Rad

"We said no food fights Jung!"

Jung Foote catapaulted his mashed potatoes toward the nearest table of girls. I cringed, and ducked the food heading our way.

Food fights were enough to get you a week's suspension at Rickard's Middle School. And before you let the word "suspension" conjure imaginations of an adolescent curled up with a Xbox controller, I'll tell you that our "suspension" was served in a quarantined, windowless classroom at the same school. It was not a glorified vacation. Suspension meant the whole day writing some finger-wagging line like "My misbehavior affects the people around me" on stacks of notebook paper.

"Jung, why did you do that?" I demanded as a gawpish security guard grabbed his shoulder and led him away. Without Jung, I'd be spending a week of lunches talking to my other classmates about who did their homework the best.

He looked back at me, none of the usual pride in his antics.

"I...I don't know Al. Something came over me. It was like someone grabbed my arms..."

"Oh, thanks bud! Forget about our promise to go straight! Tell Geppetto I said hi!"

He frowned and resumed his walk toward the discipline center.

I walked back to the lunch table for our class, and sat down.

Abby smiled at me, so I took the opportunity to slide over to her group. I couldn't handle another discussion about five point deductions on algebra homework. Abby's friends usually discussed who was like totally cool, and who wasn't. At least that offered some chances for humor. Gossip was more interesting to me than middle school penis-measuring contests. (I was later to learn that they're the same exact thing, from a different gender's point of view.)

After the girls finished their current discussion about the relative merits of others' humanity, Abby turned to me and said with a smirk: "Are you cool enough to ask me out yet?"

I thought it was kind of flirty, but for some reason my glands were extremely offended. I suddenly felt heat rushing to my head, and I yelled, without meaning to, "ARE YOU COOL ENOUGH TO SHUT THE FUCK UP YET?!"

I felt like my eyes were popping out of my head as I glared at her. When the heat faded from my head, I turned away from Abby, and a few of her friends giggled.

"Ok dude, I didn't know you were so sensitive. Sorry." I looked up in time to see the sarcasm in her eyes.

When we met eyes, she softened and gave me a pat on the shoulder,

"Calm down man, I think you're cool." With the last pat, we both felt an audible shock, stronger than any static shock I'd ever felt. She jerked her hand back, and glared at me.

"Whatever," I said. I got up and walked away.

When school was over, I walked toward my house with Jung and Kayla. We were supposed to have band practice, but we spent most of the walk talking about Jung's kiddie jail sentence and Kayla's clothes.

"Do you guys think these shorts make my butt look too big?" She asked.

She walked away from us to demonstrate, her sleek black hair resting gracefully above her swaying Puerto Rican butt.

"Too big for what? A barn?" I retorted.

"Besides, isn't that a good thing?" I added.

She pivoted precisely and smacked me across the face.

During the ensuing disorientation, I heard what sounded like a radio broadcast in my head. It sounded like the color commentary for a boxing match.

"...and he's got Josephs on the ropes! Coming in with more jabs!" Then, a static hiss, and silence as I regained my composure. Well, silence except for Jung's laughing.

"Did someone just drive by with the radio on?" I inquired.

"Nah, Kayla just knocked your ears into the future bruh," said Jung.

"Well he basically called me fat!" she said.

We reached the driveway of my house, and I paused to roll my eyes at Jung. I heard a brief surge of radio static again. Then, Jung suddenly grew red in the face and screamed at Kayla:

"IF YOU TALK ABOUT YOUR STUPID CLOTHES OR YOUR FAT ASS DURING BAND PRACTICE I'LL STAB YOU!"

Kayla, normally the mean, cool one of our crew, actually quivered and shed a tear.

Jung scratched his head.

"Huh...that's weird...second time today..." he murmured.

"Sorry Kayla, I've been moody today."

We shuffled into the garage, slightly shaken.

As Kayla and I tuned our guitars, Jung went to the bathroom. When he returned, he was holding a large, ceremonial knife, with runes carved into the handle. He met our gaze for a second, and smirked sheepishly. He shook it toward Kayla a bit, laughed, and set it down by the drums.

We rehearsed a few of our songs, then took a break as I tried to adjust the television in the room. We sometimes used it to show lyrics or sheet music during practices.

"Hold on, I can't see the lyrics on this stupid thing," I said.

As I fiddled with the remote, Kayla walked over to my side of the room to get her glass of water. If you've been in a band, you know that two people trying to navigate a crowded space with guitars is awkward. I focused on the tv as she squeezed past me.

FLASH. For less than a second, the tv showed a ominous screen on the screen. Just after it reverted to the lyric sheet, Kayla bumped her guitar into mine. For a second or two, I felt a strong electric current running through my body, through my hand on the guitar strings. It immobilized me for a mom.

"Ow!" I yelled. I pushed Kayla away from me.

"You just got my sweater all wet, jerk!" she protested.

Then I saw a bright red light in Jung's eyes. He leapt up from his drumkit, knife in hand, and charged Kayla.

I yelled, and jumped in front of her.

I felt the cold steel plunge into my chest, and a warmth trickling down my ribs.

I looked down and saw the blade stuck into my heart. I laughed harder than I'd ever laughed before.
***
Then I woke up, laying on a bed in a dark room with stone walls.

The only light came from a single lit torch on the wall next to an ancient wooden portal. The radius of its light didn't reach the bed, which was shrouded in darkness. The room was bare, except for a large, elaborate harp, sitting on a pedestal under the torch.

I felt a gentle feminine hand scratch my hair behind my ears.

"Why did you wake, darling? Go back to sleep, you need your rest."