An On-Line Novel: The Immoral : Attacked

Ronald glared back at the girls taunting his BFF.

"What's wrong, Kermy the Froggy?" the girl with the moppy head of curls said, jutting out her lower lip for emphasis. "Piggy get her feelings hurt?"

He didn't respond. Instead he cast his gaze on Cassandra noting her internal conflict.

She was holding her breath, scribbling arrows every which way on the pad Mr. Haggerman left with her.

He reached toward her and yanked the paper away from her.

Cassandra shot him a what-are-you-doing-look at him.

Across the top half, he scrawled down names he knew. Wadsworth and Gruber. And described the others. The whole far right row. The kid with the Jimmy Swaggert hair. He wasn't afraid of these creeps. They could all go suck eggs for all he cared.

His BFF frowned.

"Hey! Look!" Grueber blurted out. "Miss Piggy's boyfriend is Hangman's henchman. He's writing down our names!"

Ronald studied Cassandra's reaction.

She actually breathed only to suck in a gob of air and held it again, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Are you going to write my name down?" some boy shouted from his right. "My name is Alton with an 'A'!" The kid sounded proud.

"How about my name?" A girl with Coke-bottle glasses pounded on her desk to his BFF's left.

The whole classroom broke out into hysterical laughter minus Cassandra. Wadded up balls of paper pummeled against Ronald and Cassandra. Not long after, tiny wet pellets splatted against their cheeks, necks, and heads.

Ronald swiped at the one clinging to his neck. A spit ball. How mature. He'd show these maniacs who not to mess with. These kids needed a visit to the principal's office. That was for sure. Wonder what kind of paddle they use here? At the Lutheran school, they used a ping-pong one. He got it once in the sixth grade for shoving a girl into a thorn bush on the playground. It only took once to fix his wagon.

Cassandra blew out the air she held, gave Ronald a half-smile, and reached for the notepad he had taken from her. After, she wrote: THE ENTIRE CLASS MIS-BEHAVED WHILE YOU WERE OUT!

He gave her a supportive nod. He would back up his BFF in this.

More spit balls flew through the air. This time three plastered themselves onto Ronald's right cheek.

War had now been declared by these hoodlums and he wasn't going to let Cassandra take the heat for it. He would be there to defend her through thick and thin.

He bent toward his right, stuck his hand in his book bag, and fumbled for one of his spiral notebooks. Pulling a blue one out, he plopped it onto his desk and flipped it open. He thumb through three blank pages and ripped them out. A plan for retaliation formed in his mind.

Cassandra mouthed, "What are you going to do?"

He gave her an evil grin, knowing that his plan might get him a visit with the principal and his paddle. But whatever he planned had to be stealth-like. Something menacing. Something these Baptist freaks would never forget.

His BFF raised her brows. She wanted an answer.

He knew the look and stood.

"Where are you going?" she whispered loud enough for only him to hear.

"To the bathroom." He strutted past her with the three sheets of paper and his bagged lunch.

***

Cassandra knew this wasn't going to end well. She couldn't figure why her BFF would risk his first impression for these idiots. They're not worth it. Her way would be to ignore them.

She glanced at his back while he hooked a left into the hallway.

"Where's Kermit going, Piggy?" Grueber tapped her right shoulder. "Is going to eat some flies?"

Cassandra sneered at him over her shoulder. Even that was too much to offer the greasy boy sitting behind her. Wonder if he knows if the giant zit on his nose is about to explode? It was the one thing that stood out on him besides his shiny hair follicles.

Miss Wadsworth let out a snort and pressed her finger against her nose. It made her nostrils flare making her look like a piggish-look. She followed with more grunts and then began to squeal like the farm animal.

The rest of the class followed suit.

The class monitor swung her head around and faced the blackboard. What was taking Mr. Haggerman so long? And why did Ronnie have to leave her alone in a room full of spoiled brats?

Shelly Arkon © 2015

An On-Line Novel: The Immoral: Insecurities

Cassandra stood in front of her bedroom mirror, smoothing her plaid skirt out over and over. She moved sideways and sucked in her stomach as tight as she could. It nearly suffocated her doing so. As she let the air out her belly bulged. After, she shifted herself around and glanced over her shoulder at her backside. Bubble-butt. Hiroshima-hips. The fatty. The voices played over and over in her head. She fisted her hands and pounded her hips. Ronnie had told her once that if she’d beat them, it would break up the fatty cells. He had read an article in one of his mother’s Cosmopolitan magazines.

“Sassie!” her mother called.

“Yes!” she hollered back, still staring at her backend, thrashing on her hips. Her diet plan had failed again. They always did. She’d have to try something different. Slimfast maybe. It should be okay for someone my age. The commercial says it’s full of vitamins.

“We need to go. It’s seven-thirty. I can’t be late for my shift.” Her mom was a registered nurse for a nursing home. She went into work early Monday through Friday and was always home by the time Cassandra got home from school.

Cassandra spun around to face the mirror again before scooping up her book bag. At least her curly hair looked alright and she hadn’t had a break out in a long time. Maybe no one will notice my weight. It’s a Christian school. Everyone should be cool with me she told herself.

***

Ronald glanced out the windshield as his stepfather pulled into the Baptist school’s parking lot. Three boys and girl sat at a picnic table under a large tree full of moss. He scanned beyond them, hoping to see Cassandra. But she wasn’t there from what he could see. His shoulders slumped and the pit in his stomach felt as if it would swallow him from the inside out.

“What’s the matter, little Ronnie?” his stepfather smacked his shoulder. “Afraid?”

He didn’t answer, grabbed the car handle, and pushed the door open. Hesitantly, he slid out of the seat and got to his feet, staring straight ahead. He figured if he ignored the head cheese he’d leave or melt away. Maybe he’ll crash his car somewhere today and die. That would’ve been fine with him. God knows he’s not been a real father figure in my life.

“Hey! Aren’t you gonna say good bye?” His stepfather sounded pathetic, kind of whiney. The guy has feelings?

Ronald rolled his eyes. “Bye.”

“Make sure you do what you can to walk like a man, girly-boy.” Those were his stepdad’s last words before he peeled out of the parking lot.

The kids at the picnic table all looked in his direction.

A lump grew in the bottom of his throat and he rolled his shoulders back. He took his stepfather’s advice to act like a man and puffed out his chest. Think John Wayne, he thought. It would be a great travesty if these kids figured out his secret.

 

 

Shelly Arkon©2015

 

 

 

 

 

An On-Line Novel: The Immoral: Chapter Four

Man Up

 

Ronald’s alarm let out an ear-piecing noise. He peeked out of his covers and let it continue to screech. 6:30AM. The first day of high school begins. Nausea had jumbled in the pit of his stomach. The uniform he was required to wear, a pair of navy blue slacks and a red polo shirt, was more than boring. It would be the same outfit day in and day out for nine months except for weekends and holidays. The ensemble lacked style and would be like every guy in school. No creativity whatsoever. At least he didn’t have to worry about where the pant length ended like Cassandra had to with her skirt. God forbid if it wasn’t a good two inches past her knees. Something like that could get his best friend suspended.

“Ronny!” his mother hollered. “You up?”

“Yeah!” He threw his covers off, sat up, and finally switched off his shrieking alarm clock.

“How come you’re not in the bathroom yet!? Did you forget the head cheese is leaving in an hour!?” He couldn’t figure why his mother referred to his stepdad as that. Why not baldy? Or jerk? Either one fit the man perfectly. His mother married him two years after his father died when he was four.

Ronald swung his legs around and planted his bare feet onto the shag carpet. “I’m making my bed,” he lied, although that would be the next thing he would do.

He turned around and grabbed the bed covers pulling them up to the pillow. After, he smoothed out the wrinkles and tucked in the corners. Someone could have bounced a quarter off his bed.

Next, he walked toward his mirror attached to his dresser across from his bed. There, he turned on his lamp and studied his chin. No zits. Good. The crushed aspirin mixed with a little bit of water worked over night like a charm. But his dirty-blonde hair was a whole other matter. It didn’t help that he had a major cowlick smack dab in the middle of his forehead. The hairdresser called it a widow’s peak. His mother called it the Eddie Munster. He rolled his eyes as he smoothed his bangs back only to have them fall across his forehead again. It would take a lot of hair spray to keep it parted perfectly down the middle and feathered.

The door to his room swung open and smacked the wall.

Ronald jumped and veered his eyes toward the left.

“Why aren’t you moving, girly-boy?” his step father said, standing in a pair of boxers, showing off his hairy chest and pot belly. How could his mother cozy up this grody-human-being at night?

“I am.” Ronald huffed out the words. It irked him how his step dad felt the need to throw around his authority.

The man reached for his crotch and scratched.

Ronald winced, turned his attention back to the mirror, and primped his hair. What kind of person scratches their ball in front of another person? He kept the thought to himself.

 

“If I were you,” his step father said. “I’d man up before I stepped foot onto a Baptist campus. If I know what you are, they’ll for sure figure you out.”

Shelly Arkon © 2015