The Mystical (Mr.Cool) Adventures of Patrick Swayzee

CHAPTER EIGHT: THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOON

There was caution tape cacooning  the school when the students arrived that morning.  Bodelian zigzagged through the crowd trying to find her golden haired friend.

  'Arany? Oh I'm sorry. Excuse me.. I- I'm sorry. Oh dear, I'm so sorry , exucse me miss- ARANY.' She extended onto her tippy-toes and searched but her head didn't come past most peoples shoulders.  She felt like a very small sardine in a can full of much bigger sardines.  In all the confusion, she stepped on her untied shoe lace and fell face first into someones back. She groaned when she realized whose back it was.

  This boy was a fourth year. He was the same fourth year that always pushed past her with unnessecary force thorught the halls. And the same fourth year that knocked the paper stacks out of her hands and pretended he didn't notice. This was the fourth year boy who always bumped into her when she was on the subway platform, close to the tracks. He was the boy she had heard in the library talking to the ditsy brunette girl about how people who cut themselves should get a life and grow up. Except they weren't just talking, they were practically yelling it, and Bodelian didn't think that was right at all. So, no, she didn't especially care for him.

  He wheeled around, eye's livid.

Gosh, was he ever a repulsive sight. He glared down at her through eye's set in dark bags. She gulped.

  'C-could you move, p-please?' she new she'd stuttered but bore a what she believed to be brave expression.  His eye's narrowed. He stepped forward threateningly.

 'You'll have to repeat that.' he spat with a sneer.  Her heart fell a little bit further into the ground. Don't give up! said the little voice in her head. He was always a big encouragement, the little voice, and he'd always been there in the back of her mind. For some reason he'd always reminded her of the colour red. She breathed in slowly.

   'I s-s-aid ...move.' she swallowed hard, waiting for his inevitable harsh retort. Instead she was met with his cold and bitter laughter. She just stood there. You can do it Bo. Hold your ground while this meat head laughs- her heart flew into her mouth as she was thrust toward him, his nails digging into the collar of her sweater. His breath was startelingly minty and sweet as it filled up her nose. In fact, it was overwhelmingly sweet. He had pulled her so close to him that she could see the sweat trickling around his acne ridden pores. His deep brown eyes bore into hers and then proceeded to venture around her face, lingering on her lips, before he was looking back at her eyes even more infuriated than the last time.  She was white with fear and stiff with it too.

  'I don't like being told what to do, worm.' And then he released her, non too gently. Bodelian couldn't move a finger; she was frozen to the spot. He glowered at her.

  'Beat it!' he yelled. This sent her tripping backwards into the crowd and running as fast as her legs could carry her down the drive, out the gate and onto the grassy lawn. There she collapsed in the sunlight, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The little voice crept into the black space of her mind. Bo, calm down. Breathe in and out really slowly. Then he began to hum very softly. It was the same song that he always hummed to calm her down. It sounded like a celtic lullaby, sang to her by the autumn wind. The faint red-orange light danced around in the empty black space. Twisting and spiralling endlessly as the sweet tune continued. Bo was swimming in a sea of dazzling colour. She raked her fingers through the golden strands as the song continued, now with warping harmonies and distortions. The stands ran straight through her body until they coursed through her veins. Until she became the liquid. 

                                    Time fell away. 

   The empty space flooded with a frozen chill, the warm light turned brittle and grey and someone was screaming. Not just someone. She recognized the scream. It was her own.  Every fibre of her tensed to the point of explosion. A searing pain shot through her shoulder and-

 She was bolt upright on the lawn.  A circle of smokers a small ways away were glancing at her, faces vacant but vaguely lined with concern. Bodelian wondered why they were looking at her; more so, she wished they would stop looking at her. Then the tinny smell of the remains of her scream filled her nose. You screamed out loud, Bo. Her senses were suddenly alert to the fact that a perfectly manicured hand was resting on her shoulder. 

  'Arany.' Bodelian sighed. Arany sat cross-legged behind Bo and started to gently rake through her hair with her fingers. Bo relaxed under Arany's soft touch. 

  'So,'  she said sweetly  'whose lungs must I rip out through their back?' 

Then she proceeded to braid Bodelian's hair.  Bodelian snickered and mumbled that nothing happened and there was no need to rip anyone's vital organs out. 

  'Mhm, yeah right. Was it Sid? I saw the look on that smug jerk's face.' Bodelian studied her sneakers and nodded. 

  'I swear to god! I'm gonna waste that jerk!'

  'Shhh... don't say that too loud.' 

  'Pft, why!? He might hear me? Let him! I'll give him a piece of my mind..'

  'Arany, please.' 

Bo looked at her imploringly. Finally, Arany sighed and fixed the hem of her skirt. 

  'Fine. But he is still a mega jerk and he ain't gettin' any sugar from me EVER.'

Bo giggeled and Arany helped her to her feet.

 'Well, i-it doesn't look l-like there's going to be school today... video game time?'

Arany smiled.

 'Video game time.' 

       They started walking toward the subway station when a black bowl-cut head bobbed around at the front of the swarm. It lead the way for a while before vanishing abruptly beneath the shorter heads.  Bo and Arany looked at each other, puzzled. What happened to the clementine-library boy's head disappear too?