by K. C. Hughes
What did that say about our country?
There was only one incident that stood out during his time at Addeson Prep. While things were going okay, Marc started spending more time with Tracy, the bodyguard for the contractor’s daughter. Sure she was a hottie who wore tight fitting clothes, but Marc had been his friend. They sat together during lunch, leaving him sitting alone on the other end of the cafeteria table.
They managed to find ways to chat between classes and sometimes he’d seen public displays of affection. Nothing like hugging and kissing, but the little touches and pats had not gone unnoticed. Because of Tracy, Deakon and Marc had been spending less time together during the school day. Bitterness ate at him and it turned to jealousy. He began pushing away from Marc and sometimes hid from him in school.
During his senior year, he started to notice girls. He knew he’d never have a girlfriend because he was too short and dorky. They made him feel lightheaded when he got too close to them. One time when Heather Hines accidentally brushed against him, he thought he would faint. The blood drained from his head and ended up somewhere else that he cared not to talk about. When Heather’s friends saw it, they laughed and pointed at the unmentioned. That had been the second most embarrassing moment at Addeson. The most painful occurrence happened on the last day of school.
Marc hadn’t been standing outside the classroom door after each class. Instead, Deakon guessed that he’d found some place that he and Tracy could make out. He often fantasized about making out with her, too. On the last day of school, Deakon experienced a terror he’d never had before. After last period, two kids approached him.
“Dude, you wanna’ see the prototype for the newest expansion of WoW?” one of the boys asked. He had seen him in most of his classes except the college credit ones.
Deakon heard sirens in his head, but shrugged it off. He had wanted so badly to fit in. He ached for a real friend. So he nodded, not wanting to risk stuttering.
“Cool, we need to go to the new wing so we won’t be caught,” the other boy said. Addeson Prep had been building a new wing to the school. He glanced around hoping to see Marc, but when he didn’t, he followed behind the boys thinking he was making new friends.
Deakon skipped with joy about getting a firsthand look at the new World of Warcraft game. It took him three days to master the first expansion set of The Burning Crusade. He wanted to ask what level they were on but didn’t because he feared they wouldn’t like him if they found out he’d mastered it.
They entered the new wing through thick curtains of plastic sheets that blocked the heat from entering the main building. He looked up and covered his eyes from the intensity of the sun. The roof hadn’t been completed and Deakon felt the June heat instantly. It was eerily quiet except for the flapping noise of the wind hitting the plastic curtains. Fast food wrappers were strewn across the site. There were huge support pillars and rows of steel reinforced sections divided into eight by eight feet making up the new flooring. He looked down as he walked. He didn’t want his clumsiness to send him careening down the gaps between the massive steel beams that doubled as the temporary floor.
When the boys stopped, he felt something was wrong. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck tingled. Instinctively, something made him turn around. He saw two other boys that had already been in the construction site, one of which was Randall King who had beaten him up on the first day at Addeson Prep. It wasn’t a good sign. Deakon made a move to run, but it was useless because his short legs wouldn’t carry him fast enough to escape the other kids. He tried anyway.
“You aren’t going nowhere, Deak the Geek,” Randall said. He grabbed Deakon so fast, putting him in a headlock that immobilized him.
The other boys laughed hysterically. “What the hell are you wasting time for? Get the stuff,” Randall barked. And they obeyed. They scattered across the construction site, picking up two bags of concrete mix and two buckets of water.
Deakon felt an unknown fear. The place reminded him of a ghost town. It had been so quiet that he heard the sound of the whipping wind and the other boy’s footsteps as they scurried around. He hollered for Marc, but Randall covered his mouth. Only muffled cries came out. For the first time in his life, he knew he was going to die.
As he struggled to get loose, the other boys returned. Deakon felt sick to his stomach at the thought of being buried alive in concrete.
Apparently, they thought it through as Randall held him in one of the 8 x 8 sections. He stood atop a cinder block that had already been there. The block allowed him to hold Deakon down while the cement dried and to protect himself from melding with the mixture. He began hyperventilating as they poured the concrete and water over his feet.
As soon as the water mixed with the concrete solution, it felt thick and grainy against his ankles. He could barely move his feet but he had to try. He knew by doing that, it would slow down the drying process. But Randall knew it too and tightened the choke hold on Deakon. Unable to move, he felt the cement dry around his ankles. The other boys bowled over with laughter watching. Deakon was helpless.
Deakon was alone. He tried to holler for Marc but the heat left his throat dry. The words were too faint for anyone to hear. He didn’t know what death held for him. And not knowing was the hardest part. Would he go to heaven or hell? He wished he had paid more attention to God. Maybe then he would have some kind of chance for everlasting life.
Oh God, please help me.
Later that evening Deakon rested on his bed. His swollen body burned from the sun exposure. The humiliation of being cemented to a slab of flooring had been the crux of bullying. He would have preferred to be beaten up, as those wounds healed. The incident would remain burned in the folds of his mind forever.
Could life get any worse for him? He was a boy-genius thrown into a life of haters. They proved that jealousy remained the green-eyed monster that William Shakespeare had written about. Why couldn’t his kindergarten teacher mind her own business? A new emotion seeped under his skin. Anger! He had never felt so pissed-off before. It took over his body and a heat built up so strong that he thought he would explode.
He hated all mankind, from the bullies to the people who stood by and let it happen. He had loathing in his heart he’d never felt before. It turned into a nasty aftertaste in his mouth like swallowing a hundred pennies.
Even though Marc found him, he hated him. He would never trust another person again. His mom saw the hatred and explained that the principal had asked for Marc’s help. They had an uncomfortable situation when a divorced dad tried to kidnap his own child. Uncomfortable? He had been cemented to the ground. He felt no sympathy for the parent or the child. Marc let him down. He had been paid to protect him, and not somebody else.
Deakon had spent the summer recuperating from the sunburn and embarrassment. He spent most of the summer sheltered in his room playing video games and reading. He didn’t need Marc. He'd been so angry with him that he didn't want him around. His room had been his safety net. He spent so much time in it that it was a natural extension of himself. It housed two walls of books and he reread all of them. When he finished Catcher in the Rye, he felt like an outcast just as Holden Caulfield had. He admired his confidence and wished he had half as much. Then he dove into the mainstream Marvel comics like Spider-Man and The Incredible Hulk. They had been average people just like him who received super powers. He stopped reading them because his life would never change from the constant bullying and teasing. He tossed the Superman comic across the room and watched as its pages fluttered in the air.
CHAPTER 3
Deakon scrambled around campus trying to find his way to each of his nine classes. His counselor had tried to talk him out of the heavy load but he didn’t back down. He had nothing else to do. But out of all his classes, there was one that he wish he had put off; Sociology 101.
Sociology was the only class he feared, not for the subject matter, but for the registered students. Being in class with engin
eering students, he had little chance of encountering hostiles. He preferred being around engineering students. They kept to themselves and rarely looked him in the eye. And that suited him just fine. Everyone of the students at ASU had to take sociology at some point, usually as freshmen. That upped his chance of running into the likes of a Randall King. He didn’t like it one bit. The thought of another life threatening prank or beating made him tremble. He wanted to test out of the class but was scared that he’d actually fail the test because he had no experience in social interaction.
Deakon made sure he arrived on time for sociology. He didn’t want another embarrassing moment like the door banging incident in his linear differential calculus class. So, he arrived before anyone else and sat alone. Shortly after he settled, a girl passed by his row making a click clack noise as her shoes hit the floor. She brushed against him. He looked up and stole a glance but quickly lowered his eyes. She was so captivating that he gasped and choked on his own spit.
She wore an orange hip-length tank top with white capri pants. She had on a pair of strapped leather shoes with the wooden heels. Her glistening autumn brown hair lopped to one side as she passed him. He tilted his head up, following the wake of her smell and sniffed like an animal in heat. She smelled refreshing and inviting. It was such a rush that he had to cover his unmentionable with a book. During roll call, he waited in anticipation until she said present. He committed her name to memory. Karri McDill. Deakon had never laid eyes on such a beautiful girl.
******
As the months went by, Deakon felt at ease with college life. His engineering classes challenged him and sociology kept him interested. He attended it three days a week and began to feel comfortable. Since he never learned about social interaction through the normal ways-having friends and hanging out, the class was full of surprises. He even looked forward to going. The mood had been light and fun, filled with exciting group discussions and exercises. But on the Friday before his sixteenth birthday, something terrible happened.
Deakon never spoke up during group discussions. Usually he'd pretend to take notes but instead, did his calculus homework on his laptop. He never worried about missing facts because of his photographic memory. Whenever he read or heard something, it was sealed in his memory.
That Friday in class he shopped online for his birthday present. His parents had given him their credit card number to buy his own gift. They didn’t know that he memorized the number and used it to buy whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. His parents never knew the difference. They had an accountant that paid the bills. But he had not been able to shop too long because the professor divided the class into seven groups of five for a survival exercise. Karri was in his group.
The exercise played out like a reality show. They were on a sinking ship with emergency boats that would ferry them to a remote island. Each of the groups represented a boat. Each group had to agree on only four items to bring with them from the sinking ship. The students had to use group dynamics to decide which four items to bring. The list consisted of : mosquito netting, a case of U.S. Army rations, a transistor radio, one quart of 160-proof Puerto Rican rum, a fishing kit, a five-gallon can of water, and a box of salt tablets.
Deakon kept his head lowered and let the others on his lifeboat decide. It was quite amusing to him that the first thing they agreed on was the quart of 160-proof Puerto Rican rum.
College life at its finest.
After animated discussions, the group agreed that U.S Army rations were needed. When Karri spoke up about the need for water, he raised his head and gazed at her. Some days he’d sit in class and stare at the back of her head, catching glimpses of her profile when she turned.
“We’re on an island surrounded by water, Duh!” a boy said. He looked like he could have been a linebacker for the ASU Sun Devils.
Deakon wanted to see her reaction to such idiocy.
“Matt, apparently you don’t know that ocean water is not drinkable,” Karri replied.
“And apparently you don’t know that some kinds of protein liquids are drinkable.”
The students from their group and a few surrounding groups heard it and laughed. Deakon glanced at his group members. He didn’t get the joke.
“I think we should choose the water and the fishing kit,” Karri said. She was so pretty that Deakon found it hard to look at her more than a couple seconds. When he did, it felt like butterflies danced in his stomach. It was hard to explain.
“I can go along with you about the fishing kit," Matt said. "But we need the salt tablets. That way, it’ll hold in our water.” He winked at Karri. From what Deakon could see the others had taken sides with him and nodded.
Karri rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s totally insane. I’m a pre-med student and I know that salt tablets will hinder your body’s natural way to hydrate.”
Kudos to Karri.
“So what, I’m an athlete and we take them for long practices.”
Deakon couldn’t take it any longer. “Actually your coach uses the salt pills to prevent cramps. The electrolytes in the pills will speed up dehydration in the body,” Deakon said. He felt amazed that he didn’t stutter a single word.
Most cool!
“Hey freak, was anybody talking to you?” Matt asked, slapping Deakon upside the head.
“De-de-but I’m..,” Deakon tried to explain but all that came out was stuttering babble.
“De de de..,” Matt imitated.
The kids in the group laughed.
“Leave him alone!” Karri said. “You are such a goon.
Deakon buried his nose in his laptop screen and didn’t say another word.
By the majority rule, the team agreed to go with the rum, Army rations, the fishing kit and the salt pills. When it was time to go over each team’s results, the professor said the exact same thing that Deakon had. He went on to say that the salt pills were the worst item on the list to chose. Deakon felt the glare from Matt, but he refused to look up.
After class, Karri ran up to Deakon outside. “Hey, thanks for what you did back there for me. The rest of the group sucked up to him.”
He nodded not wanting her to hear him stutter again. He rose on his tip-toes to make himself taller than her. But he needed more toes.
She stood across from him in the commons area. “What’s your name?”
“De-Deakon Metcalf,” he said, backing away from her.
“I’m Karri McDill,” she said, coming closer and extending her hand.
He remembered what Marc had taught him about a handshake. He said it should be strong. But when he touched her soft cushiony skin, he went limp. He slumped and crossed his legs like he had to pee. Then he felt his unmentionable grow. In his rush to leave so she wouldn’t see it, he backed away so fast that he bumped into someone standing behind him. Hard.
When Deakon turned around and saw him on the ground, his eyes widened in fear. It was Matt. He got up and brushed himself off. He looked meaner than Satan himself, with red squinted eyes, creased lines in his forehead, and drawn eyebrows. With a nod toward two other guys, they dragged Deakon to the side of Payne Hall between the Nelson Fine Arts Center and beat him to a pulp.
The last thing Deakon remembered before blacking out was Karri yelling, “Leave him alone!”
CHAPTER 4
Deakon regained consciousness at Mercy General Hospital in downtown Phoenix. When he opened his eyes, he saw IVs stuck in his arm and body bandages covering his chest. He glanced around the room with panicked eyes. He had a vague memory of accidentally knocking down Matt. His senses were dense and foggy like swimming through a cloud. Slowly, he remembered being dragged away and beaten. In front of Karri. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the humiliation.
He turned his head towards the door and saw his mom napping in the recliner next to his bed. When he tried to lift up, the pain shot through his entire body and he slumped back down. It was a constant stabbing pain that he’d never experienced before. He
wanted to go back to the void that he’d just woke up from. The memory of what happened crept in his mind, and he trembled. The pain from every little movement reminded him of flying fists and forceful body kicks. And the worst part was that Karri had seen it all.
Deakon cried himself to sleep.
He had no reference of time, but when he opened his eyes, he saw that the sun had settled. He looked at his mom and saw her reading a novel from one of her favorite authors, Nora Roberts. Since the news was on, he guessed it was ten p.m. He was surprised that he’d been in the hospital for nearly twelve hours.
When Deakon tried to sit up, a wave of excruciating pain paralyzed him, a hundred times worse than banging his funny bone. He gave up trying to move.
“Oh son, you’re up,” his mom said. “Let me get the nurse.” She quickly galloped out the door, reminding him of Edith Bunker from that ancient TV show, All in the Family. She had the bull-in-a-china-shop trait that caused her to trot fast for no apparent reason.
Deakon listened to the sounds of his painful breathing. Each breath was labored. As the nurse came in, his breathing turned to moaning. She rushed to his bedside and checked his vitals. She took her time with him, sporting a warm smile. When she checked the reaction of his pupils with the pin light, it was like a scalpel stabbing him in the eyeballs. He flinched.
The nurse smiled, giving him an encouraging squeeze on the forearm. “I think it’s time for some more pain medication.” She reached over to the IV pole and pressed a button on a small device that looked like a miniature game controller. As the medicine entered his bloodstream, it oozed through his veins like hot cocoa. His shoulders slumped and he fell into a deep sleep.
