Black soul rose by John Jones... - HTML preview

Jordan

History teachers were traditionally boring, bland people who did not exist outside the classroom, but maths teachers were even worse, and such was the case here. Fred Richmond was mid-thirties, but could have passed for late fifties. Razors were of not much use to him. He was fairly small, and was never seen without wearing a cheap brown suit. He sported a moustache that ticked upwards at both ends, and was a maths ‘geek’. Did it in his spare time, and spent a lot of his vocabulary talking about it. Would probably be one of those people that would do the job for free.

The children were unruly and boisterous, knowing that they could get away with it because he was one of those teachers that could not control them, but simply wait it out. After a few moments, the final pencil hit the side of spotty Jane’s ear and she scowled at the laughing child, and the laughing child stopped, 63

the class could begin. Jordan had his arms folded and was looking up at the ceiling.

“Alright kiddos. Today we’re going to be working on fractions. Who here can tell me what four quarters adds up to?” Jordan looked at him, and couldn’t help himself.

“Come on sir,” he said, “you can do better than that. How about answering how there are different kinds of infinity? Or how different types of symmetry relate to each other. Perhaps we could calculate some fractal dimensions”.

“Aren’t you a clever clogs,” said Boomer, the self-styled king of the school.

Aka, the school bully.

He was also the class loud-mouth, the dominant kid who got his own way most of the time, and got angry when he didn’t. The other children where supplicant to him, trod on eggshells, as he was the type to switch moods on a penny piece.

Even the teachers were weary of him. He was also a big child for his age. Not necessarily fat, but certainly not thin. Two kids have only ever called him fatty.

Those two kids never called him that again.

The teacher simply stared at Jordan, not knowing what to say.

“Yes, there are different types of infinities with alternative properties,” said Fred.

“Metaphysical,” Jordan replied. The door then opened and a small woman looked in at Fred.

“Phone-call,” she said.

“Okay class, I won’t be long”. He left the room. Boomer immediately got to his feet.

“Aren’t you a smartass,” he said to Jordan. “Ooh…metaphysical”. As he was saying that, he grabbed the child in front around the neck and squeezed, locked it in tight and the boy squeezed his eyes closed and scrabbled at the arm choking him.

“Tap-out tap-out tap-out,” Boomer shouted, and the boy tapped Boomers forearm and he let go. He surveyed the classroom looking for further entertainment while the teacher was away.

Jordan looked confused at the nearest child to him. Bony Jenny as she was called. It didn’t bother her though. Water off a duck’s back.

“What’s his deal?” he asked her.

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“Boomer,” she said. “Don’t you remember? Nobody messes with him,” she was just out of ear-shot.

“His dad owns one of those gyms where you can do fighting”.

Boomer was jabbing at the upper arm of another boy, the class nerd, who wore thick glasses and loved maths. He was usually a target for Boomer, but he was too easy. Bullying him brought Boomer not too much satisfaction.

“Ah, yes,” said Jordan, “Daddy issues”.

Boomer was in earshot. He turned and glared at Jordan.

“What did you say?” he said, storming across and looming over Jordan.

“What did you say about me Dad?”

“Nothing,”

“My Dad could fucking kill you with one punch,” he said. “So could I. Stand up, stand up. I don’t care if you do karate. I do mixed-martial-arts and your karate is useless against it. Stand up”. Jordan slowly got to his feet, only to receive a punch in the stomach which sent him collapsing against his chair and falling to the ground.

“Ha, see. Every fight I’ve ever had I’ve won Jordan. I’m undefeated. See how useless your karate is against me. Now don’t you mention me dad again”.

Boomer went back to his seat and watched as Jordan, clutching his aching stomach, clambered back into his seat at his desk.

He glared across to Boomer and said:

“I’ll let you off with that, but don’t ever do it again”.

Boomer did not detect the underlying threat, and instead leapt to his feet and stormed across.

“Get up,” he said, both hands grabbing Jordans school jumper by the shoulders, but Jordan stood anyway and said:

“Let me guess. Daddy does martial arts in his gym with all his meat-head mates, and they all think they’re big fucking hard-knocks. Lets you in there to mess around while they’re training and sparring, and Boomer tries to join in. Watches the big adults in admiration. Wants to be just the same. Wants to be just like Daddy because he can’t think for himself. Watches in awe as they do martial arts. You punch the bags and lift the weights. But poor Boomer gets ignored because his meat-head daddy doesn’t care about him while he’s with his mates, 65

showing off. Little Boomer wants to be just like them, and you know what. He fucking is”.

“I told you not to talk about me Dad!” Boomer screamed, red-faced, and he shot into Jordan for a takedown, like a rugby tackle, and they both crashed into the desk behind.

Theresa, aka ‘Marmite’, you either liked her or you didn’t, shot to her feet and screamed with anger but did nothing and backed away as Boomer punched Jordan several times in the face as he straddled his chest. Jordan was powerless to do much other than try and protect himself, but to not much avail.

“Ground and pound Jordan. Ground and fucking pound,” he said, continuing to assault him with his fists.

After about a minute, which felt like five, Boomer seemed to tire and stood up.

“See how useless your karate is Jordan. Undefeated. Now don’t talk about me Dad ever again or I’ll fucking kill ya,” he then went and sat down, breathing with exhaustion. The teacher came back in and immediately saw Jordan on the floor, slowly getting up.

“Jordan what are you doing on the floor?” but he didn’t answer. Instead Boomer did:

“Someone had to sort him out sir, he was too clever,” and he laughed, and several others laughed along with him.

“Really Boomer, you can’t be doing things like that. Come on Jordan, back in your seat”. He slid back to his desk, bruised, injured, and said no more.

Fred was one of those teachers that did nothing to unruly children. Didn’t chastise or tell-off, because deep down, he too was scared of Boomer, or some children that misbehaved. Some pupils simply walked all over their teachers.

“Where were we? Ah yes, fractions”.

Jordan didn’t receive anymore taunting from Boomer that day. However, he was fussed over by his ‘mother’. He had a black-eye and a superficial cut on his right cheek which had swollen red.

His parents knew it was bullying. Kids got into fights. It was all part of growing up and finding your place in the hierarchy of life. It happened, and that was that, but Jordan’s ‘father’ was still toying with the idea of trying to sue the supervisor over the trauma faced by not just Jordan, but by those who got lost on the field-66

trip, and it was buoyed by this bullying. Maybe they would try and get Boomer expelled.

Jordan told all about it. No secrets. Grassing up Boomer to his parents was easy, because he knew that tomorrow.

Boomer was dead.

Although there was slight apprehension inside him. A little flame of fear in his stomach, that he knew must be there by the targets of other bullies when they were in the vicinity of their perpetrator. Now he knew how they felt. Although his wasn’t as profound, because he was after all, an old man in possession of a child’s body.

However, he knew he was now one of Boomers targets, who would skit, cajole and attack him, like he did to other children, those weaker than him. Those who could boost his ego, whom he could vent his violent tendencies upon.

If he was going to spend a few years growing up with Boomer in the same school, he didn’t want to have to be his target. His punch-bag.

No chance.

As he did every school morning, he got ready to leave with Alistair, and in the hallway, shrugging on his back-pack, he went back upstairs and went into Alistair’s room and across to the little glass tank where ‘Tommy’ sat in the corner, doing nothing.

“Okay Tommy,” he said quietly, “how do you fancy being a martyr? It will free you from this glass cage”. Jordan reached in and slowly picked up the tarantula, who again, didn’t do much. He eased him into his side coat pocket and covered it over with the flap, locking it in with the button.

In the school playground, he met with Chantelle, and told of his plan.

“But that will bring more heat,” she said, concerned.

“It will look self-inflicted,” he said. “I’m not going to outright murder him…well I am, but it will look like an accident. This fucker will make my life a misery from now on if I don’t. I’m not putting it to the others for their 67

approval. I’m doing it now, today, so be prepared to go home as soon as he’s discovered. School will be closed today. There may be some heat on me, but I can handle it. There won’t be any on you or the others”.

“Jordan,” she said, “are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Yes,” he said with conviction, because he did.

He knew he had to time what he had planned to perfection. Couldn’t kill him in front of the whole school. Nor could he be seen by anyone at all. So he would have to do it while everyone was busy, their attention elsewhere.

He had a short amount time to recce where he would take Boomer, and that was the corner of the building where stairs led to the first floor. It was fairly secluded, and there was another set of stairs in the middle of the building that was used more.

Basically, it was now or never, and as the children made their way to assembly, he had a good idea of where some pupils sat, and Boomer sat near the aisle.

He looked around for his foe, and there he was, minding his own business, heading towards his seat.

A surge of adrenaline flowed through Jordan, even though he had killed before.

He hurried across to Boomer before he could sit down while the assembly hall was a hive of activity. Attentions elsewhere.

“Hey Boomer,” Jordan said, just loud enough for the boy to hear as he placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you still Daddy’s little boy?”

Boomer turned and glared at Jordan.

“I fuckin told you not to talk about me da,” but Jordan backed away, grinning.

“Aww, Daddy give you no attention,” Boomer dropped his back-pack, his face reddening, and he stormed towards Jordan, who turned and hurried away, through other children, as did Boomer, shouting after Jordan.

“Jordan I’ll fucking kill ya. Don’t mention me da”. The other pupils did not give them too much attention. It was after all, Boomer getting angry at someone, and not a day went by when he didn’t bully somebody. Just Boomer being Boomer.

Jordan went out into the long main corridor, dodging the other kids, even Sam, who looked at him with curiosity.

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“Look, it’s Daddy’s boy,” Jordan said, rather too loudly for his own liking as Boomer emerged from winding through the other children. Jordan turned and ran the fifty metres to the corner of the building, Boomer, red-faced like a charging bull.

“Jordan ya little fuckin’ bast...”

Boomer’s enemy opened the door to the stairwell and ran up a flight, then stopped and turned. There was no-one around. All activity was focused on the assembly. He took from his pocket the tarantula, and held it up on his right hand.

Boomer burst through the door and saw Jordan, running up the stairs with his fists clenched, only to stop, confused as to why Jordan had suddenly given up, but mostly because of the large spider he was holding. Tommy looked like he was watching Boomer.

“Whoa what’s that?” Boomer said, even though he knew exactly what it was.

“I know you want to fight me Boomer, but I thought I would introduce you to Tommy the tarantula. He’s going to fight you instead”. Jordan took a step forward. Boomer couldn’t take his wide eyes off the spider.

He wasn’t as scared as Jordan had hoped, but was apprehensive. He took another step forward holding Tommy forth, and Boomer backed to the wall.

“Get that away from me,” he shouted, and Jordan took his que, his very narrow opportunity to strike. With the bully’s eyes on the creature, and his mouth open, Jordan, with his spiderless hand, grabbed Boomer by the throat and pushed him back against the wall, and stuffed the tarantula into his mouth.

The body and legs of Tommy were crushed inside, and Jordan used two fingers to press it further into his throat.

Boomer panicked and scrabbled to get the creature and fingers out of his mouth, but Jordan was too strong and it was futile. His eyes were wide with fear, and the red face of his anger had subsided and was becoming whitish blue.

It took longer than he had remembered, having done this several times in the past. Maybe Boomer had a lot of oxygen to use, but he fell to his knees. Jordan managed another centimetre of crushing the spider into his throat, and Boomer stopped flailing. His eyes glazed over, and Jordan slowly removed his fingers.

He collapsed to the side, dead, three spider legs protruding from his mouth.

Jordan quickly moved away from the scene, and hurried back to assembly.

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He took his seat, and it was ten seconds before he heard an ear-piercing scream, and it was five seconds after that that the school alarm sounded.

No school that day.

Although Chantelle had voiced her concerns to the others, an impromptu

‘meeting’ was formed in the school sports field near a corner flag with Boyd, Dorothy, Chantelle and Sam. Well, sports field is a little ambitious. It was a rugby pitch which most kids used to play football on. There was a gap in the fence and bushes which children used to come and go.

“Could you please enlighten us as to why you’ve just murdered a schoolboy?”

said Sam.

“As I told Chantelle, who should have mentioned why,”

“I did,” she said.

“Yes, we need to hear it from you why you’re bringing a whole shit tonne of heat onto this school”. Jordan sighed.

“Because…Boomer would have made my life here a misery, and I’ve made it look like it was his own fault. It does not look like murder. There’s nothing to tie any of you lot to him. Maybe you might have to answer a few enquiries from the police but that will be all. It’ll be on me. Why? Because I stuffed my brother’s pet tarantula in his throat and choked him”.

“You choked him on a spider,” said Dorothy, “how’s that not murder?”

“Because nobody seen me do it, and Boomer was the school fucking bully, the class idiot. The thick one that throws his weight around. I didn’t know him that well, but I saw enough of him to know that it would be something he would do.

Hey Boomer, bet you wouldn’t eat this spider. I dare you, or haven’t you got the guts? He would have eaten it simply not to look weak. I can promise you it does not look like a murder scene. The stupid little fucker was dared to eat a spider.

He ate and choked on it. It looks like an accident, I can assure you”.

“You’re sure it doesn’t look like a murder scene?” asked Boyd.

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“Yes, absolutely…but, it’s going to come down on me more than anyone because I’m going to grass up my brother Alistair, simply to get it done with quicker, because the police will make the connection. Alistair’s tarantula goes missing, then it ends up being eaten by the school fuckwit. Not that I care what happens to Alistair, but it’s all on him really. Alistair dared him, and the silly fucker choked. Or whatever. Maybe I dared him, because if it all comes down to an accident, then that will be put down to that”.

“But a murder will take fucking ages,” said Sam.

“Yes, it would. Good job it wasn’t murder then,” Jordan said with a wry smile.

“I challenged Boomer to eat the spider, and he ate and choked on it. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t get the spider out. It was just an accident”. The others nodded to each other, satisfied.

“Fuck it, alright,” said Sam, “lets go home,” and he headed for the gap in the fence. The others followed.

“Choked on a spider,” said Dorothy with a smile.