It was during his lunch break when Ely ran into his first problem. Ely had bought a piece of pizza with his two bucks and had gone outside to find a spot to read his book and eat his lunch. He found a big rock next to a basketball court and sat down next to it, leaning up against it to read. It was a good spot as it sheltered him from the sun, and the only activity going on was a basketball game between a few boys on the nearby court. The noise they made was nothing compared to the commotion inside the common room and Ely figured this would be a great spot to relax with his ear phones on, and drift away into the fantasy world his book had created. Ely took a bite of his pizza, settled his taped up ear phones over his ears, and turned on his classical music. Today he was listening to one of his favorites, Beethoven’s 9th symphony.
He had only gotten a few pages into the book when a basketball bounced towards him from the court and bumped into his leg.
“Hey, throw us the ball back!”
Ely shifted his weight, took off his headphones, and looked over at the boy moving towards him. He was nearly six feet tall and stocky like a football player. The big kid wore baggy pants and a long white basketball jersey. He was sure the number and colors of the jersey meant something that he should know, some famous basketball player, but it might as well been written in Orcish as it meant nothing to Ely. He had on a fashionable straight brim hat that was turned sideways, just enough to be cool. There were five boys standing behind him waiting for Ely to return the ball to them.
Ely reached out with his right foot in a feeble attempt to kick the ball back to the big boy, but he grazed the ball with his foot and it shanked to the right, down a long gradual hill, slowly rolling all the way to the rear entrance of the school.
Time slowed momentarily as Ely watched each rotation of the ball as it rolled farther away from the basketball court, away from the boys who were now glaring at Ely.
“Hey fatty, why did you do that?” the boy yelled angrily as he strode towards Ely, the other boys close on his heels.
“I didn’t mean to, I…I’m sorry,” Ely stammered.
“You’re sorry?!” the boy said, leaning menacingly over Ely. “Why don’t you pick your fat ass up and go get it.”
Ely slowly got up to do just that, and as he stood the boy whipped his hand out and grabbed Ely’s book out of his hand.
“Hey, give that back!” Ely protested.
“Who the hell reads during honor time? And nice CD player,” he sneered.
“Give me my book back.”
“Go get the ball first. Maybe you’ll lose some weight on the way over there,” the boy said laughing. His friends joined in with their own versions of put-downs related to his weight, nothing Ely hadn’t heard before.
Ely sighed and turned around to get the ball. Just as he did, the bully kicked Ely in the back of his right leg behind the knee, causing his leg to buckle. He lost his balance and fell forward, landing face first in the dirt and hitting his chin on a rock. Ely lay there for a moment, tears welling in his eyes, and dirt covering his face. His chin hurt but he choked back the tears, not wanting this bully to humiliate him further by seeing him cry.
“Hey!” a voice yelled from the side.
Ely glanced up from the ground and saw Jeff and another big kid stride purposefully towards them. The boy next to Jeff was black, one of few black students that Ely had seen in this rural school. He must have weighed close to two hundred pounds, and very little of it was fat. He was about the same size as the bully that had just kicked him to the ground.
“Leave him alone, Adam,” Jeff said as he walked over and stood next to Ely’s prone body.
“We’re just having fun, Jeff, don’t worry about it,” Adam said, his bravado quickly vanishing.
Ely thought that was interesting since Jeff weighed considerably less, and was at least a head shorter. But his words carried a certain weight that did not reflect his smaller stature and Adam clearly felt the power of his character just as Ely did. There was something about this Jeff kid that said, ‘don’t mess with me.’
Jeff and his friend stepped in between Adam and Ely, making their intent clear. Jeff possessed an air of confidence that the rest of the kids respected. Their body language lost its aggressiveness, and suddenly messing with this new fat kid didn’t seem like a good idea. “Go have fun somewhere else, Adam,” Jeff said again.
“Why do you care?” Adam sneered.
“Sel asked me to help him out,” Jeff replied smoothly, stepping meaningfully closer to Adam.
Adam looked down at Ely with disdain. “Whatever,” he said, glancing back at his friends. “Let’s go.”
Adam threw the book on Ely’s back and walked away with his friends, laughing all the way.
Ely slowly got up and quickly wiped away the tears from his eyes before he turned towards Jeff.
“You alright?” Jeff asked.
“Yeah, thanks,” Ely replied softly.
“No problem. Adam’s a punk. Don’t let him get to you,” Jeff said.
“Okay,” was all Ely could think to say.
Jeff and his friend walked off and left Ely to his thoughts. He first wiped the dirt off his book and then tended to his pants and shirt, doing his best to brush off the dust from his clothes. With dirt still smudged on his face, he looked over at Adam and his friends as they walked away.
“Here we go again,” Ely muttered with sad resignation.
Three
What is it with so many kids and their ability to be total, uncaring, selfish jerks? I mean, don’t get me wrong, there are always nice kids in schools, but they tend to be quiet, phantoms hiding in the shadows of the pricks. No one really sees that they don’t think like the jerks do. So, to the kid who is the brunt of a bully’s harassment, it seems like they’re all in it together, that no one really cares, even though that is not really true. But while you’re dodging all the shit some people are throwing at you, you never really notice the other kids, the passive bystanders, who are looking at the scene with disdain, too afraid to intervene. You don’t have the time because if you relax one second, crap will hit you in the face.
And then there are anomalies like Jeff. A popular kid and star athlete who didn’t really care what people thought, and acted according to his own conscience, his own set of rules. That behavior in middle school politics is not very common, and potentially a major risk in the social world of the adolescent. But Jeff didn’t seem to care and the social science side of my brain always asked why. What makes someone like that? Is it something inherent, or is it how they were raised? What makes someone the antithesis of a kind and caring person? Why do some kids, and adults too, I guess, treat others so rudely and cruelly. Then throw another variable into the equation. Why do some of those horrible teenagers turn into great and wonderful people later in life? Can that dichotomy be chalked up to adolescent hormones? Those poor hormones, they seem to be blamed for all the negative behaviors of young adults. I don’t know the answer, but whenever I view the world through a dark lens, and I feel that the human race is doomed, I think of people like Jeff, and a scarce few others, and my outlook about the world and its human interactions suddenly becomes a little brighter.
Ely Carter
——————————
Ely was in a pretty bad mood as he walked along his long dirt driveway. He wore his headphones and the classical music helped drown out the problems of the day. The melodic notes calmed his senses as one foot in front of the other carried him up the mile long driveway closer to his mobile home.
But the music couldn’t totally erase the day. His chin was hurting and beginning to bruise, and he was already dreading the next day that might bring about another possible run in with the bully from the basketball court. But to be honest, he had had much worse days. All in all he had several classes that he really liked, and Jeff’s presence, although a bit uncertain at this point, was definitely helpful. Ely chuckled to himself, finding it ironically amusing that he considered a day where he
was nearly beat up by a bully to be a ‘good’ day. It wasn’t really funny of course, but it helped Ely deal with the biting reality a little better.
Before Ely knew it, he was walking up the rickety wooden steps to his porch and front door. His mind had drifted off somewhere and he almost didn’t notice his father sitting in the recliner in front of the television.
Bill was wearing baggy worn overalls covered in grease and a sleeveless flannel shirt that nearly covered his classic stained white tank top that was his usual attire. Ely wondered if he took it off whether there would be an outline of clean skin underneath it shaped like the shirt. His father held a beer in one hand and a lit cigarette dangled from his lip as he glanced at Ely.
“While you’re up, get me a beer,” his father said.
Ely set his backpack down and went to the refrigerator without saying a word.
“And don’t go hiding in your room like a little girl. All you do is read. Do those damn dishes and make yourself useful.”
“Where is mom?”
“I guess she’s still working, probably picked up more hours. She better be home in time for dinner, I’m starving.” He reached out to grab the beer that Ely had brought him. Ely turned to go without looking at his father but Bill grabbed his hand roughly and turned him about.
“What the hell happened to your face?” he said, his voice rising in anger.
“You hit me, don’t you remember?”
“Hell yeah, I remember. Don’t get smart with me. I’m talking about the cut on your chin.” Ely noticed his father’s words were slightly slurred.
“Nothing happened. I fell and scraped it,” Ely muttered.
“Jesus Christ, you got your ass kicked again! God dammit, what kind of pussy are you!?”
“Dad, I didn’t do anything,” Ely protested.
“That’s the problem, you didn’t do anything! You have to stand up for yourself. I ought to beat that pussy attitude right out of ya. I thought the beating I gave you the other day might have done ya some good. Looks like you need another lesson.”
Bill stood up with his beer in hand and Ely backed away in fright as his father slowly found his balance.
“Dad, please, it won’t happen again,” Ely stammered as he stepped further away from his drunken father.
“Don’t back away from me, boy! Come here and take it like a man! It’ll be worse if you don’t get over here right now!” Bill yelled.
Ely, with his lower lip quivering, slowly stepped toward his father, whose hand flew out and slapped him roughly across the face. The blow was just hard enough to sting, but not do any real damage. Ely’s head snapped to the side. Tears began flowing freely down his face leaving wet rivulets down his cheeks. Then his dad slapped him again with the back of the same hand.
“Don’t cry like a girl! You’ll thank me for this someday. It’ll make you tough!” Bill yelled, swaying in his drunkenness.
Bill slapped him a third time, this time a little harder. Once more, he hit him with the same hand. This time the force of the blow was enough to knock Ely off balance, causing him to stumble to his right. He nearly fell before he caught himself on the corner of the end table.
Ely looked up at his father, blood now dripping from his damaged nose. Breathing hard, he tried to keep control, knowing that to do anything other than that would just bring more pain.
“Now get your fat ass in the kitchen and do those dishes before your mom gets home. And wipe off your nose; I don’t want blood on anything!” His dad then fell back into his chair as if nothing had happened.
Ely walked into the kitchen and stood in front of the sink. He put his hands on the kitchen counter, gripping the edge so tightly his fingers turned white, focusing all his pain and anger on that one inch lip of wood and laminate.
Ely looked back at his father with growing revulsion. Bill was again seemingly mesmerized by some stupid television show, draining another beer can as if Ely did not exist. Ely turned back and stared into the cracked mirror that hung to the left of the sink. The face staring back at him was bloodied and sad, but the eyes blazed with a smoldering rage.
Ely did the dishes quickly so he could remove himself from his father’s presence. He was feeling a mixture of emotions heavily dominated by anger and fear. He needed to get away, to escape into a book or music, or to fall asleep and dream of something better than his life. Getting the dishes done quickly would accomplish that goal, as he knew his father would leave him alone, at least for a while.
Later he lay on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.
Suddenly there was a pounding at his door. “Turn that shit off!” his father yelled through the door before stomping off to resume his place in front of the television.
Ely sighed, leaned over, and plugged in his head phones, putting them on and cranking up the volume. The lilting notes of the piano began to sooth his mind, and he closed his eyes, losing himself in the music which, at least for a while, helped him shut out the pain.
***
The scanner at the checkout stand beeped, echoing softly in the silence of the nearly empty Safeway grocery store. Mary Carson scanned the youth’s purchases with practiced monotony. It was late, or early, depending on your perspective, nearly 3 A.M., and the only ones in at the local country store were Mary, John, the manager, and the young customer staring back at her with a stoned smile. The boy looked to be about sixteen. His long black hair hung loosely around his shoulders, and his bloodshot eyes made him look as if he was suffering from some severe allergy.
Mary Carson was overweight, at least eighty pounds heavier than her five foot six frame should handle. But despite her large body, her face was kind, gentle, and above average, definitely not uncomely as you might expect on someone so big. Her eyes were a brilliant green and her long eye lashes accentuated their beauty. Her pudgy face did nothing to dampen her bright smile.
“Get some late night cravings?” Mary asked.
The kid giggled in response. Not a young girl giggle, but the kind so often portrayed in Cheech and Chong movies, the ‘I’m stoned out of my mind’ giggle. “Yeah, I kinda got the munchies. My friend, Mary Jane and me, get hungry late at night.”
Mary smiled wanly, as she took his money and finished bagging the food. “You take care. You and Mary Jane have fun now.”
He was still giggling as he left the store. “We will, and thanks.”
Mary shook her head and yawned, stretching her back at the same time. The late nights and long hours standing on her feet really bothered her back. She knew her weight didn’t help either. She kept telling herself she was going to lose some weight, but she never got around to it. Plus, Bill didn’t like healthy food. He always wanted pizza and other processed food. Anytime she made something healthy, he got angry and took it out on her. After a while she just gave up. Bill always called her fat and she knew he was right, but she didn’t have any extra time, and the few moments she did have were spent taking care of her unemployed husband. She sighed and reached up for the phone near her register.
“John, it’s nearly three o’clock. Thanks for the extra hours but do you mind if I go home now?” Mary asked over the phone. “Okay, thanks, can you come and relieve me?” Mary yawned again. “Great, I’ll see you in a sec.”
Mary hung up the phone and walked over to the magazine and book section of the store. They had a small section of fantasy and science fiction books and Mary scanned them slowly, looking for a book for her son, Ely. They all looked the same to her, so she grabbed one that had a new copyright.
She walked back to the checkout stand where John was now logging in at the register. He looked up and smiled.
“You buying a book before you go?”
“Yeah. My son loves fantasy books.”
“Oh yeah? What book did you get?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I just grabbed one. They all look the same to me,” she said as she held it up for him to see. John checked the book t
hrough the scanner and he took her ten dollar bill. “All the covers have some big strong guy with a sword and some beautiful girl hardly wearing any clothes standing near him.”
John gave her the change and put the book into a bag. “Yeah, I guess they do. Perhaps that’s why they’re called fantasy books.”
Mary laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said, smiling back at him. “Good night, John.”
“Good night. Drive carefully. That highway is really dangerous. It’s like the autobahn for drunks…especially this time of the night. And get some rest.”
“I will. Thanks, John.”
Mary made it home safely and it was all she could do to keep her eyes open. The lights were all out, which was nothing unusual for this time of night. She was hoping they would be out; that meant that Bill was asleep. If he were still up this late it would mean he was in a foul mood, probably drunker than usual, which meant he would most likely take it out on her.
She entered the front door quietly and set her keys on the kitchen table. Looking over by the television she noticed that Bill was still there, snoring loudly in his recliner, beer cans and cigarette butts littering the space around him. She frowned briefly before moving down the hall toward the bedrooms. She clicked on the hall light before turning toward Ely’s door.
Mary cracked open his door and a thin ray of the hall light shined into the room. She quietly stepped inside and set the book down on top of his desk, the light from the hall hitting it perfectly as if it were a magical artifact.
“Good night, son,” she whispered. “I love you.”
She walked out quietly and slowly shut the door, extinguishing the thin ray of light and returning the room to darkness.
***
The door to enter Mr. Seljin’s room was a collage of various pictures and quotes. The dominant piece was a drawing of a muscular upper body with a hog’s head, complete with massive tusks and course hair. The quote above it read, ‘Key Peninsula Wrestling’, and below the head it said, ‘Fear the Hog!’
The Life of Ely Page 3