The Acolytes of Crane (Theodore Crane, #1)(8)

When he ensured that Jason was out of earshot, he spoke to me deep and quiet. He said, ‘If I ever catch you looking through my window again you little jerk, the pain that your dad puts you through will be nothing in comparison to what I will do to you.’ Glowering, Travis turned from me and walked down the stairs. As soon as his back was turned, I sprinted for my apartment.

Back in my “safe” refuge in my bedroom, I mulled over what Travis had said. I also pulled my amulet from under my T-shirt, staring at it blankly, since my head was unable to formulate anything resembling a thought. Then I shrugged.

Travis and I had a lot in common, I thought. And it wasn’t pretty. No wonder he hated me.

The days grew long, and the buzz of fall slipped away. I was experiencing a weird feeling of fatigue almost every day, and sometimes it was accompanied by annoying aches. The winter was full of action figure battles, and time spent pondering over boredom. Winters were usually depressing and slow.

Fortunately, the expected long days of sheer drudgery of winter zipped by with a new video game system—thanks to my mother, who made me swear to have a story ready for my dad if he ever asked—it was a gift from her parents. Weeks and then months passed. Spring was gone and summer approached. I had a birthday, which wasn’t interesting—unless turning thirteen was exciting—and it wasn’t. Although, I thought I was cooler than before, because now I was a teen.

My friendship with Jason became stronger, and that made me happy in the midst of my situation. Only, that meant I had to be around Travis more, because he and Jason were best friends to begin with. I still dreaded Travis.

A girl at school provoked my interest that year. Her name was Mariah Espinosa. She was amazingly gorgeous. Not to be cliché, but I figured she was out of my league. She was the only one who made school bearable for me—because that’s the only place where I was certain to grab a view of her.

I kept finding trouble at school. The principal mandated that I take a note home every day. It was a form signed by my teacher to confirm that I had been well behaved. I was a distracted kid. I had the smarts, but lacked the drive.

During class one day, I left without permission to visit the drinking fountain in order to avoid the “rush hour” in the school’s hallways that inevitably took place during intermissions in between classes. During such times of pandemonium, there were kids pushing, pulling, and pinching. Proud of myself for plotting ahead, I strolled down to the drinking fountain through the quiet, empty hallway.

Actually, not so empty. With a sense of impending doom, I saw Travis, who had altered course and was purposely attempting to intimidate me. I didn’t like the scowl on his face. He looked over at me and gestured with his fist, driving it into his opposing hand. Glancing away, I started drinking from the fountain.

With his hip, Travis quickly but decisively shunted me aside, away from the fountain. A volcano of crescendoing anger rose within me, ready to spew forward at this jerk, who was calmly sipping away right in front of me.

Raging, I spun him around, and kicked him square in the nuts. Water shot out of his mouth, but I ducked in time. In a combative stance, I sized him up, waiting for his reaction as he wiped his mouth, his face contorted with fury. Yet, half of me wanted to run—after all, Travis was a pretty big guy.

It was then my stomach sank. Travis suddenly cowered, and guiltily looked past me. I knew that meant only one thing: I was in deep doo-doo.

As if I were being recorded in slow motion on video, my head slowly turned around. Ms. Bricky, a tall, ramrod woman with horn-rimmed glasses and wrinkles deep-lining her rigid face, was futilely patting at a huge water stain on her dress, just below her sagging boobs. I realized what had happened. Ms. Bricky was just about to nab me for leaving class unsupervised. And Travis had accidentally spit water on her. Now this was worse. Much, much worse.

She grabbed me firmly by my arm; any harder, and she would have broken it. We called her the Bricky because her body had a boxy shape, and she could have moonlighted as a professional wrestler.

After leaving the class in the hands of a teacher’s aide, the Bricky started marching me down the hallway, en route to the principal’s office. Travis witnessed the entire spectacle, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

With the Bricky’s steely grip latched onto my biceps, I passed a group of girls who were giggling and pointing at me. My heart sank as I realized one of those girls was Mariah Espinosa.

In track meets, she finished first place in the events that the boys typically dominated. She was bright, beautiful, and she made me feel as if I had happily died and gone to heaven. It was magical listening to her musical-sounding Spanish banter and watching her thick black hair sway about her shoulders, while she gestured with her hands.

I arrived at the office of Miss Pinckney, the principal. ‘Why did you do this Theodore?’ she moaned—and not for the first time, either. Reluctantly, I answered, explaining what had happened at the water fountain. I admit it felt good to tell the truth. She picked up the phone, and dialed up my mother while my stomach remained twisted in knots. I kept staring at her perfectly coiffured hairdo as I listened to everything she said to my mother. ‘Uh huh,’ Miss Pinckney said, as she decisively lowered the phone back into its holder. “Your mother’s on her way.”

I knew Ann had been at home packing for our trip to Taylors Falls. I wasn’t looking forward to her coming to my school, because my friend Jason was supposed to go to the falls with us and I didn’t want to ruin that.