Dissension (8 page)

The floor ached as Mrs. Clark made her way towards the kitchen.  Anthony looked around in panic, trying to find an escape.  There was a door in the back of the kitchen that led outside but it was boarded up.

He looked down and saw the flap of the doggie door.  He motioned towards it, but then looked at Steve and decided he needed a new plan.

The creaking grew closer and closer.  A suffocating feeling hung in the air.  Anthony couldn’t think, he was stuck in place.

“Pssst,” Mikey whispered as he slid into the broom closet.

Relieved, Anthony quickly tip toed across the kitchen.  He squeezed into the closet beside Mikey and held his breath.  It was a tight fit. Steve was smashed up against the wall and Anthony was trying to keep the broom from going up his nose.

Mit rubbed his face trying to ignore the cloud of dust falling from the shelves.  Then without warning he sneezed, so loudly that he startled himself.  Mikey tried to throw a hand over his mouth, but he was too late.  All they could do now was hope she hadn’t heard them.

Anthony listened as her hobbled steps got closer.  He could hear the tiny patter of cat paws against the tile floor of the kitchen.  Bottles clanked around as the refrigerator opened.

Suddenly Mit sneezed again.  The refrigerator door slammed and everything went silent.  Anthony squeezed further into the closet.

A minute passed, then two, then three without a sound.  Anthony wasn’t even certain if his heart was still beating.  Then he heard someone talking.

“Did you hear that?” he whispered.

“Hear what?”

“I don’t know, she mumbled something.”

Mikey cracked the door and peeked out.  He looked around and then closed the door back.

“Dude, there’s nobody out there, you’re hearing things.  Let’s go!”

Mikey looked out of the door again.  He didn’t see anyone so he stepped out with the others on his heels.  Mrs. Clark and Mr. Crusty were nowhere in sight.  The only sign of them at all was the small bowl of milk that sat abandoned on the floor.

Anthony hesitantly followed after Mikey as he nervously scanned from side to side.  Stepping into the hallway he glanced back towards the window.  A glimpse of a gray-haired tiny head bobbed past it.

“She’s going around the back,” Anthony whispered with desperate urgency.

Without another word they took off in a sprint.  Like a stampede they collided with the door, almost taking it off the hinges as they burst onto the porch.  They dove into the grass in a heap of sprawling limbs.  Falling over one another they jumped to their feet and hurled across the yard.

As Mikey and Anthony leapt the fence Steve crashed through the broken panels and collapsed on the other side.  Mit followed behind him, jumping over Steve and running for his bike.

“Follow me!” he yelled as he pedaled away without looking back.

They rode like Olympic cyclist, tearing down the street at break neck speeds. Anthony had no clue where Mit was leading them, but anywhere was better than the Clark’s residence.

Slowly the sprawling beach houses began to disappear.  The view was now obstructed by large boulders and mounds of sand that protected the small coastal community from the battery of the Pacific’s heavy waves.  The sea breeze blew across Anthony’s face as he pedaled further and further away from civilization.

Mit darted off like a jet and whipped around the street leaving a dust trail in his wake.  Steve suddenly had a surge of power and sped off to catch him.

As Anthony rounded the corner he came to a clearing where Mit and Steve had left their bikes.  Dropping his bike he looked around at the deserted bit of beach they had stumbled upon.  It was a part of the town Anthony had never been to before.

Ahead of him Steve and Mit were clearing the berm headed down to the shoreline.  He looked back at Mikey who was staring down the vacant road with his mouth open.

“You alright man?”

“Bro, that lady’s nuts,” Mikey mumbled.

“Come on let’s catch up with Mit.”

Mikey took a deep breath and then joined Anthony on his way down to the beach.  Mit and Steve found a log and were using it as a bench as they stared out at the ocean.

“How’d you find this place?” Anthony asked as he took a seat next to Steve.

“I come here sometimes.  You know, when things get crazy at the house,” Mit said, his eyes still fixed on something in the distance.

Anthony sighed.  Mit didn’t have to explain any further, he knew exactly what he was talking about.

“What’s that smell?”  Mikey blurted out as he pinched his nose.

“Oh, yeah that thing,” Mit nodded to his right.  “Dead whale washed up a few days ago.”

“Dude that thing is rank!” Mikey blurted while pulling his shirt over his face.

Anthony stared at it, trying to take his mind off of the Mrs. Clark drama.  It really was a pretty gross sight. The whale had to be at least fifty feet long and had partially exploded.  A tentacle and what looked like a sharks fin stuck out of the gapping whole in its stomach.

However distracting it was, it didn’t make him feel much better about almost getting killed by Mrs. Clark. 

“So she really did kill him huh?” Anthony asked.

“I told you she was crazy,” Steve snorted.  “Crazy Clark, killing people in the kitchen.”

  They all laughed.  Mrs. Clark chased them from her house countless times and was known for screaming at her husband daily.  The idea of her bludgeoning him to death though, felt a little farfetched.

As the wind picked up, blasts of sand whipped them across the face.  It was cloudy all day, but now it seemed like a storm was on the horizon.  Anthony felt an eerie sensation tingle up his spine and he stood up.

“Looks pretty bad out there.  We probably should head in.”

As soon as he got the words out of his mouth the wind died down and the sun broke through the clouds.

“Dude what are you talking about?”  Mikey asked as he looked up at the picturesque sky.

“Nevermind.”

Anthony sat back on the log and started to throw shells into the water.  He laughed to himself and shook his head.

“This is it huh?  Tomorrow we become men,” Anthony declared.

“I’ve been a man.  Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve shot him a look.

“Yeah bro, I’m with Steve on this one,” Mikey laughed.

They spent the rest of the day sitting on the beach, recanting stories of the summer and joking about how the old bat had gone crazy.  Although it made for a fun story, none of them was really sure what had occurred.  If anything, they were only half convinced and expected that Mr. Clark would pop back up within a week.

Anthony returned home a little after six and found his mom and dad sitting down to dinner.

“Thought we got rid of you for good,” his dad laughed.  Mrs. Dimair smiled and slapped him on the arm.

At the sight of food Anthony suddenly realized he hadn’t eaten all day, unless you counted a smashed Twinkie he got from Steve.  Famished, he darted towards the table with outstretched arms.  He stuffed his mouth full of bread rolls before his mom could object.

“No sir, you wash your hands,” she scorned.

Anthony grinned and mumbled something in what had to be a foreign language and then shot off to the rest room.

“Your Uncle Frank sent you a card,” she yelled to him.

Anthony’s uncle was just as bad at remembering dates as he’d been at keeping wives.  After his fifth divorce he resigned himself to living in the mountains of Colorado, as far off the grid as possible.  No phone, no TV, and he only sent and received mail twice a year.  He used that fact as an excuse for forgetting Anthony’s birthday.

At least this time he was only three months early.  One year Anthony received a card wishing him a happy 6
th
birthday six months after he’d turned eleven.  His uncle was special like that.

Three plates of spaghetti later, Anthony found himself lying in bed on his back staring up at the ceiling.  He rolled over and grabbed the birthday card from his dresser.  When he opened it up, some strange tune he never heard before started playing.

“
My creation, is it real?  It’s my creation, my creation, it’s my creation.  Weird Science
,” the song looped over and over.

How his uncle managed to find a card like that in the boonies was anyone’s guess, but then again that’s probably the only place they had cards like that.

Anthony smiled and read the little inscription telling him to have a weird birthday.  His uncle was most certainly awkward.  Down at the bottom he’d scribbled a message.

“
We need to talk…you’ll know when
” it read.  His address was sloppily written in the center.  Anthony stared at it for some time.  What a strange message to put on a birthday card he thought.  Sighing, he tossed the card back onto the dresser where it slid off and fell in between the wall.

Anthony kicked his feet back and stretched out on his bed.  Tomorrow was the big day, the vacation was over. His summer ended, rather violently he thought. Mrs. Clark was a scary old lady, but a murderer, that was something else.  The idea of her creeping around in that old house did make him shiver though.

Anthony felt exhausted.  His comfy mattress seemed to swallow him as he yawned and stretched his arms.  Suddenly the idea of soccer popped into his head and so did a vision of a slender brunette.  Now that was something to think about, Nickie Sutherland.  Grinning Anthony rolled over and let the darkness of night consume him.

THE FRESHMEN FOUR

“Have a good day,” Anthony’s mom waved as they piled out of the car.  “Don’t forget to bring home your permission slip for soccer.”

Sometimes his mother could show that she was in touch with the teenage plight.  After a little convincing, she’d agreed to take them all to school and drop them off a block away.  Few things were more embarrassing than hopping out of your mom’s car on the first day of high school.  Anthony felt an eerie sense of déjà vu as he watched her drive off.  He stared as the little, blue Volkswagen rounded the corner and disappeared.  His heart beat a little faster and he smiled at the thought of being a full-fledged high school student.

Together they marched around the corner and stopped out front of the school.  Anthony took a deep breath and stared up at the place he’d call home for the next four years.  It stirred in him a sense of mixed emotions.  Something about its palace-like appearance intertwined with its true nature of confinement made school a paradoxical anomaly.

The building sat a few hundred yards from a cliff overlooking the Pacific.  It was a 175 foot drop to the jagged rocks below.  The front grounds were sprawling lawns and pristine brick walkways, that someone spent a great deal of money to keep up.

While it was a picturesque example of human architecture, it also gave off a haunting impression.  The cavernous hallways looked like giant mouths waiting to swallow kids up.  The windows looked like eyes, always sneering at the incoming class.  While the sun seemed to beam overhead, it was always shady near the doors.

Some of the upperclassmen were out front tossing around a football while other kids chased the smaller students.  Anthony almost tripped as Tommy McMullen darted past them.  He leapt through the air and caught the ball with one hand.

“Hey guys! “ Tommy gasped before running back off.

He was a freshman as well, but his outstanding football skills earned him a spot on the varsity team.  This meant he was accepted into the upper echelon at the school.

With a shrug, Anthony stepped through the arched doors into the gaping hallway of North Shore High School.  Mikey trotted behind him, trying to high-five random kids as they passed by.

“Dude, this year is gonna freaking rock!”  Mikey exclaimed.

Anthony gave him a half enthusiastic nod as he headed to the auditorium for new student orientation.  The enormous dome was dimly lit like a performing arts theatre.  Everything was dark except a spotlight that beamed down at the shiny, hardwood stage.  Red and black banners lined the walls, each reading different years and accomplishments that the school had achieved.

Anthony stared at one that read “2006 California State Swim Championships.”  This one stood out beyond the rest, mainly because of the stigma that came with it.  The girl who took 1
st
place in the one hundred meter freestyle and catapulted the school into stardom, went missing on her bike ride home after the swim meet. Carol Belanovak, fifteen years old and never to be heard from again.  Anthony was only eight at the time, but remembered her face and the grief of her parents when they couldn’t locate her.

Steve shuffled into the back row, licking icing off of his fingers.  Totally oblivious to any North Shore history, he was much more concerned with matters of the present.  He’d already worked his magic on a number of 9
th
grade girls and started chatting up the 10
th
graders as they sat down.

Principal Harris stood at the podium, better known as the helm in one of his old Navy uniforms.  What was once a glowing, white symbol of honor had now grown yellow with time and bore the evidence of a sustained moth attack.  His hands, clad in white gloves were crossed behind his back and he looked out into the crowd of noisy teens with a face full of anticipation.

Principal Harris had retired from a distinguished career in the Navy.  He took with him a very no nonsense approach to his running of the school.  After several years of a failed policy that all staff salute him in the hallways, he’d resigned himself to berating students and referring to places as parts of a ship.

On cue, the jubilant tune of “Reveille” blared through the PA system.  Principal Harris tapped his dusty shoes and nodded his head to the beat of the trumpets.  A greedy smile of joy stretched across his face.  He hummed along almost in a trance, oblivious to anyone else in the room.  The audience of students erupted in a sea of giggles and puzzled expressions. 

As the music died down Principal Harris cleared his throat.  He tapped his pen on the podium then dove into the most confusing twenty minute monologue Anthony had ever witnessed.  Talk of pods, ports and starboard passages left the majority of students utterly bewildered.  What was supposed to be a welcoming speech for the freshmen, turned out to be a naval vocabulary lesson.  He spoke in riddles that made little to no sense and didn’t seem to notice when half of the faculty simply walked out.

“We expect of you what you expect of us and that’s expecting a lot,” the principal stammered on.  “To be present is a present and I present you the presentation of presentment,” he suddenly paused; he’d managed to confuse himself with his last riddle.  “Such sour grapes should be turned to wine and on that note I bid you farewell.”

With a wave of his hand the principal released the students, flooding the hallways with random chatter and jokes about his uniform.  The empty corridors burst to life in a wave of confusion as Anthony tried to locate his friends.  Steve slowly emerged from the crowd accompanied by a small contingent of girls.

“Anthony I want you to meet Suzy, Michelle, Lisa and Rachel, or was it Staci, Miranda, Lauren and Rebecca.”  Steve looked momentarily puzzled, but then simply smiled at them and winked.  “Rachel here, yeah Rachel, she’s a swimmer and captain of the girls softball team.”

“I’m going to class,” Anthony rolled his eyes then turned and walked the other way.

“Nickie doesn’t need to know,” Steve screamed after him.  “You can’t wait on her forever.”

Anthony stopped and contemplated punching Steve in the face, but ultimately thought better of it.  He immediately regretted coming clean to Steve over the summer about his crush on Nickie.  Now he was certain Steve would bring it up every chance he got.

“Yeah you go to class, save me a seat though,” Steve yelled.

Fuming, Anthony headed off to homeroom.  He nervously crept through the halls constantly checking over his shoulder.  The return of school brought with it a very real threat that he had managed to avoid so far.

Anthony’s summer of fun washed away the thought of the two biggest bullies in all of California.  The twin city totem poles as they were affectionately called, Dallas and Boston Bertzweiger were more than your average playground bully.  With a combined age of 36 and the physical build of NFL linebackers, the twins were a force to reckon with.

The first day of school was no time to tangle with the angry duo.  Anthony shuffled slowly down the hall, always checking behind him, always on the lookout. When he finally made it to the door he raced inside and found a desk at the back of the room.

He had the same homeroom as Steve, but Mikey and Mit were sent halfway across the school.  This was the first time in five years that the quadruplets had been split up and it left them with an uneasy feeling.

Anthony was starting to nod off when Steve finally made it to class.  He walked in and almost ran into another student, as he eyed the tall, fair skinned lady who stood in front of the class.  Ms. Sniz, their homeroom teacher scribbled on the blackboard as the rest of the class poured in. She stood about six feet tall with flowing red hair and had a very annoying habit of smacking gum.  Rumor was she’d been married to Principal Harris for three months before they split in a nasty divorce. This was the supposed catalyst for his declining state of mind. 

“We’re going on a triple date,” Steve smiled as he slid into the desk next to Anthony.  “And you’re
not
invited.”

Anthony cut his eyes and turned around.

“Welcome my young men and women,” Ms. Sniz’s high pitched voice sprung to life, bearing no trace of her southern upbringing.

From the look on Steve’s face Anthony could tell this was sure to be his favorite class.  Steve whipped his head around and sat up tall in his chair.  His eyes seemed to gloss over as a look of joy washed across his face.

“You’re quite smitten with her, eh?”  Anthony chuckled.

Steve smirked and continued to stare straight ahead.

“Unfortunately, due to some staffing changes by your principal, I will no longer be your homeroom teacher after today.” 

“No!” Steve blurted out uncontrollably.

Everyone turned around laughing as Steve slumped down into his seat.

“Well thank you for your passion young man, but it’s already been decided that I move to guidance.”  Ms. Sniz said sarcastically, only fueling the rumors that she was still having a spat with the principal. 

Steve sat up a bit looking distraught.  He cleared his throat and with a sense of desperation spoke.

“Do you teach any other classes?”

Ms. Sniz smiled at him.  “I’m flattered by your dedication to learning Mr. err.”

“Hanson, Stephen Hanson the third,” Steve interjected. 

Anthony laughed to himself. Steve was really hooked.  He hadn’t used his entire name since kindergarten. 

“Mr. Hanson, your concern is very admirable, but unfortunately at this time guidance shall be my only charge.”

Steve’s head collapsed to the desk with a bang.  Anthony looked at him pitifully and shook his head.  The first day of school and Steve already had his first crush.  Anthony turned back to the front at the sound of Ms. Sniz’s voice.

“That idiot thinks he can just shut me up in an office.”

He was staring right at her, but was sure her mouth hadn’t moved when she spoke.  She smiled at him and he quickly glanced away.  He looked at the rest of the class as they carried on like they hadn’t heard a thing.

Ms. Sniz continued to take role call and inform the class on how the first week would go.  And then to Steve’s dismay she dismissed them.  Steve stared long and hard at her trying to burn her image into his brain, and then with a heavy sigh he left the classroom and joined the others outside.

“Steve’s got a girlfriend,” Anthony heckled him.

“You’re one to talk.” Steve scowled at him. 

“Who’s he crushing on now?” Mikey smiled.

“It’s Ms. Sniz, our homeroom teacher.  He almost cried because she’s leaving.”

Mit and Mikey burst into laughter as Steve shoved Anthony into a locker. 

“Now, now young men, off to class you go,” one of the teachers demanded as she ushered them down the hall.

Anthony rubbed his shoulder as they compared schedules.  Music Appreciation was the next class for all of them.  Anthony smiled because he was sure he’d finally be able to catch up on some sleep.  If there was one thing he had no interest in learning it was music appreciation.

As they walked to class the hall suddenly erupted in a flood of voices.  Anthony stopped and spun his head around in confusion.

“Dude what’s wrong with you?”  Mikey paused and looked back.

Anthony knelt down and threw both hands over his ears.  “You don’t hear that?”

“Hear what?”  Steve raised his eyebrows.

All at once everything went quiet and Anthony nonchalantly stood back up.

“N…nothing.  Nevermind.”  He said, biting his lip.

“It’s just the first day dude, too early to start losing it.”  Mikey grinned and then turned into the classroom.  

“Take a seat and hush your mouths,” Mrs. Thunderspat, the music teacher instructed.

She pranced around the room in a sort of waltz movement, directing students to the open seats.  Anthony and his friends quickly grabbed some chairs in the back and slid in before she could make her rounds. 

Steve was still sulking as he hunkered down into his seat.  He suddenly perked up when he noticed Maxey sitting a few rows ahead.  Maxey was the former head cheerleader at their middle school and the one girl that seemed immune to Steve’s charming ways.

Steve inched his seat forward and cleared his throat. 

“Shhh,” Mrs. Thunderspat quickly snapped her fingers at him.

“Maxey.”  Steve whispered, with a sinister grin smeared across his face.

Maxey turned around and raised an eyebrow.

“Hey!”  Steve smiled from ear to ear and waved excitedly.

Maxey gave a half-hearted hand twitch and then rolled her eyes.  She whispered something to the boy sitting next to her and they both giggled.

“Loser.”  The boy mouthed at Steve.

“I think I’m starting to wear on her Sticks.” Steve smiled back at him.

“Yeah you are.”  He mumbled.

Sticks was a six foot four star basketball player that weighed less than most super models.  He and Maxey were best friends and considered brother and sister by everyone that knew them.

“Good luck.”  Sticks nodded.