Tony just wore that same look on his face as he nodded. “Up late last night reading those fantasy books again?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, I know.” Alan rushed past Tony and out into the front yard. The house he lived in with Tony and the two other boys hadn’t been the worst to which he’d been assigned over the years, so he didn’t want to cause waves now, or do something that might get him kicked out. Running across the lawn toward the waiting bus, Alan turned around, shouting, “I’m sorry, Tony. I really am. I promise it won’t happen again.”
Tony just stood there. An awkward moment passed, and Alan thought Tony might say something. Maybe give him some reassurance, or tell him that it was fine. He didn’t. Instead, Tony turned his back and walked into the house, letting the tired screen door close behind him with a sigh.
Chapter Seven
The bus had been rough at first. High school politics were just as brutal as any grasp for power on Capitol Hill. Alan used to try to find a spot next to someone who would then usually give him a dirty look or tell him that the seat was taken. Now, Alan went straight to the back of the bus, where everyone left a seat open so they wouldn’t have to sit next to him.
Eyes directed to the floor, Alan made his way to the rear of the bus. With any luck, he could avoid eye contact with the already-sitting passengers he knew were looking him up and down in disgust.
Studying the black floorboards, Alan walked to the back, when a snicker met his ears. “Well, the freak decided to show up for the ride. What were you up to last night, weirdo? Playing World of Warcraft on your Xbox?”
Alan replied before he could stop himself. “They don’t make World of Warcraft for Xbox; it’s a PC-only game. And, no, I was reading.” He looked up, shocked by his own words. Brent Carson was your typical jock—the letterman jacket, the offensive line position for the school football team, and boyfriend to the school’s prettiest girl, Jennifer Richardson.
Brent’s face looked just as surprised as Alan felt by the response. “Whatever, nerd. Get to your seat in the back of the bus before you have an accident.” With a disgusted look, he turned to Jennifer. “Don’t worry, I’ll have my license in a few weeks, and then we can skip this whole bus thing. We can leave the minions to their public ways of travel.”
Jennifer nodded, not saying a word. Instead, she gave Alan a look like Tony had, one that said she was sorry, not for her boyfriend’s actions, but because Alan was such a loser. And this look made Alan’s stomach turn.
Alan made it to the rear of the bus without incident, passing cliques of hipsters, jocks, and Goths. Slumping into the familiar black seat, Alan let out a sigh. He was facing another day of of school, of being alone, and of avoiding eye contact. Depression sank deeper, its water soaking into a thirsty sponge. Alan looked out the window at the passing homes, left to his own thoughts.
Chapter Eight
“Alan, how’s the medication working?”
Alan sat in Dr. Larson’s office in a dark brown leather chair. His hands were in his lap as he looked around the room in awe. Although he’d visited his psychiatrist’s office for months now, Alan still got a sense of joy and wonder when surrounded by so many books. Shelves lined each wall, making the doctor’s office look more like a library than a doctor’s office.
“Alan?”
“Oh, sorry. The meds aren’t working. I don’t feel any better.”
“Still depressed?”
Alan let out a sigh. “Yeah, depressed, and angry now, too.”
The doctor cocked her head. “Angry? What’s making you angry, Alan?”
“Life—that I can’t kick this feeling of sadness, that it will never go away. I hate not being able to do anything to feel better.”
The doctor nodded, scribbling notes on a pad she held just close enough to keep Alan from seeing. “These feelings of depression, are they rooted anywhere specifically?”
“Everywhere. The only time I feel like I can get away is when I lose myself in a book.”
The doctor grinned. “Which book are you reading now?”
Alan reached into his shabby backpack lying by his feet and pulled out a red-covered paperback. He handed it to the doctor.
She took the book and flipped through a few pages. “I should have guessed: another book about ancient Greece, gods and mortals, Spartans and legendary creatures.”
Alan nodded with a smile. Those words brought images to his mind, allowing him to forget his own reality for a few seconds and escape into a world he knew well.
“Alan”—the doctor handed the book back—“there’s nothing wrong with having a healthy appetite for fantastical books, especially at your age. But you have to try to balance that with living your life in the present, living here and now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you need to take small steps to better yourself each day. I know it’s hard, but start small, and I promise getting outside of your shell will become easier and easier. Start by talking to someone you don’t know at school. Maybe just by saying hello.”
Alan didn’t say anything aloud, but inside he was thinking, Yeah, okay, that’s going to happen. I’m depressed enough, even having suicidal thoughts, without being blown off by someone I actually try to talk to.
“Isn’t there a dance tonight?”
Alan looked up at the doctor as if she’d recently escaped a mental institution and he’d just found her eating grass in a field. “Yeah, there’s a dance, but I’m not going.”
“Why not?”
“Are you kidding me? There isn’t enough time in our hour session for me to explain all the reasons why not.”
“Try me. And stop looking at me like I’m an alien.”
Despite himself, Alan had to grin at her response. “Well, I don’t have a date. I don’t have clothes. I don’t have a way to get there, and I have no desire to be there. And even if I was there, I’d be alone anyway, so what’s the point?”
Dr. Larson nodded, her glasses reflecting the sun from the open window. “There will always be excuses, Alan. There will always be reasons it’d be easier to not try at all. I’m sure you’ve read about plenty of heroes who’d have had a more comfortable life if they’d made excuses and took the easier route. I’d consider the idea that it’s better to try and fail than to not try at all.”
Alan bit back a sarcastic comment, but he knew she was right.
“Alan, you said you were frustrated about not being able to do anything about your depression, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, here’s something you can actively do. Try it. For one day—one day, Alan—get outside of your comfort zone, and you may be surprised at what happens next.”
Alan was about to open his mouth to tell her again the reasons he couldn’t do that, when a knock on the door interrupted their meeting.
“Come in,” Dr. Larson said, glancing at the watch that hung off her slender wrist.
The door cracked open just an inch, and the elderly female secretary’s voice called in from the other side. “Oh, I’m sorry to disturb you, Doctor, but your next appointment is here.”
“Thank you. We’re just finishing.”
The door closed in response. Dr. Larson stood up, handing Alan back his book. Alan had to stop himself from looking the doctor up and down.
Eye contact. Keep eye contact.
Dr. Lisa Larson was a recent college graduate and couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years Alan’s senior. She was tall and slender, with a slight muscular touch that hinted at a few trips to the gym every week.
“I know you, Alan. You won’t give up. Have faith that with more effort and time, we’ll figure this out. And think about what I said: get out of your shell for one day. I’ll also look into another prescription for you. Stay positive, Alan.”
Alan slung his backpack over his shoulder and nodded at the doctor’s comment as he exited her office. It was an interesting idea, Alan admitted. It seemed he’d tried everything over the last few years, but
he hadn’t gone so far out on a limb to attend a school dance on his own. Maybe Dr. Larson was right. Maybe this was what he needed.
The school halls were jammed full as Alan made his way to his last period class: history. Kids, freshman through senior, ran or walked along the hallways, all accompanied by their cliques, while individual groups of friends wadded upstream through the constant flow of human traffic. As usual, Alan did his best to avoid eye contact with anyone and made a beeline for the history classroom.
He was staring along a wall to avoid a group of cheerleaders, when his eye caught sight of a large, yellow sign that read: School Dance Tonight! Alan’s gaze skimmed over the rest of the information as a plan started to form in his mind.
No, that would be crazy. Even if you did go, you’d be no better off than you are right now. You’d be trying to avoid people the whole night. You might as well be invisible.
“You’re not thinking of going to the dance tonight, are you?”
Alan felt his body clench as he recognized Brent’s voice. He forced himself to turn to the jock who stood there with a smirk on his face. One arm slung over Jennifer’s shoulder, he chuckled.
“I … well, I was thinking—”
“Better not to think, dude. You might end up getting hurt.”
Alan felt blood rush to his face as students began to notice their conversation, stopping and waiting to see if there would be a physical confrontation.
Alan looked down at the floor, remaining quiet.
“Leave him alone, Brent,” Jennifer said. “If he wants to go, he can go. Come on, we’re going to be late for class.”
Alan still didn’t look up.
“Yeah okay,” Brent said as he turned his attention away from Alan. “I was just trying to give the loser some advice. Let’s face it, he needs all the help he can get.”
A sigh escaped from the gathered crowd. All anticipation for a fight was lost. Now with their hopes crushed, they broke into their groups, heading to their next classes.
High school could be just as brutal as the Coliseum. Outrage warmed Alan’s chest; anger not at Brent or the other bullies who made him feel like nothing every day, but anger at being too weak and helpless to do anything.
Chapter Nine
“The ancient Spartans were a warrior civilization. They met whatever came their way, head-on. They were fearless. Most notably, they were the group of Greeks that impeded the Persian invasion of Greece. Although the first contingent that was sent to hold off the Persian army all died at the battle of Thermopile, their sacrifice bought Greece time to gather and mount a counterattack that would push back the invading Persian legion.”
Alan stared wide-eyed at the slides that changed along with the history teacher’s lecture. Pictures of muscular men in bronze armor embodied everything Alan wished he could be. These men were afraid of nothing. Men who made Brent Carson look like a spoiled kindergartner.
Alan felt a smile spread across his lips as he continued to view the pictures on the slideshow. These men, these Spartans, wouldn’t hesitate to look death in the face, let alone go to a high school dance.
If his heroes could die for their cause, then Alan knew what he had to do. He had to take Dr. Larson’s advice and go to the dance, no matter how scared he might be. Besides, this could be it. Maybe this was the moment things would start looking up.
For the first time in a very long time, Alan felt something more than just the gaping hole of misery. Hope had been planted. Alan was beginning to feel better all ready.
Chapter Ten
“Nope, you can’t take the car.”
“I know you have rules, but I’m eighteen now, and I have my license. I’d only need it to go to the tuxedo shop and to the dance tonight, that’s it.”
Tony raised his eyebrows and looked at him as though he’d heard him but didn’t believe him. “You’re going where?”
Alan agreed it did sound out of the ordinary for him. “I’m going to the dance tonight.” An idea popped into Alan’s mind like a coiled spring being released. “Technically, it’s my psychiatrist’s orders. She thought it would be good for me to get out of my shell.”
Tony pursed his lips. “And how are you going to afford a tuxedo there, James Bond? Those aren’t exactly cheap.”
“I know. I thought about that, but I still have the money I earned from working over the summer at the library. I could use that.”
Tony let out a long sigh. “Listen, buddy, I admire you wanting to go and your willingness to try to socialize, but the car is just off limits. I can give you a ride if you want. That’s the best I can do.”
Alan knew arguing would be pointless. Once Tony had made up his mind on a subject, it’d be easier to move a mountain than to convince him otherwise. “Okay, thanks anyway.”
Alan bit his lower lip as he made his way up the creaking stairs and to his room. Tony took care of three orphaned boys, including Alan. Since the other two boys were still in elementary school, Alan was allowed to have his own room while the other two boys shared. Alan entered his haven, closing the door behind him.
You can’t give up now. Not when you finally feel good about a plan.
Alan felt as if he’d been depressed for years. The anger was a more recent feeling that had come from his inability to do anything about his depression. Now when hope had finally been found, Alan refused to let it go. He shuffled to his bed and threw himself on top of the lumpy mattress.
There has to be a way.
Alan glanced out the window at the setting sun. If there was going to be a way, then he had to come up with one fast. He still needed to get a tuxedo and make it to the dance. The notion of calling Dr. Larson and asking her to pick him up as his date at teased him. Alan smiled as he shook his head.
Then the answer came to him from the most unexpected person: Tony.
Chapter Eleven
“Alan,” Tony’s voice came through the closed bedroom door. “The boys have their Scout meeting tonight. We’re carpooling with the neighbors next door. We’ll be back by nine.”
Alan cocked his head as his brain processed a new plan. A dangerous plan that hinged on Tony and the boys being driven by the neighbors.
“Alan? Did you hear me?”
“Uhh … yeah, okay.” Alan could hear Tony’s feet walk across the wood floors, soon accompanied by two pairs of smaller, running steps.
A small amount of adrenaline oozed through Alan’s veins. He got to his feet and looked out through his room’s window on the second story. Sure enough, Tony and the boys were leaving the house.
Tony was dressed in a Scout uniform that was made for someone a size or two smaller than he was. The two young boys raced each other to the neighbor’s house. They weren’t taking Tony’s car.
You’re going to get in so much trouble for this. But if everything goes well tonight, wouldn’t it be worth it?
Alan made his way downstairs to the house’s garage. He paced back and forth, deep in thought. Tony’s brand-new Mercedes Benz sat sleek and beautiful in the dull light, practically seducing him to enter.
Alan fidgeted as he walked up and down in front of the car, tapping a forefinger on his chin. “You have to. It’s doctor’s orders.”
Somewhere in the back of Alan’s mind, he knew he was doing the wrong thing, but he’d made up a reason to justify his actions. Given his current circumstances, that was enough for him.
Alan was, and had always been, a great kid. Besides being late to the bus a few times, he was a model student and always obeyed the rules Tony set in place. The possibility that Alan would actually steal his car had never crossed Tony’s mind. Alan knew all of this and almost felt bad—almost.
His fingers tingled as his skin made contact with the cold spare keys Tony hung in the garage closet. His grip tightened around the key ring, making indentions in his hand. He was doing it; he was really going to do this.
Heart fluttering, Alan made sure he had his wallet. It was there in his pocket like a lu
mp of guilt.
You can do this. You can do this.
Alan entered the car’s dark interior. The seats embraced him in their promise of freedom. Alan closed the door beside him, allowing his hands to run across the smooth steering wheel. He trembled with a mix of fear and excitement as he turned the ignition key, willing the car to life. The engine purred, like a cat yawning from a nap.
Alan had only driven a few times, and never by himself. The deal Tony and he had made just a year before was one Alan was positive Tony had only agreed to because he was sure Alan wouldn’t succeed. The agreement was that Alan had to get straight A’s for the year. If he did that, Tony would allow him to take driver’s education, but Alan still had to find a way to pay for it himself.
Alan had made good on his end of the bargain, even getting a summer job at the city library to pay for his driving classes. Tony had reluctantly allowed him to get his license, but even then, Alan had only driven a handful of times, always with Tony in the car bracing himself against the dash as if at any moment Alan was going to wreck.
However, this time was different. This time, Alan was alone. Alan reached a finger to the visor and clicked the garage door opener’s sticky blue button. Mechanical grating overcame the purr of the engine as the door to his freedom opened. The sun’s last setting light showed through with a soft glow.
This is it. After this, there’s no going back. You’ll be grounded for sure. Maybe even forced to move homes. But if tonight you could stop being depressed, if tonight could be some type of turning point, it would all be worth it.
Alan carefully put the car in reverse, checked his mirrors, and very slowly pulled out of the garage.
Chapter Twelve
“Oh, and why, yes, sir. You would look absolutely gorgeous in this one. I mean, just feel the quality of the fabric. No, go ahead, feel it. I mean, this kind of material all over your body? Forget about it, honey.”
The Complete Archangel Wars Series: A Shared Universe Series (The Archangel Wars) Page 3
