Bully

One

SEVENTH GRADE SUCKS! Had I known seventh grade was going to be so different from sixth grade, I would have stayed home. I stood at the end of the sandy driveway, barefoot, waiting for the bus. My desperate attempt at iridescent fishscale trousers were a dull hand-me-down from one of my cousins that lived in Aspen. Too much time had passed, and the sparkle the scales once held were dull now. “They are nearly years ahead the fashion trend in Aspen,” my mother had said as I grumpily put the trousers on. They were tight, and fit well, but they didn’t shine with a kaleidoscope of colors like they were supposed to. Just one more thing to get made fun of about at school. <Ugh! Seventh grade…>

“At least we don’t need to worry about wyrm attacks.” My father had said jokingly. Everyone knew there weren’t wyrmwraiths on Nweat.

My palms were sweaty as I swatted a school of annoying fish that were trying to kiss the sweat off my forehead. I reflexively checked the time on my watch. My parents couldn’t even afford to get me a palm device — though they just claimed that I was too young to have one. My stupid watch didn’t give me a clear reading on the time, but the tidal clock worked fine. About an hour until hightide. The sand-packed road wound west from my house into a forest of coral trees. Seaweed stalks grew towards the sun, happily undulating in the wind as if they were underwater — in an hour they would be.

“I did buy you a new vest.” My mother had said, handing me an, actually acceptable, black vest. “You could probably leave it unbuttoned.” My mother was trying to appeal to youth fashion. She probably remembered her teenage years and how the boys would always posture with their vests unbuttoned, showing off their chest muscles. My father probably had abs — I however — just had ribs poking through.

“Boy! You need to eat more shark!” My father would tease at my stringy squid arms. “Shark builds muscle!”

Black was a good color. It allowed you to blend in. And it matched with anything. No danger of breaking some fashion rules. None of which, I understood. And, the vest had a hood. That was the best feature of anything my mother tried to put me in that morning. I immediately lifted the hood over my minty green hair. Feeling portions of my face covered in shadow, I felt more comfortable.

I could hear the rickety yellow bus before I saw it. Brakes screamed as the bus slowed to take the curve around an outcropping of orange coral branches. The banana yellow of the bus blurred passed the spaces between coral branches and the slowly waving tentacles of anemones. The bus came to a screeching stop at the sign, just at the bottom of a slight decline from my stop. I watched as it slowly rolled through the intersection and muscled its way slowly up the incline towards where I was standing.

I knew what I’d see once the bus drew closer. Sail and all his henchfish would be sitting in the back, intently watching me — waiting for their opportunity. I puffed out my chest. I used to sit with them. Until something happened over the summer. My mother tells me it’s hormones. She claims they’ll come around. But right now I was a pariah to them.

The bus came to a pitiful stop. Not much crying from the brakes when it was barely moving to begin with. Once at a complete stop, the bus exhaled with a long whoosh of exhaust. I grabbed my bag from the ground and threw it over my shoulder. It knocked one of my vest buttons open, and I quickly re-buttoned it as I walked across the street. I walked before the stick that stuck out like the bus’ tongue, or a penis. It made sure that the bus driver, Mr. Jaguar, could clearly see me walking before the giant yellow vehicle of burden. Mr. Jaguar nodded a greeting towards me as he watched me cross the packed sand street. And I knew Sail and his friends were watching me too. Thank the Sea King for the hood on my vest.

Mr. Jaguar held the door open for me. I adjusted my bookbag. “Morning River,” Mr. Jaguar said too cheerily. <How was he always so happy this early in the morning!?> I stepped up the three steep steps into the cavity of the bus.

Two

<JUST SIT IN THE FIRST EMPTY SEAT! Ignore the back. Don’t look towards the back! Just ignore the back.>

My mantra fell on deaf ears. Or rather, a mind unwilling to follow the wisdom. I looked at the back.

Sail was smiling smugly. His henchfish waiting for his cue to start any kind of trouble. They were always waiting for his cue. They probably lined up in a row and waited for him to take a piss before they could.

I used to be one of them.

My palms were sweaty. Sail gestured towards an open seat near them. His skin was a few shades darker than my own. He was smiling a mouth full of file sharpened teeth. His people were descended from a culture that revered sharks. It was a pretty vicious people. I tried to pretend that I hadn’t seen him — but Sail knew I’d seen. The first couple seats were already paired up. They each only fit two to a seat. I’d never been lucky enough to find an empty seat in front. Most of the younger students sat towards the front, it was part of some unwritten rule. The hierarchy of school. The bigger, cooler, older kids sat in the back. They were the kings of this playground. I — regardless of my age — was refuse.

I stuffed myself into the first empty seat that I saw, about fourth or fifth from the front. And proceeded to slouch and curl myself to become as small as I possibly could in the seat. I was hiding. Nearly pulling my hood all the way over my face. I closed my eyes and wished I couldn’t feel Sail’s eyes on me.

The old bus chugged up a slight incline. The coral trees became more sparse as we drew closer to the school. The coral woods gave way to the rolling landscape of sand mounds. Schools of fish were less frequent away from protective cover. These lands were farm lands. Clear cut by people for various purposes.

There was one last stop before school. Most of the hilly land was owned by the Grape family. They were pretty famous clam shuckers. They had a nephew that had recently moved in with them. He was the new kid and still had all of his potential to join any social group that he wanted to.

Trench Grape was standing at the stop. He was wearing a black hoodie-vest — hood up. Just like mine. The only parts of his pale skin exposed, were his hands. His long platinum white hair cascaded down either shoulder over the front of him. He had such long hair. It reached his waist. He usually wore it in a bun or a braid that he hid in the back of his vest, but today it was unbound and it truly showed its length and gave him a strangely feminine look, which was hard to wrap your head around because his muscles were so toned from all the farm work his uncle had him doing.

Trench confidently walked up into the bus. He quickly scanned the seating arrangement to see where he’d fit in, which was really anywhere. He was like clay and could easily be molded to fit into any of the various cliques young or old. I envied him for this. I was never the new kid. I’d grown up in Rog’nab. All of my dirty little secrets had been lived out before all the students around me. Not much was hidden in a little town.

Everyone seemed to rustle around as Trench nonchalantly walked down the aisle, trying to find a seat. Some students moved their bookbags out of the way so that Trench could sit. I don’t know if it was his muscles or what, but many people seemed enamored by him and wanted him to grace their group. Everyone wanted to be the first to claim him. Sail had even tried to invite him to one of our camping trips over the summer. Trench denied, saying that his uncle had him doing too much work on the farm.

Before I realized it, I found I was staring at him. His eyes were baby blue and hard to peel away from, once you were looking into them. His jawline was so sharp, so masculine. I realized that I’d never really looked at Trench’s face. He was always hidden in the shadows of a hoodie.

We’d made eye contact. Mr. Jaguar pulled the bus away from the stop and it was coming down to the wire, Trench would need to claim a seat. I didn’t realize that he was sitting down next to me, until it had already happened. “Mind if I sit here?” He asked. I made some stupid sound in my throat, unable to form words fast enough. I wasn’t enamored by him! I’m not gay! I just couldn’t believe that the cool new guy was sitting with me! Everyone knew about my falling out with Sail — maybe not the details — but everyone knew I was a social pariah. Why would the new guy commit social suicide by sitting with me!?

Three

TRENCH WAS SITTING WITH ME! “Mind if I sit here?”

“Ah…” <What do I say!?> “Sure!” I blurted. “Empty seat.”

The bus pulled away and the lonely street became more streets as minor roads fed into major roads that led towards the school. Rog’nab Junior High wasn’t a large school. Nothing like the schools in Aspen. This was a small country town. Most people here were farmers or fishers of some kind: Seaweed fields, tuna fishers, or clam shuckers like Trench’s family.

“Yo, Trench! Why don’t you come sit back here!?” Sail shouted. Trench lifted half his body up and twisted to look back towards Sail and his henchfish. It seemed like he was considering it. I had been a blubbering fool!

“The bus is in motion, everyone needs to remain seated.” Mr. Jaguar announced.

Trench settled back in the seat. “Aw man, come on Mr. Jaguar. He’ll be quick.”

“Anyone moves, it’s a trip to the principal’s office.” And with that it was final.

“I wasn’t going to sit with them anyway,” Trench said to me. I pretended that I was looking out the window.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said.

There was a moment of silence and then Trench asked, “What’s your deal?”

“My deal…?” I turned to look at him now. I wasn’t sure if he was upset with me or ragging on me like Sail would. Had he become a spy for them and I hadn’t caught it?

“Yea. I heard you used to be friends with them. You don’t seem like them at all. What happened between yous?”

I could feel my palms getting sweaty. I hadn’t told anyone what had happened between Sail and I. In fact, I felt like if I told anyone I was committing suicide. I was writing my death note. So I blubbered again, “I — uh… I don’t really know. Just some stuff. We changed.”

“Oh…” Trench seemed to consider that and then seemed to let it go.

There was an awkward silence growing between us, and once it became too pregnant I asked, “Why did you move here?” I felt that if he could ask me a personal question, it was fair to ask him. I’d heard rumors about his parents, but I was curious about the truth.

Trench’s pale face seemed to be permanently blushed, but it definitely flushed more by my question. I could tell that I had made him uncomfortable and I immediately regretted asking the question. “Uh… Just some stuff. We changed.” He replied.

“Touché.” I laughed. I was desperate to find something else to say. I hated the fat silences that fell between us. As long as we were talking I felt accepted by him. I could ignore Sail and his eyes and building nightmares in my head of what he was planning to do to me throughout the day. We had too many classes together. “Do you think wyrmwraiths are on Nweat?”

Trench chuckled. “I don’t know. I thought they hated water.”

“I mean, couldn’t they stowaway on ships or through the hallways from other planets?”

“I guess. But wouldn’t they die during hightide?”

“I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about evolution. What if they evolved to exist in the water?”

“Is this the type of thing that keeps you up at night, River Green?” Trench asked. There was a hint of charm to his words. I couldn’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable. I felt things tightening low in my gut. Was Trench flirting with me!?

“Why did you sit with me?” I blurted. This was some sick ploy to get me to admit that I liked guys! It was a trick. Sail played these games, and he was great at them. I was pissed now. I wasn’t gay!

Trench looked at me with confusion on his face. He took a breath and then spoke seriously, “Because you seem like someone that could use a friend.”

I could do nothing but look sheepish. Trench seemed so cool on his own, confident without a gaggle of immature teenagers surrounding him, making him curb his own personality and likes, just to fit in. Trench Grape was completely himself — and there was a deep part of me that was jealous of that. I chuckled, but I wasn’t happy or laughing. Trench felt sorry for me. “Thanks,” I said. “But no thanks. I don’t need your pity.”

“I wasn’t…”

The bus came to a screeching stop at the school. It left a sizzling sigh of relief, as if it almost didn’t make it. The sandy courtyard was full of barefooted students. Trench drew his hood over his head. “Well…Sorry” He got up and tried to slip off the bus before everyone else. I felt a pang in my heart. I think he was being genuine and I had pushed him away. It was something I was becoming increasingly good at since my falling out with Sail and our friends.

Trench had already weaved through the throng of students gathered in the courtyard and escaped into the junior high building before I even hit the steep steps out the bus. I tried to make a b-line for the school. It was safer inside, near some faculty. Suddenly — I felt naked. Students poured off of school buses all around me. Awkward, I fidgeted, looking at my watch. About forty minutes till high tide. Water would start seeping up through the sand at our toes. No one seemed to care. They were happily clustered in their various cliques talking about whatever happened this past weekend.

“Hey faggot! Got a new boyfriend? I’m jealous!” I knew his voice before I even turned around. I’d paused in the courtyard for too long.

Sail was filing out of the bus, flanked by his loyal henchfish: Harpoon, Toad, Phish and others. “Do you have any idea how stupid you sound?” I snapped. “You know what you did.” I said defiantly. It was the closest I’d ever come to eluding to what had happened between us.

Sail moved so fast. He wrapped the collar of my vest around his left fist and pulled me so close to him that I could smell his breath! His right hand was balled into a fist. “Don’t. Say. Another. Word.” Sail spat between gritted teeth.

“There a problem here boys?” Mr. Jaguar had stepped off the bus. He wore his vest open, uncaring about the cultural implications. It was a little inappropriate for an adult to have his vest unbuttoned on school grounds. Underneath the nest of curly white hair, Mr. Jaguar had a tattoo of a wheel with a triangle at the center and a bunch of symbols around the perimeter. I wondered what it meant. I never really noticed how strange Mr. Jaguar’s skin tone was. It was practically red. I didn’t know where in Nweat he was from — or maybe he was from one of the other planets in the Conglomerate.

Sail transformed from the bully into the polite boy-next-door, “No sir. Just a friendly game.” Sail let go of me and released his balled fist.

“Be along then. Hightide is soon.” The driver smiled towards me. He had just saved my ass, and he knew it.

Four: Flashback

SUMMERS COULD GET REALLY HOT IN ROG’NAB. And disgustingly humid after the daily rains that foreshadowed hightide. That was why we were all sitting around shirtless, in fishscale shorts, or in Toad’s case; a swimmer’s thong. We’d just gotten done riding bikes through the obstacle trails. They were basically abandoned construction sites laced with giant concrete tunnels and some half-built clay structures. We’d done some construction of our own, building gnarly ramps and wicked turns to race around.

Here, the coral trees were orange and brown. It was the beginning of summer so some of the coral still had polyps out, floating through the air like insects. If you looked close enough you could see neon-colored crabs and snails happily feasting on them after snatching them from the air. The other guys didn’t pay attention to such things. It was something stupid only I noticed.

They’d rather catch the orange newts that hid under dead coral or in uninhabited shells and tickle their stomachs until they peed. Toad was doing this now, giggling to himself. Flashing his yellow teeth, which almost matched the yellow his skin. The electric yellow of his skin and the puke green of his hair was what had earned him the nickname Toad.

“Dude! Stop that!” Phish hissed. Toad was trying to squirt him with newt pee. Toad laughed louder. He continued until Phish got up quick and back-handed him in the face!

“Fuck!” Toad hissed, tossing the newt behind him. “What’d you do that for?” He held his cheek. All the guys watched him, silent, wondering if this would spawn into an all out fight. We were all hot, sweaty, exhausted from riding bikes all day, and covered in mud and clay. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, until Sail began to laugh out loud. Toad cracked a smile and began laughing too, still holding his reddening cheek. Soon everyone started laughing.

“Dude, I wasn’t about to tussle with you. Your dick is too close to the surface!” Phish pointed out Toad’s underwear-like bathing suit.

“I don’t see anything,” Harpoon joked, when clearly Toad’s apparel didn’t leave much to the imagination.

The boys laughed again. Harder this time. Toad walking around with his legs spread and gesticulating that he clearly had a big dick. They all tried not to look.

“Hey Sail, how about we camp out tonight!”

Sail looked around the clearing. “Yea, that sounds like a good idea.”

“How about here?” Harpoon said.

“I’d have to ask my mom,” I said and immediately wished I hadn’t.

“Dude.” Toad mocked, “Wouldn’t want to upset your momsy-womsy!”

<But she’ll be worried,> I thought. “Alright, I’ll just tell her when I’m home.” Wouldn’t be the first time my mom stayed up all night worried about me.

“You call me if you plan on staying anywhere! I know those boys’ moms have palm-d’s! It’s ’96 for tides’ sake!” My mother had scolded.

<Yea, so do all their kids,> I thought.

“Toad.” Sail growled. Toad snapped back to attention, calm and still. “We’ll go tell your mom, man.”

“Thank—”

“No,” Sail cut me off, “Don’t thank me. Makes you sound gay.” Toad scuffed. Sail glared at him and Toad immediately became blank-faced. “Harp, can you snag your sleeping bags?” Sail asked.

“Yea! Toad, let’s go.” On second thought, “Put some pants on first, man.”

“But one of your sisters might be home,” Toad smirked.

That was the second time in five minutes that Toad was clocked across the face. At least if he was the punching bag — I wasn’t.

Five: Flashback

WE WERE LAUGHING AS WE RODE BACK TOWARDS THE CLEARING. Sail was telling me a story about how he tried to finger one of Harpoon’s older sisters. She’d called him a puny little perv! “That’s hilarious,” I said, though I didn’t fully understand some of the schematics to “fingering.”

The trail led to an incline that just on the other side was a dip where our camp was. We’d just pedaled to the top of a rise. The sun was starting to fall and it was dusk. Much darker under the thick cover of coral trees. Phish and the others had a fire going. Toad was acting like some sort of monster, bouncing from rock to rock growling — in his banana hammock again. I swear that boy would just be naked if we’d let him.

“What the hell are you fags doing!?” Sail said as we coasted into the camp. We hopped off our bikes and leaned them up against the others, like a delicate row of dominos. Sail held up a bag which led to all the guys cheering. They all knew that it was alcohol. Sail and I took a detour to Sail’s house where we raided the liquor cabinet. Sail promised that his parents would never notice. I don’t know if I believed that — and I was nervous about drinking.

“Toad was just reenacting what Bubble Buckteeth turned into when she saw him in his boxers.”

“You ran into her on your way to Harp’s?” I asked.

“Yea,” Toad snorted. “She was making out with a tree.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Sail said.

“No, it’s true!” Harpoon laughed. “Tongue out and everything!”

“You saw this?” Phish asked.

“Yea,” Harp replied.

Sail and I sat on a large rock together after Sail handed out cups full of liquor. I took my first sip and nearly spit it out. I saved myself from embarrassment. I felt my cheeks flush.

“She turned into some sort of she-beast!” Toad said, and he began jumping from rock to rock to dead coral imitating some sort of hooting creature.

“She was horny.”

“Did you finger her?” Sail asked.

“Hell no!” Toad stopped dead in his tracks. “Even I have standards.”

We all started laughing while Toad continued to bounce around in his skimpy apparel. All his jumping caused his junk to come falling out, “Yo Toad! Fix yourself man! Tides! No one wants to see that.” Phish hissed. Another awkward silent moment followed, like earlier, where no one was sure if it would turn into flying fists.

Then Sail burst out laughing and all the boys followed suite. They all took their cues from him. I took my cues from him.

Six

PLANETARY SCIENCES WAS THE WORST CLASS! I wasn’t prone to falling asleep in class, but this class couldn’t keep me engaged. It was part the material, and possibly a bigger part, the teacher. Mrs. Periwinkle spoke with a dull monotone through each lecture. She was short, stocky, with a sharp angular haircut that was at the length that allowed her black curtains of hair to cover her ears. She wore big ridiculous glasses that magnified her eyes about five times. She was quite comical to look at, but once the giddiness of that faded, it was hard not to hop on the train to Snoozeville.

“What entities make up the Conglomerate?” Mrs. Periwinkle asked.

I think she expected arms to shoot up into the sky — she looked around. No one moved. Harpoon shared this class with me. He sat next to me because we used to be friends. He had his head resting on crossed arms. Mrs. Periwinkle couldn’t see, but his eyes were closed and he was breathing pretty deeply.

“Mr. Green.” Mrs. Periwinkle called. I was caught off-guard.

“Ah…Yea?” I’d heard the question, but I wasn’t expecting her to call on me. I stumbled through my words. “Um, Nweat, LoDaS, Yineye, and Vivirdrasil.”

“Right.” She smiled, though it didn’t seem like she was truly pleased. I think she thought she was going to catch me daydreaming.

Then Mrs. Periwinkle fell back into her old habits and I felt my mind drifting. I was looking out the window when something caught my attention. Hightide comes every six hours. It wasn’t something new. We all took it for granted. And very rarely does anyone watch it. I mean, tideologists watch them, but I never really stopped to watch the tidewall come ripping through. A light-sounding chime alarm sounded through the intercom. Mrs. Periwinkle didn’t even pause her lecture. The alarm was like second nature. That’s when I realized that Mrs. Periwinkle had forgot to close the blinds. We never watched the tide come in because we could never see out the window. I was hypnotized.

The school, like almost all buildings on Nweat, were built spherical. The domed structure of the school provided the least amount of resistance to the tidewall as it came rumbling through. The school had its own environment control to keep us breathing and comfortable while the building was underwater during hightide. This was true for almost all buildings and vehicles on Nweat. It was called orb tech.

Water seeped up out of the ground almost as fast as the tidewall moved towards the window. The rain was torrential now. Just over the siren you could hear the roar of the coming wave. It roared like the force of nature that it was.

There was a whistle to the tidewall today. It sounded like an army of tornados coming. Mrs. Periwinkle stopped talking. She was clearly annoyed that we weren’t paying attention to her. She walked towards the classroom exit where a switch was hanging on the wall that controlled the blinds. Mrs. Periwinkle flipped the switch, but the blind control seemed to just fizzle and nothing happened. I could swear that I heard Mrs. Periwinkle cuss, “Abyss!”

The siren filled our ears. It was unprecedented, but the entire class stopped to watch the tidewall make impact on the school. The typhoon swallowed the space around the school. The roads were underwater, no one was out there but wall salmon, emerald green and pink fish that rode the tidewall to their spawning grounds. Two giant mantas flew by, flapping their wings, riding the tidewave, their tails forever long behind them.

The water wrapped around the building like the Sea King’s hand! There was a soft blue glow surrounding the school that kept the water out. This was the orb tech. All the cars and buses parked in the parking lot were surrounded by their own blue orbs as water washed over them. The oxygen generators attached to the school’s orb tech could be heard powering on. We couldn’t breathe underwater. Breathing underwater was a sign of Abyssian the Sea King’s enermy!

Fish that were floating on the air moments ago were now swimming underwater upon their spread fins. The school and the rest of the world falling under hightide, was underwater — and would be for the next six hours.

“I’m sorry.” I could barely hear Harpoon say. I forgot that he was sitting right next to me. This makes me look at him, I mean, right at him.

All I saw was one of Sail’s puppets. “Sorry for what?” I asked.

“The way we treat you. It’s not fair. You’re cool. I still consider you a friend.”

“Speak for yourself.” I said.

Silence hung between us, just as awkward as the growing silence between Trench and I that morning. Then Harpoon asked me. “What happened between you guys anyway? You and Sail?”

Seven: Flashback

IT HAD TO BE THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT WHEN I HEARD SAIL RISE. I don’t know how I ended up sharing the tent with Sail. The boys considered it a privilege, like I had become his right-hand-man. “River!” Sail hissed. “Come on.” He gestured for me to get up.

I wasn’t sure if the nightly hightide had happened already or not. The tent was built with the same orb tech that protected the junior highschool. The sand was cold under my feet. My head hurt from drinking too much. I could tell Sail was feeling it too as he walked a few steps from the tent kinda shakily. The bioluminescence of the coral forest made the setting seem eery. Sail stopped before a clump of seaweed that gently swayed from side to side as if it were underwater. The weeds were as tall as Sail’s waist. I could see a steady stream of water arching from him onto the bushes. “Oh! Sorry.”

Sail turned, wicked smile on his face. “It’s all good bro. I had to pee. You gotta piss too?”

“Not really…”

“You ever try to take a piss with a hard-on?”

“No.”

“Come here,” Sail waved me over with his free hand. I felt uncomfortable. Something I was quickly learning was to stay away from any situation that could potentially be considered “gay.” Just a few months ago, stuff like that didn’t matter. Now, it was what could make or break you, as a boy.

“Have you ever jerked off before?” Sail asked me. I could feel that tugging in my groin. I grew even more nervous.

“No.”

“Come here. I’ll show you how to do it.” Sail brandished himself. He was done peeing, but still very erect. “You go like this.” Sail slid his hand up and down. “Try it.”

I don’t think I ever felt more uncomfortable, but I wasn’t going to deny Sail. Unless, this was some sort of test. Was he going to call me gay once I pulled my dick out? Wasn’t he already gay because his was out, in the open, showing it off to me!? I was so confused that my sweaty hands fumbled with my pants’ buttons. I was already rising to the occasion when I popped out from the confines of the button-fly.

“Try it,” Sail said again, wicked smile and all. “It feels amazing!” And it did. Lust and hormones took over.

We stood there for a few minutes, stroking, until Sail said, “Let me try something. Give me your hand.” He snatched my hand before I could take it back and he placed it on himself. “Do it.” He commanded. I stroked him. I watched as his eyes close. He let out a breathy sigh, a sigh of pleasure. “Don’t stop.” I was both more excited than I’d ever been, but I also wanted to throw up. There were so many emotions warring inside me. But I did my best to ignore them and focused on Sail’s hand on my penis. What he was doing there?

Until, suddenly, I felt the excitement spilling over me! I was going to cum! I felt Sail bucking underneath my grip as well. He let out a breathy grunt. I was afraid he’d wake the others! But I didn’t stop. I didn’t stop until I was finished and Sail stopped throbbing in my hand. There was slime all over my hand! He half-smiled and giggled. He had become overly sensitive in the end, he removed my hand from himself. “You’re pretty good,” he smiled at me.

I wiped my hand on my pants and we crawled back into the tent. We never spoke another word about it.

Eight

PLANETARY SCIENCES WAS OVER. The gym was on the other side of the school, downstairs. Gym used to be one of my favorite classes. I had it with Sail, Harp, Phish and the others, so it was just like all of us hanging out after school. Now — it was purgatory.

I walked briskly towards the gymnasium, trying to ignore every other person I walked by. I was walking so fast for two reasons. One: Was that the gym was so far and we only had a few minutes in between classes. Two: If I could get to the locker room and change before Sail got there, I would be safe. He wouldn’t have the opportunity to pick on me when I was most vulnerable. Let’s face it, we are all a little vulnerable in our underwear.

I ducked down a faculty stairwell, hoping there were no teachers in there. It was a shortcut, and it also kept me away from other students. I didn’t need anybody’s shit today. I felt like my name was on everybody’s tongue. Trench had sit with me on the bus. We had talked. Stuff like this didn’t go stagnant in school — it spread like wildfire.

The coast had been clear and I slipped into a back hallway where there were private bathrooms that most boys used to feel up the shirts of their “girlfriends.” No one was in the hallway. I walked towards the back entrance to the boys’ locker room. I let the door close behind me.

I scanned the gloom. There were benches laid out in a pattern with hallways of lockers. A few students were already there in various levels of undress. It smelled faintly of urine and dirty feet, and seaman, though I couldn’t explain that one. Someone was in the showers. No one ever showered after gym, except that Guppy kid who changed his underwear after class. No one was brave enough to get that naked and risk being called gay. Except maybe Toad.

I went to my locker, desperately trying to get the combination into the lock as fast as I could. If I could get changed before Sail got here and out into the gym I was safe. Sail wouldn’t try anything in front of the gym teacher. But here, alone, with nothing but other silent spectators. I was in trouble. No one would defend me and risk the wrath of Sail and his henchfish.

I glanced across the gloom. It was dangerous to have wondering eyes in the boys’ locker room. It was “guy code” to keep your eyes on your own junk. Comparing sizes and whipping each other with wet towels all while naked was something that only happened in movies. There were two other students hastily changing. Pulling up their shorts over their underwear. They were probably just as nervous as I was. Sail was an equal opportunity predator. The only people safe were his friends. And even they would probably suffer a jib or two.

Trench Grape was already there. He was changing, but kept his distance. His long silver hair hung like curtains over his naked chest. If it wasn’t for the definition of his lean muscles, he could have been identified as a chest-less girl. When Trench almost met my eyes, I snapped my attention back to myself.

I had my shirt off and my fishscale trousers almost to my ankles when I heard, “Hey River! I got something for ya.” I made the mistake of looking. It was instinctual. Sail stood there with a skimpy set of underwear on, kind of like the ones Toad liked to wear. He was swinging his hips so that his junk moved from side to side. “Want a taste — faggot?”

I knew I was doomed because I had looked. I was petrified.

Before the summer, if Sail was talking to me like this I would have assumed that he was joking and it was just some prologue to a play-wrestling interlude that released some of our adolescent aggression. I mean, our bodies were starting to make us feel things, telling us to feel things that didn’t make any sense to our child-self. Just like that night camping. The night that ruined it all.

Now — looking into the true fury in his eyes, I knew he was waiting for an answer or he was going to hit me! “N—no,” I stammered. How quickly my exbestfriend was able to cow me.

With my peripherals I was desperately trying to find someone, anyone, that I thought might save me. The locker room wasn’t exactly populated. It never was when Sail and his henchfish were about. Where had Trench gone? Guppy? I didn’t hear the shower anymore. Calling for the gym teacher would only offer me physical abuse faster than if I bared through the fear and tried to talk my way out of it.

“What do you mean faggot, I see you looking! Would you like a taste?”

“No I‘m not — looking,” I squealed.

“So you wanna see it?” Sail sneered. He pressed his hips out, accentuating his package. “Here, get a close up.” Sail laughed. I pulled my pants up. Sail must have given Phish and Toad some sort of gesture because they advanced on me. I really didn’t think they were going to touch me. They’d get in trouble. We were in school! The gym teacher was just on the other side of the wall. But they did touch me. They grabbed me and I hardly put up a fight. This was really happening. This wasn’t play fighting. “Take a look,” Sail’s shit-eating grin was from ear to ear.

I didn’t want to say out loud that I’d already seen it. …And perhaps that’s the reason that I was here — in Phish’s headlock with Sail’s junk too close to my face! “I think he wants to see it,” Sail said to Phish. “Turn around dweebs!” He snapped at his henchfish. I could hear and see dirty bare feet shuffle as they all turned around. I imagine that Phish closed his eyes.

And to my horrified surprise, Sail pulled himself out from the cover of the thin fabric of his underwear! I didn’t know what to do other than cry an unintelligible, “No!”

“You like that?” Sail asked me. It was swinging too close to my face. “Make it hard.”

“Dude! What are you doing?” Phish asked unsurely. His face nearly buried in my arm, but he never loosened his grip.

“Shut up dweeb! Just hold him. I’m going to give little River what he’s always wanted.” Sail smiled that smile he always got when he was about to do something truly outrageous. Like that time he teased a shark. We all told him not to do it. The shark bit a chunk out of Phish’s leg.

He was fully hard now.

“Sail…No,” I said weakly. He pressed the tip along my lips. I could feel myself want to throw up or thrash Phish’s arms off of me.

“Sail,” Phish said again.

“I said hold him!” Sail pressed his tip against my lips harder. I was crying now. He parted my lips. I was going to bite him. It’d be the last thing I’d ever do — but I was going to bite him!

“Sail, you’re not serious,” Harpoon said.

“Sail,” Phish said again. I could feel his grip on my head loosen. Phish didn’t agree with what Sail was doing. It wasn’t often that anyone stood up against Sail. I knew Harpoon didn’t want to go through with it either, but he wasn’t doing anything to stop it!

“Just hold him fucker!” Sail put his hands on the back of my head. This was it!

“Let. Him. Go!” In the momentary distraction, Phish dropped his grip. Only Sail and his henchfish were in the locker room now. …And Trench.

“What did you say punk?” Sail snapped.

“I said leave him alone.” Trench said again. His voice didn’t waver like mine would have. He was defiant. Tears were streaming down my cheeks, but I wasn’t openly sobbing. Boys don’t sob. I was thankful for Trench — again. The moment seemed to hang in the air like a thousand years.

“What you gonna do about it, Stench?” Sail asked. He’d already placed himself safely back in his underwear. Phish and the rest were standing at Sail’s flanks. They were ready for a fight, though Phish and Harpoon didn’t look too excited about it.

“You don’t want to do this. Just leave.” Trench said. He spoke so evenly.

Sail laughed, “What are you gonna do about it!?” As he said it, he cupped his balls with his left hand. He shook it a little in my direction. “I guess you want a piece of this too, huh Trench. I guess I can’t blame you. You going to get jealous River, if I give him a taste too? Or can you share?” It happened so fast. It was so unexpected! Sail slapped me. It was open handed and fast and hard!

Trench moved like a blur. I swear I couldn’t even see him move! The only way I knew where he was in the locker room was by the chalky paleness of his skin in the dim locker room lighting. I wiped dried tears from my eyes. Sail was on his back screaming. Trench was straddling him. I was staring at his bare back — and there were muscles, impossible muscles, writhing and moving there. Running down the upper-half of his back, along the spine, was a red fin-like appendage that seemed to rip through the seam of his back. Reaching out to eighter side were feathered wings that seemed to be made of whatever material made fish fins. Trench leaned back, he was shirtless, every ab seemed to move on its own, like there was something swimming beneath the surface. Slowly, each squirming muscle breeched Trench’s flesh and coiled around his body, each poised towards Sail. They were tentacles.

<What in the Abyss!?>

“What the fuck!” Phish gasped.

The henchfish stepped back in horror! Some yelled. I didn’t know why, until my brain caught up with what I was seeing. Black-violet tentacles writhed in and out of view from Trench’s bellybutton. He had arms like the Abyss! He was a mutant! A water-breather! The tentacles coiled and writhed, each sporting a line of suction cups and hooks glinting in the gloom of the boys’ locker room. He held his wings mantled around Sail’s body.

“He’s eating him!”

Trench’s tentacles were wrapped around Sail’s neck and some curled underneath and around his shoulders and armpits. “Damn water-breather!” Sail hissed. He gulped and it sounded like he was trying to breathe through blood clotting in his throat.

“Trench, let him go!” I shouted. He was going to kill him!

“Sail!” The henchfish were screaming.

“Go get coach!”

Toad tried to escape, but a tentacle shot out, clearly coming from somewhere on Trench’s person! It wrapped around Toad’s ankle. It easily yanked Toad back, keeping him in the locker room. Toad was screaming like a little girl now. Trench looked in my direction. His face was full of predatory fury. His eyes were glowing!

Sail smiled. “So this is meant to be our showdown?” Sail’s back bucked like he was being exorcized! There was a deafening popping sound, like bones snapping. I was petrified. Harpoon had his hands on my shoulder. He was partially trying to drag me out of the locker room.

There was a sound similar to paper ripping — but it was skin. Sail’s chest unzipped open like it were a vest he was taking off. A long red slimy tongue shot out and wound left and right, almost similar to Trench’s tentacles. A wyrm, the size of Sail’s body, emerged from his chest cavity. What was left of Sail was bloody, limp, and deflated. I watched in horror.

The wyrm was pale white, almost translucent. Its face was beaked and its neck armored. It easily flung Trench back. Trench landed like a cat on all fours in the showers. The wyrm opened its mouth like a five-petaled flower and hissed at Trench. Trench was unfazed by what had just occurred. I was sure that if I screamed, I wouldn’t stop screaming until my voice was hoarse. Trench just stood, brandishing his many tentacles that came from his stomach. His wings were pressed against his back. The fin-like dorsal that ran down his back was erect like a bird’s crest and flushed with bright orange color at the tips. He had a particularly thick tentacle that ended in a blade of sorts that grew from the end of his spine like a tail. It reminded me of the tail of a manta ray. He brandished this tail like he meant to shoot harpoon-spikes in the wyrm’s direction.

“River! Get out of here!” Trench screamed. My feet were slopping in Sail’s blood.

Trench lured the wyrmwraith into the showers. The wyrm struck like a snake, but Trench was faster and stabbed a spike into the wyrm’s neck, just under the armor. While the wyrmwraith reeled from the spike sticking out of its flesh, Trench began turning on all the showers. Water sprayed directly on the wyrm from all sides. The wyrmwraith screamed, whipping its body from side to side. It smelled like its flesh was burning and it leaked into a yellow puss around its tail on the floor, slowly oozing down the shower drains. Quickly, the white grub-like monster dove into the floor, as if it were incorporeal. Sail’s blood was mixing with it all, his body looking like a popped balloon with his rib cage sticking up.

I heard the door to the gym open and close. Trench looked back at me. His eyes were starting to loose their shine. “What’s going on in here!?” The gym teacher asked before he came around the corner. He stepped in water, blood, and yellow ichor left from the wyrm’s melting body. Shock crossed his face. Harpoon and I scrambled out of the boys’ locker room like our lives depended on it.

Trench was nowhere to be found.

~The End~