Prompt Response #6
Here's my post for this week. I'll add some ending thoughts later; I don't have much time right now. Hope everyone enjoys this -- I answered the prompt, "Write about an unwanted talent."
---
"Mind Games"
"I don't do that kind of thing anymore," I said, leaning against the back of the batting cage on the far side of the field, my hands in my pockets.
The sun blazed away in the sky; the yellowed grass all along the field swayed in the wind like a vicious fire. I yawned.
"Why not?" Johnny said, grabbing the cage and shaking it a bit, causing me to bounce around like a coked-up weasel, which didn't make me too different from Johnny. "It won't take you long at all -- just a few seconds, right?"
"Don't care," I said, leaning back against the cage. "I don't want to get involved with that crap anymore -- stop fucking with the cage, damn it -- it's too messy. I get stuck between people. It's not cool."
"But she doesn't have to know!" he said. He turned around and paced. I refused to look at him after that. This wasn't serious enough for clichés. "You do your thing, I'll know how she feels and then I can handle it from there. No need for you to be involved."
I took my hand out of my right pocket and rubbed it against my face. Really, I tried to let him down gently. It wasn't my fault he was so thick.
"There's never a need for me to be involved," I said. "But it always happens. It never fails. I'm sick to shit of it."
I could hear him turn around quickly. Dirt swelled up from the ground, and the wind carried it to my pants. I dusted them off while Johnny answered me.
"Come on," he said. "I swear nobody else will know about this! Trust me!"
"Dude, you've already told two other people about this," I said, scratching my head. "And you're already planning on spreading it to others."
A moment of silence hung in the air like a batting practice fastball. I turned and leaned against the cage, waiting for him to speak up. He searched for a response befitting the gravity of the situation.
"Oh," Johnny said, turning his head to the side, a grimace on his face. "Right."
"Yeah, don't be stupid, Johnny," I said. "You wanted me for a particular reason, right? You're not immune to it."
Johnny took a step back. He looked funny falling all over himself in his tight pants and with his long brown hair flying everywhere on his face. I walked out from behind the backstop.
"Hey, stay back!" Johnny said. He stumbled and fell, bracing himself against the ground with the palms of his hands. "Just get away from me, you fucking freak!" He clawed against the ground in his effort to stand up again and ran away when he was upright.
I shook my head and sighed. This kind of situation was becoming more frequent. Why did I decide to do this again? It sure as shit wasn't for the money -- at least, not by that time. Guys with money didn't need circus freaks like me. And your Average Joe high schooler was probably harder up for money than I was.
So, why? Who knew.
The sun kept beating down on me. I yawned and looked at my watch. Five minutes until lunch was over. I walked through the field and past the lunch area, which was littered with random garbage and hotter than a week in Death Valley. It was packed to the brim as usual -- not good for my mind.
I hope this line lets up soon, because I am fucking starving.
Jesus, you'd think less girls would be wearing pants in this heat.
I wish my trig book was softer -- it would be soooo much easier to sleep in class.
Every thought plunged into my head. The only thought of my own that squirmed its way through the mess of sleep, food and fucking was that it embarrassed me that I still couldn't block this crap out at will.
Oh, I could focus on one person for sure. But blocking it all out completely? Shit. That was a trick.
I made it to class with a few seconds to spare and sat down at my desk. Our teacher wasn't back yet. Typical. The one time I hurried my ass to class -- fun, fun, fun. I folded my arms and buried my head in them, and, of course, that's when someone decided to bug me.
"Hey," Derek said, sitting next to me. He leaned over and prodded my side. "Hey, I have a favor to ask you."
"What the hell do you want?" I mumbled, turning my head away from him.
"Dude, I really need to do well on this test," he said. "If I don't, then my parents are gonna cut me off from Xbox Live for a month. Can you hook me up with the answers to the test?"
"No," I said.
"Why not?" he asked. "I've seen you do shit like this before. What, I'm not good enough for you to help out all of a sudden?"
"Yes," I said. "Leave me alone."
"Well, hey, if you can't help me out with that, then maybe you can help me out with something else," Derek said.
I sighed and sat up, with my eyes closed and my face staring straight at the roof, and then I turned and looked him straight in the eyes. He turned away slightly.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Some asshole is running around saying I quit on people when I'm losing in Halo 3," he said. "But I don't know who it is. Can you find out for me?"
I considered this.
"How much is it worth to you?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I think, for this, I can take no less than $50."
"Dude, what the fuck? That's, like, a whole video game. I'm not gonna pay you $50!"
"Then we have nothing to discuss," I said, folding my arms and sinking into them once again. Right at that moment, our teacher came in and started class. Brilliant timing. Just beautiful.
Before I knew it, class was over, and the day was over, since I didn't have a class the final period. I was home free and away from all those morons who couldn't do a little info hunting on their own. They always needed it quick and easy.
I walked through the front gates and had stepped onto the lawn when I heard someone call my name.
"Hey, slow down, you God damn freak!" It was someone I didn't recognize. He was a big, burly, mean-lookin' bastard, all dressed up in his football practice gear. I didn't need my particular talents to realize he wasn't going to recommend me a good fast food joint.
I turned tail and ran. Even the smuggest dickweed can realize when he's licked. But that guy must have been on the good part of his steroid cycle, because he caught up to me in seconds flat and grabbed my shirt collar. I fell to the ground with a sick yelp and coughed my lungs out while the big bastard stood over me like the god of death ready to claim his next victim.
The sun was angled behind the big bastard, and I couldn't see his face. I tried to stand up; he plunged his hands underneath my arms and forced me upright.
"Do you know why I'm here, you little shit?" the big bastard asked.
"No," I said. "I don't even know who you are."
"No surprise there," he said, cracking his knuckles. "But that didn't stop you from sticking your nose where it didn't belong."
"What the fuck are you--" I started, before he surprised me with a solid right to the gut. I went down like an early round Punch-Out!! fighter, shaking around in the fetal position and cradling my stomach. Shuddering gasps fell from my lips in ragged whispers.
"Your God damn snitching ruined me, you little fuck," the big bastard said as I struggled to my knees. "I had a good thing going before you went and told my girl everything and fucked it up." Great. He was one of those guys.
He thrust a knee at my head that probably would have broken my jaw had I not dodged at the last second. The burning in my ear told me I didn't dodge it as much as I would have liked.
"Don't blame me because you can't keep it in your pants, you dumbshit," I said, obviously thinking clearly. "If you hadn't been such an idiot about it, she probably wouldn't have gone to me in the first place."
He shut me up with a right cross to the face. He only got me in the cheek, but it felt as if the entire left side of my head was throbbing. Blood dripped slowly out of my mouth. A kick to the shoulder distracted me nicely from that, however.
"You shut the fuck up," the big bastard said. "Just shut up! You're lucky I have practice right now, you piece of shit, or else you wouldn't make it home. If you know what's good for you, then just stay the hell out of my way."
As a gift of good will, he left me with a straight jab to my right eye. Lucky me.
When I woke up, I was in the nurse's office. She was holding an icepack to the side of my face. It felt like the entire Nazi army was doing the goosestep in my brain, with Hitler shouting sweet nothings into my ear for good measure.
"How are you feeling?" the nurse asked.
"I've had better days," I said, sitting up. "Much better."
"You looked bad when the security guard brought you in," she said. "This should keep the swelling down, though I imagine you're not going to feel great for the next few hours. I tried calling your home, but nobody answered."
"Not the biggest surprise I've had all day," I said. "That's why I have this." I held up my house key. She shook her head.
"I'm not letting you go, then," she said. "At least, not while I can. You're staying here until school is over."
I tried protesting, but that lasted exactly half a second before I gave in and decided to rest. When the final bell rang, the nurse still looked hesitant to let me leave; however, I assured her I was feeling much better, which was true since I didn't have some big bastard pounding the everloving shit out of me right at that moment.
I limped home. My stomach still hurt, my shoulder was sore and my face might as well have been torn apart by raccoons. I didn't have time to check the mirror, but it was a given that I had a nice shiner. At least people would be able to tell my right eye apart from my left.
The sun was still beating down when I got home. Key in lock. Open door. Mope inside and fall on bed. Rinse and repeat tomorrow and the rest of high school.
My room was silent; nobody was home except me. I had my head all to myself, and nothing was coming out.
Why did I keep doing it? Who knew.
I fell asleep and didn't wake up until the next morning.
---
I was originally going to answer a different prompt -- "Write about late night television" -- but I kept getting insanely distracted and ended up not having much time on my hands, so I went the idea that lended itself to a shorter story. This turned out pretty well.
I like stories where a bizarre idea is played straight. The main inspiration for this came from the beginning strips of Dominic Deegan: Oracle for Hire, where people bug Dominic and use his Second Sight to answer the most useless, inane questions. The same thing would happen in high school -- mind reading would not be used for anything particularly important; it would be used for gossip, cheating and picking up a few quick bucks.
The mind reader in this story is basically a cheap detective, which directed the tone of the story. I love the style of film noir and crime novels, so if I pulled off something even in the same universe as those, then I'm happy.
Also, you all have SomeGuy to thank for the, "Don't be stupid, Johnny" line. :P
