Life, the Treasure Map and something or another.
Page 4
and his mother received a considerable amount. Partly because all attempts at discovering the identity of the shelter's owner or locating an heir had been unsuccessful. The people in charge also felt that it was somehow the right thing to do, considering the boy's terrible ordeal and all the emotional trauma he must have been exposed to. They weren't just giving money though, they were also giving a justification. And those old coins and bills the boy was so fond of. They were worthless anyway. Then came the powershift.
There is this saying. Money is Power. And it's true, to an extent. But power is't always about money. The saying should be Money is a form of power, but not the only kind of power. It just doesn't have the same ringt to it. It's simply not as catchy.
And sure, the money did have an impact. Suddenly Our Boy and his mother were rich. Filthy rich. Mrs. Paige, true to form, was all sensible about it. Our Boy, also true to form, was a little less sensible about it. He had become quite the sensation in his class at school. And just as the justification would suggest, Bullyboy was not a very trustworthy leader anymore. The minion's parents stopped praising their children for having such a respectable friend, for despite the influence Bullyboy's father had it simply wasn't enough to erase the scandal of the shelter incident. Our Boy had become a martyr. It did help that he was now rich.
'Do you want to see my Pirate treasure?' Our Boy would ask the minions. Then there followed an event strikingly similar to an auction but instead of money the minions were offering their services, their belongings and even their loyalty. Our Boy neglected to choose carefully. Instead he followed his whim and egged the minions on in a battle to emotional bankruptcy. And when all the minions had bid far above their means, Tattletale minion brought his secret weapon into play.
'Let me see the treasure. I was the one that told the teacher so that they could rescue you.' And you'd think that such a statement would be just cause for Our Boy to pause. You would think he'd snap righteously that it was all the minons' fault that he had been stuck there at all. It is a strange thing, how easily we overlook these sort of things when we have more to gain from ignoring it. Our Boy liked the attention. He relished the sudden power. He did not want it to stop. After a while Our Boy had filled Bullyboy's shoes. As for Bullyboy, he had gotten his comeuppance. He had lost his position of power, just like he deserved, right? It had, after all, been a terrible thing that he did. Everybody said so. It could have cost a life.
It was Bullyboy's mother who organised a playdate this time. Her son's behaviour worried her. He seemed to have lost all his friends and was noticeably lonely all the time. Our Boy's mother had agreed, albeit reluctantly. Our Boy did not take the news gracefully.
'I need to play with that... that... criminal!?' His frustration grew as he watched Bullyboy mistreat the ship in the bottle. Again. And it grew even more upon watching Bullyboy accidentally drop some pirate coins under the desk. But Our Boy did not go to his mother. He waited. Now he had power and he knew how to use it. And the next day at school he told the minions all about how rude and inconsiderate Bullyboy had been. The minions in turn shared their stories of Bullyboy. Many of them were not very nice stories at all.
You could say that Our Boy was having the time of his life. He was finally accepted socially. He finally had some friends. If only... If only he hadn't let his past get the better of him. Despite Bullyboy being powerless, Our Boy was still afraid of him. Maybe it had something to do with the occasional remark from a minion or two about how Bullyboy would do something differently. Or maybe it was nothing other than Our Boy's ingrain insecurities. It could be that Our Boy didn't have enough belief in his sudden prosperity. Whatever the reason, Our Boy went out of his way to use every possible occasion to point out his new social status to Bullyboy. If the Our Boy you met at the beginning of this story were to meet the Our Boy he had evolved into by this point in time, he wouldn't have liked himself one bit. Whereas you do. A bit at the very least. The poor kid had been through so much, hadn't he?
Our Boy's behaviour did not go unnoticed. It's not so much that Bullyboy missed being the centre of attention or centre of power. Sure, he might have missed it a bit. But the main thing was the identity loss. Bullyboy's self image was all about being the rich boy. All his friends always said so. Even his parents said so. And now that they weren't saying it anymore, well, he felt misplaced. And he did want things to go back to the way that they were.
The thing that annoyed Our Boy the most however, was that Bullyboy had never apologised. That he had never admitted in front of others all his wrongdoings. Once Our Boy started thinking about it he couldn't let go. He went over this in his head again and again. And the more Our Boy thought about it, the more determined he was to rectify the situation. Maybe something happened while he was stuck in the shelter. It does no man, woman or child any good to be secluded for too long. Then again, Our Boy had been secluded such a huge part of his childhood that it made perhaps no difference to him whether he endured his seclusion in a shelter or not.
It happened at recess. It was no Spanish Inquisition. Our Boy walked up to Bullyboy. The minions gathered in a sort of circle around them, the way a group of tourists gather around the tourguide.
'Why didn't you say sorry?' Our Boy said bluntly.
'What for?'
'For locking me up. You never said you were sorry.' Bullyboy didn't say anything.
'Say you're sorry.' Our Boy demanded.
'Why should I?'
'If you don't say you're sorry I'll...'
'You'll what?' Bullyboy smiled tauntingly, knowing full well that Our Boy didn't have anything on him. Our Boy stamped his foot down in agner, then turned to the minions.
'Let's go. I'll tell you all about my pirate treasure.' Our Boy said. Bullyboy laughed.
'It's not even a real pirate treasure, you fool! It's from the war. My father told me so.' Our Boy was shocked. He backed away from Bullyboy, then regained his posture.
'That's not true! You're just saying that because you're jealous!' Then before Bullyboy could insult him further, he looked over to the minions.
'Aren't you coming?' Our Boy asked.
'No. We don't want to listen to you talk about your boring fake treasure again.' And with that, it was all gone. His short regime had collapsed.
It felt like a huge defeat. It wasn't until Our Boy got old that he realised the folly of his struggle. He had spent the majority of his life far away from Dover, first to seek further education then later for his career prospects. Had he been running away? He was not sure. When he met Bullyboy by chance, upon a visit to his childhood town, it finally struck him. It hadn't mattered. None of it. It was all in the past.
'Why, if it isn't Mommy's boy!' Bullyboy had said surprised.
'Yup.' Our Boy had said. You might think that made Our Boy feel angry or distraught, to be called a Mommy's boy. It didn't. He even smirked a little upon hearing that old nickname.
'I hardly recognised you.' And understandably so. Our Boy had grown up. Our Boy had lived his life. He was wearing an old man's clothes and an old man's expression. He might have been weary but he was not frightened or shy anymore. He even sat down with Bullyboy over a cup of coffee and they talked about old times and the times that keep changing. This is where our story ends, saying farewell to an old man who at last reached the position to be able to let go. Sometimes it takes old age before we can.
About the Author
Eydís wishes she could write down something exciting in her author bio. Unfortunately, she lives a rather mundane life in Reykjavik, Iceland. And she spends far too much time cleaning.
Contact
Liked the book? Say hello to Eydís on Twitter: https://twitter.com/EydisRvk
Other work
NORNS
Credits
Life, the Treasure Map and something or another.
Copyright © Eydís 2014
Source ISBN:978-9935-9031-2-9
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any res
emblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.