hey - I'm talking to you."

  Peripherally, I could sense their eyes on me. The group fell silent.

  I glanced over. "What?"

  Kyle was swinging over, moving quickly across the grass on his crutches. Sensing drama, the circle collapsed and followed. Forgotten behind them, I could see Alice, on hands and knees, plucking books and pencils from the lawn and stuffing them back into her backpack.

  I looked at Kyle and, cool as can be, said, "You're picking on girls now? Which leg did you break?"

  Kyle, who had been grinning like a shark swimming toward the kill, blinked. His smooth, swinging gait slowed, and his mouth twisted. "What did you say to me?"

  I didn't have an answer. The words had just flown into my head, and my mouth had willingly opened and let them out.

  My silence infuriated him. He came on, charging like bull. I tensed and, thinking he meant to run me over, side-stepped. If he got me down, it was all over. The one advantage I had was mobility.

  He reined up a few steps short, just out of arm's reach. For a dumb jock, he seemed to understand the situation.

  He stood from the crutches, jutting out his chest. "You gotta problem, Anderson?"

  "No. Yes." Yes? I looked away from his reddening face, toward Alice.

  He followed my eyes, and then laughed.

  She looked up and for a second, our eyes locked. I looked away.

  It wasn't about her, not really. She was purposefully weird, which just screamed 'someone please tease me'. I didn't feel sorry for her, and it definitely hadn't been my intention to come to her rescue.

  "All this time I thought you were a fag," Kyle said, "but you were just into psycho chicks."

  The others laughed.

  I looked at the crowd, and though I recognized many of the faces, even the ones I considered friends where laughing, nervously, as though they expected to be on the receiving end at any moment.

  Looking at them, I knew it was over. I smiled.

  He moved faster than I thought possible, letting the crutches drop as he leapt forward off his good leg.

  The collision brought black spots to my eyes. Gravity pulled at me, and then we crashed to the ground. In a flash, he was up, straddling me, his huge fists a blur. I raised my hands to protect my face.

  He left after a while. I guess one could only beat-up on a prone dork for so long and still look manly.

  I sat there for some time, my face throbbing. After a few minutes, everything was still. I slowly pulled my hands away. The blue sky hurt my eyes.

  I sat up, wincing at new bruises. The school yard was empty. The bus had come and gone, taking everyone along with it. Everyone except me. Crap.

  In the silence, I heard the soft rustling of movement behind me. I froze.

  "It's okay," a girl said. "He's gone."

  Alice was picking up my stuff and putting it into my backpack. Either my bag had come undone during the fight, or Kyle had emptied it after.

  I turned and crawled toward her. "Leave my stuff alone."

  She frowned. "You're bleeding."

  "Huh?" I brought my hand to my nose; it came away bloody. I plopped down, tilting my head back.

  "Here." She rifled through her bag and then handed me a fistful of tissues.

  Trying not to grimace too much, I wiped at m
y face. She busied herself with my scattered belongings. I left her to it.

  "You didn't have to do that," she said.

  "Huh?"

  "Stand up to that boy."

  I started to snort, but the effort brought tears to my eyes. "What makes you think I did it for you?"

  "Who said I thought you did?"

  "Do you always have to talk in circles?"

  I sat up, slowly, ready to ease back down if the blood started flowing again. I turned toward her. "Better?"

  She laughed. "Not really."

  I felt myself smiling back.

  I slowly climbed to my feet and accepted my bag from her. "Thanks."

  We looked around the empty parking lot, and back at each other. "I guess we walk?"

  We fell into step. My face pulsed slow and steady. I almost laughed, thinking about how my parents would react. They'd likely agree that maybe I wasn't ready for school again after all.

  But I realized that not only was I ready, but I wanted to be there. Things would be weird around home for a while, and I wasn't sure when I would feel differently about my dad. But one thing I did know was that at school, at least, I would be just another dork. And that was alright with me.

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  About the Author

  Raised on a steady diet of Star Wars, cowboy movies with his great-grandfather, and lots of pretend, E.W. Pierce developed an early interest in the making of make-believe. He now writes Fantasy and Science Fiction stories, sometimes with an element of horror.

  He lives in Michigan with his wife and their two children. You can follow him at https://ewpierce.com, where he blogs about fantasy books, roleplaying games, and other geeky pursuits.