The New Kid. Temple Mathews
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you’ve had some rough patches, haven’t you? It says here you blew up the boiler room in the basement of Wellington High School in San Diego?”
“Accidents happen,” replied Will, though he knew good and well his blowing up the boiler was a totally necessary act of self-defense and not any kind of accident.
“Yes, they do,” said Steadman, “and apparently they happen to you with frightening regularity. The bus crash on the Porter Bridge overpass in Corpus Christi, Texas. The gas main explosion at Jordan Manning in Greenhaven, North Carolina.” Steadman flicked the folder with his middle finger. He looked frustrated, like he knew he had to hand down some stupid edict but didn’t particularly feel like it. He was clearly conflicted. Either that or he really had to go to the bathroom. Finally, he sighed.
“I want you to know that I’m a fair man, and that as far as I’m concerned you have a clean slate to start with here at Harrisburg High School. Here’s your class schedule and your instruction packet. You’re responsible for reading it and following the rules. Here’s your locker number and the combination. It’s your responsibility to keep your locker clean and free from drugs, contraband, and alcohol. I run a tight ship but a fair ship, William.”
The name’s “Will,” thought Will, but he didn’t bother correcting Steadman. He just wanted this over. Everywhere you went there were rules, but they were trivial compared to the rules of his world, and those rules Will lived to break in the worst possible way.
Principal Steadman pinhead stood up, indicating the brief meeting had come to an end. He reached over and grabbed a couple of forearm crutches and then came around the front of the desk to shake hands. Will felt ashamed that he’d held even an ounce of malice for Steadman. The poor guy had multiple sclerosis. Then he remembered the time an enemy had come at him disguised as a blind drooling quadriplegic and decided he’d better stay on the alert even though Steadman seemed like a basically nice guy to whom life had dealt a crummy hand. Steadman shook Will’s hand and Will squeezed tightly, trying to feel for moisture in the center of the palm. They sometimes had mouths or eyes there. But Steadman’s hand was as rough and dry as a chunk of tree bark. Will left the office.
He passed dozens of kids as he made his way down the hall to his locker. They all stared at him and did their usual whispering and pointing thing again. He stood out like an orange on an apple tree. Does everybody know everybody else in this school? wondered Will. Of course they do. It’s your typical small-town, inbred, socially incestuous scene.
He found his locker and as he did he saw a crowd of boys gathering down the hallway, fidgeting with anticipation. Oh God, thought Will, not another lame locker prank. What’s it going to be this time? At Wellington High School in San Diego they’d filled his locker with pizza dough. At Kennedy in Corpus Christi they’d used rats from the biology class and Will remembered how angry he was, not because he was embarrassed but because they’d injured one of the rats and he’d had to take it to the vet. In Greenhaven, North Carolina, at Jordan Manning High they’d used an “anatomically correct” inflatable doll (always a favorite) and at Steele High in Brunswick, Vermont, they’d used horse manure. So of course nothing would surprise him. Knowing this sort of thing was inevitable and not wanting to disappoint the doofuses down the hallway he slowly dialed the combination and opened his locker. Out tumbled two dozen water-filled condoms. How original. The goons down the hall fell all over themselves laughing and high-fiving each other. Will sighed, trying once again not to let this kind of crap get to him. But it always did, deep down. He knew kids did stupid stuff like this to make them feel better about themselves; he understood the psychology, but it didn’t soften the blows.
“You’ll have to clean that up, William,” said Principal Steadman as he crutch-walked up to Will. “Don’t take it too personally. This happens with every new kid. Just buck up.” Steadman patted him on the arm and crabbed his way down toward the faculty lounge.
Will disposed of the condoms in a nearby trash can and then headed for class as the first period bell rang. He followed the school map Steadman had given him and walked with his head down and took a left at the second hallway past the trophy case. He noticed a commotion in his peripheral vision and told himself to just keep on walking. But he knew there was trouble in the air and he was drawn to trouble like a shark to blood. There was a banging noise coming from the boys’ restroom and two chiseled thugs stood guard by the door like gargoyles, muscular arms folded. As he walked by Will heard muffled voices and the straining high notes of someone who was not at all happy. Will stopped. He knew at this point he should just ignore whatever juvenile games were being played. Something told him this wasn’t a game, but he decided to ignore his instincts and walked on past the boys’ room. Let whoever was in trouble go ahead and suffer. It wasn’t worth revealing himself for.
He was almost to his chemistry class when he heard the scream.
Chapter Two: Rescuing Rudy
Will stopped, turned around, and walked back to the boys’ room where he eyeballed the thick-necked gargoyles.
“The restroom’s closed,” said Thug One.
“Yeah, it’s out of order, so take a hike,” added Thug Two. Will stared at them.
“Hey, are you deaf?”
Will stood his ground and stared at them.
“We said there’s nothing in here, just keep your butt moving!”
“If you know what’s good for you!”
Will almost always knew what was good for him, but he rarely followed that path, the one of least resistance. Ever since he could remember he’d more or less been forced to follow the path of most resistance. He pushed right past Thug One and Two and though they were much taller and outweighed him by a combined forty pounds, something about this New Kid told them they’d better back off or suffer.
Entering the restroom Will shook his head. Why does this always happen? he asked himself. What was it about adolescent males that compelled them to distribute cruelty like it was candy on Halloween? The nasty alphas from the bus stop, Duncan Walker and Todd Karson, had a short skinny kid by the legs and were head-dipping him in one of the toilets. Will’s voice was calm but firm.
“Put him down.”
Duncan’s head turned slowly as he kept up the torture. He eyed Will, and then barked at the two muscular gargoyle guards who had followed Will in.
“What the hell did I tell you? Man, you two are so stupid!”
“He just sort of got by us,” said Thug One. Thug Two studied a knuckle and kept his mouth shut. Duncan turned his attention back to Will as he kept dunking the hapless skinny kid’s head in the porcelain pond.
“Listen up, hero, I’m gonna let your intrusion slide because you’re the New Kid and you’re too dumb to know any better, but I’m sure as hell not gonna put ‘Roto Rudy’ down. So just turn around and march your butt outta here, pussy face.”
Will clenched his fists and breathed deeply. He knew he had to keep his anger in check. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. Check that. He wanted to hurt them, just not put them in intensive care. He breathed deeply again.
“Put him down. It’s over,” said Will evenly. Duncan’s grip tightened on little Rudy’s ankles.
“Well I can’t do that, partner. You see, my name’s ‘Duncan,’ and I’m compelled to do just that. See, I’m dunkin’ Roto Rudy!”
Duncan spat out an ugly laugh, then hissed at the thugs.
“Will you puleeeeze kick his ass now?”
The thugs looked at each other and measured which was worse, not following Duncan’s command or messing with the stranger. They chose wrong, and stepped toward Will and threw punches. Moving lightning fast, faster than any kid they’d ever seen, Will ducked the first punch and Thug