The Works of Julius St. Clair - 2017 Edition (Includes 3 full novels and more)

by Julius St. Clair

  “What?” I snapped at him, giving it my best tough guy voice. He didn’t move. I wish I had known his name, but I was generally oblivious to the quiet ones so I never made an effort to learn about them. Apparently he knew mine though.

  “Vincent,” he stated emotionlessly as he continued his passive assault.

  “What do you want? Why are you staring at me like that?”

  He began to stare at my shoes and then slowly looked me up and down, almost seductively, sending a chill up my back. He licked his lips absent-mindedly and went back to gazing into my eyes. At this point, my entire being was quaking and I couldn’t keep up my tough guy mask much longer. Jason had noticed the unwanted exchange between us by now and threw down his desk to get Mrs. Larson’s attention. The crash startled everyone including me, and when I looked up to see if the predator was still staring at me, he had already turned around in his desk and was facing ahead. Jason gave me a worried look while the kids laughed at how scared Mrs. Larson had been.

  I paid no attention to them as I assessed the situation. What was that kid’s problem? I didn’t think I’d ever said a word to him in my life so why was he making it a point to single me out? Maybe Jason knew who he was. I’d ask him at lunch privately.

  The bell for lunch rang suddenly as Mrs. Larson glared at the clock. Looks like today’s lesson would have to wait for tomorrow. I grabbed my backpack before I realized it and rushed to Jason. I refused to look back at the kid who had stared me down earlier, but I could feel his eyes on me.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Jason said, looking behind my shoulder. He didn’t have to say anything for me to know what was wrong.

  Navigating the halls of our cramped little high school was like going white water rafting. Sure it was fun at times, especially when you got to see your friends between each period, but mostly it was tiring work that required quick reflexes and inhuman strength...if you wanted to keep your head anyways. Fortunately for me, Jason was a professional that pushed the “rocks” out of our path with relative ease. I shadowed him precisely, trying not to give him a flat tire until we finally made it outside where the kids who were done with their lunch (or never got it to begin with) hung out, laughing and discussing the usual topics of conversation like which singer had the better album or whether the Steelers could win this year with the starting quarterback being injured. Jason instinctively went to our usual spot, a picnic bench close to the cafeteria doors. Many people preferred privacy and congregated in the back so our chosen bench was always available. Jason collapsed on the bench and sighed into his hands, rubbing his forehead vigorously.

  “What did you do to piss him off?” he groaned to me as I threw my hands in the air.

  “Are you serious? I didn’t do anything! One minute me and Mrs. Larson are talking and the next, he’s staring at me like a creep. Who is that guy anyway?”

  “You don’t know who that is? Where have you been in the last year?”

  “Why? Should I be worried?”

  “His name is Donald Harrison—”

  “-well now I understand why he’s mad, but I still didn’t name him.”

  “Can I finish? This Donald guy, I don’t know why you’re on his radar all of a sudden, but you need to get off. He’s a real upstanding guy. Already he’s put two kids in the hospital because all he wants is some attention from his negligent father. You remember Brian? Tall, lanky kid who’s always wearing those corduroys? Donald put him in the hospital a couple weeks ago because he bumped into him in the hallway. That’s who we’re dealing with here.”

  “See, Jason. This is what I’m talking about,” I sighed, exasperated. “That’s the whole point of our company. Our company will put an end to people like him.”

  “What company?” he asked, genuinely confused.

  “Don’t tell me you forgot already.”

  “Oh, you mean Eclosion? C’mon, admit it. It’s a stupid name for a company.”

  “That’s our company you’re insulting right now, and maybe Donald is coming after me because he knows what our company would do. People like him wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone again.”

  “What does Eclosion even mean?”

  “Can you get off the name already? That’s not the point.”

  “Tell me what it means again and I’ll move on.”

  “It’s the emergence of an adult insect from its shell, like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. I chose the name because anyone who joins us will not be a larva anymore. They will rise into their full potential and come out like a butterfly.”

  Silence.

  “That may have been the dorkiest, stupidest thing I’ve heard in my entire life.”

  “C’mon, Jason. It makes sense though, right?”

  “I can’t be going around telling people what you just said. Seriously I can’t. Why did I agree to this again?”

  “Because you see it all around you. The injustice of it all. Think about all those kids that are beaten up and taken advantage of, while the bad ones get a free pass in life. We’re just trying to even the scales. Make things the way they’re supposed to be.”

  “How does this all work? Remind me,” he groaned, rubbing his forehead and closing his eyes.

  “We pretend to be a profitable business, like selling T-shirts or lemonade—”

  “-lemonade?”

  “-yes, okay, selling something, but it’s all a front. Secretly, everyone that’s a part of our ‘company’ will really be together to stop the injustice going on in our school, and later when we get bigger, we’ll change society.”

  “Soooooooooo, we’re trying to be like crime fighters, superheroes?”

  Jason looked around him to see if anyone was listening. Thankfully, the student body was too busy throwing burnt pizza and soggy nachos at one another.

  “No, not exact…okay kinda. It’s all inside job stuff. We earn a reputation as being an upstanding successful business, but it’s just a way to get people to meet and revolutionize. We can use our individual talents to change things. In our meetings, we will discuss how.”

  “Why all the faking? It sounds like a lot of work. Why don’t we meet out in the open and people know we’re protesting and stuff?”

  “Because people in power hate change, especially when they want to stay on top. The principal would disband us, or people would be too scared to join us openly. We have to be secretive. This Donald character probably found out from some of the recruits that our first plan is to get all the ‘bullies’ expelled from school.”

  “Honestly, I think you’re being a little paranoid, but I see your point. Like, we can’t just get the school together and say we are all demanding he gets expelled. That would never work openly.”

  “Not to mention Donald would go on a rampage while we’re doing it. Besides, I like people being happy, at peace. I don’t mind us doing the dirty work behind the scenes. Eclosion will work. We just need a few more people before we carry this ‘expulsion’ plan out.”

  “Okay, but can we at least think about changing the name? We have time. It’s not like we know if all this planning is going to work out yet.”

  “It will. In the meantime, I’ll try to stay away from Donald as much as possible. He might just be acting weird, but if he really knows about our expulsion plan, then he’s targeting me for a reason.”

  “What are you going to do if you can’t avoid him?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not going to lie and say I’m not scared, but when I started this whole thing, I knew the risks. I have to keep going…who knows, maybe if he tries to touch me, I can fight back and get him expelled.”

  “That won’t happen. He’ll just be suspended and so will you.”

  “Maybe I can...no, that won’t work…”

  “What?”

  “I thought maybe I can…take him out permanently...but it’s a ridiculous thought.”

  “Yeah,” Jason glared at me, “because that’s murder.”

  “That’s why I said it wo
uldn’t work. I could never go through with it. I’m just trying to figure out what will stop him. I don’t want to just get beat up and that’s it.”

  “Yeah, but we’re not even thinking about killing someone. Don’t take this Eclosion thing too far. It’s fine we’re all secretive and stuff, but we’re doing this clean. Let’s go through with our expulsion plan and be done with it. He doesn’t deserve to die because his parents can’t raise their child right. If he comes after you, you run, and that’s final.”

  “You’re the one who asked. I didn’t think you’d get so angry.”

  “I didn’t think my best friend was suggesting murdering someone.”

  The air was a little awkward after that, and I couldn’t help wondering what Jason thought of me. Sometimes I was too logical for my own good. Of course, I couldn’t kill someone. I knew it was wrong, and it would make me worse than Donald. At least he only sent people to the emergency room, and not the morgue. But deep down, I knew that if the expulsion plan didn’t work, and he found out who was responsible for the attempt, we would all be in trouble. He didn’t seem like the type that would hit it and quit it. All of his victims so far were innocent bystanders but he would have a legitimate reason to come after us. We had to be prepared for the worst.

  Jason glared at me one last time as the bell rang for us to go back to class. I was still hungry, but I could wait until after school. Jason often did the same and his mom usually made the best second lunches for him consisting of a spread of steaks, roasted potatoes and corn on the cob. Just thinking about it made my mouth water and I knew that whatever he thought of me, I had to rectify the situation before school was over. I couldn’t go to my house. Most of the time my mother was working her two jobs while my father, the lazy drunken bum that he was, would take it upon himself to eat whatever I had made for myself, telling me he needed the energy to “lead”. What a joke.

  “So, based on the fact you didn’t eat your free lunch, I’d say you want to come over after school?” Jason said flatly, reading my mind.

  My stomach growled in response. Jason laughed heartily and patted my shoulder. We were friends again.

  “No hard feelings, man. You can come over, and we can talk more about this company of yours with the horrible name.”

  I nodded as now that one problem had been resolved, I could worry about the other. I had to avoid Donald as much as possible until I figured out a desirable solution, but with class in the way, I would barely have time to think. And there was no telling if Donald would suddenly appear before the end of the day. I needed a plan, or I would have no clue of how to react if he confronted me.

  “Hey, Vincent. Wake up,” Jason said, snapping his fingers in my face. “We only got three minutes left. You know you can’t be late for math again.”

  “I’m not going today,” I said authoritatively. Jason gave a “seriously?” look and then quickly looked back at the swarm of students disappearing back into the school.

  “And where are you going?”

  “To think, maybe read. I’ll be by the old willow tree up the hill.”

  “Which reminds me. I heard Donald also hangs out with the Willow Tree Street gang. Thought you should know.”

  “Is that tree up on the hill their turf?”

  “No. Their gang is named after the street they live on, but I’m just saying, be careful. They’re a new gang but they have a reputation of being ruthless.”

  “What kind of a gang names themselves after a street? What if one of them moves?”

  “Who knows? So, you coming?”

  “No.”

  “So what if Donald is out here stalking you? Aren’t you safer inside?”

  “No one goes by the willow tree. I’ll be safe.”

  “For such a non-risk taker, you sure are playing it dangerous.”

  “He can find me in the building. He has no clue where I am outside of it.”

  That seemed to be good enough for Jason, who was already wondering what the teacher might say to his football coach if he was tardy.

  “Alright, Vincent. Be careful. I’ll see you at the end of the day.”

  “I’ll be there,” I assured him as he ran like a cheetah through the double doors, back into the school. I made my move before any of the teachers or custodians saw me, taking the latest thriller novel by Ernest Harper and clutching it like a necklace to my chest. It was an insane psychological ride about a man who discovered he was thinking with someone else’s brain. I don’t even know how that works. I mean, how would you know when you are you? If you get the original brain back, will you have the same thoughts? Or are you suddenly a different person with no clue something changed? I was poised to find out.

  Making my way to the willow tree was as simple as breathing for I had done it so many times in the past. Even in middle school, I had often skipped a meaningless subject or two to migrate over to the high school’s mascot. It was something about the way the branches shaded you from the world which appealed to me. I had never been a religious person, but this was truly my sanctuary, the only cathedral that could bring me into a state of internal worship and meditation. I was at ease here, and no one ever bothered me. Until today.

  I had been careless, letting my novel absorb me to the point all my senses became numb. I didn’t hear his heavy breathing, his awkward steps, and before I realized that someone was near, I found myself staring into the face of destiny.

  He didn’t care that I was inferior in stature; he just needed someone to take his rage out on. It was all over his face and pouring from his eyes. I tried to reason with him, if only to delay whatever plan he had devised for me personally.

  “Are you here because of Eclosion?” I asked him cautiously, my voice low and meek.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t know who that is.”

  The fact that he said “who” and not “what” said it all. He had no clue what I was planning with Jason. So why was he here? Why was he bothering me, who gave nothing to the world but silence and indifference? I asked him so.

  “I don’t like the way you look,” he said, grinning devilishly at the end of his articulate speech. Really? Was that all? I was just “his next victim” and nothing more? The cover of my paperback was beginning to get damp from perspiration, my vision blurring from the salt water. Where was Jason when I needed him now? Why did I take a chance and skip class?

  If this moment had happened in my more recent years, I would’ve expediently introduced his face to the pavement and called it a day, but I was too pretty back then. Moisturizer with promised aloe was still a second layer of my skin. My clothes were yet to be more than cashmere, and I was still afraid to get dirty, afraid of my clothes shrinking in the wash, afraid of confrontation - but I was a faithful believer in the theatrical.

  Films told me schoolyard bullies lacked confidence, that they were cowards to aspiring heroes. They told me I would win because I was “good” on the inside, that as long as a shred of compassion existed, Lady Justice would flip the bill. All I had to do was stand tall and fight him head on.

  But as I stood up from the base of my school’s old willow tree, leaving my pleasure reading to the side, I couldn’t help but wonder if they were silent witnesses to the upcoming slaughter. The wind was already unforgiving and nipped at the joints in my body, but that was the price of reading in solitude, especially in a time when books were an endangered species. The hunters sought out the precious life, assimilating old friends into their doctrine – a belief that reading was unnecessary and that those who did such were of a socially dying breed.

  With each grade I moved on to, young readers learned how to lose the sheep’s clothing and don the coat of the wolf, but I held onto my books like a child to his mother’s leg. I was determined to remain true to myself and not change like the rest of them did. If my outcast reputation was the reason I was being targeted, then I had to prove him, just this once – that I was not to be underestimated.

  I stood my ground as the bully g
runted something inaudible, as expected – sluggard to the bitter end. I tried to be tough and reminded him of where his father was, or rather – wasn’t, and he didn’t like that too much. He said how he’d been watching me for some time now. I questioned his sexual orientation, and suddenly, I was on the ground, nursing the left side of my jaw.

  His right fist, clenched in fury, calloused and worn like leather, was slow – a perfect symbol of his character, but my body refused to move. Was this what it was like to be in shock? I vaguely remember the smell of stale cafeteria hamburgers coming from the school kitchen, the taste of blood as my teeth held onto my lower lip; the surge of adrenaline igniting a flame through my veins…but I do not recall his fist connecting.

  The pain was memorable though. The mini-explosion that was shocking and all too real, breaking all assumptions that I could deal with his onslaught based solely on will. The frozen grass crunched between my opening and closing fists as I writhed like a helpless worm after the rain. I longed for rescue but none came, for that specific tree I chose for reading was nothing less than a wall between me and the insignificant school I attended down the hill. My thoughts became his own as he realized how close we were to the building, and for a moment, he stopped to assess his surroundings. Seeing no consequence for his actions, he promptly capitalized on my weakness, the now familiar hurt exploding like mines all over my body as he willed them into existence with brutal, savage strength.

  I tried begging. I pleaded. I let reason and logic, my old friends, speak on my behalf. I gave him options that were better than punching me into the ground. I told him what the consequences were for beating up a fellow student. But it was to no avail, and soon even reason vanished, leaving my attacker to do his will without contest. I cried for help, with all the fervency of a newborn baby, hoping that maybe Jason would suddenly appear, coming to check on me again, but there would be no salvation. I was all alone. My body being destroyed as well as my self-esteem and my pride…until something finally answered, and it rose from within.

  Hate was its name.