烛台The Candleholder

四少年的奇幻之旅

A Fantasy Tour of
Four Boys.

 

The Inner World and the
Growth of the New Generation. 

 

      Not being the lovable, nerdy underdog or
the sporty jock with a bright future, James and his friends had to survive not
in accord with the usual standards of a high school. In other words, being a
sociopath didn’t make them popular in school. After graduating, James had to
face the terrifying fact that he knew nothing about people and was not ready to
be a part of the world outside. Forced into a five-day trip in the wilderness,
James and his friends had to find their way home while dealing with whatever was
out there and trying to find out how they got there and what they were heading
for….

       Evan Yu, born in Beijing in 1997, is
studying in Beijing World Youth Academy（BWYA） International School and applying for study in a
foreign university. He loves writing and also loves reading books and watching
movies.

14 Years Later      

20 Hours Before   

1 Hour Before

During   

1 Minute Later     

1 1/2Years Before 

3 Hours Later

5 Hours Later

6 Hours Later

6 1/2Hours Later  

4 Months Before  

18 Hours Later     

19 Hours Later     

21 Hours Later     

22 Hours Later     

23 Hours Later     

2 1/2Weeks Before

Prank #1

Prank #2

Prank #3

Prank #4

Prank #5

30 Hours Later     

1 1/2Months Before     

31 Hours Later     

43 Hours Later     

44 Hours Later     

47 Hours Later     

51 Hours Later     

58 Hours Later     

10 Months Before 

63 Hours Later     

68 Hours Later     

69 Hours Later     

81 Hours Later     

82 Hours Later     

83 Hours Later     

3 Months Before  

84 Hours Later     

87 Hours Later     

89 Hours Later     

5 Days Later  

2 Months Later    

6 Months Later    

4 Years Later 

5 Years Later 

10 Years Later

14 Years Later

 

Epilogue – 89 Hours Later  

 

 

31
Hours Later

It had been almost 10 minutes, and we were about to leave until
we heard the rattle in the bushes. We looked at them and Doug jumped out, scaring
the life out of us. His face was pale and his cheeks were wet. I thought he
might be sweating due to the heat and humidity, but then I found out he was
crying. He looked at us; no words were said.

“So?” Cliff asked,
“Are we invited?”

“Well, there is small
problem with the chaperone.” Doug said. I noticed that he wasn’t holding the
cigarette anymore, and I actually worried about him starting a forest fire with
the cigarette butt. I still don’t know why I thought about that with a grown
man crying and panicking in front of me. I guess I never had my priorities
straight.

“Why, what happened?”
Angus asked. He was moving forward and getting irritated. He always thought
that people not keeping simple commitments were a bunch of useless snobs. I
guess he’s right from time to time. If you want something done right, you
really have to do it yourself.

“OK, I’m going to
tell you, but you have to promise not to panic.”

“Panic like what
you’re doing right now?” I thought. He waved his hand and we moved in to listen.

“Well, my friends,
they’re kind of….” He stopped for a second or two. His voice was trembling and
cracking a lot, as if he had been sounded stable before. “They’re kind of…
dead?” he cringed a little bit and stepped back.

“Are you asking us?”
Cliff said. “What do you mean by saying that they’re dead? Who are these
friends of yours?”

“All right, so it’s
confession time?” Doug said.

“I feel like you owe
us that much.”

“This might be a
little awkward.” He stood there and thought about how to tell his little story.
There was this long and drawn out “hmm” sound that he was making. He really
thought about it hard.

“Are we getting an
answer or not?” I asked. I had never gotten that annoyed with a stranger
before. When I met someone new, I usually just let people like Cliff or my
parents take over the situation, and I just stood back and let my soul leave my
body. But this was crucial.

Within a second, there was light, bright, strong light. I
thought that it actually was a forest fire, but then I realized that these were
sirens, well, poorly imitated sirens. We were in the center of the spotlight,
for the first time in my life, but not for a good reason.

I looked toward the light, trying to make out the silhouetted
figures in front of and behind the lights. All of the figures were doing
something, but they were facing us. It was like a puppet show with so much
going on.

I turned and looked at Doug, with both his hands up, and then he
went on his knees. One of the figures walked over to us. “Take them.” he said.
I still couldn’t make out his face, but his voice was thick and hoarse. He was
wearing some sort of formal uniform, and a hat, a fancy cowboyish hat.

About a dozen men walked over toward us and tried to take us.
Angus fought back, and then it all went to hell. They clubbed him on the back
of his head and he fell to the ground. Then I felt something on the back of my
head. It didn’t really hurt, just brought numbness. Then there was a sting and
then it burned. After the burning, everything faded.

 

 

43
Hours Later

I got a little consciousness back, but I was still struggling
with waking up. But my mind, though in pain, was working. I thought about the
time we had left. I thought that we’d only gone through about one-third of the
time we had been given.

I had always thought that if you worried about time, it would go
slower. If you kept on thinking about how you only had seven weeks of summer
left, your summer would actually last longer since you would be cherishing your
time. But it wasn’t true. Time goes on no matter how you feel, and this was the
same case. We might have a little more than 70 hours, but we would find a lot
of ways to waste them.

When I was finally about to open my eyes, something was thrown
on me. Not a backpack or a firearm this time, but water. Lukewarm water. It
didn’t wake me up completely, but it was painful. It felt like I was drowning.

Someone came and grabbed me and threw me on the ground. There
was some grass, but mostly rock and dirt. Next I was in a car, a truck. It was
not moving, but someone had driven it before. I was left in the back, like a
bag of forgotten tacos, in the passenger seat.

I was handcuffed and was wearing some sort of blue onesie.
Someone had changed me? I felt really grossed out and violated. I knew that
nothing had happened, but if someone could have changed me while I was
sleeping, they might as well have done everything else.

I got to my feet and looked up to the sky. It was morning,
another night wasted. It seemed like we had found the end of the fence. At the
end of the fence was a gate, and on top of that gate was a sign. The sign was
made from scrap metal and someone had written “Druckerman Labor Camp Co.” on it
with spray paint.

I had never heard of this place. I didn’t even know that labor
camps were still legal. The concept of this “organization” scared me. A bunch
of men operating a huge labor camp in the middle of Druckerman Hills. Nobody
knew about this. It was like these men were ghosts, some sort of tribe
forgotten by society that had started their own lives out here in the wild.
Kind of living their dreams in some way. And unlike Fuller, they were happy
about it. They were proud at least.

I stood there for too long. I felt lightheaded because of the
gratitude of the whole thing. A tall fence pretty much touching the sky. I
looked up and observed the fence with my head up, and then I felt I was getting
dizzy. It could be because I had been looking up for too long, or it could be
the tennis ball-sized bump on the back of my head. I touched the bump; it was still
burning to some degree. It scared me a lot more than it hurt.

I was so overwhelmed by this concept of confusion that I lost
myself in god knows where. Someone then pushed me and I almost fell over. I
looked back and it was a tall man in uniform. It was pretty much a sheriff’s
uniform but there was no badge. I looked around, and there were more than a
dozen men wearing the same thing. He was holding a club that I supposed had hit
me in the back of the head the night before.

“Do you want me to
walk?” I asked him, trying to be friendly. I always felt the need of talking to
whoever was being a force to be reckoned with. Sometimes, a man or woman could
be so scary that you should just do what they say. But I always felt like
asking a question they had to answer with a simple response. This was just to
check that they were still human beings and that they still had the instincts
of a human being. Also, it was a reminder that I was still living in reality
instead of in a movie with a silent Bond villain.

The man didn’t say anything, he just nodded. For a moment there,
I thought he really was an uncivilized human being, and this was some sort of
tribe that had lost touch with humanity. I thought that he couldn’t talk
instead of not being willing to talk. That thought went through fast and then
immediately left. I knew the thought would scare me, and some sort of immunity
in me just threw it out of my body. I’ve gotten better at not thinking after
what happened to Freddy, or what happened to me because of Freddy, more
specifically.

I walked toward the gate. I was still staring at the sign of the
labor camp until it got directly above my head and I couldn’t see it anymore.
It just fascinated me. It was like something out of a post-apocalyptic book. A
small group of survivors started a community in which they left morals and
ethics at the gate. In the middle of nowhere, there were men. It kind of made
sense, I guess, but they never had a reason as good as the end of the world.

I didn’t see any of the other guys, not even Doug. It was just
me and the big dumb inbred behind me.

He took me to an open field where about 20 men stood in a line,
facing what looked like a factory building. There weren’t a lot of things in
the camp. There were about four buildings, a cafeteria, a dorm room for us, a
dorm room for them, and a body-burning building. I didn’t know that they burnt
bodies there until after I looked it up online, 13 years after I had left.

I stood right at the end of the line and saw Cliff, Angus, and
Saul standing there, separated, wearing what I was wearing. I looked at them
and they didn’t look back. I found out why everyone was looking ahead, because
up walked Johnny Weinberg, a tall, old man wearing the same uniform as everyone
else, but this time, with a badge – a golden badge sparkling in the sunlight.
Behind him was a relatively shorter man with a bag over his face. He was
wearing what we were wearing.

He stopped a few feet in front of us and looked at us. I didn’t
know who he was looking at since he was wearing sunglasses. His eyes could be
closed for all I knew. But what he looked at didn’t matter; he was more than
just any man.

I was already scared at his appearance, but his voice was the
one thing to be feared. If Clint Eastwood, Sean Connery, and the old Al Pacino
miraculously created a voice baby, he would be it. His voice was hoarse and
powerful. It was like a leather jacket drowned in cigarette ashes. It was like
he ate sandpaper for breakfast every morning and washed it down with nails. He
could say anything and be scary. He started speaking, and to protect myself
from being scared, I commented on every statement he made, in my head of
course.

“All right, you
scumbags.” he said.

Really, scumbags? You seem a little short-tempered.

“All of you should
know why you’re here.”

I have absolutely no clue why I’m here, or where I am, for that
matter.

“If not….”

Thanks for considering that factor.

“Just believe me that
you’re in for a good reason.”

How am I supposed to believe that? Unlike most of the people
here, or like most of the people here, I know that I didn’t do anything that
would end up with me in chains.

“Now, all you have to
do is to get ready for the worst time in your short pathetic lives.”

How are we supposed to get ready for that? By listening to you talk
about how we’re going to die soon?

“Well, don’t this new
batch just look like a great bunch of sissies. The veterans in here will just
eat you up.”

There was definitely a grammar mistake in that sentence. The new
batch? All of these people are new? What kind of recruit do you have running
here? How many people have to die each day, or how cramped is this place?

“Anyway, your life
will be simple from now on.”

I honestly think that it is the truth. Things around here do
indeed seem a lot simpler than back home. No need to worry about anything else
except staying alive, and I think that is the ultimate meaning of life. If
you’re still drawing breath, you are doing a good job. At least that’s how I
see it.

“All you have to do
is to wake up, work, and go back to sleep.”

Back to the basics. It seems like it is something that men in
the stone ages did. But to be honest, this is what men did for centuries, and
are still doing now. We might see our lives as something colorful, but all we
do is to wake up, work, and go back to sleep. It is like this for the majority,
and it is going to be like this for the majority. Not a lot of people are
special enough to live a life without that schedule.

“Your job will be
turning big rocks into little stones, and your day ends when we say it ends.”

This is just a more explicit and straightforward way of saying
you work for me. It really is terrible how people are willing to work others. I
feel like they are just wired to do so. Only a handful of people will notice
their deaths by the time they die. It is kind of a sad and scary process.

“And if you refuse to
work or try any sort of funny business, we will shoot you down like a sick
dog.”

I guess with a lot less dignity and pride, and no one to know or
mourn.

“We can hide atomic
bombs in here; don’t think we couldn’t hide a body.”

So this place is illegal. I guess I should wait for my rescue,
but the fact that we ended up here proves that it is not really our style of
doing things.

“And, you will stay
here as long as we say so.”

This might be a force too powerful for us to deal with. Maybe we
should just wait for the police to arrive. They said that they would file for a
missing person report after 120 hours. Maybe they will find us and find this
place. It would be the best for all of these people. It will bring justice for
them.

“Questions?”

“Will we be getting
bathroom breaks at least?” Saul said. That was his attempt to see if Weinberg
was still a human being, but that was something that I never dared to find out.
He was not a human being. He lost every trait of being human long ago.

He walked up to Saul, and at this point, I was scared. I could
talk to myself all I wanted, but I would not hide the fear anymore.

He was so much taller than Saul and he looked down to him.
“Hello there.” Saul murmured. He picked Saul up by his shoulders and threw him
to the ground. It was, in some sense, funny. It was like a cartoon, this
powerful character throwing this helpless character away like trash. I guess
cartoons do prepare children for the real world.

He turned back and walked away. Saul was still on the ground,
but he was trying to get on his feet with the handcuffs still on him. That
image was really funny. I guess I do get some humor off of another’s pain. Not
something to be really ashamed of; he’s my friend after all.

Weinberg walked toward the man with the bag on his head. He
walked behind him and pushed him to the ground while taking the bag off his
head, revealing his face. It was Doug.

“Oh and, if anyone
ever tries to run away, let this poor little Chinaman be your example.” he said
grinning.

“I’m Korean.” Doug
murmured.

“Well, sorry about
that. Anyway. Doug tried to run away last night, and obviously he didn’t make
it. I wanted to celebrate his failure along with our victory of catching him
with some fireworks.”

Doug was crying. He was saying something, perhaps prayers.
Everything happened so fast that it might as well have been separate photos.

Doug was kicked on the ground by Weinberg.

Weinberg pulled out a gun.

Weinberg shot Doug.

That was it. The first person I ever saw die in front of me, not
of natural causes. The sight was horrible. I thought all those Tarantino and
Scorsese movies would prepare me for blood in real life, but they hadn’t.

The sound was worse. The gunshot sounded a lot sharper than it
had in the movies. It sounded like a firecracker. But the noise made by Doug
after he got shot was the worst. It wasn’t like Steve’s moaning when he was on
the ground after that fight, or the sound of Freddy hyperventilating after
getting stabbed – it was a lot more vivid. It was a death rattle. His long and
drawn out breath and his lips moving as if he were still saying something.

I didn’t know where the bullet had hit him. All I saw was Doug
lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood.

Two men then dragged his body away. Weinberg put his gun back
into the holster and walked away. We were then escorted to our “cells” all
together.

 

 

Prank
#1

Kicking off the Prankathon would be Saul and myself. Not the
most reliable duo, I know, but we were saving the best for last. Plus, the
first prank was always the easiest and possibly most harmless. This was a great
way to let down people’s guards. The plan was simple, and I think we started it
off with a boom, literally.

To make sure that he was completely ready, I dropped by Saul’s
house early on the morning that very Monday. I went in and greeted his mother,
who was this caring yet ruthless figure. She really took care of Saul, but she
could be a little too overprotective from time to time, and she scared the
living hell out of me sometimes.

I went into his room, and it was really bright. I guessed he’s
the unlikely guy who had to face the sun every morning. I found him lying on
his bed reading a book. Not a novel or anything entertaining, but a textbook.
If I remember right, it was a college textbook. He didn’t notice me, and I
didn’t say a thing. I just looked at him as if he were a rare animal. I finally
broke down and half yelled, “What on earth are you doing, man?”

He turned around surprised as if he had been doing something
bad, and I guessed he kind of was to my mind. “I was just reading. What are you
doing in my house?”

“I was checking if you’re ready to do this. Why are you
reading?”

“I want to read before I go to school. Why can’t you just check
with me at school?”

“I wanted to be sure and maybe go together. Why are you reading
a college textbook then?”

He didn’t answer. We just looked at each other. He closed the
textbook and put it in his bag, “All right, let’s go then.”

I stopped him and had to keep on asking. I guess I was feeling
really insecure. You know when all of your friends are studying for something
and getting better but you are just doing nothing and completely satisfied with
yourself. “Come on, why are you reading a college textbook?” I asked again
nicely. I treated him like a bunny, trying not to scare him away.

“I was just preparing for college.” he said, “I got in and I
want to do well.”

I felt relieved. I’d always felt guilty for not trying as hard
as my friends. I guess it was just because I knew my place and didn’t dare to
try something outside my level or comfort zone. I felt like giving him some
advice, but I thought that it was just me being a bad influence. I did it
anyway.

“You already got in, relax. As long as you got your foot in the
door, nobody cares about what you do inside.” He nodded. I felt a little sick
saying that, but it was not a good time to be sick.

We arrived at school early, but Mr. Worley was already there.
Half of his homeroom was also there, so this was a perfect opportunity. No
witnesses, but a great audience. I had to carry out the prank and Saul had to
be the lookout.

We walked in front of his door and it was open. He didn’t notice
us, so I proceeded. I took a Magic 8 Ball out of my bag and shook it for about
10 seconds. Saul was standing beside me, blocking the security camera and
whoever might come across.

When I felt the time was right, I rolled the Magic 8 Ball into
the classroom, and it touched Worley’s foot perfectly. He picked it up and
observed it. We ran as soon as we saw him pick it up. He looked out of the door
and we were far gone. I heard that he introduced the product to his homeroom as
if they were in kindergarten.

He then shook the Magic 8 Ball and saw his fortune, clear and blue
in the tiny space within the toy. “IT. IS. ON.” After he read the message, a
heave of glitter and blue goo exploded on his face. His homeroom was silent, he
was silent, and we heard the boom from far away, and we felt very satisfied.

We took a big risk with the first one. I knew it was Cliff’s
idea. He was a really good chemist, and I had no doubt that he could put
something like that together. But how did he know that I would be able to shake
it the right amount, how did he know that Worley was going to shake it after he
got the thing, how did he know that Worley wouldn’t give it to one of his
innocent homeroom students to have the pleasure of playing with a Magic 8 Ball
for the first time?

I think we were not taking all this into consideration anymore.
This was purely revenge, and Cliff and Angus were not thinking straight. They
had too much faith in themselves, and now there was almost no room for failure.
Needless to say, it was a dangerous game we were playing.

By the first period, Worley was positive that the Prankathon had
started earlier than he’d anticipated. This was when we should have quitted,
while we were ahead. We didn’t because we were so confident that we could pull
this off.

 

 

Prank
#2

On Monday night, we gathered at Cliff’s house for tomorrow’s
prank. It was still very simple and I was not really involved. I felt like we
were a sports team training for a tournament, but honestly, we were doing it
for a better cause.

To our surprise, two students walked into Cliff’s room while we
were planning. It was Steve and Johnny McKay. They were brought in by Cliff’s
mom. When they were standing in front of the door, they looked very innocent.
We didn’t talk, they didn’t talk. We stared at each other until someone said
something.

“Hello.” It was Johnny,
“Lovely house, Cliff.”

“What the hell do you
want?” I felt like he had been holding that line back ever since they showed up
at the door. He wanted to say it but he forgot what was going on until someone
talked to remind us that we were still in the real world. He also didn’t want
to be the person who started the fight.

“We want to offer
something.” Steve said.

“It is your opinion,
because I think we’ve had enough of that.” Cliff said, lighting a cigarette.

“Oh, you shouldn’t
smoke in the house.” Johnny said quietly. He wasn’t being sarcastic. It was
more like he had run out of things to say. They had an offer and that was the
only thing they’d prepared.

“Cut to the chase.”
Cliff said. I get why Cliff was not happy. We never got along with Steve,  and he had no business being nice to us at
all, but why was he being mean to Johnny? Maybe in Cliff’s eyes, they were all
the same – you were either one of us, or you were going against us.

“We heard what
happened,” Johnny said, “about Mr. Worley.” I really doubt that they actually
knew what had happened to Bobby, but it would be more like hearing what a sick
pedophilic psycho Worley was.

“If you don’t tell me
what you are doing here in my house, in my room, I will call the police.” Cliff
said, still smoking his cigarette. Angus also lit one shortly after.

“We want to offer
help for whatever you are doing.” Steve said.

“How did you know it
was us?” Angus asked.

“Johnny was a victim
last year.” Steve said. Johnny nodded.

“Yeah, and that leads
to the question of why you guys would want to help us, especially you, McKay.”
Cliff said, putting the cigarette out.

“We never really
liked Mr. Worley, the way he treated the team. We feel like since we are
leaving soon, we should get back at him.” Johnny said, almost murmuring. We
stared at them for a few seconds.

“All right.” Cliff
said, “You want to be a part of this?”

They both nodded repeatedly. Angus looked at Cliff and
whispered, “Are you serious about this?” Cliff waved his hand at him and gave
him an “I got this” face. Angus trusted him and backed away.

“Show up during the
closing ceremony on Friday. We meet backstage, and whatever we say  goes.”

“That’s it?” Steve
asked.

“What, you want a
goodie bag?” Cliff asked.

“No, thanks for
including us, I guess.” Steve said.

“Yeah, ‘including
you’,” Cliff said to himself. They were still standing at the door while we
went back to work. Cliff turned around and said, “Is there a problem?”

They looked at each other. It was almost comical how nervous
they were. “Uh… no.”

Cliff stared at him, knowing that he pretty much had them, and
said softly, “Get the hell out of my room then.” He lit another cigarette
before they turned around and left.

“Are we actually
doing this?” Angus asked after seeing them walk out.

“Well, the two things
I know are that an actual marching band would be expensive and we could
outsmart them any day of the week.” Cliff said. We went back to work.

Tuesday was the day for the second prank, which was to take
place during lunch. The prank was simple but it had a longer effect. We already
knew that Worley would buy burgers from the place across from school every
Tuesday, and this was the perfect opportunity. After asking at the burger
place, we had confirmed that he had ordered a burger to be delivered that
afternoon.

Now, we were not sure if he was too smart or too dumb, but an
opportunity was an opportunity, and throwing it away for mere suspicion was too
time-consuming. So, we went for it.

12:40 p.m.: Saul went into his office, where Mr. Worley ate.
Saul was the only one of us that he didn’t hate. When he arrived, Worley was
about to go pick up the burger he had ordered this morning. But Saul, being a
teacher’s pet and just an awkwardly charming student, got him to stay. He asked
him about the art of wood shopping. He then offered to pick up the burger for
him, and since Worley was so into taking advantage of students, he agreed.

On the way back, Saul added to the burger something that
Worley’s toilet would hate tomorrow morning. It was a success. How did we know?
Worley’s pale and lifeless face on Wednesday morning was just priceless.

That was it, prank #2, ironically. I wonder if that name was
just a happy accident.

 

 

Prank
#3

Prank #3 was a little bit sensitive. It was carried out during
one of his classes. Worley was introducing the high school courses for middle
school students through a PowerPoint presentation. We knew that this would be a
little bit extreme, but we had to do it.

We didn’t know any hackers and we didn’t bother to hire one. So,
we went the old-fashioned way. We stole his laptop and changed the background
to something more adult-themed. It was nothing too extreme; we didn’t want to
poison the minds of middle schoolers – that is the Internet’s job.

Anyway. We changed his setting to one of those wallpaper-changing
things. Through careful calculation by Saul, there was almost a 100% guarantee
that the pictures we picked would be exposed. The pictures were not just your
normal tasteless pictures. We decided to come up with a back story for Worley
and give him some really weird things that only psychos would like. How
fitting.

We were not there to witness the event and the panic attack that
Worley went through. But we did hear from the student witnesses, and the most
used word was magnificent. The fact that Worley panicked while seeing the
pictures just meant that there were bits of truth within those photos. He
really was a sick person.

 

 

Prank
#4

On Wednesday night, we gathered at Angus’ house again, waiting
for Cliff. Cliff was usually a very punctual person. He was never really late
anywhere, especially when it came to Angus’ house. No matter what the occasion
was, Cliff would be the first to arrive and usually spend the whole day there
if not another day. But something was wrong.

For 10 minutes we talked about what had happened today. We heard
all types of different stories, and we were trying to put them all together.
Apparently, one of the kids in that class almost passed out seeing one of the
pictures. It wasn’t that bad, that one kid was just a very family- and
religion-oriented girl. We didn’t really feel bad for her.

We were about to start without Cliff until he stormed into
Angus’ room. “It’s off!” he yelled. We stared at him without saying anything. I
was confused and so was Saul, but Angus was just angry.

“What do you mean
it’s off?” Angus asked, surprisingly calm.

“Worley is on to us.”
Cliff said, catching his breath.

“So? We don’t care if
he knows.”

“I’m not just talking
about us. He’s prepared.”

“What do you mean by
that?” I asked.

“He’s going to be
really cautious tomorrow. He’s only got one period in the morning, and after
that he’s just going to be in his office.”

“How do you know
that?” Angus asked.

“Trust me, I know.”

“How are you
certain?”

“He checked out the
keys from the janitor. He’s going to lock the woodshop class and his homeroom
after the first period. After that, we won’t be seeing him anymore.”

“We can still try. I
don’t want this to go to waste.” Angus said. Saul and I both agreed silently.

“We’re sacrificing
tomorrow for Friday. If he knows that we’re still doing this, he’ll probably
get bodyguards or something on Friday.”

“All right, so what’s
your plan?”

“James, you and I,
we’re going to call in sick tomorrow.” I nodded. In some really childish way, I
felt cool. Cutting class and skipping school were not something that bothered
me that much anymore. I could simply acknowledge the fact that I had to stay at
home for one day, because why not?

“How would that help
us?” Saul asked.

“You are such a good
foil character, Saul.” Cliff said, pinching his cheek, “He’ll think that the
whole thing is over. But I’m not sure if he’ll actually notice though.”

“Guess we’ll have to
ask an early favor from Steve.” Angus suggested.

“Good.” Cliff said.
In that moment, he became somewhat of a leader. “Make it sound severe but not
fatal. Something that might put us in bed on Friday but not for certain. A
fever would be nice.” Angus nodded to acknowledge. At that moment, I kind of
felt like an outsider again. Cliff and Angus could be so in sync sometimes that
it would make almost anyone jealous, even the ones who disliked them both.

“We’re still on for
Friday, right?” I asked nervously.

“Oh, Jimbo.” Cliff
said in a patronizing way. Nobody had called me that before; I didn’t even know
that you could get Jimbo from James. “All of these are for Friday.” I smiled in
relief, we simply couldn’t miss Friday.

“I just hope it’s
worth it.” Angus said with doubt.

“Trust me it is.
Quality over quantity and all that.” Cliff said, walking out of the room.

“Yeah, well, it used
to be. Quantity is over quality now! People just jump on bandwagons instead of
caring what is actually good!” Angus yelled. He was really in the zone while
Cliff had already left. But I was there, and to some degree, I agreed with him.
People with taste don’t matter anymore; it’s just what the majority is into.
After all, nobody wants to be left alone.

I didn’t bother to wake up on Thursday morning until my dad
offered me a ride to school. I always liked pulling up to school in my dad’s
car. Not a lot people would notice it, but it gave me some sort of weird and
foreign capability. A false sense of security maybe.

I told him how I was not feeling well and that I might not be
able to go to school that day. He called my mom into my room and put me through
an intense interrogation. Nothing about how I was feeling or why I couldn’t go
to school, but where and how I got the fever.

They never really questioned me when I wanted to call in for
being sick. Even though they believed that having a perfect attendance would be
something for them to brag about, they didn’t want to be the parents who killed
their son by exhaustion.

From what I heard, the part of the plan in school went on
without a hitch. Steve told Worley that we were not feeling well when he did the
attendance in woodshop. He didn’t even question Steve why he had brought us up
since we were not in his class. He just went for it –  that’s how much he trusted his players. Kind
of creepy, in my opinion.

I tried to be a hypocrite and study for college like Saul did
but gave up on that about 30 minutes in. Why would I want to study for the last
week of school? Plus, I’m literally leaving. For the rest of the day, I read
(novels, not textbooks), binge-watched some TV and played video games.

It was about 4:30 p.m. when the guys kicked in my door. I was
about to be really friendly and ask them how everything went, until Steve
showed up. I didn’t act surprised or repulsed, but I didn’t give them a warm
welcome either. I nodded my head and said hello, that was it.

“You still got those
drumsticks, James?” Cliff asked. I knew exactly what he was talking about. I
had bought an old pair of drumsticks from a garage sale when I was in middle
school. I was so convinced that some of my friends were going to start a band
and I wanted to be ready to join. I figured that drums were easy enough for me
and I could be the drummer. But they never did start the band; it was just
another farfetched promise from an ambitious kid.

“Yeah.” I said.

“Well, can we have
them? It’s for tomorrow.”

I didn’t even ask why. They told me the plan briefly, but I was
never certain what it actually was. I took the drumsticks from one of my
drawers and handed them to him. He gave them to Steve, and I felt a little left
out. Steve, really? “Just bring these tomorrow, all right?” Steve nodded and
left. It was the confused expression on his face that told me Steve probably
knew only as much or even less than I did.

We waited for Steve to leave the house and we started planning
for tomorrow. “Sorry about that.” Cliff said. I knew he was talking about
Steve.

“It’s all right, just
make sure he didn’t bring lice into my room.” I said. He laughed without any
energy at all.

We went through the plan again, and every little word and detail
came back to me. I was really into the planning and I was blown away. I knew
that we might get into trouble, and we might get others into trouble, but we
couldn’t care less. It was like we had set a building on fire, and we left
without even turning our heads, and everything blew up behind our backs.

 

 

Prank
#5

Friday was always a good day, but that Friday was exceptionally
good.

Worley was making a speech for the end of the school year.
Apparently the students (with most of them being on his team) voted for him to
make that speech.

We gathered in the gym the first thing after attendance had been
taken. We were supposed to walk to the gym as a homeroom, you know, find a
buddy and hold hands while forming two neat lines. And always one poor kid had
to walk with the teacher.

We sneaked out of the group and circled to the back of the gym.
There was an outdoor area in case kids had to puke. Three things happened in
the gym: exams, gym class, and assemblies. Two out of three were good reasons
to throw up. Our homeroom teacher did notice us sneaking away, but he was just
too lazy to stop everything to get us. After all, it was near the last week of
school. We had picked the time when literally everybody in the school was
vulnerable.

We got to the back of the gym, and there was already a smell of
puke. Apparently, a kid had thrown up earlier. And there they were, the
graduating sports team. They had had a good year but a terrible season. They
had lost almost every match, and Worley had more or less abused them for that.
He could be a schizophrenic sometimes.

The sight was something we had never seen before: about a dozen
really ripped young men dressed in traditional marching band outfits. Well, a
little less than traditional. All they had were the hats (you know, those tall,
black, furry hats), fancy shoulder pads, shiny boots, and tiny underwear too
small for comfort. Each of them was holding an instrument, which I could
guarantee that he didn’t know how to play since these were athletic people.
Steve was holding my old drumsticks and trembling like a scared little boy.

“You guys look
beautiful!” Cliff said. In some sick, twisted, and modern art way, they did
look pretty good. He looked at the almost-dried puke on the floor and then at
Steve. “Did you throw up, Steve?”

Steve nodded his big, clumsy head and murmured, “Yep.” It was
like he was still not done puking yet.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I’m nervous.”

“Oh, you don’t have
to be.”

“But what if I play
badly out there?”

“You’re not supposed
to be good, dummy!” Cliff yelled, punching his shoulder. I didn’t know what
happened, but it seemed like we could pretty much do anything to these people.

“When is it
starting?” I whispered to Angus.

He looked at his watch and said, “Any minute now.”

Cliff heard it. He yelled at the arsenal of not-so-bright
athletes, “All right, boys! Thanks for doing this. You know the drill. Johnny,
that button on the speaker might be jammed. If it is, don’t worry; just press
it a couple more times. You’re doing this for a reason, ladies. Let’s go!”

They all went in the gym, and Cliff patted each and every one of
them on the back. The door was connected directly to the back of the gym. It
was facing the audience and so was the podium that Worley was speaking on. The
podium was facing the audience so that Worley had no idea what was happening.

Angus kicked open the door and quickly got out of the way.
Everybody besides Worley noticed it, and suddenly, an army of underdressed teen
athletes marched in. They were playing their instruments terribly. It was like
a dozen drunk guys had been locked in a recording studio and needed to play
every instrument in there.

Worley saw them come in and stepped down from the podium. Then
came the part that made me nervous. Worley tried to walk away. Who wouldn’t
when a bunch of teens playing terrible instruments were walking in your
direction? Angus ran in and sat Worley down in a chair. The band surrounded
Worley. He was confused and scared.

Cliff then sneaked into the gym with Saul and me following.
Cliff then yelled “Do your thing, Johnny!” over the loud music. The team
stopped and the sweet Johnny McKay pressed Play on the huge boom box.

The instruction given by us was “No matter what the music is,
just dance like you’ve never danced before”. It was a really hard task
considering the song on the boom box was “Subterranean Homesick Blues” by Bob
Dylan, one of the most country songs of all time.

It was hilarious but at the same time creepy. A bunch of modern
teenagers giving somewhat of a lap dance to a middle-aged man to folk music
from the ’60s. Nothing added up. We could see that most of them could dance,
and they did a pretty good job.

It took way too long for security to come. Legend was that even
some of the teachers hated Worley and purposely called security later than they
should. The guards broke apart the circle of sweaty dancers and took Worley
away. The band was then sent away. Angus regrouped with us beside the podium,
and without feeling any shame or regret, we took a bow.