If you need a refresher or missed the last chapter check out the 2 parts
http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic54953.html
http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/post625004.html#p625004
October 12, 2010
My entire head was spinning constantly like that little girl's from "The Exorcist." It was as if I would've been happy with Satan or some evil spirit coming to claim my soul. Maybe if I was dead I would feel better.
My hand clutched my tightening stomach as I approached the open door of English class. Oh, shit! She was already sitting in her desk, twirling her golden hair around her finger, possibly hoping for my presence. The truth revealed itself when she shot me a smile the second I hit the chair. I could think of nothing to say as she sweetly embraced my presence with a "hi."
"Hey" was all my pursed lips allowed me to mutter. Charlotte must have thought I was a real idiot, appearing as if I had no interest in her whatsoever.
However, she swung her legs around her chair so she was facing me. My eyes were still focused on the scratches on my desk, spelling out something I could not quite make out. Charlotte broke the awkwardness by asking, "What are you doing Friday night?"
The lump in my throat grew larger, practically protruding out of my neck, as I struggled to choke out an answer. "This Friday?" I stupidly managed to say.
"Yes, silly," Charlotte said, giggling. She appeared to be fond of my shyness because she added, "We should go see a movie or something."
This was it. This was the moment I had been dreaming of-- or, at least I thought I had. The most beautiful girl in school was asking me to go to the movies with her. How is my head not flying towards the roof? Maybe this is all my imagination. I pinched my own arm, but, as I expected, I was awake. Charlotte's excited expression was fading as I delayed my response. However, I finally said something. "Oh, the movies. Yeah, that sounds like fun."
Charlotte lit up again. "Really?" she said. "Okay." She then grabbed her pen and began scribbling on a piece of paper. Handing me the paper, she said, "Call me later. Or we could always talk more in class tomorrow. We can figure out plans."
I could not believe it. There, on that piece of paper, were seven numbers, seven beautiful numbers. This could not have been a joke. This phone number had to be hers. She cannot be playing games with me. For once, I actually believed a girl wanted to go out with me, and this was no ordinary girl; this was Charlotte Benker.
* * * * *
The rest of the day, I was floating on a cloud. I was finally completely oblivious to Dylan talking about God knows what as we walked home from school. I was able to ignore the yipping dog gnawing at my pant leg, the college students speeding down the suburban streets with blaring speakers, the cry for help in the alleyway.
Luckily, I caught on to the next words Dylan said. "Hey, Jamison! Your brother's getting the shit kicked out of him!"
I whipped around, trying to comprehend his words, and I quickly saw what he was talking about. There, in the normally deserted alleyway, were four boys. Two boys were standing on either side of another who was pinning a much smaller boy again the cement wall. That smaller boy happened to be my brother River.
Let me tell you something about the twins, River and Patrick: they take after me in the size department. No, I don't mean size like that, although, not one of us has the balls to stand up for ourselves. What I mean is the twins are not big and muscular like Tyler. They are, well, like me.
Therefore, the large bully was able to effortlessly pin River, nearly lifting him off of the pavement. What is the big deal? These are grade school kids. So, why are my feet glued to the sidewalk, unable to carry me forward? Come on! They're only fifth graders, very big fifth graders.
Fortunately, Dylan, being the bigger man, stepped forward, yelling profanities at the bullies. I guess what he said motivated me because I started moving, and, surprisingly, my mouth opened and I said, "Hey assholes! Get your slimy hands off of my brother!" Sure, it was a pathetic insult compared to Dylan's obscene language, but I felt that, since it was my brother, I was obliged to say something.
The bully clutching River's jacket let go as he and his posse turned to face Dylan and me. The murderous look in their eyes made me nearly wet my pants. However, I amazed myself and spoke again. "You have no business being here, harassing my brother, so I suggest you get the hell out of here before I make you leave."
The large bully in the center snarled, and, right as I was beginning to think none of them spoke English (but possibly Neanderthal), he said, "What do you think you're going to do?"
"Call the cops," I squeaked, becoming weaker. Maybe I shouldn't have interfered. I could have let them beat up my brother and continue on with their lives, but, for some reason, I felt the need to defend the boy who once put ice cubes down my past as I slept.
It seemed these morons understood the word "cops" because the "leader" nodded to his henchmen, turned to River saying, "We'll get you later, Faggot," and left.
Dylan and I ran towards River, who got away with barely more that a couple of scratches on his face. One of them, however, was oozing fresh blood. I also noticed the beginning of a swollen lip. River allowed me and Dylan to help him up, but he avoided eye contact, apparently too embarrassed about what had just happened.
Dylan was the one who broke the ice, saying, "Hey, Riv, don't let those asswipes get to you. They may be big, but they are dumb, and you can outsmart them. And if anyone is a faggot, that would be your brother Jamison."
Dylan's unnecessary comment at least made a smile cross River's lips. "They always call me a faggot, and maybe they're right."
"Hey, there's no need for that," I said, finally being a decent big brother. "You don't need to put labels on yourself. Taking the risk of sounding like a queer myself, you have to just be who you are. It does not matter what those jerks think of you, but what you think of yourself."
"Wow, Jamison, do you want a group hug?" Dylan asked.
I shoved Dylan and put a comforting arm around River's shoulder. "Dylan, go home," I said.
"Fine, but make sure you call me about your and Charlotte's intimate plan," Dylan said as ran off before I could return a snooty comment.
I led River out of the alley and we walked in silence for a while. Finally, I decided something needed to be said so I opened my mouth. "Why do you let those guys push you around?"
"Gee, I don't know," River sarcastically replied. "Maybe because they're twice my size!"
"Well, have you told anyone that they bully you?" I asked. "A teacher or something?"
"No way!" River exclaimed. "If I told on them, they'd really have something to tease me about."
Suddenly, I realized that River had no business being here in the first place. "Why are you out here anyway? Didn't Mom pick up Patrick and Joseph?"
"Yeah. I told her I wanted to walk," said River, looking straight ahead. Turning his head towards me, he added, "You're not the only one who needs to get away from the madness ever once in a while."
I admit, it was nice having a small talk with River. I never knew that he was so much like me. However, I must say I feel sorry for the little guy. Being me is not all it's cracked up to be. Sure, I scored a date with Charlotte Benker, but I'm still unappreciated Jamison Shephard. Although, upon returning home, my previous thoughts seemed to diminish.
Part 2 should be here very soon!!
