Under the Overtree

by James A. Moore

  He watched quietly as the kids from all over the neighborhood got on the bus, stop after stop. Most of them knew about what had happened in the halls yesterday, most of them knew what had to bring the wounds that covered Mark’s face, but he was the New Kid, a stranger to Summitville, and so they ignored him completely, expressed no sympathy. Summitville was a great place to live, in Tyler’s opinion, provided that you had always lived there. Strangers were tolerated at best.

  Tyler saw Cassie before Mark did, he nudged Mark when Cassie climbed the three stairs up into the bus. Mark was immediately awake and stared at the girl with cow-eyes. Cassie was only fifteen and already stood over five foot eight. A fact that probably tore her up inside. Cassie used to live right next door and Tyler knew she’d had dreams of being a world-class gymnast until her last growth spurt had hit. In her words, being that tall was as good as a death sentence when it came to gymnastics. Tyler didn’t know a damn thing about that, but he knew she was still hurting where it counted. She hid the grief well and to prove that it didn’t bother her, she took up jogging. Watching her jog was one of Tyler’s favorite pass times; she bounced well. She had dark red-blond coppery hair and eyes the color of a pre-dawn sky. And, although she seldom showed it, a smile that could light every house in Summitville—she seemed to show her smile a lot more when Mark was around, but that was probably just his imagination. There wasn’t a feature on her face that wasn’t damn near perfect. There wasn’t a feature on her face that she liked. Frankly, if her body kept developing the way it was now, he might decide it was time to re-develop his crush on her.

  This time, he’d definitely have competition. Mark Howell was in love. Or at least in lust. He’d never even said hello to her after the first day, Tyler doubted that he ever would, if he didn’t get some help. “Yo, Cassandra!” He bellowed at the top of his lungs, “get a load of Frankenstein, over here!” Cassie looked over with a frown and her eyes flew wide at the sight of Mark. Mark was far too busy trying to kill Tyler with a look to notice. Tyler just smiled innocently and pushed his sandy-blond bangs away from his glasses. Ah, Tyler, you sly devil you.

  Cassie touched Mark lightly on the arm and Mark felt electricity course through his body. Tyler who? He turned to face Cassie and saw the look of worry on her face. “What happened?”

  Before Mark could answer, Tyler butted in and told of how Mark had saved him from certain death at the hands of the evil and stupid Tony Scarrabelli. He continued on, to tell of the later beating in the woods. “Does it hurt?” she asked, wincing in sympathy.

  Mark smiled, “Only when I look in the mirror.” Cassie smiled back and his whole world seemed better. He’d have to remember to thank Tyler, sometime after he’d beaten the little weasel into the concrete.

  By the time that the bus finally stopped at the high school, Mark was convinced that he was in love. Her voice was musical, her face was magical, her body was phenomenal and, as an added bonus, she had a brain. Cassie was a great deal nicer than he would have suspected; if past experience had held true, she should have been a true bitch. Mark had seldom been happier to be wrong. As they went their separate ways, Cassie smiled and Mark felt a comforting warmth spread through his entire body. The warmth disintegrated in mere seconds, as Tony passed by.

  Tony was looking particularly gruesome today, a fact that Tyler immediately pointed out. Loudly. Mark flinched inwardly, as Tony turned their way. Without thought, Mark punched Tyler in the arm, not hard, but hard enough to make his point clear. That was a particularly stupid thing to do, especially after yesterday. Much to his relief, Tony simply glared and went on his way.

  Tyler looked over at Mark and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, my mouth still has this nasty little problem with staying shut when it should.”

  Mark arched an eyebrow and frowned slightly. “Ty, are you trying to get me killed? What did I do to you,” he mused aloud, “that makes you want to see me bleed? Weren’t the stitches enough?”

  Tyler looked wounded, until he saw Mark break a grin; it was twisted by the stitches and by the pain they caused as they pulled, but it was a grin just the same. He lightly thumped Tyler on the back of the head and gestured towards the school’s entrance. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

  Smiling to himself, Tyler thought about what Mark’s reaction to the same situation would have been the day before. He was very pleased with himself, he had just given Mark the only gift he could afford, a good mood, however briefly it lasted.

  5

  Joseph Howell was angry, primarily with himself, for not having paid better attention the few times that Mark had mentioned troubles at the school. It was hard to think that there were any serious problems, the kid always seemed to be in a good mood; as long as he had a book to read or a decent horror movie to watch, nothing seemed to bother him. Somehow, Joe doubted that another round of Nightmare On Elm Street would make the scar seem like less of an affliction. He was just grateful that the scar would be minimal, that the stone had cut him cleanly rather than tearing the flesh from his face.

  He wished he understood his stepson a little better and he had no one to blame but himself. From the first time he’d met Mark, he’d felt a mild repulsion for him. The kid seemed, well, wimpy. Joe had spent two years working as a paramedic in the worst part of New York City and had always kept up a strenuous regimen of exercises even after days when he felt like passing out from exhaustion. After all of the blood-shed he’d seen, after all of the cruel deformities he’d had to patch up on people who had been in perfect health ten minutes earlier, he just couldn’t stand the sight of anyone who was less than physically fit. Oh, he realized deep inside that it was a prejudice, he just couldn’t seem to do anything about it. And, to be honest, he hadn’t really tried to, either.

  Well, it was time to try now. He hadn’t realized how strong his feelings for Mark were until he’d seen the crusted, bleeding gash running across the boy’s face. He shuddered at the thought, paranoid little scenarios of what could have happened running rampantly through his mind. Try as he might, the hideous images of his son—Yes dammit, his son! He’d been with the boy for ten years, longer by far than the bastard who’d fathered him. That made him his son!—lying dead on the forest’s floor, his skull cracked open by the rock, wouldn’t go away.

  Pulling into a spot at the fitness center a block from the agency, Joe grabbed his workout bag and headed towards the entrance. His mind was made up. When he got home, he and the boy would talk.

  It was time for his son to learn a little bit about self-defense. If he’d been a man about it, he’d have taught the boy years ago.

  6

  The sun had yet to burn away the morning’s dew when the first of Them came into the opening between the trees. They gathered quickly, knowing that the sun would soon rise high enough to kiss the glen with its fiery light.

  Eagerly, They caressed the Stone and felt the flaky red crust on its edge. Their bodies sang with the promise that the blood offered. As They whispered urgently, the animals grew silent. No bird dared call for its mate, no insect dared move, for fear of the noise its chitinous shell might make. The glen was silent save for the whispered calls, save for the promise made by the Folk. They danced excitedly about the Stone, carefully setting the leaves and mulch back in place. No sign must show, no hint must give away Their presence. Only the One could know. That was the way. As it had always been. The One had been chosen, the One had been marked. Now, They must wait. Despite Their excitement, despite the closeness of the One, They would wait patiently. They had waited so long, years and years, They could wait a small while longer. They had all the time in the world.

  The light of day topped the trees, touching the ground that was sacred to Them. Silently, disturbing not even a single leaf, They found Their special places and hid away.”Soon, soon…” the wind promised “the time is almost here.”

  The Stone sat impassively, It pulsed with the power that the Chosen One would soon provide. It was a slow change, nothing
that a person would actually see, but in the glen where it had always waited, the Stone began to grow.

  Hidden away, the Folk crowed with joy. The Stone was growing and soon They would be free to roam as they pleased, wherever and whenever the notion touched Them. They had but to wait and to protect the Chosen One in his time of Change.

  7

  Tony sat in his third period study hall, trying to figure out just what the hell had happened. He knew that he had had a hand in the damage done to Howell, but he couldn’t remember it and he sure as shit hadn’t meant for the puke’s face to get slashed that way. He’d just wanted to put a good solid scare into the fat slob. Hell, the kid wasn’t even that fat, it was just, well, the kid pissed him off. He couldn’t even say why. Yes you could. He didn’t know just what it was, Oh, don’t you? about Mark Howell that always made him angry. He shook the thoughts out of his head and looked over at Cassie Monroe. She was facing away from him, hunched over a thick book on Biology. Lord, but how he’d love to teach her some biology. She had a damn fine body. Every time he walked down the hall, he looked for her. Seeing her muscular body glide down the hallway always made him ache. Made him hard.

  He looked down at his notebook, just for something else to stare at and started drawing more than slightly vulgar illustrations. He wasn’t a talented artist by any stretch of the imagination and his anatomy was horribly off, so he didn’t worry much about a teacher understanding what he had drawn. No problem.

  He looked up again, just in time to hear the bell ring. He stayed where he was and watched as Cassie stood and stretched her shoulders. Damn, she was a knockout. She looked his way and he smiled. She was coming over to talk to him. He forced his heart to stay out of his throat and nodded to her. “Hey, Cassie, what’s up?”

  Cassie frowned slightly, looking at him where he so casually draped himself over the chair. He very quickly closed his notebook, before she could see his doodles. “Hi, Tony,” she started, “I heard you and Mark Howell got into a fight yesterday.” She looked honestly perplexed. “Why?”

  Tony felt suddenly uncomfortable and forced his eyes away from hers. “I don’t really know, I guess, maybe I teased a little too hard.” He looked back up at her and shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, I didn’t even throw the first punch, he hit me.”

  Cassie looked at him intently and he started to feel like a bug under a microscope. The temptation to squirm was very difficult to resist. “Well, I hope you guys work it out. He’s not a bad guy. You should get to know him.”

  “So, maybe I’ll give it a try. If you say he’s okay, maybe he is.”

  Cassie smiled briefly and he felt like a real worm. No way, was he going to make nice with that fat prick. He hated to lie about it, but it was easier than arguing with Cassie. Anything was easier than that. “Great. Well, I’ll see ya later, Tony. Time for the old work out.”

  “Yeah. Later, Cassie.” He watched her leave, mesmerized by her walk. How could anyone move like that and not know the effect she was having? Standards, he grinned to himself, what was Pete going to have to say about the gash on Howell’s face? He couldn’t wait to find out. Cafeteria, here we come.

  8

  Pete had it all planned; when the lard-ass came around the corner, Pete was gonna nail him in the balls. Not hard enough to make him go down, but hard enough to make him ache. His math book at the ready, he smiled to himself and listened for Tyler Wilson’s nasal voice to come creeping up.

  He’d watched for two weeks and every day of those two weeks Tyler walked about three feet from the wall of the hallway, leaving just enough room between himself and the wall for pork-belly to squeeze through. Mark always walked about two steps behind Wilson, too. So when he heard Wilson he’d set himself and as soon as he saw the skinny little shit, he’d swing the book. He could barely stifle the snickers that threatened to erupt from him.

  It went like clockwork. Pete heard him, he saw him, he swung. Whap! Home run! The pig fell to his knees and dropped his books. Just as he was preparing to offer a sickeningly sweet apology, he saw the stitches on Howell’s face. His voice caught, looking on in shock, as Mark Howell stood up. The look in the guy’s eyes spoke volumes. He knew instinctively that if he said another word, the kid would jump on him. Pete would never admit that he was afraid of anyone, even Tony, but his better judgment made him bend and pick up the books that Howell had dropped. He muttered a small apology that was acknowledged by a curt nod and beat a hasty, if dignified, retreat.

  He’d seen that look a few times, it was the same look that Tony’d had on his face yesterday, after detention. When they’d gone after…who?

  He remembered chasing someone. He couldn’t see a face, or remember what had happened, but he definitely remembered chasing someone. He thought about it for a few seconds and then toyed with maybe stopping on the amphetamines. They were a good high and cheap, but maybe they were playing with his mind. Pete was fairly proud of his mind, he’d yet to fail a course at the school. Why risk it?

  A few minutes later he saw Tony heading his way. Should he ask him who they’d chased? Naw, last thing he needed was to get ragged by Tony. He thumped Tony on the back as he passed and started up a conversation they’d had to stop at the end of second period. In five more minutes he’d forgotten all about Mark Howell. What a pity that Mark had not forgotten about him.

  9

  Mark smiled and kept up the conversation with Tyler, but inside he seethed. A dull ache crawled through his stomach and groin, reminding him that he was alive and in pain. His face didn’t even seem to hurt anymore and, truth be told, he barely even felt the ache in his lower body.

  He had been humiliated again. By the same son of a bitch that had torn his face open yesterday. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking along those lines. A part of his mind cowered, thinking of nothing but the fact that he had been pounded into the ground the day before. But it was a small part, it was nothing compared to the rage that filled him. He had divine images in his mind of what he would do to Pete, if he ever got him alone. It’s a good thing, he thought to himself, that I’m a pacifist.

  “Yoo Hooo…Earth to Mark, come in Mark.”

  Mark pulled himself from his inner-thoughts and looked over towards Tyler. Tyler was waving his hands in Mark’s face, a slight frown on his forehead.”Hmmm? Oh, sorry. I was thinking about other things.”

  “Shit, I didn’t know I was that boring to talk to.” The words lacked sting, mostly because of the exaggerated look of woe on Ty’s face. Mark smiled and this time, it was a little more real. “So, what’re ya thinkin’, Howie?”

  Mark looked over, with a pained look on his face. “I’m thinking how much I’ll miss you, when you’re gone.”

  Tyler frowned, obviously confused. “Gone? I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Sure you are. To the hospital. The next time you call me ‘Howie.’”

  Tyler grinned, exposing his teeth in all their glory. It was a very open smile, it challenged and apologized simultaneously. Mark doubted he would ever understand his friend, but he certainly enjoyed his company. “Shit, Howie, you wouldn’t hurt me. If you did, who’d remind you to get your thumb out of your ass? Who’d point out all of your faults, or tell you when you were drooling?” Tyler’s grin changed to one of pure sadistic glee, as he continued. “Who’d tie your shoes when your mom had to go to work early? And who’d give you all the information you so desperately wanted?”

  “Information? About what?”

  Tyler grinned victoriously and Mark marveled at the mobility of his horse-like features. Horse-like? No, more like a slightly tamed vulture…“Not what. Who. A certain flame haired vixen, the apple of your eye, the bulge against your thigh, none other than—” Mark glared, but Tyler was on a roll and nothing could stop him now, short of violent death. “One Mizz Cassie Monroe.” Mark’s cheeks flared with warmth and, with his usual tact, Tyler leapt at the new opening. “My God! You’re blushing! Oh, this is too perfect, wait’ll I tell Cassie! She’ll
die!” Mark felt his face grow warmer still, as Tyler Wilson slapped the table, laughing uproariously. Mark could FEEL the eyes of the cafeteria against his back, he imagined the stares of every student in the school on him. A panic started in his chest, rapidly spreading throughout his body, as his mind pictured every last one of them telling Cassie how he felt. If he’d had a rock to crawl under, he would have. Desperately, he looked around the large room and realized, with relief, that no one was paying any attention. What could the losers of the school have to say that could be of the least bit of interest?

  Tyler wiped his eyes, still chuckling at Mark’s expense, “Oh. Ah ha. Had ya goin’ there,” he crowed triumphantly.”Didn’t I?”

  “Why don’t you just fucking broadcast it over the goddamn P.A., system, asshole?” he hissed back.

  With deadpan innocence, Tyler responded. “Do you think I should? I work in the office y’know?”

  “If you even think about it, I’ll—” Mark sputtered, he felt like his heart was going to erupt from his chest, as if someone had pulled his pants down around his ankles in church and he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Tyler’s face cracked into a sincere smile and he thumped Mark on the arm.

  “Relax, Mark. I’d never really do that to you. You should know that by now.” Mark felt his body start to relax, as Tyler continued. “Hell, you’re just about the only person I can hassle around here, who doesn’t feel the immediate need to tear me a new asshole. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.” Again Tyler’s expressive face became solemn, “Where the hell would I find another punching bag so willing to be abused?” Mark grinned at that one and realized that Tyler had, once again, manipulated him into a good mood. He would have thanked him, but Ty would probably take offense from someone knowing how he operated. Ty thrived on his subtlety; he considered it his one true gift.