Chapter Two

Travis awoke to his body aching all over, especially his face, limbs feeling like they weighed a ton. His head pounded like the percussion section of MSU's marching band. Through his groggy fog, Travis heard his alarm, rolled over, and shut it off.

He felt as though he hadn't slept in days. But what caught his attention were the bandages on his left arm.

He didn't remember doing that, but he must have. Shrugging, he rolled out of bed, flipped on the bedside lamp, and checked the aftermath of last night's little mishap. Though the gauze was covered in blood, there were no scars.

Okay, cue the Twilight Zone music.

Travis laid out his uniform, then gathered his undergarments for his morning ablution, praying to whatever gods may be that he was the first one up. He could not deal with a cold shower that morning on top of everything else.

Halfway to the bathroom, he spotted Bobby coming down the hall. They looked at each other a second before Bobby broke into a run. Travis hauled ass, but though Bobby was almost two years younger, he beat Travis, stopping at the door to do a victory dance.

"Beat you again, loser. Hope you like having shriveled nuts if you have any." He did another victory dance, wiggling his butt in Travis's face. 

More than anything, Travis wanted in the bathroom right then. 

To his amazement, the next instant he was standing behind Bobby, Travis's clothes slightly singed around the edges.

"Hey, where'd you go?"

He tapped Bobby on the shoulder, and the eleven-year-old whirled around, shock all over his face. "What the . . . You were there, but now you're here. How?"

"Don't know. Don't care. Scram!" He shoved Bobby out the door and locked it before setting his clothes out, only for severe nausea and stomach pains to wrack him. Doubled over, he fell to his knees and crawled to the toilet in time to coat the bowl with brownish-yellow bile.

What's going on? 

When the strange sickness passed, Travis washed his mouth out. Heart racing, he checked his burn-scar-covered face out in the mirror. The skin around his right eye, a bright red, popped against his normal golden-brown complexion. So, he removed the burn ointment from the medicine cabinet and set it aside.

Once he got in the shower, no matter how hot he turned up the water, it felt as though he were bathing in the Arctic Sea. He soldiered through it, but when he got out, the mirror was foggy, as you'd expect after a hot shower.

This day keeps getting curiouser and curiouser.

When Travis dabbed the ointment on his face, he dropped some on his chest, and as he was cleaning it, he saw something that made his heart skip a beat.

On his chest were a set of fresh scars in the exact place Oblivion's tentacles had pierced him in the dream. And when he ran his finger across them, it was like touching a block of ice.

"Travis Marshall Turner, get your high-yellow behind out that bathroom this instance, or you're grounded."

He swore under his breath, rolling his eyes. It was too early to deal with her high-strung theatrics. Especially when he either might be going crazy or was the devil's vessel. 

Swell options. 

Shaking his head, he slipped on his underclothes and then hightailed it to his room to iron his school blazer, dress shirt, and khakis. When he was done, he gave his loafers a quick shine, finished dressing, and grabbed his messenger bag. 

God, why can't I go to Thurgood Marshall Middle School like everyone else in my neighborhood? At least then, I'd have a better chance at having friends. Stupid Opa and his will.

 This was the umpteenth time in as many days he'd had this thought, but then he corrected himself.

 "Rule Zero: People come into and out of our lives without reason, so we can only depend on ourselves. Say it again," he told himself until he was ready to face another day at AP Prep.

 After eating a breakfast of Pop-Tarts and brushing his teeth, he asked his mother to drive him to the bus stop. She looked up from a stack of papers, expression grim, staring right through him.

 "You pay any bills?"

He furrowed his brow. "Huh?"

"Don't huh me, boy. Since you think you can run up the gas bill by using up all the hot water, you can walk your tail to the bus stop." 

He checked the time. "Even if I run full stop, I'll be five minutes late."

 "Then you should have thought about that before, huh? Have a nice day, dear. And if I find out you skipped school, not only will you be grounded, but you can kiss going to your grandmother's this summer goodbye."

***

 Sweat rolling down his cheeks, gasping for breath, calves on fire, Travis made it to the bus stop seven minutes late. Luckily, the bus driver was late herself, and students were still milling about. He took a few puffs from his inhaler.

Joy of joys.

"What's got you in such a rush, Turner? Lost track of time spanking it?" Giovanni said, walking toward him, sneering all the while as his idiotic friends brayed like donkeys. 

And once more into the breach. 

 Giovanni and his crew thought they were so cool because they lived on the east side of Azure Plains in homes that made the ones in Travis's neighborhood look like hovels.

Normally he would have ignored Giovanni, but Travis wasn't in the mood to take crap from anyone that day. He puffed out his chest. "Nah, I was busy fucking ya mom."

Giovanni's pale face went red as his friends whistled and chortled at him. He clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes. "Funny, I wasn't aware your balls had dropped."

"My testes descended a year and a half ago. Not that it's any of your business, ya troglodyte. Why don't you go back to your friends? God knows they're more your speed, what with them having a collective IQ smaller than your shrimp dick."

At his remark, the crowd jeered. 

Giovanni got in Travis's face, his ears red, fists white-knuckle tight. "What'd you say to me?"

 Travis put on a brave face, ready to take his beating, when he had a vision: Giovanni crumpled at his feet, skin turning blue as he choked on his own blood.

 The vision left Travis torn between horror and glee. He grinned darkly.

Giovanni's eyes went wide, and he flinched.

"JJ, you gonna let Turner clown you like that?" Henry Huntington said, his uniform straining to contain his muscles.

 Giovanni looked between Travis and his friends, then shook his head. He raised his fists, drawing back the right one when Travis spoke up. "Go ahead, tough guy. I can take it."

 Giovanni looked at Travis a second, mouth hanging open, before lowering his fists. "Dude's not right in the head. Besides, I don't wanna ugly up his face any more. He could legit play Deadpool without any makeup."

Giovanni's friends laughed and clapped, reminding Travis of howler monkeys. How banal. He'd heard better insults from toddlers. Flipping him off, Travis paid Giovanni no further mind, and Giovanni and his friends left him alone." 

That was a close call," he said to himself as he drifted into the world of his imagination.

***

Today on Wide World of Douches, we've stumbled upon a pack of Midwestern Dumb Asses. Distinguishable from the southern variety by their love of lifted trucks, SUVs, and all things edgy, they rove in packs, catcalling the female of the species, trying to impress them with talk about how hardcore they are.

"Dude, I got so much ass at my birthday party."

What's this? By Jove, it's the rare and elusive Rubeus Parvus Ignarus. Identified by his short stature and reddish-orange hair, Rubeus is prone to fits of prolix and extreme braggadocio, squawking to all about his sexual prowess.

"JJ, you're so full of shit."

It seems Rubeus's claims have been challenged. Not the strongest or brightest, he gets by on his jokes and appeals to stronger dumb asses to fight in his stead. With his protectors nowhere in sight, how will Rubeus face this challenge to his dominance?

"Oh, you can fuck right off, Mitchells. You weren't even there. Probably too busy at home screwing your sister. BT dubs, tell her to watch the teeth next time I come through. I hate toothy blow jobs, yo."

 Mitchells lunged at Giovanni, taking him to the ground.

 David Green and Jason Miller showed up then, gasping and covered in sweat.

"There a problem here, Mitchells?" David said, putting some bass in his voice.

  Mitchells got off Giovanni and dusted himself off. "Nope. JJ was just telling me about his birthday bash, right?"

Damn it, and here I was hoping to see Giovanni get his imbecilic ass kicked. But the day is young.

Travis's vibrating phone drew his attention, and he smiled when he saw the caller ID. "Hey, Grams!"

"How's my caramel cowboy this morning?"

Stifling a laugh, cheeks hot, and looking around to see if anyone had heard her, he said, "I told you not to call me that."

"Right. You turn the big one-three this year and think you're grown now. So, I'm getting everything in before you forget about your old Grams."

"Never in a million years. You're too weird."

"Right back at you, kiddo. What's my favorite grandbaby up to this morning?"

"Mm, waiting on the bus, hoping a fight breaks out, plotting world domination . . . you know, the usual."

"That's nice, dear. While I have you on the horn, what do you say to joining me for the winter holidays this year?"

"Wish I could, but you know how--"

Mitchells grabbed Travis's phone, holding it just out of reach. "Who ya talking to?"

"My grandmother. Now, give it back!" He charged the bigger boy, but Mitchells side steeped him and tossed the phone to Henry Huntington, a ninth-grader, who tossed the phone to Giovanni. 

He looked at Travis a moment, then sneered. "Keep away!"

 Miller caught the phone and laughed. "Jesus, Turner, this phone's older than my grandma. Get with the times, kid."

Travis stuck out his hand, shouting, "Give me my phone."

A wind picked up out of nowhere, knocking everyone but Travis off their feet. Travis stared at them, mouth agape.

Did I do that?

Everyone froze, staring at Travis. He looked at his hand. What the hell . . .

"Travis, are you still there?" Grams said, breaking the spell that had fallen over them. While everyone was getting up, he retrieved his phone and told Grams he'd call her back.

And the weird-o-meter jumps up another notch.

Travis's palms were slick, and his heart pounded in his ear, his breaths coming in jagged fits as he processed what happened.

No one looked at him after that, and by the time he'd calmed down, the bus arrived. He began the gallows march to his seat, slipping on his over-the-ear headphones and drifting off to sleep.

 "Rest up, big dog. You're gonna need it."

 

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