vol 1, ch 1: the boyish fool is a hero of loyalty

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Before Rick died for the first time, he was sitting in the principal’s office and getting his ass chewed. The scolding was falling on deaf ears, though. Rick was busy daydreaming about an old war show he used to watch.

When Rick was fourteen, the show had colorful ways to paint the main characters' horrid affairs. It still spoke well enough to Rick now that he was eighteen despite the show’s depictions of shit-covered booby-traps and shitty enemies hidden in the dense, sweaty jungles. Rick liked it because the main character found joy with his shit-out-of-luck comrades.

Just like those poor G.I’s, Rick considered himself and his friends to be the dregs of society, the examples all the affluent adults pointed at while shaping their little, fake-ass bastards. Sure, they got the money, power, and network, but Rick had a family with his real-ass friends.

Nothing could beat that.

“Mr. O’Kelly, are you listening?” Principal Hemmersbach leaned forward onto his big and fancy desk.

“Eh?” Rick straightened in his wooden chair.

“I asked if you were listening, Richard O’Kelly.” The balding fat man stared at Rick like a boar getting ready to drive its tusk into an offending animal.

“Well, that depends, sir. Were you oinking anything important?” Rick gave him his winning smile⁠—his head slightly cocked to show the right side of his face. This highlighted his missing incisor from when Bobby Wilkins knocked it out during the cafeteria brawl last year.

That bully had had a thing against gingers, which was okay because Rick had made sure Bobby got the worst end of the deal. Since then, Bobby never drank milk ever again.

“Did you, or did you not, put a handful of… feces… into Ms. Dudley’s bookbag?” the principal asked.

“What!” Rick exclaimed. “How could you accuse me of such a disgusting thing, Principal Hemmersbach? Especially when it involves Bridgette of all people. She’s the sweetest girl anyone could ever know, an absolute saint.”

“Rick, cut the bullshit,” Principal Hemmersbach said.

“Wow, Principal Hemmersbach, that’s really quick of you,” Rick said. “I didn’t know it was bull’s shit when a secondhand source told me. How did you find that out? Did you measure it? With your hands? Or could you taste the grass that bull munched on and defecated? That’s a special ability ranchers have passed down by the generations, right? Tasting bullshit to know bullshit?”

“O’Kelly…” The principal growled.

“By the way, would you like a piece of gum?” Rick asked, suppressing a smirk. “I have cool mint.”

The principal of Kingsly Public High School slammed his hand onto the desk. His collection of bobble-heads of past presidents shook crazily. Both the principal and his trinkets were clearly no fans of Rick’s jesting.

“I have all the authority to hold you back from graduating, O’Kelly,” Principal Hemmersbach said. “Every year, you keep on squeaking by, all because of your misguided team of losers helping you out, but this year I really have you by the balls.”

“Do you like the feel of them?” Rick asked, sounding innocent enough. “I do my best to shave nowadays. If the ladies do it, surely gents should, too.”

“You fucking…”

“Language, Principal Hemmersbach⁠—that’s not how a man in your position should talk around pleasant company.”

“Was it you, or was it one of your idiotic thugs, Mr. O’Kelly?” The principal asked, returning to business. “Don’t act innocent with me! No one else would pull a stunt like that other than a lunatic like you and the disillusioned lambs following you.”

Rick shook his head, growing a little tired of this song and dance. His friends weren’t thugs. They were outcasts. And he wasn’t really a shepherd. He was just someone who liked to lead an alternative life, and the Team found it more suitable just the same. He was as much a leader as a fool, really.

Besides, sometimes you had to gather some dog shit and pile it into a spoiled brat’s bookbag—a good way to teach her a lesson for spreading hideous rumors that targeted one of Rick’s friends.

Not that Rick had committed the deed himself, nor had he been present when the deed was done. Nor had he seen the dogs who laid the turds for Rick to gather with gloved hands so he could give it to the person who was willing to get back at Brigette. It could be the feces of a bull even though Rick had never seen a wild bull let alone a domesticated one in this neighborhood. Maybe a horse, but…

You never know, right?

“So, I’ll take your silence as you being complicit,” the principal said, shuffling through a folder with Rick’s name on it.

Rick sniffed. “You can’t do that. That’s incriminating me without evidence.”

“Perhaps so, but there are leverages I have, Mr. O’Kelly.” The principal leaned back into his chair, staring into Rick’s files. “The state-mandated tests have arrived just recently.”

“And I’ve done freaking well for myself,” Rick said quickly. “Been studying, y’know? As hard as that can be for me.”

Who the hell could stay focused on one thing for hours when there were surely more interesting things happening? Rick tried, but it was pure agony. When the test came up, he breezed through it confidently and was one of the first to finish.

Principal Hemmersbach traded his boar-like glare with a piggish smirk. “Your reading wasn’t up to snuff, Mr. O’Kelly.”

Rick combed through his fiery-orange hair that he wore as a messy mullet. “So, what?”

“Per the standards of this institution, you do not meet the requirements to graduate,” the principal replied. “That’s the so what.”

“By how much?”

“Who did it, Richard O’Kelly? Who pulled that disgusting prank on Ms. Dudley?”

“Was it only a few points?” Rick hissed.

The principal tapped his fingers on the edge of his desk. Then, as if he was growing bored with the conversation, he poked at the bobble-head of the current U.S. president. The trinket tossed its head around like a grinning madman.

“It must’ve been just a few points,” Rick muttered. “I really studied, I swear. And you know I have… difficulties with words and all.” And staying focused on boring crap that had no real-world application was as entertaining as watching paint dry.

“According to our records, Ms. O’Kelly never filed anything reporting dyslexia or any other unfortunate difficulties.”

Because he was a demon child, according to his mom. It would be a terrible sin to damage the O’Kelly’s name by telling the state he had… demon deficiencies. And even when the counselors reported such an inkling and talked about the state's added support, Mom shut it all down. He had already been enough of an embarrassment.

Principal Hemmersbach dropped his fist onto his desk with a solid thud, bringing Rick’s focus back to him.

“It does seem like you’re within a margin where I can plead your case, Mr. O’Kelly.” The principal flashed a smile that could wear a pair of tusks perfectly. “Yes, a margin of a few points. A model student like you shouldn’t have to miss your graduation over that. You wouldn’t have the privilege to witness Ms. Dudley’s class presidential speech. Right before all your peers walk across the stage and move on to bigger and greater things…. without you.”

“That would… suck,” Rick said.

“Indeed, it would,” said Principal Hemmersbach. “But we could avoid that misfortune if you fulfill your civil duty as a model student. Let me be frank, Rick. You got too many eyes glued to your back. Too many to do anything yourself. Who was it? Who shoved shit into Ms. Dudley’s backpack? Was it that big mouth Mr. Crawford? Or was it that… unrefined girl of yours, Ms. Porter?”

By curling forward slightly, Rick tucked his balling fists into his gut. He had to look away from the principal, so he didn’t impulsively act on his hot-red flash of imagination. Like taking one of those stupid bobbleheads and shoving them down the principal’s throat.

He could chew on that!

Cool it, Rick. Cool it.

Rick sighed. “Fine, it looks like you’ve got me where you want me.”

Chair creaking, the principal leaned forward. The man was drinking up the moment and filling himself to the brim with self-righteous superiority, no doubt. The pause was probably adding to his satisfaction. Well, the principal did not have to wait long when Rick sprung out of his chair, hands raised.

“You’ve got me with your hands on my smooth, steely balls!” Rick hooted. “So, make sure to handle with care. You don’t want to lose your gripper when we have another year to fiddle around again, eh?”

Sorry, but not sorry, bastard. I’ll never sell out my friends!

The principal exploded, spit flying as he turned a deeper shade of red and entered another tirade to berate Rick.

His shouts were wasted on the teen.

Rick fell back into his seat and zoned out, which he was pretty good at. He pretended he was listening with a subtle nod every few seconds. All he had to do next was find an interesting fantasy to settle into and⁠—

A blue rectangle appeared above Principal Hemmersbach’s head. It flickered away seconds later, the moment Rick blinked.

What… the hell… was that?

Without a clue, Rick repeatedly blinked, fairly fast, to see if the strange blue thing would come back.

It did not.

Huh, my imagination is really acting up. He wasn’t even high, which made the occurrence even stranger.

Whatever it was, it was still loads more interesting than whatever the principal was saying. Rick picked up a few phrases about him being a lowlife loser who was perfectly made for the penitentiary and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Whatever.

You know the rest.

 

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“Boy, we’re about to graduate. This isn’t the time to get in a whole heap of trouble with that man.” Jac shifted from her spot against the wall outside of the main office. It was Friday, an hour after school. Everyone who had nothing to do here would’ve gotten out of dodge by now—everyone except Jac.

“Well, what can I say? We’ve had a good thing going for four years,” Rick said. “It wouldn’t be right to just disappear on him without leaving one more memory.”

She screwed up her face. “It sounded serious there. I was getting worried.”

Rick grinned, ignoring the principal’s promise to hold him back. “If you keep on being cute when you worry, I’ll keep on getting into trouble.”

Rick waggled his eyebrows.

Jac’s grimace fell. She smirked.

Right when he thought he was in the clear, she snatched him by the ear like a mother scolding a child. She gave him a good pull, a shake, and got a whine out of him until she let go and left his ear a tad tender.

“What are we going to do with you, Rick?” she asked, shaking her head. “We can’t do our weekend shindig if Principal Hemmersbach gives in to murdering you for all the stunts you’ve pulled.”

“You mean the stunts we’ve pulled. Well, can’t be any worse than all the hair he’s pulling out for being a stickler.”

“Rick!”

“Okay, okay,” he said, hands up. “If I ever go six feet under, how about you name your children after me using different spelling variations, like Rick with a Y?”

“Reich?”

“Whoa, now,” Rick said, his hand over his heart, “let’s not get all Sieg heil, I’m Aryan, but I wouldn’t say I’m that Aryan.”

“Boy!” she shouted into her raised hands. He could see the glint of a smile between her fingers. “That’s terrible.”

“Come on, give me a break. I’ve been working on that one for a solid week. I had to do actual research. And your boy and actual research are as friendly as Brigitte and a zit.”

A bellyful of laughter rolled out of Jac. Her deep and hearty voice bounced around the empty hallways. He had to hold her elbow to get them going while she threw a hysterical fit.

It was a damn pretty sight to watch her laugh, though. After getting an earful from Principal Hemmersbach, there was no one better to have in your corner than a gracious and curvy black girl named Jaclyn Dubois⁠—Jac to her best pals. If he weren’t careful, he would sometimes find himself examining the jeans she wore and wonder how they restrained her goods without ripping. Between that and her smile, it was hard not to fall in love. But that would break the friendship⁠—

“Rick, up here,” Jac said firmly, jolting him out of his wandering thoughts. “See my eyes. They’re big, brown, and pretty, right?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Exactly, so let’s focus on that.” She chuckled some more, leaving Rick to thank his lucky stars she had gotten softer on him lately.

By the time they got outside, late afternoon sunlight had tinged the air orange. The trees and hedges were blossoming with pink, white, and red flowers. The neighborhood around the school thrived, the people in and out of their garages after coming home from work. That was pretty common here once the weather warmed up and melted away the black ice and muddy, slushy snow.

Depending on the neighborhood⁠—they had about a dozen until they reached the Hangout⁠—the people tended to wave and greet the passing teens from their porches, or they stared at the teens with pistols visible on their low-hanging pants.

“Yo, shorty, what you with that white boy for?” asked a local gangster. He and his boys were lounging around the front fence of a section-eight house.

As fast as the eye could blink, Rick’s mouth had a reply loaded that would surely get him in trouble.

However, Jac moved a tad faster than his troublesome mouth and pinched his lips. She only released him once she got going with her extra strong and authentic Southern drawl.

“We just goin’ around here to bring the Word of the Good Lord to all His children,” Jac said with practiced ease. “You boys better be reading your bibles because the Lord is coming, and vengeance is the Lord. Yessir, amen!”

That took the air out of the gangsters as they looked at Jac like she was infected with something crazy. Jac dialed up the crazy some more with an unhinged grin. Her eyes were held open wide enough to see your soul in the white.

The gangsters waved them on.

“Mother Mary, I’m so glad you’re not that person anymore,” Rick said once they were out of earshot. “I was more scared of you than them.”

Jac used to be a super-duper bible thumper until she split from her parents and started staying with her aunt back i. tenth grade. Might’ve been the Team’s fault for being an influence on her.

“What do you mean, Richard? I’m still playing the long game to convert your soul.” Jac nudged him with her elbow. He shivered slightly under the ribbing.

“Hard to get a failed Catholic.”

“I’ve been developing ways to straighten you out, boy…” She said huskily.

Rick opened and closed his mouth. That was a really strong come on.

“Anyway… I wanted your opinion on this strange thing I daydreamed today,” Jac said

Is it me in a speedo? Rick thought before he said, “Shoot.”

“I was in class, minding my own business,” Jac said. “Out of nowhere, a blue box appeared before my eyes. Nearly spook the Holy Ghost out of me. Then it went away.”

Uh. What?

Could that be the same blue box Rick had seen in the principal’s office? No, it couldn’t be. That would be way too strange.

Such weirdness deserved an answer, and Rick was certain his own experience would drive the oddity home with Jac. But the food truck that sold the best tacos around drove up and parked in an abandoned lot across from them.

“Tacos,” Rick said.

“No, boy, we’re late as it is already.”

“But come on, it’s tacos.” Rick pouted.

Jac chuckled lightly, patting her hand against his cheek. The smell of her strawberry lotion lingered. “Next time, I’ll get them. It’ll be my treat, okay?”

That settled that because Rick was a little low on cash. Well, technically, he was always low, and he didn’t have enough pride in him to turn away from a friend’s offer. Jac’s especially.

“So, want to hear a joke about tacos?” Rick beamed.

“I feel like I’m going to regret it, but shoot.” Jac traced her fingers through her curly hair and smiled.

Rick fumbled on the joke as he got lost in that smile. He had to remind himself Jac was practically family⁠—but is it me, or has she grown up lately?

Haven't they all?