Vern ran his fingers through his hair—wilted and maybe a little oily. He was pretty damn sure he smelled sweaty, too. What could he do about it, though?
He got his breakfast and headed into the main area where all the tables were, looking for a place to sit. Most of the tables were full, but he spotted a few empty seats near the far entrance. When he took one, the kid across from him looked up.
“Fuck...” the kid groaned. “Can’t you sit somewhere else?” He whispered something under his breath that sounded like nasty, but since Vern couldn’t be sure, he ignored it.
“No. Sorry.” He took a bite of waffle and another of sausage and chewed quickly before washing it down with milk. It didn’t taste the best, but he could choke it down, and he desperately needed the calories.
Both the guy in front of him and someone else seated a little farther away got up, shot dirty looks at him and left. He’d given up on people. They picked up on his misery like sharks scenting out blood in the water. Hell, Vern pretty much chummed the waters of high school with his sweat and fear.
He ate faster, worried some bigger sea monsters lurked around the room, waiting to attack him. Some strikes were more vicious than others. Let them snicker. Let them shoot dirty looks and walk away. It was a hell of a lot better than shoving him, knocking his tray off the table, or beating the shit out of him. He could live with the former, but the threat of the latter loomed, souring his stomach.
He finished the last few bites on the way to return his tray. He tossed it up on the stainless-steel counter and turned to leave, bumping right into Calvin Schmit and knocking him backward.
That was the worst fate possible and one he had not even considered. Fuck! Why Calvin? He immediately apologized, babbling, “Oh, uh...Gosh, Calvin...sorry.” Like a fool.
“Don’t worry about it.” Calvin made a face, his nose wrinkling.
Vern frowned. His face reddened. Calvin Schmit was the star of the track team and everything Vern was not. Tall, confident, blond, and popular. He made Vern’s heart beat faster simply being near him. He had the biggest crush on Calvin, but no hope of ever getting his attention. At all.
Vern swallowed hard and muttered a few more sorry noises, but Calvin shoved away from him and walked off. Some of Calvin’s friends gave him weird looks and shook their heads, while others snickered. Their cruelty could have been worse, but it still hurt deeply. The damage had been done. He’d been totally humiliated.
He dashed off to the nearest bathroom and locked the first stall he could jump into. He stayed until after the first bell rang. Then he used paper towels and soap from the dispenser to freshen up. He hadn’t had a chance to put deodorant on since his asshole-father had shoved him out the door so fast. He smelled his pits then wiped them with paper towels, and then wiped the back of his neck for good measure. What else could he do?
He trudged down the hall to his first-period class. Late. His teacher cleared his throat. Vern shrugged and took his seat, thankful it was English. He had a high A in the class, and the teacher wouldn’t give him a hard time for one tardy.
He made it through the class and a few others until almost lunchtime. Then, he ran into an unruly group of kids who obviously had to be friends with the freshman asshole from the bus. They called him Stink-boy, but when they didn’t get a response, they shoved him. Physical violence and bullying were the worst things, hands down. Vern couldn’t defend himself. He was shorter and smaller than most of the other boys. In fact, most of the freshman were bigger than him, and he was a junior. He was fit, but running didn’t help him bulk up any. He hated violence, hated these bratty kids, but most of all, he hated the way they pushed him around—pushing as if he were nothing.
He’d had enough. It was time to stand up to them. He shoved a boy about his size hard, who fell out of the way most likely because Vern fighting back was unexpected rather than the force of the shove. Either way, he crashed into another kid, and it made a hole in the crowd. Vern took off through it. All his running had paid off, none of them could catch him. He dashed through the courtyard and up a flight of stairs to the band room in the back of the auditorium. They usually left it open for kids who wanted to practice during lunch, but this late in the day he doubted anyone would be there, hoped it would be empty.
He slammed through the door, darting his eyes around the room. A row of lockers ran along the right hand wall, past the band director’s office. He spotted a small nook at the end of the wall, between the last of the lockers and the windows running across the far wall. Perfect. He wedged his body in to hide from the rest of the world.
To disappear.
“Vern?”
Sean stopped packing up his saxophone, putting it all on the floor in front of him. He made his way over to where Vern hid.
“What are you doing?”
Vern bit his bottom lip. “Hiding.”
“Why?” he asked, full of concern and confusion. “Hiding from what?”
“From who.”
“Well, who?”
Vern huffed. “Practically the whole school. Why is—never mind.”
“Whole school? What’s going on, Vern?” Sean leaned his head past the last locker so he could see me.
“I’m having a bad day. I guess. And everyone wants to, I don’t know, rub it in my face.” And today of all days!
Sean shook his head. He kept his hair cut military-short. It looked like warm pecans, but would probably be lighter, more toward the color of wheat if he grew it out. It would feel soft under his fingers.
Sean pursed his lips together tightly. “Don’t let the assholes get to you. They’re not worth it.”
“I know.” Vern looked at his beat-up sneakers. “Ugh, damn. I like, hit overload...you know? It all built up, became too much. I-I couldn’t stand one more jeer.”
“I don’t know what they’d be picking on you about anyway. You’re an all right dude. Far as I can tell.”
“I didn’t get a chance to shower this morning.” He didn’t want to go into the reason, so he spoke faster, hoping Sean would keep going right along with him. “And I ran about five miles before I had to catch the bus, and now I’m sweaty and smell bad. I know,” he huffed. “And my hair.”
“What’s wrong with your hair?”
“It’s oily.”
Sean shook his head again. “Maybe it’s a little sweaty. So what? We all get that way by the end of the day.”
“Tell them.” Vern jerked his head back to the door.
“Seriously, Vern. Don’t let them get to you. In the big scheme of things, they don’t matter. At all.”
Who exactly did Sean think mattered? If the answer was no one, then what’s the point to anything?
“Hey, Vern. You going to tryouts?”
“Of course. I have to get a part. I wish I could take a shower first, though. Fuck! I’m gonna blow it.”
“Well, you can hide in there all day if you want but think about going to class because if you don’t keep your grades up, they won’t let you be in the play.”
“What? I thought that was for athletes.”
“All activities. So, how ‘bout I walk you to your next class?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned back to his instrument and packed it in the case and shrugged it over his shoulder. “Come on.”
“I don’t need your charity, and I’m not a girl.”
“We’re only going to chat about the play on the way to class. No big deal.” He held his hands up.
“Fine.” Vern flitted between anger and gratitude and fear. He took a deep breath and shuffled out of the little nook. “Let’s go.”
“Do you need to stop by your locker and get your books?”
Vern nodded. His history book and maybe a spare notebook were in his locker, but it wouldn’t help when he couldn’t read much.
“What happened to your glasses?”
“Forgot them,” he mumbled.
“Guess you really were having a rough morning, huh?”
�
��So, what part are you trying out for?” Vern needed to change the subject.
Sean shrugged a shoulder. “If I’m allowed. It’s probably a waste of time, seriously.”
“Not allowed? Why?”
Sean chuckled, but it wasn’t humorous at all. “My old man barely let me play in the band. Thinks drama is a joke. He wants me to be in sports, but I hate sports.”
“I know the feeling. What’s with all the macho attitude?”
They made it to Vern’s locker, and he opened it.
“Like you’re not a man if you don’t play football, right?” He stepped in closer to Vern and lowered his voice. “Stupid southern ignorance if you ask me.”
Vern slammed his locker shut. “Exactly.”
“Anyway...What part are you trying for?”
Other kids moved aside as they walked through the halls. Some gave them odd looks, but most ignored them. He almost felt like any other kid, and after how shitty the day had been, Vern appreciated Sean for it. He cleared his throat. “I’m not a great singer. I figured I’d go for Kenickie since he doesn’t have the biggest part and a lot less singing. I think. But he’s still one of the main characters.”
“Oh, yeah. I think you’d make a great Kenickie. Except you have to kiss whoever plays Rizzo.”
“Ugh. Yuck.”
Sean gave a friendly snicker, not the teasing he got from most kids when they picked on him. “Yeah. I don’t wanna kiss any of the girls in this school.”
They were almost to his classroom, and the halls had already emptied. Vern didn’t know what possessed him, he’d never come out to anyone, and he sure as hell didn’t want his one friend to hate him, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“Uh, Sean.” Was he really going to say this? “I wouldn’t want to kiss any girls, anywhere. It isn’t only this school.” He stopped, taking an interest in the floor tiles.
“Oh. Uh, me either, seriously.”
Vern snapped his head up staring at Sean’s profile. He didn’t know what to say. Was he just trying to make Vern feel better?
Sean cut his eyes toward Vern. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t like you that way. And I don’t advertise it. Shit. My dad would probably kill me in my sleep if he even suspected.” He shoved his hands in his front pockets, removed them again.
“Right, yeah. I know what you mean.” Of course, his father would have to sober up to even notice Vern enough to try to kill him for it, but he didn’t need a reason to rough him up when he was drunk.
“Look...seriously, ignore the dweebs. Get through the day, and I’ll see you at the big audition.”
“Thanks, Sean.”
“Any time, man.” Sean bumped his shoulder into Vern’s.
Something in his chest loosened, and it was a little easier to breathe. He had someone who not only noticed him but listened to him and understood him to some degree.
The final bell rang.
“Catch you later, Sean.” He dashed into his class, and Sean took off. Vern had made him late, but he couldn’t let go of how relieved he’d been to hang out with a friend. He’d felt safe. Although Sean wasn’t much bigger than Vern, most kids didn’t mess with Sean. If they hung out more, maybe they’d stop messing with Vern, too.
After the last bell, Vern ran out of the classroom heading for the auditorium as quickly as he could without getting in trouble for running. He wanted to make it to the auditions without being intercepted by the mindless sharks and bullies of the school. Sean had been right—they didn’t matter. Trying out for the play mattered. He wouldn’t let anyone stop him.
Mr. Baldwin had encouraged him to stick with drama. Even though most of the people in the club weren’t mean to him, they didn’t pay any attention to him either. He’d never tried for a big role before. The last two seasons he’d had small non-speaking roles and worked on constructing the settings and props. Vern wanted to see if he could do more. He wanted to perform—needed a good part. It didn’t have to be the lead, but he needed to prove he could be an actor, to know he could do it. Acting held weight—it counted.
He waited in line for his chance on the stage. Only two people were in front of him, and they were going for the leads. Behind him, Julie Decker read her lines under her breath, but Vern didn’t need to review the lines. He had them memorized, and he knew how to deliver them. Mr. Baldwin had practiced running lines with him after school for the last few weeks. The extra practice had given him confidence. He could do it! He wrung the script between his hands.
“Hey!” Julie shoved his shoulder. “What part are you going for? Eugene Felnic?”
“No. No, uh...Kenickie.”
“No way. You are not a cool kid.” She made some kind of stirring motion in the air with her finger. “You’re a dweeb. No way can you pull off Kenickie. You should duck out, you know. Save yourself some...humiliation.”
“No. I can do this.” He nodded his head.
Julie narrowed her eyes. “You have to sing.”
“I can sing.”
“Are you sure?” she scoffed. “Plus, I’m totally getting Rizzo, and there is no way I’m kissing you.”
Julie was a little spitfire for sure. Vern had no doubt she would get the part, but he wasn’t backing down. “If I get the part, you will.”
“Bet you’d love that.” She rolled her eyes with the kind of venom only teenage girls can provide.
“Not really. No.” Vern crossed his arms. Kissing Julie Decker would be like kissing...he didn’t know what, nor did he want to think about it. He turned his back to her and stepped up to the stage.
Susan Hogan finished singing the last few lines of Hopelessly Devoted To You. She sang much better than she could act. She would probably get the part, though. As he watched her walk through the last few lines, Vern’s nerves grew.
“I can do this,” he whispered softly. He could. He would. “I can do it.”
Mr. Baldwin called, “Next!”
Vern swallowed hard and walked to center stage. He had sweat stains around his collar and his pits, and his jeans felt grungy. He dropped his script to the ground in front of him. He didn’t need it. He pushed his hair out of his face. Then he ran his fingers through it as if slicking it back. Pulled an imaginary comb from his back pocket and pretended to comb his hair—only once on each side.
He went through his lines. Sure. Cocky. Like the coolest kid in the school, and nobody would ever fuck with him. He delivered his lines as if he were Kenickie, not simply pretending. Perfect. He fake flipped up the collar of his imaginary jacket before the music started.
He didn’t need to be the best singer for this role. He only had to put all of that attitude into the song. Unerringly—every word of every line. He didn’t say the opening, that was Danny’s part. He sang Kenickie’s part and the chorus. He pointed and shook his leg and made the hand motions. He did the weird knee movements from the movie and threw in a few somewhat vulgar hip thrusts.
Mr. Baldwin called, “Cut!” He chuckled softly. “Thanks, Vern. You were great! Next up!”
Vern watched a few of the others try out. Julie would end up playing Rizzo for sure, and his own performance had been stellar. Kissing her would be something he’d have to get over. He dreamed of being a great actor, and to make it come true, he’d have to get over it. He’d have to do worse than kissing Julie Decker in the rest of his career.
Sean’s turn came up, and he did particularly well. He was trying out for Coach Calhoun, but Vern imagined him in a better role. After a few minutes, Mr. Baldwin stopped him and had him read some of Roger’s lines. There weren’t many, but Vern hoped he would get the part. As one of the T-birds, they’d do most of their scenes together. Except for the kissing part.
Since Sean had offered to give Vern a ride home afterward, he waited outside while Sean finished talking with Mr. Baldwin. It didn’t take the sharks long to start circling. Vern ignored them for the most part. He didn’t want to hear their crap. A few of them threatened if he got the part and
kissed Julie, there would be hell to pay.
“Geez. Get over it. It’s acting.” Vern spoke up, but it didn’t make them back down. As usual, it made shit worse.
“You stink, Swain. Your performance and your body.”
He hated when they used his last name. It was a jock thing, and he hated the jocks. Most of them anyway. Certainly not Calvin Schmit, but he didn’t actually know Calvin. He only knew he had a major crush on the guy, but he did not want to publicize it.
The sharks were still taunting him when Sean came out. “Leave him alone, assholes.”
The others said shit back, and it pissed Sean off. “You jealous because he’s better than you? Grow the fuck up, guys.”
Most of them huffed and scowled and said shit under their breath, except for Alex Spangler. He was going out with Julie, and he’d tried out for Kenickie, too. Of course he had to be a dick about it all. He got up in Sean’s face.
“Look.” He poked Sean in the chest. “Your friend here. Yeah, your friend better drop out. No way is he playing that part. No way. Talk some sense into him, Pace.”
Sean stood a little straighter. Alex played basketball and ran track. He only took drama because Julie Decker took drama. They’d had roles opposite each other last year. Julie wasn’t a bad actor, but Alex kind of sucked. He didn’t read well, and he bullied his way into the roles. If no one stood up to him, it left few options for Mr. Baldwin.
“Fuck that. Fuck you.” Sean shoved Alex’s shoulder. “You’re jealous. Over nothing.”
“Guys, stop. Stop.” Vern didn’t want Sean in trouble. “Come on, Sean. Let’s go.”
“Yeah, Sean. You better go.” Alex stepped back. “Before this gets real, and you can’t handle it.”
Sean rolled his eyes and turned away. He clapped Vern on the shoulder, and they headed out to his truck.
“I mean it, Sean. Don’t get in trouble for me.”
“It’s not about you. I’m sick of this. Others are too. This isn’t about picking on you. It’s because he wants to play Kenickie and mack with Julie on stage.”
Demon or Angel (Age of Exilum Book 1) Page 2
