Date: 18 Mar 2001 02:04:42 MST From: Inverse Clown Subject: The Out-Crowd (Part 14) AUTHOR'S NOTE: ============= Here's to everybody who writes me about my story, and who I never have a timely response for: Thank you. Thank you for your kind words and support. I know I don't get to everybody like I should, but don't think for a minute that I don't appreciate the time you took to write to me. Again, I thank you. --Servo Blue DISCLAIMER: ========== The Author holds no legal fault should the reader of the following story live in England; that's just a cruel joke from God. The Out-Crowd =========== Part 14: I Don't Even Know I woke up, took my shower, and headed downstairs in record time, but that's because I was awakened at five by an unknown force and simply couldn't get back to sleep. So, having the extra fifty minutes, after the first ten of trying to return to my pleasant yet unjustly interrupted slumber, I was up and at 'em in no time. I walked into the the kitchen and was knocked onto my back. "Good morning," I said, pushing Wallop's face back and trying to keep his lick-happy tongue off of my face. "Jeez, you ARE a horse, aren't you?" He didn't answer me, only gave me those sad puppy dog eyes as I crossed the kitchen to the back door. "Outside?" I asked, and with a crazy little jump, he scurried over to the door and ran out. I stood out there with him, making sure that he stayed in our yard and taking in the sight of the gray sky, as the Great Artist began to lightly scrape on the zodiacal colors of dawn against the lifeless gray canvas of the five o'clock sky. Deep, huh? I let Wallop back inside after his ten minute morning romp, and found my father, already dressed to leave, putting the kettle on the stove. "Well, if this isn't the sign of a good day, I don't know what is," said Dad. "G'morning," I said, sitting down at the table in the chair that faces the stove. "Actually, I wouldn't quite call this an omen." "Rough night?" he asked, leaning against the counter between the sink and stove. "Not really," I said. "But I think I took a while to get to sleep, and then I just sorta woke up, without any logical reason presenting itself." "I know what you mean," he said. "I've had nights like that." "You have?" I asked. Not that I didn't believe him, but I wanted to prod him along for an explanation of why these things happen. "Yup," he said, reaching for the kettle as the first sign that it was about to give out an ear-piercing scream came about. "Usually when I've got more on my mind than I realize. It's like there's a subconscious part of my brain telling me that I have to wake up and take care of the things that I know I have to deal with, but I really would rather send into a spiralling vortex." "Uh-huh," I said. I hate my father's similes. They always start out well, but then they get all weird. He poured himself a cup of coffee, and me a cup of tea, and sat down across from me. "Thanks." "Sure," he said, taking a sip of his hot, black vomit. (I hate coffee.) "So tell me.... What bothers my child's subconscious?" I looked at my tea for a few seconds, and without looking up, I said, "A lot of stuff." "Sworn to secrecy," he said, holding up his right hand. I really didn't want to say anything about what was actually bothering me, at least of what I knew was bothering me, because I honestly didn't know if he could keep that promise if I told him. That, and a Tuesday morning before school was no time to tell your parents any thing like "that", if you know what I'm sayin'. "I can't," I said, though forced through my voice. My dad looked a little disappointed at first, but quickly changed to indifferent. "Suit yourself, cheif, you know what you need. If you ever do decide to tell me, I'll be around." With that, he got up and , patting his leg, called Wallop into the living room with him. Shelby was up and ready to go on time, said both good morning and goodbye to my--I mean, our parents, and when Wally showed up, the three of us walked to school. About halfway there, the conversation took the inevitable turn to last night's activities. "I see your secret's out," said Wally, walking behind both Shelby and I. I looked back at him and then to Shelby, who had a wide smile on his face. "Well, it wasn't really much of a secret in the first place, boss," said Shelby, turning to look at Wally over his sun glasses and taking a few steps backwards before facing forward again. "I think everybody knew except Dave. Just nobody knew the whole sha-bang, that's all." "You have a secret?" I asked, not giving anything away. "Had," said Shelby, keeping his eyes ahead. "And it was?" I asked, trying to get it out of him. After a minute, he answered me. "Boss," he said, glancing at me and looking ahead again, "Dave wouldn't let me see Lor. He knew how we felt about each other, and he figured that if I didn't care about my parents enough to keep 'em around, I wasn't allowed to care about anybody. I wasn't even allowed to tell her. I talked to her about it once, about a week after he forbade me to see her. I don't know how, and I really don't care, but he found out. Even after the blackeyes were gone, I still couldn't look at her without hurting. And we haven't spoken since--at least 'til last night." Well, another heavy dose of "My Life Sucks" from Shelby, with just a hint of a "But I'm O.K. Now" aftertaste. "I see," I said. That's all I could think of. There was about to be an odd silence, but Wally prevented that with a slight subject change. "So, you get to meet Juke last night?" he asked, slapping a hand on my shoulder. "Yeah," I said. "What kinda name is 'Juke', anyway?" I asked. Shelby chuckled. "It's not his name, dude," said Wally, like I was some sort of idiot. "It's a nickname! His name is Jules. He's just not a very big fan of it, so everybody calls him Juke. You know--as in, 'box'?" I stopped dead in my tracks. Wally almost ran me over, but only bumped mt trapper out of my grasp. Shelby stopped when he noticed. "Whoa," said Wally, catching himself. "What's wrong, pal?" I just stood there. I think I might've been in shock. All I know is that I was very scared and very confused. I mean, fine, I admit that when Shelby told me that his parents were killed by a murderous clown, the day after a crazy dream in which a clown was involved, I thought it was weird--but I also chucked the idea of it having any connection out the window. Honest. But now I'm hearing about jukeboxes, too?? This better just be an insane coincidence. It had to be. After all, none of the other crazy things in my dreams had become a part of reality, so, once again, I recovered from the innitial jolt and came back to my world. SNAP! Right in front on my eyes, Shelby snapped his fingers, the cause of my mental return. "You O.K., boss?" he asked. "Uh, yeah," I stuttered. Wally looked at me, confusion written all over his face. "You suuuure?" he asked, sounding like he knew I was supposed to say 'no'. "Yeah," I said, brushing it off. "Yeah, I'm fine. C'mon, we're gonna be late." We arrived at school with our usual ten minutes to spare before first period. We parted at the corridor where Shelby kept going straight to his locker, and Wally and I turned left to get to ours. We walked for a few seconds, talking about nothing. "Oh, hey, I was talking to Micheal last night before he left, and he's got somebody he wants us...to...meet." Those last few words were suddenly very slow and quiet, as were the last few steps we took down the hall. In a syncronized fashion, we both slowly came to a halt, taking in the sight that covered my locker. Our lockers are all painted black, as the school colors are black and green. However, my locker had a fresh purple "L O S E R" painted from top to bottom. Fresh. Wally and I walked over to it, I suppose to make sure it was really there. There was no question who had done it. Rudy. Or Barry. Or Chris. Or maybe Fedora, but I really doubted it. A sudden rage swept through me, and I slammed my fist into the locker door. "Dammit!" I yelled. Then as the pain hit my brain, I grabbed my wrist and bent slightly at the waist, cringing. "Dammit!" I yelled at the stinging sensation of wrist against locker. Then, I looked down and saw that the hand cradling my injured wrist was purple. I lifted my arm and saw purple paint all along my hand and wrist where I'd punched the door, then turned and saw that even with all the paint on my hands, I'd hardly smeered the latest edition to my locker's decor. "DAMMIT!" I yelled, causing my voice to nearly echo through the halls and the few passing students that arrived as early as us to stare in my direction. Lunch Time. I threw myself down into my chair, fixating my eyes on the Pepsi can in front of me. I'd been pissed all day, and I was still too pissed to have any kind of appetite. I was scowling at the table as I reached up and violently opened my can. Shelby, Kate and Wally were looking around at each other in a questioning manner, all hoping that somebody knew what to say. Hell, by the middle of first period, everybody who had a fucking set of ears had heard about my locker's condition. I took a very healthy swig from the can and brought it back down to the table. I was slumping in my chair, with my shoulders against the top of the back of the chair. Kate was the first to speak. "So...how ya holdin' up?" she asked, a sign of sincerety in her voice. I didn't even look up. Not that I couldn't. I was just pretty much preoccupied. After a moment of silence, when it was appearant I wasn't answering, Wally spoke up. "Casey, we all know you're pissed, but you can't let him get to you." I just sat there, staring at my Pepsi. "Listen to the man, boss, he's talkin' logic, here." Again, I took a big, fast drink of my soda and placed it, albeit forcefully, back on the table, never letting my eyes move. Wally sighed. "O.K., so Rudy did something stupid to piss you off, big deal; don't go do something stupid too, that's just what he wants." said Kate. They didn't understand that they were only fueling the fire. Reminding me over and over that he was being an asshole for absolutely no just cause. I was breathing fairly heavy now, but not huffing and puffing, or anything. "Alright, calm down, boss," said Shelby. "You're startin' to scare Wally." "You're damn right," said Wally. This was the first time I'd actually heard Wally swear, and had I not been so enraged at the time, I probably would have commented. "Casey, you better get a hold of yourself." With one last swig, I finished off my soda and instead of placing the can back on the table, I just crushed it by forming a fist around it as tightly as I could. "Uh...you O.K.?" asked Kate. No, I wasn't. There he was. Laughing with his friends. Laughing and high-fiving people, like this was all some big joke that I couldn't do anything about. Boy, was he ever wrong. I pushed my chair back and stood up. Shelby grabbed my arm. "Where you goin', boss?" he asked in a warning voice. I glared at him and held the crumpled can out for him. "I'm throwing this away," I said through clenched teeth. "That O.K.?" "Yeah," he said, releasing my arm. "Yeah, that's O.K., boss." I walked over to the BFI bin and held my arm over it to drop the can, but I stopped and stood still. I waited a moment, then walked past my friends, and on the way, I leaned over a bit to tell them, "But not 'til I'm done with it," then sped up my pace. Rudy was laughing it up real good, and was standing up for some reason, still looking at his table of jerks. He turned and saw me the minute I was about one foot away from him and his expression immediately went to surprise. Without a word, I slammed him right in the face. Got his left eye real good, and the can cut him twice, diagonally; really nice above his eyebrow and a little nick on his cheek. He fell backward and landed with a thud. I jumped on him and discarded the can, as I reached back to start a whole session of swings on his head. His goons were all so surprised that I would even try something like that that they didn't bother to get up and stop me--I think they were in shock. However, I found myself being pulled off of him after a minute. I frantically looked between my two captors to see Shelby and Wally pulling me away. "I would not put that in the Smart Things To Do category, boss," said Shelby, as he and Wally held back my jolts of attempted escape. Had it been only one of them, especially just Shelby, I may have been able to get away, but together they were too strong. Rudy stood up with the assistance of Barry. Rudy was bleeding. I smiled what was most likely an evil smile. He rubbed his forehead and looked at the blood on his hand, then glared at me. "Carney has a point, there, Casey," said Rudy, all too calmly, but I caught a glimpse of the look that Shelby shot at Rudy, and Rudy straightened up. "Alright, boys, clear on outta here," came a hefty voice from behind us. We all turned and saw one of the janitors with a serious face. "C'mon, now, 'fore you get in trouble. I see anymore of that in my cafeteria, you WILL be. Now go on. 'Cept you--you come with me to get that cut cleaned up." With that, angry looks were distributed by everyone, and they all returned to their normal eating arrangements, save for Rudy who went with the janitor. Shelby and Wally, on the other hand, were not about to go back to our table. "Alright, boss," said Shelby, as he and Wally lead me out into the hall where his locker was, "Hallway." Once out there, Wally let go of me and Shelby shoved me up against a locker. "What kinda schist was that, boss?!" he asked rather loudly. "Oh, gee, you're right, Shelby. I never should have jumped Rudy and started beatin' the hell out of him. I mean, I'm still debating on bitchin' you guys out like there's no tomorrow for pullin' me off him. How's that sound? Hypocritical, maybe?" "You know what, boss--" Shelby started, shoving an infuriated finger in my face. But instead of continuing, he simply straightened up, turned on his heels and walked back into the cafeteria. Wally and I both watched him go. "Mmm. Nice shot." he said. "Looks like you hit the bullseye there, pal." I winced at the realization of what I'd just done and sank against the lockers a bit. "Yeah, I know. I don't know what came over me, Wally." "You don't?" "O.K., maybe I do, but I didn't know I could get that angry. About anything." "Well, guess what, man," he said, turning to look at me. "You can. And you did. Just don't do it again." The bell rang, indicating that lunch hour was over. People starting exitting the cafeteria in the order of a slow moving mob. Wally took notice, but stayed with me. "Look, we gotta get to class. You gonna be O.K.?" I nodded, and we went on to finish the day. I got home and Shelby never showed up. Wally stopped by, sensing that such an ordeal might occur, and gave me a ride to the Full Deck. When I walked in, the place was dead. Mikro was there, though, and he was standing behind the counter, reading a magazine of some sort. He looked up as I approached the counter. "Oh, hey, C-Bomb, how's the ol' one-two?" he said with a smile. "Hey, Mikro. You work here?" I asked, ignoring both the insane name he'd given me and reference to my quarrel that the who school had undoubtedly heard of faster than hearing of my locker. "Absotively, posilutely, my friend, and let me tell you, what a sweet deal it is." He grinned one of his patented 'let the world know I'm happy' grins. "You get seven bucks an hour, Monday through Thursday, from 3:30 to 6:30. There's never anybody here during our cushy little time slot, save for maybe a few early birds that get here around quittin' time for the seven o'clock leagues to start. And the best part is..." here he leaned over the counter and whispered, "I know the sweet spot on the vending machine." For a second, I thought he was entirely serious, then when I knew he was, I busted up laughing. He came around the counter and we sat down at one of the tables directly in front of it. He ran off really fast and grabbed us each a fountain Coke from the "kitchen" that sits beside the money counter. Handing me my drink, he sat down across from me. "So, you met anybody else that works here yet, C-bomb?" He asked around his straw. "I don't know," I said. "Gimme some names." "Hmm...There's Ben, Newbie, Killer, Juke, --" but I cut him off. "Juke works here?" I asked, sounding more shocked than I should have. "Yeah, man. That cool?" he asked. "Oh, yeah," I fumbled, "That's cool, it's just the only name I knew." "Yeah, well, lemme tell ya right now, 'Bomb, Juke is an oddball. Don't ever talk about his ol' man. In fact, dads in general are a bad subject around here. His dad kinda shut down after that accident, an' all." "What accident?" I asked, in a tired voice. I knew this was gonna be bad. "Oh, schist, nobody told ya. Juke and his dad were drivin' home one night and a pick-up went left-t'-center and--pow. Totalled their car, and sent a nice chunk of dashboard right through Juke's neck." "Oh, my God." "Yeah, I know. They fixed him up, an' all, except for his vocal chords. There was nothin' left. Poor guy either has to sign, which nobody can understand, or write, which takes too long. His dad tried for years to get somebody who could fix him, but nobody can. Now he feels like he's the one who did it." "O.K., this is just getting way too weird," I said, rubbing my temples. "Whatsa matta, C?" he asked, genuinely concerned. I sighed. "Ah, nothing. So, this is all we're gonna have to do?" I asked. Hey, I really had to change the subject. "Yup. Unless Steiny or Milo leaves us some kinda note to fix or clean somethin'. Oh, and by the way...thanks for not sayin' anything to Shelby 'bout what Luis and I said to ya." "Hey, no problem, man, I know where you're comin' from. Besides, I like you and Luis--" but it was his turn to cut me off. "Hey, about Luis," he started, and paused, but when he started again, he was a bit quieter. "Luis...Luis has a problem." "Don't we all?" "Yeah, maybe, but...not like him." After a long few minutes, "Luis is on some pretty strong medication. Not like a sedative or anything, and I have no idea what it's called, but, uh, it keeps him kinda...you know...him." "What?" I had to ask. That was a little confusing. "Luis' uncle and great grandfather had the same thing, but now there's a medication, to help him deal with it. I think his uncle's on it, too." "O.K.," I said, "but what's wrong with him?" "You gotta swear to secrecy, bro." he warned. "Yeah, man, I swear. You got my word." "O.K.," he said. "Y'see, Luis...Luis is schizophrenic." Well, now. That was interesting. =========================================================================== ....To Be Continued.... By the way, I'm well into my 14th week of a battle with insomnia, so any missing words like 'as' or 'the', along with any stupid misspellings that a concious person might fix are to be blamed on getting an average of 2.5 hours of sleep a night. Also, I was awakened at 4:30am...yesterday. So, any probs in this Part, please accept my apologoies. Especially if it's too short. ;) Any Comments or Criticism go to me at servo_blue@usa.com or inverse@mindless.com Whatever floats your boat.