Chapter 4: Walking Home

Screams echo in the dark. A couple cry in dismay as the headlights of a car approaches their vehicle. The driver's wrists turn the wheel. Rather than avoid collision, the man has no other options. White lights burn his eyes as fate is sealed…

Lids flutter open and stare at the bright light above. Once the present returns, Crash rises from a cot. He glances around to see where he is. A heart struggles to remain composed.

"Good, you're up, Mr. Wake," a soothing voice rings. "Any longer and we would have needed an ambulance."

Crash studies the young woman. She has long brown hair tied up into a loose bun. Her hazel eyes are rather kind and reassuring. The teenager fills his lungs with air. He pauses…one…two…three. Upon the count of seven, he releases his breath. The nurse provides him apple juice.

"Thank you," Crash replies as he takes the offering.

The juice is sweet. Soon sugar replenishes his body's imbalance. After his panic attack, Crash's stomach is noxious. Yet, he knows food is essential.

"When's lunch?" he asks the nurse.

"Well, are you sure that you want to stay in school?" she responds with concern. "If you need us to, then we can call your parents to take you home."

Crash shakes his head. Home is out of the question. Leaving school means interrupting Mama's work. 'She has already sacrificed her time for me,' the teen reasons. After all, requesting Mama would entail another car ride. 'My heart can't take that,' Crash sighs.

"I rather stay," he replies with more conviction.

"Okay," the nurse smiles. "I'll escort you back to the locker room to get your belongings on the way to the cafeteria."

"Oh, okay." The boy raises a brow.

He carefully slides himself of off the cot. The nurse appears jovial. On the contrary, Crash 'senses' her worry. The matter should not concern him as much as it does. 'Should I be staying?' Doubt trickles into his mind. He shakes his head without the nurse's notice.

Once Crash reenters the locker room, he hears the scurries of students as they prepare for gym. As he stops at the row of lockers, Crash smiles. Since the lockers require personal codes, he recalls the numbers: 1, 3, 9, 8.

The mechanism clicks open. In a hurry, the hungry teen grabs his backpack and clothes. He passes a mirror then takes a step back. Crash grimaces at the sight of the borrowed attire. After a quick change, he reconvenes with the nurse outside.

"Where do I…put these?" Crash inquires.

"There's a hamper in the office," she replies. "You can drop them in on our way."

The teenager nods in response. The walk forward is quiet. Suddenly, after reaching the hallway Crash recalls a friend.

"Where's Alex?" he asks without expecting a reply.

"He's back at class," the nurse answers. "He was determined to stay with you until you were awake. He can be troublesome sometimes, but Alex values his friends."

Her response brings a smile. 'He's a good friend then,' Crash muses. 'Loud but kind.' A low growl distracts his thoughts. The chattering of students escapes the cafeteria as the door is opened. Crash sighs then turns towards the nurse.

"Thank you for your help." He forces a smile.

"You're welcome!" she beams. "There's a half an hour left, so please enjoy your lunch!"

A half an hour is ample time. Crash waves 'goodbye' and enters the noise. His grip tightens on his bag.

While walking up to the counter, he scans the room. 'No sign of Alex.' He frowns. The lunch menu is sparse in contrast to Crash's interest. The salad looks unwashed and the pizza glows with grease. Crash sticks his tongue out in distaste.

"Chicken fingers and French fries," he concedes with the most edible choice.

"Would it kill you to say 'please'?" a grumpy worker scoffs.

"Please?" Crash asks with a raised brow.

The man grumbles and plates the request. Crash accepts the tray then slides to the register. He places his meal onto the counter to search through his bag. Once sighted, Crash flashes his meal card—the ones provided to financially burdened students. The woman at the register smiles.

"Don't mind him." She points a thumb over at the man. "He's always like that. Enjoy your meal!"

"Thank you," the teenager's gaze glances at her badge. "Sandie."

"You're welcome!" she beams.

Crash gathers his belongings and hunts for a seat. A group of students leave a table behind to finish their break outside. Eagerly, the teenager takes the opening. He eats quietly while observing the others. Not many catch his curiosity at first.

Yet, towards the second table on his right, Crash notices one caught in an unwanted conversation. There are several teenagers, boys and girls, chatting away. A girl with caramel skin and dark eyes regards those around her with discontent. She eats slowly with a bored expression. Upon feeling another's glance, her gaze darts towards Crash's direction. He startles and averts his attention to his food.

A bell signals the end of the current session. Crash readies himself and peers at the schedule. 'Math,' he reads. 'Today is a drag.' He sighs with pessimism. At this rate, all Crash wants to do is listen to music and take a nap!

The mathematics room is on the second floor. Crash scrambles to reach the class before the final chime. He enters with his head low. Once seated, he scans the faces.

Although Alex is not present, he finds a familiar face. 'The girl from the cafeteria!' Crash's excitement at meeting a new acquaintance drops once the teacher introduces himself. The man's dry voice makes the teenager's jaw drop. 'Math is going to be so boring!' he thinks in disappointment.

Crash's eyes turn towards the clock. The hands are stopped and unfunctional. Time painfully shuffles onward as the teacher describes his class material…heading by heading. The only solace is the bell. 'Onto the final class of the day!' Crash beams. 'Science room 203.' He pulls out and reads the schedule.

Students move through the halls like ants in their tiny chambers. Despite wanting to meet the girl, Crash prefers not to be late. He finds the class with ease and must push through a group of students talking to enter. He takes his usual seat in the back.

As his classmates finish pouring into the room, he notices that he is alone. 'Not a recognizable face.' He frowns. Even more so, his comfort levels are tested. The science teacher requests each one to state their name and interests.

"Crash Wake. Music," the introverted teenager replies.

There is an array of expressions. Eyes turn towards Crash as though to ask: 'Why?' He turns red and hides behind his notebook.

As the class proceeds, students begin passing secret letters detailing their thoughts on 'the weird boy.' The instructor notices the exchange and confiscates the intolerable elusive messages. As he reads the letters, his eyes widen with rage.

"Let's get something clear," he addresses the class. "Harassment of any kind is unacceptable! Even when masked in 'secret' notes!"

The guilty sit back in their chairs.

"There will be repercussions for this behavior," the teacher continues. "After all, school is a place to feel safe and learn."

Crash glances around, unaware that it was him depicted in the notes. He taps his foot hoping for the bell. Regardless of his nerves, he is grateful for the teacher's zero tolerance to bullying. 'Definitely need more instructors like…' His mind draws a blank.

Without realizing his name, Crash turns to his notebook. 'Mr. Flemming.' He reads with a soft grin. His eyes continue peeking at the clock.

One…two…three…The final minute of class drags on like a broken faucet. Crash closes his book as his classmates cheer for the bell. All except those Mr. Flemming holds back. A small huddle of disgruntled students forms beside the teacher's desk.

Crash passes them a wry glance. The rolled eyes of the others leave him feeling awkward. His gaze shifts quickly away.

The first day of school ends with teenagers piling in buses or rendezvousing with their parents. On the contrary, Crash relishes the opportunity to walk home. The weather is calm and provides time to relax. He smiles as wind blows through his hair.

During his walk, Crash makes an effort to find the best path. After all, today is his first official attempt. Despite the challenge, Crash has a map at his disposal. He prefers physical paper in hand when navigating. There's a straight cut through Elm Street that would work to his advantage. The walk will take forty-five minutes. Yet, distance doesn't trouble him.

Crash enjoys the greenery of Loutsville's streets. As he approaches Elm Street, Crash notices nothing but trees. The road divides a forest rather than hosting homes to dwell in. A foreboding wind suddenly blows through the trees. Crash turns his gaze behind. Three figures appear along the path. Two are unrecognizable; however, one face belongs to the bully from earlier.

"Well, if it isn't 'Mama's Boy,'" Wallace sneers as his goons laugh. "I heard you passed out during dodgeball. Who the he** does that?"

"I don't want any trouble." Crash tenses.

"That's a lot coming from someone ready to throw a punch." The bully glares. "Or maybe you realize that you're weak!"

"Come on and fight already!" the first goon cries.

"Yeah, I want to see some blood," the second grins wickedly.

The primary aggressor moves forward. While being outnumbered, the anxious teenager has no option but to retaliate. He drops his bag and takes a step back. While lifting his hands, Crash assumes a ready position. His eyes grow serious.

"Fine." He glares. "I'm not afraid of you."

Wallace smiles. He draws his fist back. The other two watch with glee. They don't know about the initial conflict, but are eager for a brawl. Crash uses simultaneous open-handed strikes to parry the punches. Once the bully realizes his opponent's evasive techniques, he becomes furious.

"This bi*** is only blocking!" he shouts. "Come on and hit me!"

Crash shakes his head. While seeing the rage of his leader, the second goon takes a firm stance.

"Let me help!" he cries out.

Before Wallace can answer, a new challenger enters the field. To their surprise, a girl with caramel skin and tight dark curls emerges. Her fierce brown eyes locks onto the aggressors. The bullies start laughing until her demeanor changes their minds.

"I don't think that two on one is a fair fight," she remarks. "He may have played nice, but you can bet that I won't!"

The goon approaches her with a glare.

"Why should we be afraid of a girl like you?" His insult is predictable.

Without a wink, the girl delivers a right hook to the goon's face. He recoils and takes a step back.

"Sh**!" he yells while wiping a bloody nose.

"You win this time!" Wallace concedes. "Come on, this isn't worth it."

"Good!" the girl calls back as the bullies leave.

As the conflict ends, Crash inhales deeply for one…two…and three seconds before releasing his breath. He picks up his bag from the grass. With a sheepish smile, he approaches the unlikely hero.

"Thank you," he clasps both hands together and bows slightly. "You didn't have to do that."

"Well, I couldn't stand and watch you get you’re a** kicked either," she replies with a serious manner. "Plus, you shouldn't let people thrash you around!"

"I'm sorry." Crash's head hangs low.

"Don't apologize," she smiles while placing a hand on his shoulder. "Next time, you shouldn't take Elm Street. It's essentially a forest."

"Note taken." The other nods. With a palm extended, he introduces himself. "I'm Crash."

"Karmalina," she replies as she shakes his hand. "But call me Karma."

The two smile and walk home together.