[Original Novel] Pariah of the Little People, Part 22

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Exhilaration burned within me. The creeping worries I’d put on the backburner for so long began to evaporate. Knowledge that the Tyrants were still out there, replicating. At long last there seemed to be a viable means for their defeat!

She then handed me the chrome mask. “You will need this. By the time you are ready to hold the Secret of Storms, you will once again be vulnerable to their gaze. Only this mask can filter out the effect, but still permit you to see. Take it with you everywhere. Never let me catch you without it!”

I turned it over in my hands. The rim was lined with gold. When closed around my head, it would fully envelop it like a helmet. I tried it on. “It fits well”, I offered. Katerinka seemed pleased, yet also troubled. “Is powerful protection for eyes, but cannot also protect your heart. I have brought you back from the brink once. It is up to you whether I must ever do so again. Better for us both if I don’t.”

She left me there, silently contemplating her words in total darkness. After a while I got up and returned to the quarry, simply sitting and watching the little ones rebuild. The mechanical scorpion was busy burying itself in the sand, in preparation for the next attack. I looked up at Tyler’s window. The moonlight reflected off it in such a way that if I squinted, I could pretend the light was on.

Without realizing it, I began to cry. Unguarded, unfiltered tears. All the pain I felt was finally allowed an outlet, and as I worried it would, I could feel it destroying me. I convulsed slightly as the sobs escaped my body.

Then I nearly fell backwards in fright when I felt something warm and hairy crawl into my lap, but a tired sounding mew revealed that it was only Mister MacGufferson. Probably wondering where Tyler’s gone, hoping I knew.

The bony old critter curled up in my lap and set to purring. How do cats always know when you need that? I hoped he didn’t mind all the tears falling on his fur. I carefully stroked the leathery little beast, scratching the fuzzy beard-like spot under his chin. Maybe I had it all wrong. Maybe he knows Tyler isn’t coming back, and just came to mourn with me. “I miss him too” I whispered.

I biked home in a stupor. Feeling everything and nothing. Soon enough, the everything part of it faded away. The next day my body performed Bible reading and wrote an agreeable essay as though on autopilot. “He’s really gone, isn’t he?” I caught myself thinking now and again. It took a while, but reality had finally sunk in.

Until then, it felt like an act. Like Tyler might return to school any day now. My stubborn heart not fully accepting it until the other night. But, having done that, I let all my steam out of the boiler. The one thing he’d told me never to do was to let them put my fire out, but they found a way. I just continued as before, one foot in front of the other, but now without any convincing reason why I should.

They told us in class once, after studying various historical Christian victories against oppressive kingdoms and governments, to trust that God always wins. I now understood what they really meant is that Christians always win.

Which, to them, is interchangeable with “The good guys always win”. Because that’s how they always perceive themselves, no matter what terrible things they’ve done, or even are in the process of doing when you ask them. According to them, simply being Christian means you’re one of the good guys, as they’ve already gotten what they want from you.

The good guys don’t win. Not even most of the time, or Tyler would still be alive. It’s the ogres who usually come out on top. Who blanket the Earth even now, with their own country, near total control of congress and the senate, an unbroken electoral winning streak and a network of schools like this one across the country for ensuring it never ends.

I appreciate now what a hopeless battle it is. They’ve already won, and cannot ever be stopped. They’ll get away with killing Tyler, and anything else they feel like doing, because the police who’d normally punish them are in the same religion.

So are the politicians who might otherwise ban the practice. You just run into more of them however far up you go, and they protect each other. There’s just nobody stronger than them to set things right.

The only signs of life I showed were the ones demanded from me. I’d sometimes lay my head down on my desk, wanting to sleep or be dead. But then I was admonished to sit up straight, and I no longer have it in me to disobey. They broke me like a glow stick, and from their perspective, I’ve finally begun to shine.

“You’re not in any trouble” the principal assured me after a TA led me to his office. “I’ve been told you’re showing signs of rapid improvement. The school psychologist says you were faultlessly compliant the other day, and none of the teachers have reported any signs of subversion. I can’t tell you how pleased I am. Didn’t I tell you this day would come?”

He opened a drawer and produced a familiar envelope. He then withdrew a folded up sheet of paper, unfolded it, and laid it before me. The statement of faith. I stared at it with dull, lifeless eyes as he grinned expectantly at me. “I don’t care anymore” I thought. “I just don’t care.” I reached out for a pen, made sure there was ink, then signed my name along the bottom as indicated.

“Excellent! This is a milestone, you’ll see. I’ve never seen anybody come so far in their spiritual growth so quickly. I expect great things from you.” I quietly thanked him for the kind words and asked if there was anything else he wanted from me.

He assured me that was all and sent me back to class. On the way, I registered mild surprised that I didn’t feel dirty when I signed it. I’d sort of expected to. Then again, that would first require something of value to ruin.

Katerinka was the only one who didn’t regard the change as an improvement. I often caught her watching me with either concern or disappointment. Very similar expressions, I can never tell. Maybe it’s a mixture of the two. Heather, by contrast, told me at recess that she likes how chill I’ve become. I smiled weakly. She still likes me. That’s something.

I spent a lot of time with her over the next few days. At lunch, at recess and occasionally joint school projects. I appreciated her efforts to cheer me up, and regretted not being able to give her the results she wanted. I eventually started faking it so she wouldn’t worry. Not just with her, but with my parents as well.

“Hey, umm”. I turned to Heather, eyes glazed over. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out this Saturday, like a date” she asked. I sat there, blank faced, and contemplated the question. It would be good to go out and do stuff. Might get my mind off Tyler. I agreed.

“Great! I was hoping you’d say yes. Let’s just have dinner at my house, that way you can meet my parents.” The last bit startled me. I still don’t know much about relationships, but I know that’s supposed to be a significant step. Honestly, in spite of everything that’d happened, it was nice to be reminded that I’m important to someone.

Heather was all I wanted in the world at one point. I couldn’t tell if I still felt that way, because try as I might I couldn’t feel anything. Every time I turned inward to examine my heart, all I could see was a cold, featureless concrete cube. It had to count for something though, surely? I’d wanted her so badly, I should at least enjoy her company.

There! A glimmer of affection. I didn’t so much feel it as I was conscious of the corresponding chemical reaction happening in my brain. I summoned half a smile and took hold of her hand. This time she didn’t withdraw. It did nothing to heal my heart. But at least for the short time that we sat out in the field, her hand in mine and her head resting on my shoulder, I felt slightly less alone.

About an hour later in math class, I was again called to the principal’s office. Lately I’d begun to wonder if I shouldn’t just set up my desk and do my schoolwork in there, to save myself the constant walking to and fro. What now? Some new declaration of submission to sign?

Instead, he told me my mother had gone into labor and was taken to the hospital. He handed me his cell phone so Dad could confirm it for me. No cause for alarm, as it turned out. Everything went smoothly. I’d been a big brother for about forty minutes already without even knowing it.

“In all the confusion, with the move and the new job, we just never got around to naming him. I was thinking Michael, after your uncle. Or Ray, after Grandpa.” My hand trembled as I listened, and formulated the question I wished to ask. “Can we name him Tyler?”

A long silence followed. I never told them myself, but a notice was sent home with the usual handouts. “...Yeah, kiddo. I suppose we could do that.” I wondered if I hadn’t made a mistake. Now I’d be reminded every time I saw the little guy, or heard his name. But it also ensured I could never forget.

I asked if I could come see him. “Oh no, your mother’s in no condition. They won’t release her for another few days. Don’t stress yourself, like I said it went off without a hitch. I wish I could find the words for what it was like to be here, watching it happen. It blew me away when you were born. I thought maybe it’d be less amazing the second time, but it wasn’t.”

I have a little brother now. Emphasis on little. I’m a big brother? It set off all sorts of frenzied wonderings in my mind. What sort of person would he grow into? Would he like me? Would I like him? What do I do if he hurts himself? ...What do I do if somebody else hurts him?

My excitement died down when I remembered what sort of world he’d been born into. That if he’s anything like me, it would be a tedious, miserable slog through one disappointment or humiliation after the next. But then, it might be different for him. Because unlike me, he’ll have someone bigger than he is to look out for him.

I resolved then to do for my little bro what I’d always wanted someone to do for me. To watch over him, cushion his falls, teach him the way to go, and make life gentler and cooler for him than it ever was for me.

I’ve always had to be that person for myself. There’s something to be said for it, but it’s difficult and painful. Life doesn’t have to be that way if we look out for each other. If anyone ever hurts my brother, I vowed, I will utterly destroy that person until no trace remains that they ever existed. I may have failed my best friend, but I’ll die before I fail my little bro.

When I returned to class, it was free period. Katerinka waited for Heather to go to the bathroom before crossing the room and taking the seat next to mine. “So, you are becoming big brother?” I balked, and asked how she knew. “Witches hear everything, you see.” I folded my arms and waited. “...Okay fine, I guess it because I knew your mother was very heavy with child. But such news! I am wondering now if he will also turn out handsome.”

I smirked, first interpreting it as a joke. But then turned it over in my mind a few times, identifying a possible alternative interpretation. When I looked back at Katerinka, her normally ghostly pale skin was now turning a faint shade of pink and she made only intermittent eye contact. If I’d misunderstood her meaning, I didn’t want to make a fool of myself.

“I...suppose so. Are we going to try the violin again?” She said it wasn’t important, and told me she’d heard I was going to Heather’s house to have dinner. Must be those sensitive witch ears again. “What do you mean it’s not important? You told me preparing to play that violin was the most important thing, and holdings of hands and makings of googly eyes are trivial.”

She looked frustrated and stared down at her lap. I imagined I could see her shaking subtly. When she next spoke, her voice wavered. “Do you know where I was before I come to this school? After Babulya died, I try to find new family. But, always questions of where I come from. Questions I could not answer.

Eventually, men in suits come and put me in home for children with no parents. I was alone there. Even surrounded by so many other children, I was alone. Because I look so different, some are afraid. Others makings of fun, or push me down, or steal my things. Until I had nothing but the memory of Babulya to hold onto.

It was only a few months. But felt like eternity. That was my introduction to the outside world. So when I hear you speak of how it is, I already know is like that. We have more in common than you think. I just do not hurt so badly, because I never had much good to compare it to. There was the comfort and safety of Babulya, then suddenly there was monster world.

This is why I also sometimes struggle to making affection understood. Only Babulya ever showed me any. I was never any kissings of boys in the youth home, or holdings of hands. They were scared. Fear makes them ugly. So I never learn how to…”

She went quiet, still staring at her lap. I didn’t know what to say, so I put my hand on her shoulder. She brushed it off. “Save for Heather.” She looked at me scornfully, and I noticed her eyes were moist. Baffling, and scary. She’d been a stone edifice until now, I couldn’t make sense of why my date with Heather changed anything.

Too much, too fast. Tyler. Heather. Little brother. Now I’d somehow put my foot in it with Katerinka, but couldn’t figure out how. Too much all at once. I put my head down, cradled in my crossed arms. After a minute, I heard Katerinka get up and leave for her own desk. I wanted to say something to set things right, but without knowing how I’d messed up, I felt sure I’d only make it worse.

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^{Stay Tuned for Part 23!}