Chapter Four
When Travis
finished his sketch, a familiar scene stared back at him: Oblivion's domain.
His insides churned as he remembered the dream, echoes of pain washing over his
hand and chest. Swallowing back breakfast, he told himself to calm down. It was
only a dream. Right?
As he packed
his things, his head pounded as though someone was smashing his brain with a
sledgehammer. Halfway down the hall, Giovanni called to him.
What
does he want now? He'd better have a good reason for talking to me, or I'll
castrate him with my bare hands. Then I'll force-feed the stupid redhead his
balls.
"Wait up,
Travis. Ms. Molly wanted me to ask you the title of your drawing and where the
idea came from. Oh, and Coach Campbell's subbing for Ms. Martin's English class
today." Redness splashed across Giovanni's face, painting his neck, his ears,
and finally, his face scarlet.
"Tell her
it's called `A Midwinter Night's Scream.'" He scowled at Giovanni. "Anything
else you need?"
"Um, and
like, that fight you had with Maxwell was hella
sweet. The look on his face when you pushed him was legit priceless. I'm so
glad someone finally put that ass muncher in his place," Giovanni continued,
his words slurring together in a squeaky tone.
"One, it was
from a dream. Two, if you saw it, then you know it wasn't a fight. Three, I can
handle myself without you butting into my affairs." He stomped away, wishing he
were at home right then playing a few rounds of Mortal Kombat.
"Oh,
okay. See you in the gym."
Travis
stopped and turned. "Don't remind me."
"Green and
Miler will be there too, so it should be tons of fun."
Lovely.
***
French class
passed without incident until a spider landed on Travis's desk, making his skin
crawl. He raised his textbook, ready to smash it when he had another
vision.
A giant
spider with bloody legs and foot-long fangs covered in saliva stood over him,
its onyx eyes boring through him. Then it lowered its head.
As quickly
as it had come, the vision left him, and he sat there dumbfounded, his stomach
queasy with terror.
What's
happening to me?
The chime
ending class sounded, breaking his stupor. He shook his head, gathered his
things, and made his way toward the gym. Along the way, Giovanni joined him,
and Travis struggled to contain his annoyance.
As they
jogged to the athletic wing of the school, Giovanni chatted away as if they
were acquaintances or something. Travis ignored him for the most part but
occasionally suppressed a laugh when he said something genuinely funny, though
he didn't think Giovanni meant to.
Class
with Mr. Campbell subbing meant a trip to the gym and a one-way ticket to the
bleachers for Travis. He glared at his inhaler and then plopped down,
retrieving his sticky-note-laden copy of Frankenstein and
began reading.
AP Prep was
technically a charter school, which meant anyone could attend, although they
charged the students fees for everything, including gym outfits and lockers,
even if you never used them. This made it cost-prohibitive for most of the kids
on Travis's side of town to attend. Travis would have attended Thurgood
Marshall Middle School, but his paternal grandfather's will stipulated he had
to go to a prep school or the equivalent to access his trust fund. Bobby and
Amber had no such stipulation. The lucky bastards.
He looked up
when he heard someone calling his name. Just his luck; Keith Maxwell and his
cronies were also there, shooting him dirty looks and making obscene gestures
when Mr. Campbell wasn't looking.
"You're
toast," Maxwell mouthed, then made a throat-slitting gesture.
Travis
mouthed, "Bring it," and then stuck his nose in his book.
Once the
kids who were late had finished running laps, Mr. Campbell told those from Ms.
Martin's class that she'd assigned them a group project of no more than three people.
They were to write a twenty-page report on Frankenstein, due at
the end of the year, worth fifty percent of their final grade.
He
passed out the assignment packets, telling those who wanted to that they could
form groups now or dress out and join the activities in the gym. Then he
dismissed them while he went to look after his gym class. There was much
groaning all around.
Slackers.
What did they expect from Honors English?
Since
he had no social life, and that's the way he liked it, Travis was on his third
read. The only problem was the group part of the equation. He shrugged and
figured he could talk Ms. Martin into letting him work alone if his paper were
twice the length. He dug back into the book. A few minutes passed when Giovanni
saddled up next to him, all smiles.
"Hey, you wanna do the project together?"
He didn't
look up from the book. "Yeah. No. You've spent years tormenting me and now wanna act like we're bosom buddies? I don't think
so."
"Um, yeah.
I've been meaning to formally introduce myself and apologize. JJ Giovanni,
resident smartass and the dude you had a kung-fu
action grip on this morning." He stuck out his petite hand. Travis looked at
the proffered appendage a moment, then continued reading.
"Way to
leave me hanging, dude." He pulled his hand back. "Anyway, you
um, want to do the paper together or what?"
Travis
glanced at Giovanni over the brim of his book, his annoyance rising. "No,
thanks."
"Come on,
bro. I see you're almost done, and I'll be finished in like a week, giving us
more than enough time to--"
"Nein, nyet, no."
"Alas! It
seems I must level up my charisma if I'm to get Travis the Moody to join my
party."
Travis
snorted. "That was pretty funny. Not like the
scatological humor you usually trade in."
Giovanni's
face light up in a smile. "Seriously? No one likes my geeky shtick. And what's
with the ten-dollar words?"
"I wouldn't
say I liked it. And it's not my fault you have the vocabulary of protozoa. Now,
will you leave me alone? I'm sure your friends are starting to wonder about us.
And we wouldn't want that, right?" He quirked an eyebrow, the corner of his
mouth turned up in a half-smirk.
Giovanni
wiggled his bushy eyebrows. "Or would we?"
"You're
quite droll, you know that? However, much like a dog humping one's leg, the
novelty has worn off."
"But I was
just trying to be friendly. I just thought maybe--"
"That you'd
say a few kind words to the freak you've bullied for years, and he'd be duped
into doing your work for you? That you'd flash that cocky smile of yours, and
I'd bow down to you like everyone else does?" Travis replied, dropping his book and getting to his feet. "Leave!"
"Why
are you so mad at me? I just thought you could use
someone to talk to. You're not who I thought you were," Giovanni said, taking a
step back, his lips trembling and eyes wet.
Travis
stared him down, his rage at Giovanni's presumption of knowing him spilling
over. "Fuck you. Don't ever in your life try to holler at me like that again!
You don't know the first thing about me and don't have the right to speak on
me. Until you do, you'd best keep my name out yo'
mouth or you finna catch these hands."
"Dude, mood
whiplash much? What did I ever do to make you hate me so much, huh? All I did
was treat you nice today."
"But what
about all the other times you and your friends clowned me, huh?"
He took a
step toward Giovanni, delighting in the fear he saw in the smaller boy's eyes.
Giovanni
stepped back, and barely loud enough for Travis to hear, said, "You don't know
how hard it was just to say hi to you today." Giovanni then straightened his
spine, his head held high, and clenched his jaw. "You don't know the first
thing about me!"
Giovani's
fist slammed into Travis's jaw, disorienting him, and for a moment, he heard
alarms blaring.
He made to
hit him again, but Travis dodged as if his body were moving of its own accord.
He caught Giovanni in the stomach with a knee, doubling him over.
Well,
all those years spent playing fighting games weren't a waste after all.
Travis
followed up with an uppercut, and blood gushed from Giovani's nose. When it looked like Travis was going to hand Giovanni his ass,
several of his friends piled onto Travis, kicking and punching him all over.
He crawled
into a ball, trying to protect himself, but there were too many. As darkness
encroached on the edges of his vision, a tingling sensation ran up his spine,
and his vision blurred. And then Travis was on a plateau overlooking a
forest.
Before he
had a chance to process things, it was as if he were watching events through a
camera high above the room, as though he were out of his body, asleep but awake
at the same time. Travis watched himself roll out of the clutches of those
hooligans and kick their asses like no one's business.
"Enjoy
the show, kid," said his headmate.
Watching
Giovanni get his face bashed in was such a joy, but then Travis saw Maxwell
coming up from the side.
"Look out!"
he cried too late as Maxwell bashed in the back of his head. And for a moment,
Travis saw stars.
"Next
time, be faster."
He
watched their body stumble, but his headmate righted theirself and charged Maxwell. The
two collided, pushing them backward by the force of the impact, while Maxwell
remained upright, smiling.
They
lost their footing, and Maxwell laughed.
But not for
long.
They caught theirself, got on their feet, and
charged Maxwell again. This time when they approached him, they kicked him in
the chest with both feet, bringing Maxwell to the ground with a boom.
Maxwell's
eyes rolled up in his head and then closed.
"One down,"
Travis said.
Then David
Green's massive frame crashed into Travis, sending them head-first into the
bleachers. Their forehead split open, blood cascading down their face as pain
jolted through Travis. His headmate, however, showed
no signs of being hurt and got up, smiled, then wiped the blood out of their
eyes.
Green made
to strike them, but they caught his wrist and tossed the musclebound teen over
their shoulder. Straddling Green's hips, they rained down blows as if they were
a UFC fighter, Green's Star of David pendant becoming covered in blood.
Travis
spotted Jason Miller barreling toward them, his lanky frame a human missile.
"Look out."
The view of
his body somersaulting in the air and then landing on Miller's back wasn't graceful,
but he'd be damned if it didn't fill him with glee seeing that bastard get his comeuppance.
Miler went
down as if an anvil had hit him, the breath and fight going out of him in one
big whoosh. He lay still, his eyes glassy and mouth frozen in a grimace.
They turned
back to Green, who'd recovered and was in a defensive stance that reminded
Travis of the old kung-fu movies he loved to watch.
"Give it up,
Turner. I've been taking karate since I was four."
"Then this
should be all the more fun . . . for me."
"Everyone on
the ground now," shouted a school resource officer as she reached for her stun
gun.
"Hey, pretty
lady. You wanna get freaky with me?" his headmate said.
"Okay,
things have gotten way out of hand."
Travis
floated down from his perch near the ceiling, but as he neared his body, he hit
an invisible wall, sending him backward.
"Naw, kid. The show's just starting."
"What are
you doing? In case you haven't noticed, that's a cop you're talking about
hurting."
"She don't start nothing, won't be nothing."
Travis tried
entering his body again but met the same fate. How could his body turn on him
like this? The one place he had to himself, the place no one could enter but
him, was no longer safe. How dare his headmate take
that from him. How dare it violate his inner sanctum. Waves of rage washed over
him, and in the distance, he heard the cry of a great bird again.
"This isn't
a joke. It's time you let me back in control."
"Nope."
"I said on
the ground now. Kid. Or I'm going to tase you."
Travis tried
again, this time getting closer to his body, feeling the invisible barrier give
a little.
"I ain't
going back in there. If you don't want this cop to pull a Michael Brown on us,
then I suggest you calm yo' ass down and . . ."
The resource
officer shot her taser at them, and as 10,000 volts coursed through their body,
the invisible wall fell, and Travis slid back inside his body.
Whether he
would live was another matter.
Author's
note: And the plot thickens. Next time we meet Nurse Jenny who's taken care of
Travis for years, and get more of the backstory on Travis
and his powers.
Let me know
your comments and constructive criticism at phenix39@yahoo.com
And be sure
to donate to nifty at https://donate.nifty.org
to keep this site free.