The Crow

The Crow

A Novel
By C Irby




Prologue

He woke up.
He was confused.
He was . . . not right. Since the
(??explosion??)
He did not know. He knew his home world was gone. And that he was alive. But he didn’t feel alive in the right way. He was somewhere, but he . . . could not remember. In a little bit, though, he began to feel hopeful as he looked around.
What a beautiful planet.
It could do.
He knew what to do.
This was how it began.


Chapter 1
i

A bitter wind cut the crisp and cold night, making me shiver, but I wasn’t paying attention to it. The outside concert was blasting music into my ears, taking all thought of the cold weather off my mind.
“Isn’t he just great?” Daniel Falcom asked, talking about Logic.
Rachel Heights, Joshua Armstrong, Daniel, and I were at the Confessions of a Dangerous Mind tour, and we were going to be here for awhile. At least that’s what I thought.
“Yes,” I replied, “And maybe . . .”
“Shut up!” Rachel hissed. “The 1-800 song is coming on!”
Ah. She loves that song.
I listened to the first verse

“I been on the low
I’ve been takin’ my time
I feel like I’m outta my mind—”

when I heard someone yell: “What the hell was that?!”
I craned my neck to see the commotion and felt my blood turn to ice. Someone had brought a gun. And was pointing it at the person who now lay in a pool of blood.
And I vomited.
And fainted.

ii

“Ryan.”
A voice.
I didn’t know who it belonged to.
“Ryan, I just called our parents, so please wake up.”
I began surfacing from the pool of unconsciousness, starting to understand (or comprehend) what Rachel was saying. A groan escaped from me, and I opened my eyes. I was in our apartment with our beat-up couch, the weird lava-lamp that I got for Rachel, and the cheap TV. Rachel slapped a cold washcloth on my forehead, and none too gentle.
“Well,” starts Rachel. “You woke up. I was tempted to put shaving cream on your hand, but I felt merciful.”
I grinned, in spite of my headache. Rachel, I thought. Being merciful. Who would’ve thought?
“What happened? I—”
Rachel held up a well manicured hand. “Let me stop you there. I’ll explain it all, but first, would you like a drink?”
As if her words brought it up, suddenly my throat started screaming that it had been in the desert too long.
“Yes.”
“Okay, Chief, water is on the way.” She started to get up, but I grabbed her arm.
“Where are the others?” I asked.
She smiled at me. “Señor, everything will be explained to you momentarily,” and with that, she left. What a cliffhanger.
I looked around the room, my head aching badly and my eyes feeling like they’re about to pop out any second.
Rachel came flouncing in the room with a bottle of Fiji water—our favorite.
“Here you go Chief.” She held it out to me. I grabbed the bottle, twisted the cap and drank thirstily.
Rachel watched me the whole time, and I noticed for the first time how hollow her eyes looked. I finished the bottle.
Burp!
“Ahhh, that’s better. Okay, so can you please tell me what happened,” and for her benefit, I put on my best director voice. “From the top!” She gave a little laugh, though I think it was forced.
“Well—” she began.
“No,” I interrupted her. “You should say, ‘In the beginning, God created the—’”
“Oh, shut up, would you?” she laughed. This one was real
“Nah, instead of shut up, you should say, ‘cut the shit,’ like Mr—”
“Shut up,” she hissed, and I did. You don’t want to see her lose her patience. I would not end up as the winner.
“Okay, so . . .” she waited, probably for me to interrupt her. When I didn’t, she gave a little nod and continued her story.
“We were at the concert, and the 1-800 song was playing. Oh, how I love that song.”
“Perhaps you’d like to write a book?” I remarked; then immediately wished I could take it back. She must’ve seen it on my face because she waved it away and said, “You’re right; let’s get to the matter at hand.”
She got up and started pacing the room.
“The song was playing, and I noticed you had turned around. That’s when I saw the dead man—”
I groaned.
“—and the gun pointed at him,” she finished.
“I was hoping that was a dream,” I said.
“No such thing, Chief.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “After that, the crowd dispersed, and you fainted. The boys and I had to bring you to our apartment, and they went home. Now we are here.”
“You said that you called our par—”
“Yes, and they are on their way as we speak,” she said.
I had one question.
“Did you see what happened to the guy who killed the other?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”
And took her phone out. She tapped on it for a few seconds, and turned the screen toward me. There was a picture.
“A crow mask?”

iii

“You are never going to another concert again! Too dangerous.” That’s my mom, Flora Wallace. She's a bit—no, a lot!—overprotective. It’s annoying and adoring.
“If I may,” I started, but she wasn’t paying attention. She was still raging on the warpath.
“You should move back in our house. You would be much safer.”
We heard a click behind us, and I jumped a bit. It was only my dad, Johnathan Wallace.
He looked around.
“What did I miss?” he asked with the most comical face that I’ve ever seen. The tension lifted, and Mom and I burst out laughing.
Dad looked around—a bit confused.

iv

I was back at the apartment, putting in my key when the door opened. Rachel was standing in the doorway in a dress and sling-back heels.
I stuttered, “Wh-what are y-you doing?”
She gave me a funny look.
“Um, date night? Did you forget or something? You must have ‘cause you ain’t dressed up.”
I slapped my forehead.
“Damn it! I’m sorry; I really am s—” and I couldn’t say anymore because she had put a finger on my lips.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You have a lot on your mind. I get it.”
“We can still go.”
“If you want to.”
I looked at my wrist watch.
“Let me get dressed, okay?”
She looked at me with almond shaped eyes—a look of mischief.
“Five minutes,” she said and gave me a peck on the lips.

v

At least we have Christmas Break. We don’t have to go to school for another week. And being a senior in high school didn’t hurt. I got behind the steering wheel of my blue Ford Ranger, a gift from my mom and dad, and keyed the ignition. Rachel got in the passenger side.
“So,” I said. “Where to?”
She looked thoughtful.
“Italian?” Her favorite
“I’m down for it.”
She slapped me playfully.
“Step on it, then, my faithful servant.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Oh, the beautiful memories.

vi

“Hey Ryan! Care for a little talk?”
Xavier Anderson was looking at me threateningly, almost taunting me.
“Huh Ryan? How about it? Make you think twice before hacking my account again.”
I have made quite a reputation for being a hacker. I have erased the schools WiFi grid, deleted the school board’s files on me, and a number of other things. I looked at Xavier.
“Maybe if you stop bein’ a bitch to m—”
Before I could finish that sentence, a fist lobbed at me at semi-full force. I’m a formidable fighter, and I was able to dodge it quite well. I ducked down, socked him in the stomach and stepped back, just as the teacher came rushing in.
“Okay, cut the shit! Cut the shit!”
Mr. D’Nario, the World History teacher, lobbed out obscenities left and right, black and blue.
When he was done, he looked around, red in the face.
“What happened?!” Mr. D’Nario was asking.
Xavier, the asshole that he is, shouted, “Ryan hit me!”
I rolled my eyes, which was a bad idea. Mr. D’Nario glared at me.
“Principal's office. Now!”

vii

“We’ve been getting in quite a lot of trouble this year, haven’t we?”
Principal Llamar was staring at me very intimidatingly.
“Sir,” I said. “It wasn’t me who started it. It was hi—”
“No. We’ve been tracking what you do on your Chromebook, and we know you erased everything on his account.”
“Fuck,” I mumbled under my breath. The encryption did not work.
“Excuse me?” the principal inquired.
“Nothing,” I answered quickly.
The principal sighed, making me think that he gave up on trying to give me a lecture. He didn’t, but it came with a side effect.
“Three days suspension.”
I looked at him incredulously. Suspension! Principal Llamar swept his cutting eyes to me. “Get out of my office.”

viii

I got a text from Rachel: “Where were you? I’ve been trying to find you all day.” I texted back: “I got suspended.” In my truck, I got a call from my mom: “Young man,” my mom said in a steely calm voice that sent a chill down my neck. “Don’t think of going to the apartment. Come straight home. Now!” She then hung up.
I sighed. A lecture awaits me at home. Then a strange thought came to me—What about the crow mask? The question surprised me so much, I missed my turn. What about the crow mask? What has that got to do with the situation? I was pondering this as I turned the truck around. I got another call. The caller ID wasn’t any I knew, so I declined. A message appeared:

Hi Ryan :)

ix

“What the hell were you thinking?!”
Mom’s tone shocked me as I came through the door.
“Mom, that guy has been bothering me all damn year. He deserved it.”
“You don’t say who deserves what and WHAT!?” Spittle flew from her lips. She was in a rage. “You're eighteen; act like it!”
“Okay.” Turns out, saying that was a mistake.
“DON’T OKAY ME!!!”
I looked at her imploringly. “Mom, please calm down.”
Mom stormed off. Dad came in. If Mom was like this, I wondered. What about dad? As it turned out, that wasn’t a problem. Dad breezed in, and handed me a beer. I looked at him, a bit awed at how he did that.
“Um, Dad, I’m eighteen.”
Dad looked at me, as if I was oblivious, and he wasn’t. “Son, I was drinkin’ ‘fore your age. Come on out to the patio.”
I followed him out, wondering if he was drunk. I sat down.
“So,” Dad said. “Suspension, huh?”
“Yes,” and because I couldn’t hold it in much longer, I asked, “Are you drunk?”
Dad looked at me and roared with laughter. “No son, I ain’t drunk. This is the first one I’ve had all day.”
I looked at him dubiously. “Why are you calmer than mom at this?”
He leaned back in his beach chair and gave me a long thoughtful look. “Your mom, well, she never got into trouble at school, and she wanted you to do the same.” He paused, thinking, then continued
“Me? I was one of those jocks that was always in trouble. I understand how you feel, though I have no fuckin’ idea about those computer thingies.”
He took a sip of his beer and pointed at mine. “Better pop that sonofabitch open, son, you ain’t gettin’ any younger.” And that’s what I did.
“Son, you have to understand that you are her only child, and she wants what’s best for you.”
I knew that. It was a sad truth.
“Yeah, I guess,” I said.
Dad took another sip.
“Cut her some slack. I’m not sayin’ you can go around breakin’ a han’full of rules. That’s not what I’m sayin’ at all. I’m just sayin’ I understand where you’re at.”
Dad got up. “Better figure out what you’re gonna do for the next three days,” he said and then left.

x

For the next three days, I did homeschooling. When I went back to school, I looked for Rachel, to see how she was. I haven’t been to our apartment since the suspension.
I grabbed Joshua by the arm.
“Hey Josh. You know where Rachel is?”
Josh looked at me, alarmed. No, not at me. Past me. I looked over my shoulder and saw Rachel—with another guy. She saw me, too.
“Ryan!”
I stared at her.
“What the hell is this?” I asked.
She looked at the guy. “Oh! Um,” she started twisting her hair. “This is Robby.”
He held up a hand.
Rachel looked at me, kind of . . . scared? “I can’t date you anymore. I’m sorry.” Then Robby put an arm around her waist. I stared at them incomprehensibly.
“I’m moving in with Robby,” Rachel said.
I turned my head slowly to Robby. “Robbyy—” Someone put an arm around my shoulder. I whipped around. It was Josh.
“Ryan, man. It ain’t worth it.”
I nodded slowly. “You're right. No back-stabbing bitch is worth it.” And swept out the cafeteria.

xi

I unlocked my apartment. I felt hollow. Low. Used. I put my shopping bag on the counter and unloaded it. One bottle of vodka. I took out my phone. Seven missed calls from Rachel including four messages saying she was sorry and all that bull.
I sat on the recliner in my apartment. I looked at my home screen picture. It was Rachel and I at Six Flags Over Texas underneath the Texas Giant. It hurt to look at it, so I deleted it from my phone and replaced the wallpaper. Then, I put the bottle in my hand and got drunk, reaching the doorways of an almost bliss. A bliss where I didn’t have to think of her.
But I thought about that crow mask.