Goldstein
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I looked down at the watch with slight annoyance and a tiny bit of disdain. It was a beautiful watch, with emeralds and rubies encrusted in the head of face, and it also showed the date, day and month on little dials that encircled the base of silver watch hands. It also ran on an ingenious mechanism, with the small twitches and flinches of the wearer powering it. The bad thing was, it tended to stop if it wasn’t moved every now and again. And my wrist isn’t exactly very active in the ever so exciting class of Business and Marketing. I shook my wrist, and the seconds hand immediately sprang back into action, like a slave after being whipped.
Seriously, why do I need to be in Business and Marketing? I’m not going to be a business man or CEO when I get older, I know that. All I really need to know is this-when you buy stuff, you give money…when you give stuff, you take money. Oh, and how to fill out a check and a bank-account balance book thingy. That’s all. I mean, common sense is going to tell me that getting a loan with a 300% compound interest rate isn’t a good idea. And if I do, I’m dealing with a loan shark (or a really cunning Goldman Sachs agent) and anything I learn in this class probably won’t help.
And thus, eighty minutes of my life drips through my fingers, as if those precious minutes were little bits of glass or sand. Oh well, it’s not as if I have to go back there…oh wait, I do! Five days a week, for eighteen weeks!
The bell rang. Finally. I winced at the sound, it was a harsh, metallic sound. Why can’t they, I don’t know, play a soft piano scale or something? No, it seems as if the school system tries to emulate the prison system in every aspect. Narrow corridors with rooms on each side and not much else, with grinding bells ruling the day and telling when the “prisoners” should leave or arrive or should hurry or should eat or should stop eating. Schools even have solitary confinements in the cloaked presence of “ISS”, or “In-School-Suspension”. The warden rules over the school, occasionally admonishing his prisoners over the intercom, and more often then not punishing them, first by having them anxiously wait outside his frosted-glass door, then inviting them in and delivering the punishment swiftly and coldly. But I digress.
As I was saying, the bell rang, and I got up, painfully. My chest ached, of course, and my leg pulsed and twitched, naturally. I reluctantly got the cane the doctors insisted I carry, though I have no idea why, and headed out of the classroom, the first one out, as always. Everyone else happily chattered with their friends, while I went ahead and stumbled out.
Some kid came up beside me. He was probably my age, and a pair of steel-rimmed glasses sat on the end of his nose. He had sandy hair, and a grin plastered on his boyish face. “What happened to your leg?” he asked cheerfully.
I looked at him, half-chuckled, half-snorted, and tried to walk ahead of him. “None of your damn business,” I said.
“I know,” he said, catching up to me, “I’m just curious, that’s all. I can see you’re angry over it, and maybe you want to talk?”
I gave the kid a side-long glance, then shook my head in disgust. “Look, yeah, you’re right, I need to talk to someone. But maybe I should talk to someone more expensive, who has a red plush couch for me to lay on and stare up at the ceiling and talk, eh? Maybe a guy with a white goatee and funny Russian accent, eh? Not you.”
By now, we were at my locker. I slung my book bag down to the ground, and spun my lock. “I just want to know, that’s all. I just want to be friendly and supportive, that’s all.”
I opened my locker, looked inside, and sighed. I leaned back, and looked at the kid. “Who are you, again? You’re new, right?”
The kid titled his head, and smiled slightly. I could tell he thought he was winning my trust. And damn it if he wasn’t. “I’m Slyt, with a ‘y’, instead of a ‘gh’…and you?”
“James Monroe, Slyt. And want to know what happened to my leg? You know, my chest hurts too. Want to know? Great, I’ll tell you. It’s a lovely story, really.”
Slyt looked at me, a combination of interest, maybe morbid interest, and uneasiness in his face. I smiled crookedly, and began.
“I was eight. What, six years ago? I was living in New York City then. Nice, cold city. I like the cold. I’m probably one of the few kids who likes winter over summer. Anyway, I was living in an apartment in New York City. Nice apartment, too. Had a door man and everything. I was with my mom and dad then. My…dad was drunk, like always it seems. He had gotten the idea that I was old, I was mature enough to walk down the road from our building to the CVS on the corner to buy some stuff.”
“What stuff did he want you to buy?” Slyt asked.
I looked at him, my eyebrows furrowed. “Why does it matter?”
“Just wondering.” Slyt shrugged. “I’m naturally curious. Although I’m sure you’ve already figured that out.”
I sighed heavily, and rubbed my neck. The warning bell suddenly rang out, but I didn’t really care. I could tell Slyt didn’t either. “Slim-Jims and a couple of Yoo-Hoos. Alright? Anyway, my mom almost immediately refused to let me go. My dad got all indignant, my mom got sobby, and I yelled out that if I went to go get the stuff would they just stop fighting for once, right? So I went and got the stuff, no problem. On my back, though, this homeless guy stopped me and asked me for some change. No, he didn’t shank me or anything. But this low-rider type car thing pulls up. And this guy leans out the passenger window with a Mac and shot me and the homeless guy up. I was just an innocent kid in the way. But the homeless guy, I found out later that that homeless guy was a traitor to some petty gang and went to the police and that I was caught in a revenge kill. I got hit in the lower torso, hip, knee-cap and ankle. The homeless guy was killed.”
Slyt uttered a soft chuckle. “Hip, knee-cap and ankle? What are the odds, huh?”
“I know, right? Well, by-standers who saw it called 911 and I got whisked to a hospital where some surgeons got those little damn slugs out of me. They gave me blood, and wrapped me up. My parents found me just as they were going to give me some Morphine, and they take me away! Crazy, I know!”
My voice was a little high and strained and had a wee bit of hysteria in it when the late bell sounded. Slyt didn’t even seem to notice it, and my heart twitched a little. I was late, and I’m never late, I make it a point to never be late. But the unnerve in my heart died rather quickly, which surprised me.
“My parents are highly spiritual, the type who don’t believe in medicine and doctors and such. So they took me home, laid me in bed, and prayed by me. When the doctor’s bandages soiled, they wrapped the gunshots with gauze and band-aids. They prayed by my bed for fourteen days until the pain subsided. I hated my parents during that period. I really did. I still sort of do, but not so much, you know? As with the pain, it has subsided, but still comes back sporadically. My parents got divorced shortly after that, then my mom brought me down here.”
I slammed my locker door, picked up my book bag, and looked Slyt in the eye. “And that is what happened to my leg. Happy?”
Slyt blinked, then smiled. “…felt good, didn’t it?”
A small smile kicked me in the balls and forced it’s way onto my lips. “I’d never admit it.”
“Thank you.” Slyt said as he backed up slowly. “Thank you very much.”
I frowned. “Why? I just blabbed on for about three minutes, you’re late. I have an excuse, I can say that I trip and fell, and that’s that, but you’re in trouble. What did I do?”
“You’ve told me a lot. I can help you now. How about we finish this chat later, huh? How about that lovely little grove you like so much? Hm?”
I stared at the kid in front of me. “How…do you know…?”
Slyt turned and waved at me. “Be seeing you after school, okay?”
I stared at him for a second, shook my head, took my cane, and hobbled to my next class.
Slyt had shaken me up, I must admit. He had a serene quality about him that was unusual in a high school setting. Everyone here was either coldly aloof and uncaring, horribly tense or bumbling, gushingly, lovingly, sickeningly friendly. To see a spirit that is actually calm can be extraordinary. Still, I was not going to let that uneasiness show. I suppose I was so use to hiding my anger from idiot bullies that I had begun to hide any feelings people made me feel. Regardless, my stomach churned a little as I climbed over a boulder that sat on the edge of the grove.
The floor of the grove was covered in a combination of soft moss and grass. Large and small boulders littered the ground here and there. The grove’s borders were defined by the tall trees that encircled it. The trees were towering, their branches reaching the heaves. Not light, but individual beams of the stuff streamed and filtered down. The beams accentuated every tiny particle and bit of dirt that floated into them. “When I find out how that Slyt found out about this place, I’m going to hang him and the guy who told him.” I muttered as I admired the view.
“You’ll do what now?” asked a voice from behind.
I turned and saw Slyt climbing over the boulder I had just did. As he walked towards me, I noticed his clothes. He wore a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His watch had a white leather band, his pants were white silk with white shiny leather shoes with no laces. He was quite white, he almost looked like a KKK guy turned politician,
“I’ve just noticed that you are so white, it’s not funny.” I said as Slyt approached me. “I mean, have you ever heard that Weird Al song “White and Nerdy”? Well, I hate to tell you this, but…”
Slyt snickered, and pointed a finger at me. “Oh, yes, I love that song! It’s so…fitting!” Slyt said as he laughed.
I smiled, pleasantly surprised. “It’s nice to see someone who can laugh at a joke. I believe there’s a saying that says you grow up the day you can laugh at yourself.”
Slyt smiled, put his hands in his pockets, and looked at me. I looked at him, I rubbed my hands together, cleared my throat, and put my hands in my pockets. “…well?”
Slyt raised his eyebrows, then gasped. “Oh, yes, of course, I had nearly forgotten. I asked you here, didn’t I? Can I first ask you your opinion of religion?”
I stared at him. “How can you ask me that? You know that because of my parent’s religious zeal I suffered through fourteen days of intense pain because thee thought the heavenly Lord would ease my pain when a good ol’ thing of Vicodin or Oxycodon would have helped.”
“So you’re an atheist?” Slyt asked, a strange look on his face.
“Uh, not really, maybe an agnostic, I don’t know. I know that God exists. Listen to this logic…everything has a creator, nothing spontaneously is created. If the universe is a creation, it would actually be illogical to say there was, or is, no God. But if the Catholic religion, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, Deism, who knows?”
Slyt smiled at me, and sat down on a boulder. “Interesting. Very much so, my friend.”
I stared at Slyt questioningly as I paced around the grove. “Interesting? What? Friend? Hey now….damn you’re cryptic.”
Slyt watched me as I paced back and forth. “Why do you even use that cane? You can walk rather efficiently.”
I shrugged. “I’m a bit of a push-over, and my doctors and my mom insists that I use this stupid thing.”
“Push-over, really? I’d never would have guessed.” Slyt asked, his head tilted, a look of interest on his face.
“I respect authority, even when I disagree with it.” I said, my voice sounding a little sullen. “So, is this all we’re going to be doing, discuss me and stuff? Really?”
Slyt smiled and got up. “Of course not, no, unless you want to…no, of course not.” Slyt stepped forward, and put his hands on my shoulders. I immediately felt uncomfortable by the bodily contact, I wasn’t use to it. “Do you truly wish to see the truth of God and lots of other stuff I’m sure you’re interested in?”
I leaned to the side, my eyebrows knitted together. “What…the hell? Why, oh, funny, very funny.” I broke away from the contact, seized my cane, which I had left propped against a rock, and started to leave. “Way to go, douche. I thought you were cool, you know? I thought you were like me, friendly, but you’re just a funny guy, playing with a guy’s head, his emotions. You know, you’re like a girl, screwing with a guy’s emotions. Bastard.”
I was at the edge of the grove, staring down at a big rock when I said all of this. And I meant every bit of it. This Slyt guy was probably one of the biggest jerks I had ever met.
“But…wait…” muttered Slyt from behind me. That little, sorry whiny voice for some reason infuriated me, and I whipped around, about to tell him off, when the sight caught my breath.
Slyt had…uh…he had white wings. Kind of like a bird’s, only cleaner, and bigger. They were flapping slightly, which creeped me out even more so. I dropped my cane, and my weak leg gave out. I fell to the mossy ground. My chest was on fire, and before my vision blotted to black, I saw Slyt rush forward to my aid. Then I assume most people do when they see an angel for the first time…I fainted.
I remember waking up to in my swivel chair, my head lolled back, my tongue sticking out a little. To anyone who was watching, I bet I looked pretty funny. My eyes, I remember…I think my eyes opened, and I jumped forward. “Wha? The hell…wha, wha happened? What?” I rubbed my temples, and closed my eyes, trying to remember what happened. But I drew a blank, really. “Slyt…no, no, naw, no way. Now wait, what happened? I was in the grove…now I’m in my room? God…” I coughed, and rubbed my throat. “What the hell happened, what the hell?”
“Watch your tongue. Really now.” came a scarily familiar voice.
“****! Slyt! What the hell? Are you, uh…wuh…” I remember stammering. My head ached, and my chest and leg didn’t exactly help. Slyt was sitting on my bed, smiling at me. I looked at him, then looked around. I was indeed in my room, I could tell by the tall windows and dark walnut furniture. I re-positioned myself on my chair, rubbed my brow, and sighed. “Alright, explaining time. What the freakin’ hell happ-”
At that time, my mom walked in. She rattled the door-knob a bit, then she walked in. She, as always, had a worried, almost sad look on her face. She was wiping her hands with a towel, and she had her cooking apron on. “Who is your, uh, friend, James?”
I gestured towards Slyt, and stammered, “He’s, eh, this is, is…uhm…”
My mom smiled at me, and asked, “Do you even know what your friend’s name is?”
“I’m Slyt, James’ friend, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you. James has told me a lot of good things about you.” Slyt replied. God, the amount of sickly politeness made my stomach turn and my spine tingle.
My mom looked at Slyt, and grinned at him. I could tell she was confused and delighted by Slyt’s properness. She nodded at him, then came over and felt my forehead. “Are you okay? Your friend brought you here because…he said you fainted from the chest pain!”
I looked at my mom, I recall, with a questioningly look on my face. In retrospective, I’m surprised my mom didn’t pick up on it, but I guess she was just too worried. Typical. “…yeah. I don’t really remember…but I guess that is what happened, I guess.”
My mom clucked her tongue, got up, and left with a “Nice to meet a friend of my son, Slyt.” On the way out.
I looked at Slyt, my eyebrows raised. “Is that what-”
“No, but it wouldn’t do tell your mom that I’m an angel, right?” Slyt asked. He winked at me knowingly.
I gulped dryly, and clutched my cane tightly. “You…are? Damn it Slyt if you’re crapping me, I swear to God…wait, should I say that to an angel?”
Slyt chuckled. “Only if you plan to carry it out. If you break a swear to God, that’s blasphemy.”
“Bl-blasphemy?” I muttered, “So Christianity is the true religion, huh? So all those times I took God‘s name in vain, I’ve never gone to church…aw, crap, I’m going to Hell, aren‘t I…crap.”
Slyt shook his head and snickered softly. “Of course not. Maybe a little bit more borderline than others, but no, no. And Christianity isn’t the “true” religion, whatever that means.”
I straightened up a little. I definitely remember feeling that cold stone of fear dissolving into a lump of curiosity.
“I knew it!” I exclaimed. “Those Jews were right! I knew it! Either that or a lot of Muslims are chilling with seventy-two virgins and rivers of honey, right?” I got up, rubbing my hands together. I licked my lips, and uttered a laugh. “Hell, I’m sooo going to convert now.”
Slyt narrowed his eyes and looked up at me. “Eh maybe, but Islam or Judaism isn’t the ‘right’ religion either really.”
I stopped and stared at Slyt, dumbfounded. “No way. Those Hindus are right? Quick, find me a red marker.”
Slyt roared out laughing. “Oh, heh, no no. Neither is Hinduism. There really isn’t a ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ religion. None of them are right, but none of them are totally wrong. Oh, except for Satanism. That’s just dumb.”
I snorted. “So, what? All Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus…going to Hell? Or what, Purgatory? Look, I don’t get it…”
Slyt shrugged. “God exists. He has assisstants…angels, heh, like me, and he just wants you mortals to play nice, get along, have a nice time, and die, and come on up and have an even nice time up there with him. But no, some of you have just got to be giant douches and screw everything up for the rest of you mortals. Take Hitler for example. Geez he was a giant douche-bag. He’s still in Hell.”
I furrowed my brow. “Still…you imply that sometime in the future, ‘ol’ funny stache’ is going to get out.”
“Oh, well, he has to prove to God that he has learned his lesson.”
“How?”
“Well, he has to learn to speak in an inside voice…and he has to hug a few Jews.”
“Well?”
“Uh, he came close this one time, but then his head blew up.”
“His head…blew up? Nice.”
“I know! Adolf got really pissed when he got denied into Heaven. He started screaming, and then Satan popped up and pulled him back down.”
“…I’m insane! I know it! I’m really flipping insane. Hee, heh…woo-hoo, I’m crazy! Dang.”
“James…” Slyt said, empathically. He got up, and that, for some reason, made me really mad.
“Look, Slyt, or Gabriel, or whoever the hell you are, just…leave me alone! I was happy before I met you! You’re…you’re either a figment of my sick and twisted imagination that obviously hates me, or you’re a freak, or…God, who the hells knows? Get out!”
“You okay, James?” asked my mom, nervously. She was sticking her head into my room.
“Yes, Mom, I’m just having a logical…LOGICAL discussion with my friend Slyt here. Okay?” I growled angrily and impatiently.
“…okay.” she said, rather meekly. She pulled her head out of my room.
I turned back to Slyt, and jabbed my finger in his face. “You. Get the hell out. Now.”
Slyt narrowed his eyes, and wordlessly walked to my door. He paused, and turned to me. “Happy? You were happy before you met me? Yeah right.”
And with that, he left. I remember being shocked that an angel (maybe an angel) just dissed me, and the horrible feeling that I had just kissed a lot of answers to questions I wanted solved good-bye. Crap.
The next day at school, I went to the administrator office. My stomach was churning with raw anticipation; I was terrified that I wouldn’t be able to find Slyt again. How could I be so damned stupid? Anyway, I had devised a rather flaw-filled plan to find that angel bastard.
I approached the front desk, and put my right hand on the counter in the most nonchalant way possible. “Uh, hey, I need something, maybe you could help?” I asked. My voice was in that tone that was almost my signature, a breathy, a touch uncertain, a touch desperate tone I used when I needed something.
The secretary…Miss Simms, her name-tag told me, looked up at me from behind rather thin glasses. She stopped typing and swivled on her chair to face me. “Yes?” she asked in a nasaly voice.
“Yeah, uh, my friend, he lost his schedule. He’s sick today, I think, and he asked me to come and get it for him. Is that a problem, or…?”I asked, letting out a small sigh at the end, adding a nervous laugh at the end.
Miss Smimms stared up at me through slit-thin eyes, and then silently turned to her computer.
I let out a big sigh of relief, and said in a border-line groveling voice, “Thank you, very much.”
The lady snorted softly, and then asked without turning, “Name?”
My heart sank when I realized I didn’t know Slyt’s last name. Do angels even have last names? Regardless, I was in big trouble. Thankfully, my intelligence spun a lie before my eyes. “Uh, his first name is Slyt, s-l-y-t, his last name is weird, like, Eastern European, I can never pronounce it. It has a lot of bergs, steins and inskis in it, I know that.” I chuckled, uncomfortable.
She typed quickly, briefly, and then turned to me her brow furrowed. “There is no one in the school system with the first name, ‘Slyt’. If this is a prank…” she let her voice trail off, threateningly.
My heart sank, but I kept a straight face. “Oh, ha, I guess he hasn’t enrolled yet. He’s foreign, and a little incompetent in the English language, so maybe he messed up. Thanks, though, anyway.”
The woman rolled her eyes and returned to her work as if I had never been there. I swallowed, then left.
“I am not incompetent in the English language. I’m very fluent in the King’s English, really.”
I whipped around and saw Slyt leaning against the wall beside the door of the administration office.
“Slyt!” I cried. I rushed forward, but stopped when he raised a cautious hand. “I’m…sorry, Slyt. I, you, surely you understand. I mean, the idea of you…and you being…and, yeah. So, are we okay, I mean, I’m really sorry.”
Slyt studied me for a second, then smiled and clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Really, now, I’m your Overseer Angel. I’m not going to turn my back on you.”
I frowned a little… “Overseer Angel? You mean, like, a Guardian Angel?”
“Err,” Slyt grunted as he spun and started walking down the hallway. I quickly caught up to him. “Guardian Angel is so…archaic. Overseer just sounds cooler, too.”
I sniffed, and wiped the side of my eye. “Okay. First question. Why are you here down in Earth, instead of up in Heaven, you know, overseeing?”
Slyt shook his head, and looked down at the ground. “Ah, good questions…as I’m sure you can tell, I sorta dropped the ball with your life. The shooting, your parents, your attitude…”
“My attitude?” I asked, indignant.
Slyt chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, don’t deny it. Anyway, Heaven…you know, God, and all of his lieutenants, sent me down here so I can improve your life, in a more direct manner than previously.”
I nodded slowly, slowing understanding everything. “Okay…how about this…why did you ask me about my leg yesterday? I mean, you already knew about it?”
Slyt ran his hands through his hair, and looked up at the ceiling ten yards above us. “Ah, I needed to asset how you were feeling at that time. I know about you past experiences, but I don’t know what you’re feeling. After that discussion, I learned that pressed hard enough, you’ll open up.”
I shook my head, snickering. “Damn, you’re good. If for an angel. Maybe. I don’t know…oh, wait. You know about everything I’ve ever done?”
Slyt turned his head so that he was looking at me from the corners of his eyes. “…no, it’s impossible to constantly supervise anyone…why?”
I rubbed the back of my head and chuckled, uneasy. “Uh, heh, absolutely no reason whatsoever.” By now, we had reached the end of the hallway, and we were by the main entrance to the school. It was simply a pair of two big doors with metal detectors.
Slyt stopped, as did I, and we faced each other. He looked at me, and with his eyebrows raised, he asked, “Well?”
I glanced at him, then turned to look down the hallway. “If you’re going to help me with my life, first you can help me with my school life. We’ll enroll you tomorrow.”
Slyt scratched his forearm, and asked in a questioning tone, “Where will I live?”
I shrugged. “I guess you could stay with me. We could tell my mom that you’re homeless, and you’re in a program. I volunteered, and you’ll live with us, and in exchange for providing you quarter, I get thirty points extra credit in the subject of my choosing. She’ll go for that.”
Slyt looked down at his clothing. “You know, my silk trousers and leather shoes and general cleanliness, I won’t go for homeless.”
I held up a finger, reached into a nearby garbage can, foisted out a discarded Dr. Pepper bottle, and threw the remnants left in the bottle onto Slyt. The hot, sticky brown stuff splattered Slyt’s spotless white shirt rather spectacularly, I remember. “There.” I said, satisfied. “Now you look homeless.”
Slyt let out small little yelps of disgust, pulling his shirt so that the spot was parallel to the ground. “Eh…jeez, this is…horrible…” he kept muttering.
I watched him for a moment, then shook my head. “Actually, on second thought…” I reached back into the trash can, pulled out a half-smoked cigarette, and wiped it on Slyt’s pants. He cried out in protest, yet did nothing. I took out a banana peel and wiped it on his shoes.
“James! The hell?!” Slyt yelled out in ghastly horror.
I looked up at him, pausing in my work. “Look, my mom will wash your clothes, and you want to look homeless, right?” Slyt simply whimpered in response. I sucked my teeth, stood up, and looked at Slyt’s face. I scooped up some coffee grinds, and rubbed it on his face and sprinkled it into his hair. Slyt inhaled sharply, and stiffened.
“Alright, can we just go now?” he asked tensely.
I smiled, impressed with my work. “Not yet. Here, wait a bit while I go wash my hands, I’ve got crap all over them.”
“You’re a jerk, you know that, right?” Slyt asked miserably in his filth.
I threw my hands up whiled I walked to the bathroom. “And whose fault is that, Mr. Overseer?”
Note: Very rough, I'll probably clean it up a little in the near future. Here's a link to the comments: CLICK!
< Message edited by Goldstein -- 4/18/2010 22:25:26 >
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