The Second Prophecy (Part 1 of the Dragdani Prophecies)

by R. Alan Ferguson

  “Oh, yes, all that abuse, like me getting you nearly everything that you moaned for most of your life. Somehow I think it’s me that needs someone to call to tell them of the abuse I’ve suffered with you all these years,” she said smiling mockingly. “So ready to go?” she said at the last minute.

  “Not yet. I haven’t finished my breakfast.”

  “You’re stalling.”

  “I’m hoping that by being late, all my friends will already be in class and will unfortunately miss their chance to get me.”

  “There’s always after school.”

  “I’ve already thought of that. I’ll get detention and again they’ll miss me,” said Peter confidently.

  “For that, they’ll get you for sure, cause I’ll help them.” Helen laughed at the look of annoyance on his face as he was trying to think of a way out of it.

  “Wait until everyone’s gone, then I’ll skip detention.”

  “Then I’ll bring them back and they can hide in the garden and wait for you to come home.”

  “Again I ask, what kind of a mother are you?”

  Again Helen laughed. “The nightmare kind. You should know that by now. Right. Come on, you’ve had long enough. The sooner you go, the sooner you come back.”

  “No. The longer I stay the sooner I get back.”

  “Very good, smarty pants, but now it’s time to go. I haven’t got all day, you know.”

  “You’re a writer; you’ve always got all day.”

  Helen said nothing. She just gave him a stern look. Peter knew this look. He knew it well, and it meant she was losing her patience.

  “Fine,” he groaned and wolfed down the rest of his mixed cereal.

  When they got to the door, Peter grabbed one of the many skateboards that sat on the wall rack on the left side of the front hall. Peter liked skating ever since he got his first skateboard from Delsani for his seventh birthday.

  “You sure you’ve got everything you need?” asked Helen as she opened the front door.

  “Yeah,” Peter yawned.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up after school today?”

  “Yeah,” he repeated with yet another yawn.

  “It’s your own fault for not going to bed early enough.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he droned.

  The car pulled up beside the curb facing Main Vale Senior High School, and Peter swiftly jumped out. His friends waved when they saw him, and Peter waved back as he walked to the first set of steps to head up to the double doors at the entrance.

  A sinister smile came across Helen’s face, and she hastily pushed the button to roll down the electric window. “Peter,” she shouted. The boy turned. “Don’t I get a kiss today?” she said. “I usually get one before we leave the house. You must have forgotten today.”

  Peter’s mouth fell open. He couldn’t believe she had done it. Just wait, he thought to himself. Just you wait.

  “You are too bad, Helen,” she said to herself as she drove off.

  As he cleared the last step and came upon his friends, Peter could see they were trying not to laugh, though he knew they really wanted too, and he appreciated their attempt to hide it.

  “So that was a little embarrassing,” said Cartman. They gave him that nickname because every time anyone mentioned his being overweight, he would dismiss it by saying, “I’m just big boned,” which always brought a ring of laughter. His real name was Keith Connor. His forehead looked too tall for his round face and rosy cheeks. He wore a navy hoody with a white skull; black short pants, and grey and black track shoes.

  Then there are the rest of Peter’s friends: Karen Ken was nicknamed Wheezy because she had Asthma and almost always had her inhaler in her mouth. She wore a black cardigan, plain black T-shirt, long maroon skirt, and black witch-style silver-buckled shoes. Her dirty blonde hair was tied up onto her head. Her grey eyes, long eyelashes, short cute nose and thin lips suited her sweat peach face perfectly. She was certainly the smartest in the group, and there was no doubt about it.

  Jerry Walters, nickname Wily Coyote, but they mostly called him Wily, because of all of his over the top plans and harebrained schemes, though all in all he was probably the second smartest of the group, but certainly not the wisest.

  He was wearing a dark red T-shirt and a black long sleeved shirt underneath. He also wore long-legged shorts, which was one of the more popular fashions with most teenagers at that time. With short, dark hair spiked strait up, and his tanned skin told that he liked the sun. He was good-looking to a certain degree, but didn’t have a girlfriend. That could’ve had something to do with the fact that he was gay, at least he thought he was, though in his mind, if he were to declare himself gay, he could lose the life he has, for what would his parents say? Although he thought he knew what they might say or do out of shock. His mum would cry day and night, blaming herself and wondering if it was something she had done while he was growing up, or if it was due to the fact that she had really wanted a girl. His dad would try everything to get his son back and make him see that it was all in his mind. And if or when he failed, he would disown him.

  He also wondered what the rest of the Losers would think of this, apart from Peter, who already knew, as he was his best friend. And if he couldn’t trust his best friend, then who could he trust? At first, Peter had been taken aback by his friend’s sudden confession, and he actually thought he was joking. When he realized that the confession was real, he did not know what to say. And he wondered if his friend would take his silence the wrong way. He tried to think of something to say.

  However, it was Wily who broke the silence. “So what do you think?”

  “It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. The real question is, does it bother you?” said Peter, finally finding the words.

  “I don’t know,” said Wily bewildered.

  “Do you feel any different than you did before you found out you were gay?”

  “I think I’ve always known. But when I realized for sure, I was and still am afraid that people will treat me like a freak or pervert if they find out the truth.”

  “No, I mean…are you still you, or have you changed and become someone different? Do you still see your friends in the same way, or do we look different to you?”

  “No, I don’t feel different about the other guys but you.” Wily blew a kiss at him.

  “What?” At first Peter was shocked, but when Wily’s cheeky grin came, he shook his head in disapproval as he sometimes did out of habit.

  “You always were easy to wind-up.”

  “My best friend just told me he’s gay. I think you can excuse me for being a little off the mark.”

  “Do you think I should tell them?” Now they got to the question that Wily had really wanted to ask.

  “By them, I suppose you mean everyone?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “I don’t think I should be telling you what to do with your life.”

  “Come on, I don’t know what to do. I need your help pal,” his friend pleaded.

  “You said that you are afraid that if you tell people that they might treat you differently, right? Well who cares what they think. All that matters is what you think. And the truth is, you shouldn’t be ashamed of what you are, and if you want to tell people, then that is up to you. But why? Why tell anyone? I mean, before you were sure you were gay, you liked girls right?” said Peter.

  “Yeah, so what?”

  “Well, did you run around telling everyone?”

  Wily smiled. He knew Peter was right. “Fine. I know what you’re saying, and you’re right. It’s none of their bee’s wax.”

  “Just call me Dr. Pete.” They laughed.

  Wily did tell the rest of the gang, and only them, and again Peter was right. They didn’t think of him any differently.

  The last one of Peter’s friends was Danielle Ewing, nickname DesDan, which was short for Desperate Dan. She was called that because she was always attracted to people
who, let’s just say, were not very desirable, which made her look a little desperate to the more superficial people in the school. Nevertheless, she didn’t care about the way people looked. In fact, none of the Losers cared about the way people looked, most of the time.

  That’s what they called themselves, for at one time or another, somebody had called them Losers, so they decided to be proud of it rather than be ashamed. Even Peter had been called a Loser a few times, for only his friends and his girlfriend, Charity, knew that Helen was rich, and they all promised not to tell a soul unless instructed by him personally. And the young King definitely had a hard time trying to keep it quiet. In fact, that was the reason he went out with Charity in the first place. She threatened to tell everyone if he didn’t. She had always wanted a rich boyfriend and was delighted when he agreed to her terms.

  The rest of the Losers didn’t like her even before she blackmailed Peter, for she was one for the more popular crowd. And naturally, she wanted Peter to change the way he dressed and acted and ditch those Loser friends of his so he could join her group of friends, which the Losers fittingly named the Barbie Doll Club, because that’s what they reminded them of, Ken’s and Barbie’s, all brainless dolls walking around without a clue.

  As far as changing who and how he was, Peter put his foot down and said, “If you can’t have me for who I am, I’ll tell everyone the truth and you can go jump off a cliff.”

  It would be an understatement to say that she was upset. However, she was so afraid of losing her new rich boyfriend that she said she was sorry, and it didn’t matter. He’ll come round to my way of thinking, she unwittingly told herself. He never did.

  Truth be told, the reason that Peter agreed to go out with her was not because of his secret, for he would have gladly told everyone the truth rather than be blackmailed by some Barbie doll who wanted to sell herself to the richest boy in school. No, the truth was that he wanted to go out with her. He always had. He just never thought he had a chance. So he was making her think that she had won when in fact he was the one that was winning, as he was getting to go out with the girl he had always wanted and she was getting Peter Stark, sk8erboy or D.L. to his small circle of friends, which is short for Dragon lover. His friends caught onto it from Helen. They thought that it suited him, as when he was six he saw a poster of a Dragon and was completely fascinated by it, and he had to have it for his room.

  Through the years, he had collected Dragon posters, clothing, ornaments, and many, many more objects. Helen swore that if he didn’t get rid of some of it, one day she would have to buy a separate house for junk alone, but he never listened. He liked his Dragon collection, and as far as he was concerned, he would keep collecting as long as he could.

  “I think we’d better hurry before we’re late for class,” said Wheezy, and she stuck her inhaler in her mouth and took a short blast of the cool vapor as she felt her chest tighten. Then quickly put it back in her pocket.

  “Wait, this isn’t right, you guys,” said Cartman. “We should tell him,” he said, nodding toward Peter. “I mean, we’ve been friends since the first day of school. I can’t let it happen like that.”

  “Tell me what?” asked Peter obviously intrigued.

  “You just couldn’t keep your big mouth shut,” said Wily paying no heed to Peter’s question. “It’s nothing to do with us. She’ll tell him at first break. She said she would.”

  “Tell me what?” repeated Peter, only louder this time, He hated it when people ignored him.

  “Well, it’s about Charity,” said Wheezy after taking another burst of her inhaler.

  “You know what? I think I’ll ask her,” interrupted Peter as he saw Charity’s mum’s flashy car pulled up to the curb. “Maybe then I’ll get some real answers.” He ran down to meet her as she stepped out of the car.

  “Well, that was rude,” said Wheezy, who sniffed loudly and turned on her heel and headed to the entrance of the school to get ahead of the group and hide the tears that were welling up in her eyes. She liked Peter a little more than he knew, and to be brushed aside like that hurt her.

  “Come on,” said Wily, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like it sounded. He probably just wanted to hear it from her.”

  “Don’t defend him Wily. He’s been running to her for a while now,” said DesDan hotly.

  “Well, it’s all going to change soon enough,” commented Cartman.

  “Who will he run to then?” added DesDan.

  “Us, because we’re his friends, and just because he wants to spend some time with his girlfriend, it doesn’t make him a criminal, does it?” said Wheezy defensively.

  “No,” said DesDan.

  “We should be here for him when Charity dumps him. Think how you would have felt if he wasn’t there for you when you counted on him, which up until now has never happened. He’s always been there for us,” said Wheezy a tear running down her face.

  “All right, Wheeze, I know you’re right,” DesDan said and threw her arms around her wheezy friend. Wheezy was always too emotional for her own good, especially when it came to Peter.

  Peter quizzed Charity about what his friends said. She didn’t seem too pleased with them. “They said they’d give me until half past ten,” she said, momentarily forgetting that Peter was there.

  “For what?” asked Peter, his patients now wearing a little thin?

  “I can’t afford to be late again this week or I’ll get detention. It is important, and I should have told you sooner, but now I’ll have to tell you at first break okay?”

  “I don’t really have a choice, do I?” grumbled Peter.

  “Nope.”

  They walked up the steps together but then split, for Peter needed to get some books from his locker.

  As he ran to history class, he ran into Wheezy. He actually ran into her. They picked up themselves and their books just as the bell rang.

  “I’m late,” Wheezy gasped. “I’m never late.”

  “Calm down,” said Peter. “What happened? Why aren’t you with Cartman?”

  “I forgot my books.” She took off like a flash down the hall.

  Peter swiftly followed, but she got there first. He wondered how she had run so far and so fast without needing her inhaler.

  “Sorry I’m late, Mr. Haster,” she said as she went to her seat.

  “What?” said the teacher as he turned away from the blackboard to put a face to the apology? “Oh, yes, late. Well I’m sorry, Miss Ken, but I’ll have to give you a warning for that.”

  “I know, sorry,” she said again.

  As Wheezy went through the classroom door, Peter was only two seconds behind her. But he was stopped before he could get in.

  “You’re late Stark,” said Mr. Weavger with pleasure clearly in his voice. Weavger was thin and lanky, with blonde hair, which was very thin on top, his long face stretching because of wide smile that intruded his usually grim and serious features. “I’ve warned you about this before, but you just don’t listen.”

  I don’t need this today, Peter thought. “I forgot the time, and I had to get my books from my locker,” he said to the teacher.

  “I’m sick of your excuses, Stark. Just one more thing, just one more and it’s the principal’s office for you. Well what are you waiting for? Get to class!”

  “Umm… in case you haven’t noticed I was about to go in to class before you stopped me. See, I’m at my class; I just have to go in.” Peter gestured to the classroom door with his hand.

  “You think you’re so smart, don’t you Stark? Well you know something?”

  There was a pause, and Peter didn’t know if Weavger was waiting for an answer. However, as Peter was about to ask if it was a valid question, he got his answer.

  “I’M SMARTER THAN YOU COULD EVER HOPE TO BE! NOW GET IN THERE BEFORE I THROW YOU IN!” When Mr. Weavger’s voice rose up, it seemed not just to disturb the silence in the hallway. It was more like it shattered it all together. And if that was what he set o
ut to do, then he certainly achieved his goal.

  In the classroom, Wheezy had just taken her seat only to start to stand after Weavger’s voice broke the peaceful silence of the classroom. She was not the only one to get up. Other students did the same, including Cartman, who was just a row in front of her.

  “Back to your seats,” said Mr. Haster. He was a stumpy, pot-bellied man with bug eyes, plump red cheeks, a constant double chin, and thick black bushy curly hair. The sound of moving chairs filled the room as they all took their seats again.

  Mr. Haster took a step forward as the door opened and Peter walked in, closely followed by Mr. Weavger.

  “Collin I found this one out of class,” said Weavger conceitedly.

  “I was just a little late. I was about come in when he stopped me,” said Peter, mad at Weavger for making it sound as though he was trying to skip class altogether.

  “Well, I don’t think there’s any harm in him being a little late, Alistair, as long as he is here. Although I will have to give you a warning,” said Mr. Haster unconcerned.

  “I think he should at least apologize for his tardiness. Well, Stark, apologize to Mr. Haster and the class for this distraction in their learning process you’ve caused,” said Mr. Weavger.

  “There wouldn’t have been a distraction if you hadn’t stopped me in the hall,” said Peter angrily.

  “I said apologize. Or go to the head’s office.”

  Peter said nothing. He was thinking of what to do next. In truth he had a strong urge to hit Weavger and tell him where to go. However, he knew that was just stupid. “I’m sorry for being late, Mr. Haster,” he said, “and for disturbing the class.”

  Many of the students could not believe that Peter had given in so easily, for in his earlier years, he would have told Weavger where to stick his order. But Peter was already on thin ice with the school, and Weavger knew that he couldn’t get into any more trouble or he would run the risk of being suspended or even expelled, depending on how serious his next troublesome antic would be. That’s why he bit his lip and did as he was told.