Awakening: Part 2

The next day, Billy felt a pang to his empty wallet. Twenty-five cents is what he could bring out of it this week. He had lost four dollars because that's what a new book like the one Meryl had somehow dirtied--as was Billy's excuse--had cost. His father, in the middle of a living room full of luxury which included a large black forty-inch plasma television on the wall and on the ceiling, along with big cases displaying Yankee and Dodger team sets and baseballs on a platform signed by whole teams for five generations, was pacing back and forth angrily. "One job, that's it, you had one job, Billy."

"I did my job," Billy complained.

"I saw the book."

"Keeping her book clean wasn't part of the deal."

At this part, his mom walked in.

"Jane, did you hear what your son did?"

"Oh," Billy's mom said, "What are you blaming him of now, Frank?"

She went to the kitchen which was right next to the living room. The house was so open from the roof to the floor that it stretched at least fifteen feet high. And there were light sockets up there dug into the walls that illuminated the whole room very well. His mom had to walk around some black crystalline tables she'd bought from an auction last week. Billy didn't get a dime from his dad but he was glad that, at least, his mother wasn't as neglected in that respect.

"Blaming? He's mocking me, Jane. Mocking me. I tell him to protect the girl and he's the one she needs protecting from. This is the third time he's done it. Ha, but that's the last straw. Yes, sir. It is."

His mother sniffed and said, "Again, you blame my son. Not once do you think, oh, what did the little princess next door do to provoke him, huh?"

Billy felt that was an un-fair assumption of his mom and he felt surprised that he thought that. Well, he had been the one to lose his temper. It wasn't Meryl's fault she was a loud-mouth.

"No excuses, Jane. You don't need to protect him. Yes, he's ten but he should know better. I knew better at ten. At ten, I had straight A's in class. What's this another report card full of B's!"

Billy sighed. For some reason, he couldn't get a sense of justice in his house. Grades weren't good enough; his attitude wasn't good enough, his health wasn't good enough, was there anything good enough? His dad always played the grade card. He kept recent copies of his report card in his pocket just to tease him about it. Usually, it was sarcastic and good-natured but when he was mad, he used it as a tool to make him feel bad. The worst part was that loud-mouthed Meryl hadn't said a word to him the whole way back from school. She had reason to be upset with him, at least. It made the long trek uphill from school like crawling up a sweaty tunnel with glass and dirt stopping him from time to time.

"A lady said she saw you arguing with a thrash can, even! Is that right? No. Don't answer."

His mom had come back to the living room with a purple crystal cup and a bottle of wine. She sat on one of the fine dark-blue all-silk-embroidered couches. Billy wasn't supposed to sit on them, that was the rule, so he sat on an old oak wood chair near the entrance to the house, instead. It was uncomfortable and lumpy at the sides. He had his head down. Billy wished they would beat him. It would be easier to deal with than the yelling and especially the robbing of his allowance thereof.

So he found himself walking to school alone. In the corner of the across the street from the school block was an ice-scream store. He would sometimes go there to feel the cold icy pleasure of a pistachio-flavored scoop of deliciousness. Now, he was sad to see that his wallet wouldn't approve of the action. All because of that stupid Meryl. Damn. He was going to school too early. Simon was coming up the street at a run.

"Hey," he said to Billy.

"Simon," Billy said, "How is your lunch?"

"Don't worry, Billy. I got you."

"You got me, ey?" Billy asked. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go but Simon seemed to be a good person, never mind that Billy bullied the poor kid for his lunch every day. What was his ploy? Did Simon want something from him.

"What is it you want?" Billy was often curious about the needs of the weak. Unlike others in school, Simon was a nerd. He wore glasses and a yellow sweater. Ugly wasn't the correct word for it; more like, unnecessarily almost white, as if bleach had gotten in a fight with yellow and lost. He wore the most tacky green pants one could think of. Bright eye-draining green. And his shoes had been fashioned from metal. They were obviously shiny-gray and meant to blind bullies as he ran away from them. This was an actually smart move and probably the only part of the suit that made sense.

"You play Space Dreg," Simon said.

"I do not," Billy lied but he was no good at it. His eyes kept darting from right to left as if the lie police were going to get him.

Simon actually laughed. Didn't he know that Billy would pound him? Well, no, Billy wouldn't pound him. He couldn't afford it, literally. He put the quarter back in his pocket. Maybe, if he ever got another one to accompany it, it would come in handy. Billy looked at his watch. He was still too early for school. He wasn't, after all, a geek. The difference between geek and nerd, to Billy was simple. One did way too much homework; the other played too many video games. Usually, people expected a combination of the two but this was not true of Eric Dimpson. He was addicted to a video game, an online multiplayer thingy. He got bad grades but was good at games. In nerd town, perfectly reasonable. In the geek world, an abomination. Such was the way of peers and groups. Billy had to choose one, it seemed. And it was startling to find that he was so intent on joining Simon's, despite his distaste for both nerds and geeks. It was partially because Space Dreg was a descent game. It was a place where you fought for justice in an unjust planet. It was similar to real life.

"I won't tell anyone," said Simon, coming up to his side, "You going to the Joe's like always?"

"Not today," Billy said, "I'm a quarter short of a scoop."

"Oh? Well, I just happen to have a favor. He owes me."

"You'd do that for me? Even though I steal your lunch every day?" Billy just couldn't figure the kid out.

Billy had most his books in a locker where he used to stuff the new students but then that proved costly, so he was like a tame lion now. Still, he felt he had to keep some kind of distance from the geeks, didn't he? Imagine if people knew that he got all B's in class or that he played Space Dreg? No, he had to keep a close eye on this one. Now, Simon here was a short one. He was at least one foot shorter than Billy, although Billy's height wasn't so imposing as his weight was.

"I want to play with you, actually."

They started to walk down hill toward the ice-cream shop.

"Space Dreg?"

"Yes," said Simon, "Because the Shimitar is on a rampage again. I die consistently to a flying dagger or a space-clone trap. How does she even do that? It takes three million Space coins to purchase a prone. True, one could get that from the Everlast, pill of the dead, but then you'd have to survive the escape of planet Erk."

"I did that once," Billy said, "But I did not purchase a space-clone. So. You require my assistance with Shimi, good friend of mine by the way. I'll tell her to leave you be."

"You know Shimitar!"

"Yea, I'm Droolmonger, what did you think? I play to win."

"You're the legendary player versus player champ who retired on the west side of Planet Q to fight in respect of justice as a judge for the battles of clong?"

"Yes," Billy said, annoyed. He felt weird being excited by the game. But it was interesting to see how other people reacted. It was like having a conversation about something no one else would understand. In a sense, geek-talk but since it was video game related, was it really just nerd talk? Billy couldn't decide what to do. He had been snared into talking about the game. "You see," Billy said, "While there might not be justice in the real world, one could have hope for justice in the game. Whenever anyone came to me in the council of Clong, I gave them the right to state their case and judged them fairly. Now, the game developers sent me a message saying they wanted to dissolve my character if I kept playing fairly. It was a game; it was supposed to be unfair."

"That's why I haven't seen you on."

"The real world interrupted the game world," Billy said with a sigh, "So until I fix it out here, I can't help you in there. I know Shimi's game-mail, so all I can do is send her a message."

"You'd do that for me? Even if you think you're stealing my lunch?"

"Think? You always give it to me when I ask."

"But you ask."

"Saves me the effort of pounding you."

"But when you ask," said Simon, smiling, "I am seen with you and, people think we're friends, so the other bullies leave me alone. I just tell them I know you."

Ha, so the truth came out. Simon was just using him like his father had, like Meryl had, although he tried to help her.

"Well, I guess that's fair," said Billy, who really didn't want to get into it. He much preferred just to get his ice-cream and continue to ignore Simon. He walked past Cal's house with a frown but continued down the street, not wanting to stir up another reason to lose his allowance. Simon still followed him.

"I want to be your friend, for real," Simon said.

No. Billy hadn't got to the point. "Let me weigh the options, as you buy me ice-cream," Billy said.

They were in front of Joe's ice-cream parlor. He was surprised that time had gone by so fast.

They sat in the back, away from windows. It was so early that people weren't there. Joe himself served them. When they came in, Joe smiled at Simon and said, "Little Man, you going to let go of my strings today?"

Here was a tall black man in a white apron and white hat with the word scream written across the top in multi-colored sprinkles and he was afraid of the tiny Simon.

"Yea, yea," said Simon, "Give my friend here a free-bee."

"Well," Joe said and paused looking at Billy up and down, "Okay but its just a shame what you're doing to the poor fellow."

That was probably a shot at Billy's weight but Billy ignored it. Free ice-cream was free ice-cream. After getting their ice-cream, Joe saluted them and they sat in the back.

"Here's the thing," Billy said, "I have a problem meter. Not a reputation, not like you would think. I don't try to hold up to any thing but this: justice. Maybe, sometimes I can be unfair to the weak but then I find that I've been helping you. Hence, what kind of justice is that?"

"A pretty fair one, if you ask me. I like not getting my head pounded on as much as the next guy."

"Justice for me, I mean. At least, in that respect, I get your lunch. Or, how are you working out the lunch bits? You don't seem pale or un-healthy."

"My dad's a cook," Simon said, "And he works at a meat and bakery store. It's the reason why Joe owed me a favor. He borrowed a set amount of ice from my dad's shop one day and I had to overlook it."

"So," Billy said, quite impressed, "Others steal from you as well."

"And I get free ice-scream, so who is stealing from whom," Simon said, with a smile on his face. There was the remnants of a chocolate chip cookie on his lip. He continued to spoon ice-scream with multiple toppings on it into his face, while Billy slowly enjoyed his Pistachio ice scream, one spoon full at a time. Billy didn't put any toppings on his. What a waste of ice scream that, to spoil it with additional bits and such. It only made a mess of things.

"I like that you always get back at the thieves, including me. I may be the worst one of all."

"Not really," Simon said, "Most of the lunches I give you are old sandwiches from three days back, which we usually throw away at the end of the fourth day. What you're getting is our thrash, so again, who is stealing from whom?"

"I stole a lasagna form you once," Billy said, remembering a distinct taste of cherries in the thing. It was so good. His most successful lunch stolen so far.

"Mom's cherry surprise," Simon said, cheerfully. How could the kid be so happy? "Yea, I got over that. Mom made too much again, so I had a couple more stored in my locker. Ate them both by the way, before you could steal it again the next day. I got you a rotten sandwich that next time."

"Hmm, well that's just wrong, isn't it?"

"Fair is fair," Simon said with a distinct and commanding tone, although it was hard to see him as commanding with a flake of peanut attached to his lip and his glasses almost falling off his nose.

"So it is," Billy said.

As he was saying it, almost like it was destiny, in came Cal with a new black leather jacket. It was brown and shiny and it complimented his brand new brown shoes, too. Here, Billy saw an opportunity.

"Simon," Billy said, "I will accept your friendship under a few set terms. We don't betray each other, one."

"I agree."

"Two, none of this talk of Space Dreg until I can come back into the game and fight for justice."

Sadly, he said, "Whatever, it's fine."

"And three, should any of these fellows you call bully come to you again, you do not need to pronounce that I am your friend. If they do harm you in some way, then all you need to do is name them to me once. They will not get in your way further, I can assure you of that."

"Good," said Simon, "I was thinking that saying you are my friend was going to be a lame excuse eventually."

"Not really," Billy said, "Unless your lunches had continued to be bad. Oh, and there's a fourth."

"You said and," Simon said, interrupting, "It's not fair to add after an and."

"Wait,"t Billy said, thinking, "I didn't say finally. From now on finally is the end of a pact between us, as friends, I mean. Finally is where it ends, I should say.

"Good, okay, well you better say finally then because school is about to start and I do like to get good grades."

"Okay, okay," Billy said, looking at his watch. They were still way early but geeks thought differently about time and school. Billy knew that. He was close to being one but he just couldn't cross that threshold into A, although he did try. He wasn't stupid enough to try and lose his allowance by getting C's. He couldn't be that normal in his house because C's said that he just wasn't trying. In order to get B's, Billy had to get to school early and employ the services of the student tutors who were all too wary of his reputation as the bully that asks. Still, they taught him math and science, his two worst subjects. "Finally," Billy said, "We have to agree to help each other, no matter the cause."

"Oh," Simon said, "That part. I figured that was just part of being friends. There's no need to be a pact for that."

"I see," Billy said, thinking that would be the thing that kept Simon away and he would both lose a good lunch and a potentially valuable ally in the battle versus his parents and other bullies. His battle with love, well, that was yet to be fought. He had yet to step into a field that required his services in that respect.