The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves

by Richard Heredia

  “How was running ‘the gauntlet’ today?” kidded Hyun sarcastically, referring to the cul-de-sac at the back of the High School. The area Derek traversed each day, trying to get through it before Kimberly’s jealous, asshole of a boyfriend showed up. Every day he tried to avoid another hurtful confrontation.

  Sonny Buford, the bane of my existence!

  “Ha, very funny,” he replied with a tone as sardonic as hers.

  She harrumphed, putting her hands in her jacket pockets. She began to walk down Yosemite Drive with Derek, retracing the steps she’d taken when she’d left the girls locker-room (now called the North Gym) a few minutes before. They were walking back toward the front of the High School.

  “Well, how did it go?” she persisted.

  “It didn’t go at all,” he began quietly. “I think the bastard was late or something, because Kim was just chillin’ by the rail all by herself, looking impatient as usual…” He trailed off, not sure why he didn’t want Hyun to know the amount of scrutiny with which he’d watched the moody, Emo-girl from afar. He knew Hyun wouldn’t get jealous. He knew she didn’t think of him in that way and neither did he, of her. Maybe, he just didn’t want her to make a big deal out of it, or worse, make fun of him. That, he wouldn’t allow, if he could avoid it.

  “So you got through another day without him harassing you, which makes it now… what, six school days in a row you’ve avoided getting into it with him? That’s gotta be a record, right?” She went on conversing with herself as much as she was with him.

  “I don’t know. I don’t keep track,” he mumbled.

  “Bullshit,” she murmured right back at him.

  “What bullshit, Hyun? I don’t keep count, alright!” he spoke testily, louder than he intended.

  “Well, well… a mite touchy today, aren’t we?” she said smugly, looking at him through the corner of her eye.

  He just shrugged and kept walking in silence.

  She mimicked his behavior for a minute, until she turned to look at him fully, her face serious. “You do know this crap between you and Sonny has got to stop someday, right?”

  He clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue, then, “Yeah? And how do you suppose I go about getting a crackhead to listen to me? How am I supposed to get him to understand that I don’t want to get with Kimberly? How am I supposed to get him to leave me alone?” The vehemence had returned to his voice once again. This was typical whenever this topic was broached. His frustration was becoming all the more obvious as time passed.

  “I didn’t say anything about trying to reason with the guy,” clarified Hyun, voice diminishing to make her point.

  Derek frowned for a moment. He turned to look at her, his step slowing a bit. “You want me to fight him?” his tone was incredulous, pitched an octave higher than before, lined with shock. “Jesus, Hyun, the dude is twenty years old!”

  Hyun laughed, which confused Derek even more.

  “Yeah, Derek, you’re right. Except he’s a pencil-necked, dweeb who weighs ten pounds less than you do. I bet he hasn’t worked out seriously in like four years,” she supplied. Suddenly, she grabbed him by the upper portion of his right arm, giving it a firm squeeze. “You’re strong, Derek, strong enough to more than defend yourself. Why do you let this guy bully you?”

  “What am I supposed to do, just walk up to the jerk and wang on him?” rationalized Derek, his eyebrows raised in question, quite aware of her hand squeezing his bicep.

  She held on for a few more moments, before she realized what she was doing and let him go, hastily. “No, man, I didn’t say go all Conan on the dude. I said defend yourself, aren’t you listening to what I’m saying?” she implored with a frustrated gesture, her hands waving around. “I’m saying when he bothers you again, when he tries something, just try defending yourself. I guarantee you, if you do a convincing enough job, he’ll leave you alone.”

  “He’ll just get some of his drugged out friends together and they’ll all jump me when I’m alone or something,” he responded, disagreeing with her.

  “Druggies are not fighters, Derek. All they know how to do is get high,” she reckoned with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “I don’t know, Hyun.” He sighed. “I wish none of this shit ever happened, you know?”

  “What happened? All you did was ask Kimberly for directions on your first day of school, and he happened to see you do it. You didn’t do anything, Derek,” explained the teenage girl. “He’s the one with the problem. He’s the one who can’t control himself. He’s the idiot, not you.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

  “All I am saying it this crap is going to come to a head soon and you have to be the one who’s prepared to do something about it,” she said, repeating her stance.

  He merely nodded and kept his thoughts to himself, though his mind kept sliding back toward Kimberly, her long legs and trim body, her dark looks and foreboding carriage. She was always so judgmental and was sometimes quite mean. But, Derek knew why. He knew the kind of duress she was undergoing.

  Hyun was right too though. Only in more ways than the one she’d so blatantly pointed out to him a moment ago. Sonny was a problem, and not just Derek’s, but a problem to anyone whose life he touched. He was a loser with a bad temper. Kimberly could definitely do much better than the likes of him. She was pretty and smart (when she applied herself). And, he was sure, if she ever got away from that douche-bag, the nice girl he knew resided beneath the tough façade of hers would emerge. Her true beauty would come forth.

  He was sure of it.

  They walked on passed the building housing the North Gym and the Girl’s Locker-room, passing the softball fields, and were at the very front of the school when Hyun finally broke the silence.

  “Ok, enough about that bonehead. Do you want to get something to eat?”

  Immediately, Derek smiled, chuckling quietly, because Hyun was always hungry, and even though her body didn’t show it. She could out eat a cow and she wasn’t shy about it! No, she wasn’t in the least.

  “Yeah, sure, where?” he asked already guessing the answer, hiding his grin behind his the back of his hand.

  “How about that Panda Express we pass on the way home?” she propositioned.

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Still, though, Kimberly deserved better, was the thought when something brushed passed his leg – something furry and warm. It was a delicate brushing against the inner portion of his right ankle. His stride faltered and he glanced toward his feet to see a dark gray cat scurry through his legs and streak toward the bushes marking the front of Yosemite Park.

  “What the -,” he began.

  Hyun yelped, a high-pitched squeal, as another cat – a fat tabby rushed past her, following the first.

  He heard it then, a pitiful, low-level whining. Not from the two cats, but from at least a score. He and Hyun stopped, moving to either edge of the sidewalk as at least two dozen felines raced passed them, tails tucked between their legs, noses to the ground. All of them headed to the safety of the bushes just across La Roda Avenue, the small, dead-end street separating the high school from the park.

  “What’s going on?” asked Hyun, still on her tip-toes.

  “I have no idea,” answered Derek just as flummoxed.

  “They looked absolutely panic-stricken.”

  “Yeah, but what had made them like that?”

  ~~~~~~~~<<<<<<{ ☼ }>>>>>>~~~~~~~~

  ~ 7 ~

  Holiday Planning

  Thursday, November 18th, 5:20 pm…

  A heavy metallic clang! resounded throughout the huge three-car garage. Once again, the towering form of Joaquin Barrientos, from his “spotter’s” position, helped his friend Jason Fong place the weight he was bench-pressing back onto the cupped supports of the barbell stand. He made sure all was safe before he moved out of the way, so the smaller boy could sit up.

  “Nice set, bro, you ever do ten reps at one-fifte
en before?” asked Joaquin as he moved around the weight bench, handing the other boy a small towel, a serious look on his face, curiosity in his eyes.

  Jason sat on the bench breathing hugely for a time, his elbows on his knees, his body hunched as he recovered from the exertion.

  Joaquin waited for his friend to catch his breath. He was more than a little excited at the other’s performance, because it meant, little J. Fong was actually getting strong.

  They’d been friends since grammar school. Even way back then, Jason had been one of the smallest boys in the class. Now, not much had changed. He stood a somewhat diminutive five-foot-six, little for a sixteen-year-old. He weighed no more than a buck twenty-five. But, to Joaquin, after seeing this physical display this evening, that’s where the idea Jason was weak fell apart. The Asian teen was exhibiting some sort of compact strength, one conveying endurance and toughness, rather than bulk, defined by huge muscles. Though the change itself was only weeks old.

  Joaquin knew his friend had always been healthy and fit. Jason was a long-time purveyor of a specialized form of martial arts. But, he had never displayed such brute strength, over a long period, similar to what he’d just accomplished.

  Joaquin watched his friends’ chest continue to expand and contract, though his breathing was slowing down. He kept his eyes gaze on his friends’ straight, coarse black hair, cut in flat-top fashion. Although, it was longer than the military version of the same hair-do, still it was jelled and spiked to rigid perfection.

  Jason had the prominent cheekbones, complimenting the typically broad Asian face. His skin tanned and smooth, a genealogical trait, pointing to family roots sprouting from the interior of China, rather than its’ coast.

  He looked up at Joaquin, his eyes dark with fatigue and smiled, absently wiping his face with the bottom of his old, faded t-shirt, sleeves shorn off. He completely ignored the towel Joaquin had given him for some reason. “Naw man, I’ve never been able to do that before,” he sputtered between gasps for air.

  Joaquin crossed his arms about his large chest, wondering where this newfound wellspring of vigor had come from, especially since Jason wasn’t a big believer in lifting weights to begin with. All of this was very unlike him.

  Joaquin, in contrast to the boy sitting before him, towered over six feet, two inches tall and topped the scales at more than two hundred and ten pounds. An avid wrestler, he’d won more ribbons and medals than he could keep track of. The body and muscle in his genes combined with the physical regiment he and his many coaches had put him through over the years, had turned him into a beast on the mat. Something he was proud of, but not overly obsessed. Joaquin didn’t want to destroy his opponents in order to feel good or build confidence. He wasn’t that sort of competitor. He did enough to win and that was alright with him.

  What did make him feel good was a nice long laugh and a nice pat on someone else’s back. He was good-natured with calm approach to life. One could say he was unique being as young as he was. He was Iberian by heritage. His was the classic Spanish face and complexion – dark brown, unkempt hair with more whiskers and scruff than a boy his age would possess being born in the United States. He had uncharacteristically blue eyes, and skin burnished instead of the typical pale sort of his race. He wore navy blue shorts and a gray t-shirt, the Dodgers classic script etched across the front, and the pair of low-top New Balance running shoes he always donned when he worked out.

  “Dude, that’s some serious lifting,” concluded Joaquin, “You almost lifted your own body weight ten times. Most guys can only do such a thing once or twice, because it is usually close to their max weight.” He paused to scratch at his wild mane. “I wonder what you could lift, if you worked out with me on a more regular basis.”

  “I don’t know much about weights, dude. What do you think?” answered Jason, doubtfully, but curious nonetheless.

  Joaquin thought for a moment, glancing around Jason’s garage, which was huge and immaculate. It was more of a storage room than a place where they parked the family car. Jason’s father was a real stickler for cleanliness.

  “You could probably max out pretty damn close to one-eighty. Maybe even more, if you began a serious weight lifting routine.” Joaquin walked to the side of the weight bench and began to pull the various plates from the large international, two-handed bar Jason owned, but didn’t use that much.

  Typically, it was Joaquin who came over to use it, preferring privacy, while Jason watched. Lifting at the Weight Room at school was uncomfortable. It was always so loud and unruly, he couldn’t concentrate, focus his mind as he went through his rigorous regimen. He needed a degree of silence in order to maintain the mental sharpness it took to push him to the next level. He needed this consistently. The Weight Room couldn’t provide this for him. Not to mention the fact, it smelled like decayed gym socks and the equipment itself was nearly fifty years old, didn’t help either. Joaquin would rather work out with the latest Olympic-sanctioned gear Jason owned – by far.

  “Really, that much you think?” Jason sounded astonished.

  “Yeah, man, I don’t see why not. I mean, you busted through the set without much help. I didn’t even get a chance to yell at you to push harder,” he replied as he stacked the weights according to size, against the wall nearest to where they had been working out for over an hour.

  “Wow,” was all Jason said.

  Joaquin finished and then lifted the forty-five pound bar from the barbell stand and laid it parallel to the same wall, on the ground, directly before the weights.

  Jason stood and began pin-wheeling his arms to shake the ache from them and get the blood circulating properly.

  “Where do you think it came from?” asked Joaquin after a time.

  “Where what came from?”

  “All this energy, this itch to want to lift and stuff,” retorted Joaquin, grabbing the second towel they had between them. He began to wipe the sweat and grit from his head, neck and shoulders.

  Jason seemed to consider this for a time. His head tilted to the side, his slanted eyes squinting with the mental effort. “I don’t know actually. Lately, I’ve been waking up wanting to do more than just sit still or go through the motions of my day. It’s like I have something bottled up inside of me that’s going to explode out of me if I don’t do something about it. Exercising seems to quench it for a while, but, after more down time, it kinda… well, it just creeps back into me and I have to do something else.” He tried to explain. His look at Joaquin was plaintive.

  “How long does it take to build back up?” he asked not sure why.

  “I don’t know about a day I guess.” Jason stretched his back and twisted at the waist a few times.

  Joaquin’s gaze hardened suddenly, as if a new thought had dawned on him. “You taking ‘roids, dude?” his tone was deadly serious.

  Jason laughed and spoke at the same time, the sound coming out was more like the loud squawk of a goose, than anything uttered by a human being. “What?!?” he exclaimed. “Are you crazy? Do you know how fast they’d throw me out of competition if they tested me and found out I was ‘roided-up?”

  Not to mention how much your dick would shrivel up if you do use them, Joaquin thought silently. “I don’t know, depends on how good your chemist is, I assume,” replied Joaquin aloud, his tone deadpan.

  “Dude, seriously, do you think I’d ever take steroids?” Jason eyes were quickly becoming accusatory.

  Joaquin backed up a step and held up both hands in surrender. “Hey, man, I’m your best friend. It’s my job to ask.”

  “Jerk-off,” mumbled Jason.

  “Not right now. I’m tired, but thanks for the offer.”

  They both laughed. They continued to wipe themselves down and straighten up the garage. It was about five minutes later when Joaquin remembered something he wanted to talk about with Jason. Freakin’ Thanksgiving!

  “Hey, dude, I know what I was going to ask you before I got all side tracked with your ster
oid use and shit,” he prompted.

  “What’s that?” asked Jason, flipping-off Joaquin at the same time.

  “You said your dad wanted to know about Thanksgiving or something along those lines, right?”

  Jason snapped his fingers, a gesture he always did when someone brought up a topic he wanted to discuss. “Yeah, yeah, my dad wanted to know if it would be okay if I spent Wednesday of next week, Thanksgiving, and the remainder of the weekend with you and your family. He’s going out of town for that network expansion thingy I was telling you about.”

  “Wow, over the Thanksgiving weekend, what a brutal schedule,” commented Joaquin, more hung up on the timing of Jason’s father’s absence than the question itself. He couldn’t imagine he would ever choose to work over being with his family on such an important day as Thanksgiving. It seemed unnatural. But, he wasn’t Jason’s father either.

  “Yeah, dude, but they’re willing to pay him five times his usual salary to go at that time, because the entire division is gone for the holiday. He and his team will have like crazy access and can get a ton of shit done in like half the time,” he countered with a sly smile Joaquin recognized immediately.

  “You getting something out of it?” surmised Joaquin matching his friends grin widen as did his own. “You know, for the hardship of being separated from the only family you have on such a deep-seeded and crucial family day of thanks.” The sugar in Joaquin’s voice was deliberately nauseating.