Rise of the Whiteface Order

by M. A. Torres

  “Look who’s talking!” said Joe Villa. He was about half a head taller than Zander and easily out-weighed him.

  Zander tossed Jimmy aside. Jimmy stumbled and fell to the floor. Zander stepped up to Joe. They were face to face, eye to eye, nose to nose.

  “Yeah, I’m talking,” said Zander. “I don’t care how big, tough...” he frowned, “or how disgusting someone’s breath is. If someone pisses me off, they get pounded.”

  ‘OOoooOOOOoo!’ The gathered crowd urged them on.

  “Zander, it’s not worth it,” hollered Kevin.

  “Hey, shut up!” yelled someone from the crowd.

  “Yeah, let them fight!” hollered someone else.

  Joe puffed out his chest and glared down on Zander. “I’ve never liked you. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to ram my fist through your ugly face.”

  Zander exploded onto him with the weight of his body, and the crowd burst into cheers. The two boys stumbled against the lockers, slid across the wall, and onto the floor. Zander maintained position over Joe, but the football player restrained his arms. Zander struggled to free them and punch, but Joe kept a tight hold. Joe swung his head upwards and connected on Zander’s nose. Blood gushed out, but he kept on. He returned the strike with his own head, and now Joe was bleeding from his lip. They struggled on the floor, an even matched battle of two powerful kids trying to get an upper hand on the other. They traded headbutts when Mr. Duarte and Coach Moore dove in. The custodian pulled Zander from behind while the coach held onto Joe, pinning him on the ground.

  “CALM DOWN!” Mr. Duarte screamed while holding Zander back.

  Joe struggled to stand, then let himself go at Zander once more, but Coach Moore held on. He whispered some words into his ear, and Joe seemed to settle down.

  From behind the crowd, Mr. Bruily appeared. “What’s wrong with you two?”

  The boys did not respond but continued to glare at one another.

  “I’ll take care of Joe,” said Coach Moore.

  Mr. Bruily nodded, and Coach Moore led the big boy away.

  Mr. Duarte still held onto Zander, his nose swollen and dripping red. “Should I take him to Mr. Pike?”

  Mr. Bruily wheeled himself close. “No, Mr. Duarte, I’ll deal with him.”

  The custodian released him. Zander stood there, head down and panting.

  “You were doing so great, son. What happened?”

  Zander did not respond. He wiped the blood from his nose.

  “Mr. Pike’s said he’d expel you if you were sent to his office again.”

  Zander shrugged; his gaze still focused on the floor.

  “I’ve seen a difference in you, Mr. Jeffers. You’re trying to make a change for the better, so I believe you’re worthy of another opportunity. I will not send you to Mr. Pike’s office.”

  Zander looked up slowly, then nodded.

  “Instead, I want Kevin to escort you to the nurse. Tell her you bumped into someone’s head in P.E. and have her look at your nose.”

  “C’mon, Zander,” urged Kevin.

  Zander turned and started down the hall.

  “Mr. Jeffers!” called out Mr. Bruily.

  Zander looked back.

  “I have faith in you. Prove me right.”

  Zander gave a quick nod and resumed his trek. Kevin followed beside him.

  “Get away, Kevin, I know the way.”

  “You didn’t have to come to my defense!”

  “Yes, I did!”

  “No, you didn’t!”

  Zander paused and faced him. “YES, I DID! You have no defense! You were walking away like you always do!”

  “Sometimes that’s the best thing to do! Sometimes you need to walk away. You can’t settle every spat with your fists!”

  “What do you know about settling spats? When has walking away ever ‘settled’ a spat? Huh? Those punks will keep bothering you until you step up and do something about it—with your fists. Walking away will only make them angrier. You know how I know?”

  Kevin stood silent.

  “I know because I’m like them! I picked on you for so long because you were easy! You never defended yourself! You just took it, acting like you weren’t bothered, and I kept on! So tell me how walking away ever worked for you?”

  Kevin had no words.

  “Do you think I’m going to pick on someone who fights back? Even if I can beat them up, it’s much easier picking on someone who won’t give me the trouble! As smart as you are, you would have thought you’d figured that out by now! You’re smart Kevin, but you can be so dumb sometimes!”

  Zander stormed off towards the nurse’s office, leaving Kevin in stunned silence.

  THE TENSION SO PRESENT in the morning air had resolved following the confrontation. By lunchtime, the atmosphere had normalized, and nothing but the aroma of Sloppy Joes and Tater Tots filled the air.

  Kevin and Robbie stood in line, trays in hand, awaiting their turn with the cashier. Mario, the server, had been generous with the Tater Tots, fully aware the two boys were not fond of the Sloppy Joes. They reached the front of the line, where the cashier scanned the boys’ I.D. cards. Afterwards, they set off to their usual table.

  Jimmy sat at the popular table as usual, along with Rodney Jones, Maria Harris, Lance Jackson, Alexa Donnelly, and others. Joe was nowhere around, and neither was Olivia. Kevin thought that odd, but then he glanced at his table—Olivia was there, sitting with Jake and Matthew.

  A triumphant smirk overtook his face. He walked tall and proud past Jimmy’s table. But his smirk was short-lived—it vanished when the ketchup splattered across his face.

  The burst of laughter was immediate from everyone around him. Jimmy’s lips were pressed together, attempting to hold in his chuckle, a few packets of ketchup stacked on the table before him. Kevin took the napkins from his tray and wiped his face.

  “Your face is clean, but you got a ton on your shirt,” Robbie noticed.

  Kevin’s white shirt was soiled with red spots, both big and small. He took a deep breath and counted to five inisde his head, hoping to settle his anger. He started towards his table, trying to forget the ordeal. Moments later, he paused, unable to continue.

  Jimmy was still giggling when the Sloppy Joe flew in fast and messy. It slapped Jimmy on the cheek—slop side first. The brown slop splattered across his face and onto Alexa Donnelly, who was sitting to his left. Both Jimmy and Alexa glared at Kevin with a face of angered shock.

  “Screw you four eyes!” Jimmy stood, slid the Sloppy Joe off his cheek, and launched it back at Kevin—but Kevin ducked. It flew past him, onto the back of Billy Simmons’ head.

  Billy’s ears turned red. He stood slowly, turned, and glared at Kevin and Robbie.

  “It was him,” said Robbie, pointing at Jimmy.

  Billy grabbed his Sloppy Joe and hurled it back. Jimmy dodged and it slapped Alexa again... right on her cheek. The Sloppy Joe slid down her face and onto her pink shirt, staining it brown.

  Alexa stood, mouth gaping, a look of impending explosion on her face.

  “YOU JERKS!” she screamed.

  Alexa grabbed her milk and flung it at Billy, the open carton drizzling chocolate milk on everyone beneath. Billy dodged and the carton landed on their table, spraying a smiling Luke across the face.

  Luke stood—the smile now a scowl—grabbed a handful of tots, and launched them back at Alexa’s table, hitting Lance, Maria, and another random kid.

  “Hey!” screamed Lance. He stood, took his Sloppy Joe in one hand and Maria’s in the other, and slung them both across the room. One landed on Hunley’s table—the leader of the rocker kids, and the other caught Luke on his right shoulder.

  The cafeteria exploded in a free-for-all battle of fried tots, Sloppy Joes, juice cartons, and assorted fruit. Edible projectiles filled the air, zipping back and forth, as students flung anything they could get their hands on while others took cover beneath their tables. A storm of milk and juice rained down
on those exposed.

  Kevin and Robbie ducked and dodged the consumable projectiles, weaving their way back to their table. Kevin noticed Zander was not taking part—he continued to eat his lunch while watching the battle, a smirk of amusement on his face.

  Jake, Matthew, and Olivia were on their feet, attempting to avoid any involvement, but failing miserably. Jake’s shirt was splotched with chocolate, Matthew’s hair was salted with wet crumbs, and Olivia’s face was dotted with brown slop.

  Kevin’s crew had no choice but to to join in. From across two tables, Sylvia hurled a half-eaten apple at Olivia, which found its mark on the side of her head. Olivia turned, but Sylvia hid beneath a table. Olivia resumed her battle with those before her, launching a handful of tots. Just then, Sylvia emerged from hiding and hurled another apple at her head.

  School personnel rushed in from all directions. Mr. Duarte was there first, pulling a cart of cleaning supplies. He turned the corner and slipped on an orange slice, hitting butt first on the floor. His pants split at the crotch, exposing his orange underwear.

  The cashiers hurried in and urged everyone to stop, placing themselves between the warring students. Some listened, but others did not, and they too got pelted.

  A minute later Mr. Pike ran in, finger up in the air and about to scream. Then, a chewed-up tot flew into his open mouth.

  “Grrllllg...” he gurgled.

  He lowered his hand and grabbed his neck, coughing repeatedly, his cheeks puffing like red balloons. He spat out the morsel—his face red with rage.

  “STOOOOOOOOOOP!”

  KEVIN FOUND HIMSELF in the lobby of Mr. Pike’s office for the first time.

  The fight had slowly died moments after Mr. Pike’s outburst. It didn’t take long for the others to identify Kevin and Jimmy as the perpetrators—an admission which seemed to surprise Mr. Pike. He stared at them with disbelief and bewilderment, and when both failed to refute the others’ claims, escorted them to his office.

  Jimmy was the first one in; Mr. Pike’s seventh-grade star athlete with straight A’s was not in there long. He exited minutes later, shooting Kevin an arrogant smirk as he walked past.

  Now he was next. Kevin entered the office and sat to await his fate.

  “Kevin, I’m very surprised you were involved in this madness. You and Jimmy, of all people!”

  “Sir, Jimmy squirted me with ketchup first.”

  “So he did. Then you decided you would throw food at him!”

  “I never knew the whole cafeteria would get involved.”

  “Did you have fun in your little food battle?”

  Kevin didn’t know how to respond.

  “No, sir,” he lied. In fact, the ordeal had been the most fun he ever had at lunchtime. “I would rather it not had happened, but I felt I needed to,” continued Kevin.

  Mr. Pike shook his head. “I saw the whole thing, Kevin. I looked at the monitor at the moment he splattered you with ketchup. I was hoping you wouldn’t escalate the situation, but you did.”

  Kevin lowered his gaze, ashamed.

  “Now, given the lack of past disciplinary actions against you, I will not suspend you from school.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “However, there have to be consequences for your actions. Mr. Duarte took a spill and had to go home to change his pants. I almost choked.”

  “I’m very sorry. I understand.”

  “You will help Mr. Duarte clean the cafeteria today after school, and then you have an entire week’s lunch detention!”

  “A whole week? What about Jimmy?”

  “He’ll be in the kitchen, helping wash all the pots and pans. He’s also getting a week’s worth of lunch detention.”

  Kevin nodded.

  “Not the most enjoyable way to spend your afternoons, but you and Jimmy should consider yourself lucky.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Kevin stood and opened the office door. As he stepped out, Mr. Pike spoke one last word.

  “Kevin, another incident like today, and I will suspend you.”

  “I understand,” he responded.

  Chapter Nine:

  Return to Derathiel

  “I can’t believe this, Kevin—you starting a food fight! What got into you?” asked Ms. Martinez on the drive home.

  “Yeah, Kevin, what got into you?” added Tara from the back seat.

  “Tara, be quiet! Mom, Jimmy had been picking on me for a while! What am I supposed to do? He squirted me with ketchup!”

  “How about telling the cafeteria monitor?”

  “Mom, c’mon. That’s the worst thing I could have done. He wouldn’t have left me alone! At least this way, he knows I will fight back.”

  Ms. Martinez sighed and shook her head. “So, are you going to retaliate every time someone makes fun of you?”

  Kevin thought for a moment. “No, not every time.”

  “Did he hit you?”

  “No, but, like I said, he squirted me with ketchup. I fought back by throwing my Sloppy Joe at his face...”

  Tara giggled.

  “I didn’t know it would start a cafeteria-wide food war!”

  Ms. Martinez pressed her lips together, unconvinced.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. That’s the first time I’ve defended myself. Dad never taught me how, so it doesn’t come naturally. It’s like all the boys at school know that my dad left me, so I’m easy pickings.”

  “Dad left me too,” added Tara.

  Ms. Martinez remained silent. Kevin realized he had struck a nerve.

  “Mom, I’m sorry I brought that up.”

  Ms. Martinez blinked, trying to hold back tears. “Just... be quiet the rest of the way, Kevin.”

  They turned into their cul-de-sac minutes later. Kevin noticed Old Em had replaced her stolen animatronic with a large Frosty the Snowman, complete with twinkling lights. Old Em was sitting on her porch, sipping from a cup. As Kevin’s car drove past, their eyes met. He glanced away but still felt her stare well into his driveway. He exited the car and hurried to his front door.

  “Any word on your bike?” asked Ms. Martinez as they entered their home.

  “No, Mom.”

  “Well, I can’t get you a new one until payday, and this time I’m getting you the thickest chain with the biggest lock.”

  Kevin had been forced to leave his bike at the abandoned clinic but had told his mom it had been stolen from the school bike rack.

  After dinner and a shower, Kevin sat at his desk and stared at the map of Derathiel. He read over Jey’s letter again, which instructed him to seek the fallen god of fire—Brealin. The map was marked with his location. They would have to travel north from Castle Randall to a city called Whitestaff, deep into the lands of the Northern Lords. Kevin figured it to be a three-day journey on horseback, judging by the distance. Jey included a special note instructing them to meet with a person named Viktor Embers, who worked for the Performing Magicians in Whitestaff. He would know Brealin’s exact location.

  Kevin entered his garage and pulled out his gear. He organized his armor within the duffle bag, then returned it to its hiding place between some old furniture. Moments later, his phone beeped.

  Jake 5:35 pm

  Derathiel tomorrow, right?

  Me 5:35 pm

  Yes. Meet at Robbie’s at 9 am

  Matthew 5:36 pm

  That’s way too early, j/k.

  Robbie 5:36 pm

  Sounds good. Olivia and I

  will guard the mirror.

  Olivia 5:36 pm

  Looking forward to it ☺

  BTW, still trying to clean the

  slop from my hair.

  Me 5:37 pm

  Lol. That was kinda fun, tbh.

  Matthew 5:38 pm

  Most fun I’ve had at lunch.

  Ever!

  Jake 5:38 pm

  They’ll think twice b4

  serving us those nasty sloppy

  joes again!

  Me 5:39 pm

  Am
en to that!

  THE ANTICIPATION WAS taking its toll. It was well past 1:00 a.m. and Kevin still tossed and turned in his bed, with thoughts of Derathiel racing through his mind. Unable to fall asleep, he sat up and grabbed his phone. After scrolling through his texts one last time, he went for a drink of water, then returned to bed.

  He dreamt that dream again. He found himself before the light—the light of love and peace and calm. This time he did not hesitate and sprinted towards it. He reached forward, but the light was out of reach; its rays just beyond the tips of his outstretched fingers. Even though he couldn’t enter the luminance, he could feel the love and peace within his heart.

  Kevin gave up the chase. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the wondrous feelings. Then the two silhouettes appeared. The man and woman with crowns of fire, glided towards him from the epicenter of the white, radiating glow.

  Kevin could see their faces now—albeit with a lack of detail. He could make out their soft smiles and their loving eyes—the only features visible through the overflowing glow of their skin. The woman opened her arms and smiled.

  “Who are you?” Kevin asked.

  The woman did not answer. The man, however, spoke to him.

  “Protect the child... they are near...”

  “Protect what child?”

  “The child... it’s been born...”

  The radiance intensified. Kevin squinted and shielded his face. Then the light dimmed, and the beings vanished. He searched within the fading light to no avail. Darkness enveloped him, and his sense of direction left him. He couldn’t distinguish up from down, left from right, and waited, unsure of what to do. Then, the darkness corroded to blackness; a black he didn’t know existed—a black so opaque and so absent of anything.

  He felt his life draining—his hopes, his dreams, his joy. They gave way to hopelessness, misery, and despair. Kevin collapsed, wishing it would end. Moments later, those feelings faded too—gone until there was nothing to feel. His consciousness escaped him. His sense of self was wasting away. He was seizing to exist.

  Kevin woke startled and anguished—the despair lingering in his chest. He sat up in bed and checked his phone. It was 7:15 a.m. After taking a few moments to compose himself, the horrid feelings left him.