Story: Beginning Part 3
[[Continuity Note: This immediately follows the previous post.]]
"Where's your mummy?" Rock asked. "Has she forgotten her little rascal?"
Ignoring Rock didn't tend to work on most occasions, but Alf tried valiantly anyway.
"Well, Sprout?"
"I don't know where my mother is, but I'm certain she'll be turning up shortly."
"Why can't you walk home? Is ickle Alfie afraid?"
Sometimes, his insults were so poor that it wasn't even worth it.
"Does he need to hold mummy's hand when he's crossing the road?"
And sometimes, retorting was a much better option. "At least I have a mother," Alf shot. And to Alf, this was a perfectly harmless, as well as perfectly awful response. After all, he, and Rock, knew that he had a mother. Rock's mother was not dead or otherwise incapacitated, she hadn't run off with another man or anything. She lived at home with Rock's father, pretty much doting upon Rock and his brother.
So he was entirely unprepared when Rock launched himself at him. Needless to say, their body structures were quite similar to what they were called. 'Alfalfa Sprout' was kind of, weedy, and Rock was built like a mountain or at least a large cliff face. Rock only needed a single hand to choke the smaller teen, but he was using two for good measure. It was unbearably uncomfortable and all Alf could do was wish him off.
Then all of a sudden, he was.
Alf was standing in the same position he was in early. He touched a hand to his neck to feel how raw it was and surprisingly it was as though Rock had never touched him. Alarmed, Alf looked to see where Rock had gone. He was lying behind a garbage bin at a corner of the carpark, a long way from where he was when Alf saw him.
Suddenly a horn honked behind him. It was his mother in their shiny silver car, hair glinting in the sun and large sunglasses covering most of her face. He'd never been more relieved to see his mother before in his life. Shutting his eyes and shaking his head, he picked his schoolbag and got into the car with his mother.
"Sorry I'm late, Alfie," he winced as she used the nickname Rock had just used on him. "My boss just wouldn't stop yakking." She pulled out of the carpark continuing her story, not noticing her son's pale face and dead stare out the window.
Mrs Struthers dropped Alf at the front of the dentist's office while she parked the car as they were already late for the appointment.
The girl at the front desk looked up as he entered. "Alfonso Struthers," she said, looking at him with a knowing look in her eyes.
Somehow, despite the fact that she could have been making an educated guess, Alf thought she knew his name from somewhere other than having read it off the appointments page.
She seemed to be looking at him expectantly.
"My mum's just, parking the car," he stated, sort of stupidly. "Do you go to East Hills?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "Anyway, you'd better go in, my uncle's waiting."
"Your uncle?"
"Dr Aldus," she stated like he should have known.
Maybe he should have. There was something about her that just made him feel supremely unintelligent.
Alf sat by at his desk, too worried to even think about finishing his essay. He'd begun biting his nails. He hadn't done that in years. Not since his parents had made him wear nail polish on them to stop him from chewing them. He'd been teased mercilessly before it had all chipped off. His mother hadn't owned another colour besides a vivacious pink, a remnant of her younger days.
As a distraction, Alf decided to call Damien. As soon as his friend picked up the phone, it was all Alf could do to not start crying out of fear. He retold what had happened in the parking lot, but Damien didn't seem to understand his distress.
"So what?" he'd said. "It's not like he was ever particularly nice to you." And as though that was the last word on the subject, he began excitedly talking about the Bears' chances of winning on Saturday.
Alf didn't have any patience for that after that and hung up shortly. Unwilling to face the world, he changed into his pyjamas, climbed into bed and wished that tomorrow would never come.
Maybe Damien was right, maybe Rock did deserve it, after all, he hadn't been civil to Alf since they were seven. And even then 'civil' just meant that he hadn't pushed Alf's head in the sand after finishing with the rest of the class. Mostly because he was too tired to bother.
But no matter how awful someone was to you, that didn't give you the right to leave them half dead on the ground in the school parking lot.
But, he reasoned, there were still plenty of cars there, one of the teachers or the other staff would have been bound to find him. This thought let him get his only ten minutes of sleep that night.
A nightmare later, and Alf was wondering again. What if Rock told them who did it? He could be suspended, or expelled or worse. What if he pressed charges? He could go to jail. He was still under eighteen, so he couldn't go to an adult prison, but surely a juvenile centre would be just as bad.
And what if Rock died. Then maybe he would be tried as an adult and sent to prison. He'd get a life sentence.
Alf dressed for school early that morning, he couldn't stomach breakfast, and he'd missed dinner the night before so he wasn't really on top of his game. He walked to school as quickly as he could manage before his parents were even awake and, as though horror-bound to do it, he walked into the back of the school's parking lot.
With a small amount of relief, Alf noticed that Rock was not lying where he left him. But the relief faded when he realised the Rock's car was still parked in the same space it was the day before.
"Morning, Sprout," the words are heard dangerously close to Alf's ear. He spins around and backs away from Rock slowly. "They say a murderer always returns to the scene of the crime."
"But you're not dead," Alf stuttered out. Rock was a nightmare come to life. He was dressed in the same clothes he was wearing yesterday, a not-quite-right glint in his eyes, teeth bared.
"Or am I?" Rock widened his eyes and raised his hands, taking a step forward. "Boo!"
Alf almost wet his pants as Rock laughed the desperate laugh of a maniac then began walking away.
"Wait, Rock!" Alf called after him.
Rock just looked at him as though he was a worm. "Chill, I ain't gonna tell on you." He continued on his way.
Alf gulped he hadn't even thought of that. "Hang on! Let me make it up to you."
A perplexed expression crosses his face.
"Because of what I did. It wasn't right."
"Stuff it," Rock brushes him aside, and defeated, clinging to his guilt, Alf walks off.
As though hit by inspiration for the first time in his life, Rock turns abruptly. "I got it," he says seriously.
Alf waits for his favour, wondering if it's something he could even possibly hope to achieve.
"Make Principal Porter's pants fall down in assembly today."
It was an odd request, one that Alf was likely to get into a lot of trouble over. He could see why Rock had picked it. "Okay," he said quietly, wondering if he'd just exchanged one guilt for another.
[[Alright, dinner time... now if only I could remember what I wanted to make a note of...]]
posted by Cedric @ 5:46 pm
