Jonathan: Prince of Dreams

by A Corrin

  Checking ahead to try and discern a safe path, I murmured, “Watch your mouth.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Carl snapped.

  “Do you want me to leave you here?” I asked.

  “No,” he said quickly. He twisted to look me in the eye and say something smart but glanced over my shoulder and focused on something behind me instead. Grabbing the sides of his snowboard, he began to throw his weight forward, pulling hard against me. “No, no, no, no, no!”

  My arms flew out. “Dude, you’re going to push me over, what…?” I turned around and made an inarticulate noise, my innards sinking.

  Sitting on a boulder half submerged in the snow, and watching us with beady yellow eyes, was a grizzly bear.

  It was huge—it could blanket my entire torso with one of its paws. Power emanated from its ropey muscles, and it held itself with the savage confidence of an apex predator beholding an easy meal. Its nose went up, scenting the air, and I caught a glimpse of its freakishly sharp fangs.

  I moved slowly, sliding back and forth, creating a slick patch of snow so that I could unstick myself. What had I heard about surviving grizzly attacks? Play dead? Act tough? Climb a tree? I tried to avoid making eye contact with it while also keeping it in my periphery. Carl’s whimpering was not a very reassuring backdrop, and he pawed at me, clawed at the snow.

  The bear reared up on its hind legs. Holy shit. It was the biggest animal I’d ever seen. It made a hellish growling sound, and I dismissed “acting tough” from my list of ways to fend it off. Its claws made it look like it was holding ten knives in its ham-size paws. I hoped with desperation that my friends hadn’t tried to follow me off the trail and were instead waiting for me at the bottom of the hill. Suddenly, the monster bear roared and started at us, leaping off its rock with a concussion that I felt through the snow and approaching with alarming speed.

  “Go!” squealed Carl.

  I pushed forward; he pushed forward, and we were off.

  The air roared against our faces, chilling us. I could hear the bear running after us, breath whuffing and paw steps thudding. I leaned to one side, bellowing at Carl to do the same, and we avoided a tree.

  We swerved side to side, zigzagging in wide curves around foliage, Carl paddling at the snow helpfully to maneuver his own turns. Soon, I couldn’t tell if the bear was still chasing or not; I couldn’t pick up any more sounds from it—just the hissing whisper of boards on snow.

  Carl peeked back around my legs long enough to observe, “It’s back there a ways watching us. It gave up.”

  “Thank God.” Near-death experiences will really turn you to faith. But another problem came to my attention when I saw level ground through the trees.

  “Um, issue coming up,” I started.

  “What now?” Carl asked, looking side to side as if checking for another bear.

  “We have to stop. And we are going…really fast,” I explained slowly.

  Carl slouched when he, too, realized our predicament. “Great,” he said.

  We hit level ground so suddenly, it felt like being whacked behind the knees with a baseball bat. We shot into groups of skiers and snowboarders, everyone diving out of our way, and aimed for a steep drop-off straight into the parking lot below.

  I desperately dug my board into the snow, feeling shock waves of impact thud in my kneecaps. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. I reached down and unbuckled the cord connecting Carl and me. I stretched out my arm and shoved him over onto his side where he bumped once and lay still, watching me over his shoulder.

  There was only one option left. I fell back fully on the ground. Freezing-cold snow shot up the back of my coat, refreshingly cool on my skin. The bruise on my hip throbbed. My momentum slowed almost immediately, and I came to a stop with my board dangling over the edge of the drop.

  Arms wrapped around me and pulled me back. Someone removed my board, and I balanced on legs like noodles. My friends crowded around, joined by others clamoring for answers.

  Ben supported me, and Nikki was forcing me to look in her eyes.

  “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice breaking.

  I hugged her tightly and whispered, “I am now.”

  Chapter Two:

  I Almost Beat Up a Bully

  A couple of hours later, I was sitting in the back of an ambulance draped in a blanket and sipping hot cocoa. Carl was one ambulance over, lying on a stretcher with an ankle brace.

  A news crew was over interviewing his parents. They had already talked to me. I heard the reporter saying, “...according to his friends and the injured youth’s parents, Jonathan He’klarr is, indeed, a hero.”

  I frowned and hunched lower over my drink. Anybody else would have done the same thing. It was only by chance that I had heard Carl’s cries for help before he had become that bear’s porridge. But still...looking over at Carl lying on his back, pale and exhausted, filled me with a kind of fierce joy and odd protectiveness. He was alive—because of me. I felt that I’d struggled my way out of a cocoon of obscurity, nothingness, and darkness to see my own potential. It was a strange, exciting, and frightening new feeling.

  People I didn’t even know were clapping me on the back as they walked past. Gaggles of girls that I pointedly ignored grouped up nearby to glance over at me flirtatiously, daring each other to get my number. My phone was buzzing as people from school bombarded me with texts, asking me if what they’d just seen on the news was true—had I really just saved someone’s life on the mountain? I didn’t respond to any of them—just sat there, chewing on my thoughts, trying to make clearer sense of them.

  A familiar voice made me look up with a broad smile. “Jonathan Hero He’klarr! Waz up, man? How’s life on this side of the tracks?”

  “Hey, Ty,” I said, scooting over to make room for him to sit. I raised my cup. “Cocoa’s good.”

  He clapped me over the shoulder. “I’ll bet it is. You’re lucky you’re as fast on a board as you are on the gridiron.” He gazed around at the crowds, the reporters, his fingers clenched in his lap as he twiddled his thumbs around. Then, like he was acting on impulse, he leaned close and said, “Hey, next time don’t go charging away like that on your own, okay?” His tone was sharp.

  Surprised, I studied him, my own musings sinking to the back of my brain. Normally, Tyson was the comedian. Nothing could dampen his spirits. But this had bothered him. He was shaken. He spoke again, and I could hear a small quiver weakening his voice.

  “I’m your best friend. I’ve had your back for...years. The next time you run off to fight a bear, just...just maybe bring me along, okay?”

  I smiled at him. “Sure thing, Ty. Next time, I’ll let you tag along.” He bobbed his head like a bird by way of a humorless nod, but then let out a breath like he’d been holding it out of nerves, and stretched out on his back, his arms behind his head. My recurring dream popped back into my head as if to make a point and I thought of my dream-self shaking a sword at a dragon and bellowing a challenge.

  My phone buzzed again, like an irritating mosquito, and I lifted it up and looked at it. My friend Vince was calling. I stared at the screen blankly until Vince went to voicemail, and then studied my background image: me holding up my phone and smiling into the camera, my turquoise eyes lit up by the setting sun, and Nikki beside me, running one hand through the waves of my dirty-blond hair. I felt so different from that guy in the picture. I’d just saved a kid’s life.

  Maybe I can be more than what I am after all...

  Traditionally, on our drive home from the mountain, we all stopped at a popular restaurant called Brown Bear Diner. The irony was not lost on any of us.

  When we entered, and the little bell over the door jingled, we were recognized by a few other people who’d also been up playing in the snow and they greeted us cheerfully, raising their drinks.

  “Hero He’klarr!” one guy sh
outed and I bobbed my head and waved, uncomfortable at the attention.

  My friends slipped into our favorite booth by the front window where we could watch the sloping pasture across the road and maybe spot a grazing herd of elk passing by, and I went to use the restroom. But when I entered, I saw that it was occupied by a raucous crowd of three or four other guys, playfully shoving each other into stalls and loitering by the sinks. I hesitated, and one of the guys, calmly washing his hands, looked up in the mirror to see who’d entered. His eyes, as green as the mountain trees I’d boarded through to rescue Carl, lit up with malice.

  It was Garrett, his poofy black parka still wet from the mountain snow.

  “Look who it is,” he said snidely, and his friends stopped bouncing off the walls like gorillas at the zoo to sneer at me. “Jonathan ‘the hero’ He’klarr.” They all snickered.

  As far as I was concerned, Garrett was the scum of the earth. Your average high school bullies aren’t too hard to figure out—oftentimes they just like exercising power over someone, feeling tough and in-control. Not Garrett. He got sadistic pleasure out of every kid he beat up, and his skills of shrewd manipulation would give any certified sociopath a run for their money.

  And now I was thinking back to when I’d seen him talking to the kid, Carl, on the mountain.

  “Did you make Carl take the black diamond?” I asked.

  “Did I make who take the what?” Garrett asked without concern, drying his hands. His friends chortled again.

  “The kid who sprained his leg today, who was almost eaten by a bear. Did you make him take the advanced trail?”

  “Oh, Jonathan,” Garrett simpered, “I didn’t make anyone do anything.” He tossed his paper towel toward the garbage can. It bounced off the rim and hit the floor. He approached me with slow, confident steps, palming his hood back off of his spiky, jet-black hair. “Did I insinuate that he’d be a pussy if he didn’t take it?” He shrugged. “Perhaps. But he’s the one dumb enough to rise to the challenge.”

  “He’s just a kid,” I said, shocked. Garrett may have been an asshole, but he could’ve caused some real harm today. And here he was, completely okay with it.

  Garrett blinked as if nonplussed. “...And?” His goons laughed again, but this time I didn’t hear it—I took a step forward, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, spun him around, and pinned his back against the wall. The laughter cut off really quick.

  “He almost died, Garrett.” I snarled into his stoic face. “You almost killed a kid today.”

  Garrett gave me a slow, crooked smile. “...And?”

  I stared at him, appalled. The bathroom door opened, and Tyson came in. He froze when he saw what was happening. I glimpsed Nikki hovering behind him—perhaps they had been drawn to the sound of our raised voices.

  “What are you doing?” Nikki cried.

  Garrett wrapped his hands around my arms. “Let me go, He’klarr.”

  I returned my attention to him, my pulse racing. “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll take you apart.” He tilted his head at me. The scarlet gem that studded the gold ring in his ear twinkled at the movement. “But maybe it’ll be therapeutic for you. You’ll get to stay home, spend some quality time with your drunk-ass dad.”

  Nikki looked at me meaningfully, raising her eyebrows, tightening her lips, trying to tell me with her gaze not to get uptight. “Don’t do it,” she mouthed.

  The heat rushing through me felt like it had turned into ice. My grip on Garrett’s shirt loosened and he shrugged me off. I staggered back away from him. Tyson came up at my shoulder and kept an eye on Garrett’s hungry-looking friends. Nikki held the door open, watching nervously.

  “Don’t talk about my dad, Garrett.” I said curtly, my heart beating faster. “This has nothing to do with him.”

  Garrett smirked. “Does it bother you?”

  I should have kept my weaknesses secret, as is man law, but instead I clenched my hands into fists and said, “Yeah, it bothers me, just shut up!”

  “Make me,” challenged Garrett. He waved his hand at Tyson and Nikki, watching with round, expectant eyes. “Look at your adoring public, He’klarr. Let’s give them a show.”

  My hands shook and my heart raced. Garrett was goading me into stepping over the line of hostile neutrality that had stretched between us for years, tempting me to make a move.

  “No, Jonathan,” Nikki murmured very gently.

  “Yes, Jonathan,” Garrett said in a mocking voice that mimicked Nikki’s concerned tone. “You have to be getting tired of turning the other cheek.” He watched my eyes flicker toward the door and back. Shaking his head, he sank back against the wall and muttered, “Won’t even fight back. You are your mother’s son.”

  I lunged at him, fists swinging, shouting profanities. Tyson had felt me tense up, though, and grabbed the back of my coat. Garrett’s friends were all shouting, urging us on while Nikki tried in vain to calm me down. Garrett was just laughing, like he was amused, a foot from my eager fists.

  “Let me go! I’m gonna kick his ass!” I screamed.

  “Come on, bro, you’ll get thrown off the football team if you get in a fight!” Tyson said over my oaths. “He isn’t worth it, man; Jonathan, calm down!” He finally succeeded in getting me in a good grip, and Nikki strode in. She brushed past Garrett, put both of her hands on either side of my face, and said, “Jonathan, listen to me. Calm down, okay? You’re better than this. You’re better than him. Don’t do this.”

  The pounding in my ears started to fade away. Adrenaline made me jumpy and tense.

  “You’re nothin’. Nothin’ but trash,” I hissed, relaxing slightly to Nikki’s touch. She withdrew her fingers and groaned. I almost didn’t notice. My skin felt hot enough to sizzle, and all the hatred I’d kept at bay for so long was boiling in my chest like magma.

  “You think you’re better than me?” I growled. “Crawlin’ around in your own shit like the other blowflies? It’s time I taught you some respect.”

  Garrett shrugged. “Maybe. Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “I’m not the one who’s going to get his ass kicked!” I shouted. Garrett’s buds “ooh-ed” on that one, and the encouragement was only tensing me up more. My heart raced at Garrett’s insults. I was flushed—feverish, almost.

  Garrett watched me, studying me like a hawk watching a mouse scrabbling at the base of its tree. As always, I was chilled by his reptilian apathy, the emptiness in his emerald eyes. I thought about all the times I’d come to school, after Dad had pushed me around a bit or yelled himself hoarse at me for closing the front door too loudly, when Garrett’s insults had stung more than usual, as if he’d known when my confidence was lowest, my defense weakest. As if he could read my mind.

  Garrett had always been more than cruel, more than mean. He was evil, and it rolled off of him in sick, cloying waves like a mist of poison.

  We stood there, evaluating each other, unblinking. I thought I saw a faint crimson twinkle in Garrett’s pupils, but when he blinked, it was gone. He straightened his shirt and looked imperiously past me at his friends. In a jaunty, joking tone of voice he said, “I’m hungry.” Then, under their laughter and hoots of agreement he said menacingly, “See you later,” like a cliché super villain minus the manic laughter. I flicked my head in acknowledgment, watching his retreating back.

  After the door had shut behind them, Tyson let me go. “You’re crazy, Hero,” he said. “What were you going to do, take them all on at once?”

  I didn’t say anything, going to lean over a sink. As if it would make matters any better, I bent over, plucked up Garrett’s paper towel, and threw it in the garbage.

  “Go back to Ben and Kitty, Ty,” Nikki said softly. “I’ll talk to him.”

  Taking slow, deep breaths, just like Nikki had taught me, I acknowledged my feelings, named them in my mind, hatred, rage, g
rief, disgust, shame, and one by one I buried them back in my subconscious. It was often a very difficult exercise, swallowing the savagely pleasant mental image of me throttling Garrett until his head popped off like a cork from a bottle.

  After a moment I felt Nikki slip up beside me. She wrapped her hands around my arm and leaned against me.

  “Jonathan, what Garrett said... He was just trying to get under your skin.”

  I bristled but kept my reply semi-calm. “He pressured that kid to go up the mountain today. Carl was almost eaten alive and he’s acting like it was just some big prank. The guy’s a maniac.”

  Nikki nodded silent agreement and I said, “I really don’t know why he hates me. But we’ve always had a tense truce with each other. He didn’t have to bring up my parents like that, especially not Mom. Something’s changed. This isn’t a pissing contest anymore, this isn’t him just trying to get a reaction out of me, this is...something else. It’s more.” I thought of what Garrett had said about my mother and had to force down another spurt of white-hot rage. “He wants to fight me, Nikki.”

  She turned to look at me timidly. “Do you want to fight him?”

  I tried to find a way out of answering that truthfully but couldn’t, so I finally replied, “Yes.”

  Nikki frowned; her hazel eyes gleaming like those of an angry mother wolf. “You’re giving in, you know that, right?”

  A little too sharply, I shot back, “Just like my mom did.” It was kind of a statement-slash-question—a challenge that I hadn’t really meant to let slip out.

  Instead of appearing hurt, Nikki became stern and her tone was biting, her words coming quick and sharp. “Your mother did things that no other person could. She helped a lot of people. If you fight, you’ll be insulting her memory. You’ll be acting like your d—” She halted, a concerned look flitting across her face, worried she’d struck a nerve. We both knew that she had been about to say “dad.”