Zack ch. 3

The Previous Year- Zack’s dream

The day Zack came back from his father’s funeral, he sat alone at lunch and wouldn’t speak in class or to his friends. People talked about him as ‘The kid whose dad died’. One day he was sitting in-between the portables during lunch when all the teachers were gone to lunch and no campus supervisors ever came near. He leaned back and pulled the necklace his father had given him out from under his shirt. It was very simple; a piece of leather string with a long fang at the end. He stayed like this for a few minutes until he heard footsteps. Zack tucked it back under his shirt and stood up as a group of juniors came near. He glowered at them through his glasses.

“Well, if it isn’t Emo Kid.” The biggest one- apparently their leader- said. “What’s wrong, Emo kid? You still moaning over your dad?” He pulled an incredibly fake sympathetic face. “ ‘Oh, I hate my life!’ ” The leader mockingly whined. “ ‘Poor, poor me! Whatever will I do without a father?’ Listen up, kid. My dad died of prostate cancer when I was five and my mom died in childbirth. I live with my grandma, and she’s deaf. If anyone should be Emo here, it’s me.” He said, glaring at Zack, who said nothing. The leader pulled a switchblade out of his cargo pants and tossed it, sheathed, at Zack, where it bounced off his stomach. “So go cut yourself, whiny Emo bitch.” The leader peered at Zack. “I really don’t know why your mom bothers with you. You’re so scrawny, and your dad was weak. Didn’t he die from being shot only in the arm? How pathetic.” Spitting at Zack, he walked away.

“No. You’re pathetic.”

The leader turned around to see Zack, his head bent down and his hands clenched into fists so hard, blood dripped down from his fingers. “Ah! It can talk? What else can you say Emo—” He was stopped because Zack socked him in the jaw, hard.

“Well? You gonna say anything else about my parents? Because next time, I won’t use my fist.” He said, holding up the switchblade.

The leader snarled. “You sick bastard. You’d attack me when I don’t even have any way to protect me?” He kicked the knife out of Zack’s hand and it skidded across the alleyway between portables, into the field. “Now it’s a fair fight.” He said, pinning Zack against the wall.

Zack kicked him in the balls, fell hard, biting his lip, and jumped away from the wall.

“Dickhead...” The leader growled through gritted teeth. He looked for his friends, but they were long gone. “I’ll get you for that!” He blindly lashed out at Zack, but only knocked his glasses off.

Zack punched him again, this time in the nose.

Temporarily blinded, the junior stepped back.

Zack took advantage of the weakness and kicked him in the chest, knocking him down.

The junior skidded across the pavement and tried to stagger up.

“Don’t bother.” Zack said, wiping blood from his mouth and spitting it on the ground. He bent down and picked up his glasses, that were, amazingly, unharmed.

“This way!” a little kid with short black hair ran into the alley, bringing with him a campus supervisor and the school nurse, who automatically ran over to the leader kid. “Zack, what did you do to him?” she asked, fear and concern in her eyes. Then she saw the blood on his face and hands and gasped.

Zack glared at the nurse, the leader, the kid and the campus supervisor, and walked off to the field and picked up the switchblade. He walked out of sight, no doubt to go to the bathroom to treat his lip and hands.

Present, Zack’s room

Zack awoke in a cold sweat. He had this reoccurring dream the past few nights. He knew why. Tomorrow was the anniversary of his dad’s death. He’d just have to deal with it for now. He knew there was no hope of going back to sleep, so he walked to his dresser and opened the top drawer. He dug underneath his clothes and took out the switchblade from that day. He opened it up and started to apply pressure to his skin, planning to follow the senior’s advice, but then he remembered Stephanie. He loved everything about her. He loved the way her chestnut-brown hair framed her beautiful face and her incredibly high cheekbones, and he loved her moss green eyes, enhanced by a color of eye shadow that he couldn’t quite define. He loved her laugh, like a stream gurgling over pebbles in a riverbed. He loved her figure, petite; yet full in all the right places. He even loved the way she smelled, like roses taking a dip in a warm vat of honey. But most of all, even though she tried to hide it, he loved her voice. Take all of the best opera singers, hitting the most difficult high notes. Multiply that times ten, and you’re almost close. When she and him kissed, a thousand fireworks went off in Stephanie’s eyes, and Zack was in the audience, watching the display. He sighed, and put the blade away for another time. He walked back to his bed and slept.