The Hooligan

by austin

Sorry for the delinquent delay in posting this chapter. I had reached a sort of impasse in the plot which held me up temporarily, and I hope I have crossed over into the home stretch. I switched up narrator viewpoints in this chapter. Now, we see the story from a 3^rd person Nate perspective. I hope this doesn’t confuse you, but I have confidence that you will make this transition with ease. Please send comments to: Austin(dot)db(at)gmail(dot)com. It does mean a great deal to me to be informed of your responses and thoughts, regardless of whether or not they are positive.

Make this week productive and full of satisfaction not just for yourself but for all those whom you have contact/influence.

Part 8

Nate ran until his aching legs and burning lungs would allow not one more step. He found himself crying, angry tears. Tears of hopelessness, tears of betrayal. His emotions were a mess and Nate could not make sense of the tangled jumble of thoughts running through his consciousness with blurring speed. One thing very tangible was the pain his body was in. Nate slowed to a walk, and finding no respite in that state, stopped and sat down on a curb in a neighborhood he didn’t recognize.

Nate breathed heavily, trying to re-infuse his depleted blood with oxygen. The crying slowly subsided and his vision cleared. He rubbed his eyes and sniffled loudly. He wished someone was around, someone to ask what was wrong and comfort him, but the street was empty. Every fifty yards or so, streetlights cast an orange circle on the asphalt. Nate found himself wishing that he had paid attention as he ran away from his house.

Nate couldn’t believe David had done that, kissed his mom. This whole time helping out, being nice to Nate and his brothers: just a ploy to get closer to his mom. Nate felt used, betrayed, and he wanted that scum, David, out of his house and away from his mom. And his mom, for that matter, Nate couldn’t believe that she would betray Dad, getting with another man after only a month. She probably didn’t love Dad in the first place.

Nate looked around, trying to find a landmark, something notable to indicate his location. He had no idea how far he had run in his rage inspired sprint, but Nate was probably very far from home. Not that he cared anyways. He had no intention of going back anytime soon. Not finding anything that jogged his memory, Nate decided just to wander about until he hit a main street.

The neighborhood was ominously quiet. The coming winter had filled the nights with cold air and the late summer walks had stopped. Now, when the sun went down, the only human object to venture from the comfort of home was a few cars which drove by at irregular intervals. Nate found himself wishing each car would suddenly pull over and his mom would jump out and hug him close: angry yet delighted to find her lost boy. But the cars didn’t pull over, and after the quiet hum of each motor died down, the quiet returned to the streets.

Nate cursed David, cursed his careless mother. He cursed them for making him run away. Nate felt small and vulnerable walking by himself down the lonely streets. He was also cold. Nate had his jacket on, which he had brought out to dinner, but right then, it wasn’t doing its job of keeping his body warm.

Dinner had been going well, but halfway through the pizza at a local parlor, Nate suddenly wanted to be alone. He loved his grandparents, but they were too overbearing, asking too many questions. It didn’t seem to bother his younger brothers, but it was making Nate on edge and irritable, so he had finally said he didn’t feel well and asked his grandpa to take him home early. Nate had almost just gone up to his room to lock himself in with his music, but was curious when his mom was nowhere around. And that’s when he found David and his mom.

A constant drone of cars became noticeable, and Nate knew he was approaching one of the main arterials. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and quickened his pace, eager to contextualize his location. When the bright commercial lights came into focus up ahead, Nate recognized the strip mall that was a couple miles from his house.

By a stroke of coincidence, as Nate was walking past the brightly lit windows of a fast food restaurant, he heard a loud tapping coming from inside. After jumping slightly from surprise, Nate peered in through the window and recognized his friends from school. The four friends were gathered around a table, wrappers, fries, soft drinks, and half-eaten burgers littering the area. Nate’s heart jumped in excitement, happy that his loneliness was about to be erased. He quickly entered the restaurant.

“Hey guys,” Nate said, a smile on his face as he approached his friends.

“What you doing out all alone?”

“Don’t want to talk about,” Nate said, sitting down.

His friends just nodded. They’d learned not to press Nate about his home life after his dad had died. They’d watched Nate transform into a different person over the last month. Whereas he’d personified a scared and timid boy just months previous, as October progressed, Nate had toughened at school. Previously shy and scared about the forward antics of the gang, he now participated with glee in delinquent shenanigans. A certain ambivalence pervaded his existence. Luke, Brandon, Sean, and Tommy found it hard to get a straightforward answer out of Nate, so when he said he didn’t want to talk about something, there was little chance you could get him to talk about it, so they just nodded.

“You been crying?” Tommy, the biggest of the boys, asked.

Nate shrugged. “So what if I have.”

“Just checkin’, man. No need to bite my head off.”

Nate shrugged again and grabbed a fry. “What are you guys up to?”

“Nothin’,” Brandon replied. Brandon was the undisputed ring leader of the group. He had most of the ideas and was good at taking responsibility if plans went awry. He didn’t seem to mind sitting in the principal’s office. Sean and Luke were twins and, if it was possible for any of them to be, the nicest members. They didn’t harbor any particular malice against any one or thing, they mostly just hooliganized for the fun of it. “You crying ‘cause you been hurt?” Brandon asked.

“Leave him alone, Brandon,” Sean said softly. “It ain’t none of our business.”

“Sure it’s our business.”

Nate really didn’t want to talk about it. He liked his friends, but he didn’t want to talk about his home life with them. He hung out with them to escape it, not think about it some more. “I’ll tell y’all later,” he said, cutting off the budding argument between Brandon and Sean.

The five boys talked nonsense for a couple more minutes, then decided to leave the fast food restaurant. When they stepped outside the cold air, contrasting heavily with the warm inside, caused a collective shiver. “Jeez, it’s cold,” Luke said. “Let’s not hang outside anymore. Anyone down for video games?”

Luke and Sean’s house was not too far away and soon the boys were piled on couches playing videogames in the basement. It was a great basement: a teenage boy’s paradise. The twins’ parents had relinquished the downstairs to whatever havoc two boys could wreak. It was better to contain it below the ground. A huge flat screen TV, a weight set, two computers, stereo; it was all there. Nate wished his basement was even half as cool as the twins’, but his parents had never allowed it. His mom had been allowing a little bit more since his dad died, but nothing near to this freedom.

Nate declined taking a controller. He opted instead to sit in the back of the room and observe the fun. His parents had also never allowed him to have videogames, so he wasn’t that good at them and much preferred watching than playing. As Nate watched, he began to think about what he was doing. He had pulled off the ultimate display of adolescent protest: running away. It pained him deeply to think of his mother. He knew he was hurting her and Nate found himself with conflicting feelings: at once grieving the pain and basking in its deserved harshness. Right about now, he’d been gone nearly an hour, she was probably crying. Peter and Paul would’ve returned home. Perhaps grandma and grandpa were inside, adults commiserating as to the proper action. David, his quiet confidence, calm demeanor, holding Nate’s mom’s hand to comfort the distraught mother. No, too forward with grandparents there. Just quiet support. Still polluting Nate’s house, though. Invading. Nate wondered if his mother had called the police. Would they be out trolling the streets looking for the delinquent boy? Probably.

Sitting there, thinking of his house, Nate suddenly found himself near tears again. A giant lump formed in his throat, and he quickly got up to escape the oppressive judgment of his friends who would frown heavily upon boyish tears.

After making his way up the darkly lit stairs, thinly carpeted and frayed, Nate burst out onto the back porch and took a seat on an upturned six-gallon paint bucket. Arguably the most versatile of all household containers, they could be used for pretty much anything, but served particularly well as impromptu seating.

The screen door slammed behind him, then rapidly opened again. Nate looked over and saw Sean standing in the glow of the porch light. “You alright?” Sean asked.

“Yeah,” Nate replied.

“You left kind of quick.”

“Yeah.”

Sean shoved his hands in his pockets and took a couple of steps out of the light. He looked up at night sky.

“Lot’s of stars out tonight,” he said.

Nate looked up. “Yeah.”

“See Orion up there?”

Nate didn’t remember which one was Orion. He felt embarrassed to admit it. Nate looked around in the immense expanse, but Sean noticed he wasn’t looking in the right part of the sky.

“Over here.” Sean pointed. Nate followed his indication. “See him?”

“Nah,” Nate said after a minute of trying to coalesce the millions of dots into a discernable shape.

“Know what Orion is?”

“Nah.”

“The hunter. Come here,” Sean motioned for Nate to come over. Nate slowly got up from the six-gallon paint bucket and walked over to Sean. Sean was a good eight inches taller than Nate and he directed the smaller boy so that Nate was standing in front of Sean, who then kneeled slightly so that he was at the same eye-level as Nate. He took Nate’s hand. “Point,” Sean directed. Nate stuck out his pointer finger and let Sean direct his hand into the sky. “There, see it?” He said after positioning Nate properly. Nate stared hard but couldn’t find the warrior of the night sky. “Nope.”

“Ok, you gotta look for the belt first,” Sean said patiently. “See those three stars in a line there.”

“Oh! Yeah,” Nate said.

“Good. Now look above and below that. See his legs, and his bow right in front.”

“Yeah,” Nate said quietly. “Cool.”

Sean released Nate’s hand and took a step back. Nate looked for a while longer, then returned to his seat. “Thanks for showing me that.”

“Sure,” Sean said. He rummaged around in a junk pile which cluttered one side of the back porch and retrieved another bucket. Flipping it over, he took a seat next to Nate. They looked out into the dark back yard. The grass had been recently cut, but was pock-marked by small burn spots. “Where’s your dog?” Nate asked. “Dunno, inside asleep probably,” Sean replied.

“You and Luke lived here long?”

“All our lives.”

“Like it?”

“Sure. How about you? You like the neighborhood?”

“Yeah, it ain’t bad.”

Sean nodded.

“What about your parents? They cool?” Nate asked.

“Yeah, for the most part. Nobody’s got perfect parents, mine definitely ain’t. But they’re good, ya know? I love ‘em.”

Nate nodded his understanding.

“Shoot, they let Luke and I do pretty much anything we want.”

“Yeah, you guys are pretty crazy.”

“Well, you ain’t too sane yourself…lately.”

Nate ignored the reference to his recent erratic behavior. An idea had been forming in his mind. It had started as a wistful fantasy, but as the night had progressed, Nate wanted it to become a reality.

“You know that truck we tried to rob a couple of months ago? When that guy caught us?” Nate asked.

“Yeah, sure. I remember you pissin’ your pants,” Sean said giving Nate a light punch on his leg.

“Well, I was scared.”

“Sure you were. You’re not cut out for that type of work. Shoot, I’m not and I’m a lot tougher than you,” Sean said, winking to let Nate know he was only poking fun. “Wasn’t that just right by your house?”

“Yeah.”

“Why you bring it up?”

Nate shrugged. “Dunno.”

Sean eyed Nate carefully, looking as if he was about to say something, but remained silent.

“I want to go back,” Nate said finally.

Sean was silent. He was staring up at the stars again. “Do you know why Orion died?”

“No,” Nate replied.

“He was a great hunter. Fair, honest, killing only for food. A worker. But one day, his head got a little too big, he got a little too confident. He attempted to court the daughter of Zeus, the most beautiful woman in the universe, Aphrodite. Except he was not allowed to.”

“Why not?” Nate asked. Nate was staring up at the sky, deeply immersed in Sean’s story.

“Orion wasn’t a god, so he couldn’t marry one of them. But he took her anyways. Well, Zeus was angry and hunted him down. Orion, despite being the greatest hunter, couldn’t hide from Zeus and eventually was found. Zeus took back his daughter and took Orion’s bow as punishment. Orion was angry and wanted revenge. He set out to kill all the animals on earth to show his hatred for Zeus.”

Sean stopped talking and sat in silence. Nate looked down from the stars and over at Sean, waiting for him to start talking again. Finally, Nate’s patience wore out. “What happened then?”

“Zeus killed him and banished his spirit to the stars as a reminder to anyone who dared to cross the gods.”

Nate looked back up at the stars. “Who told you that story?” He asked softly.

“My grandpa.” Sean shifted his six-gallon bucket so that he was facing Nate. “Why do you want to go back to that house?”

Nate looked over at his friend then out into the yard. “Why do you care? You guys didn’t need a reason the first time.”

Sean grunted and looked out into the dark yard. “That guy do something to you?”

“Maybe. Listen, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“If he did something, I want to know about it,” Sean said firmly.

“Why?”

“If anyone touches any of my friends, they ain’t going to get away with it.”

“Well, he didn’t touch me. More my mom.”

Sean nodded in understanding. “You walk in on them tonight?”

“Yeah,” Nate said, spitting.

The two boys fell quiet. Through the night air the hooting of an owl pierced the silence.

“Whoa, that was close,” Nate whispered.

“Yeah, he lives over there in those bushes,” Sean replied, pointing out the dark shadows of thick bushes across the yard. “My mom keeps him around, feeds him oats a couple times a week.”

“A real owl? Wow,” Nate breathed.

“Yep. You are easily excited, you know that?” Sean said, smiling.

“I’m what happens when you’re not allowed to play video games,” Nate replied.

“It’s good,” Sean said.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Sean looked directly at Nate. “Listen, if you really want to get the guy-”

“David,” Nate interrupted

“Huh? Is that his name?”

Nate nodded.

“Ok, if you really want to get this David guy, we’ll go with you, but we should do it now. I’m already tired and we’ve got school tomorrow.”

Not long after, Nate found himself making the long trek back to his street with four darkly clad hoods at his side. He had worked himself into an angered frenzy as he and Sean had convinced the other boys to go along on the mission. He was now ready to get back at the man who had violated his home.

Nate too was dressed in black clothes. It had been impossible to find any that fit him properly, they were all too big, but he had eventually settled on a black sweat suit that Sean had dug out of the closet. It was still a bit loose, but Nate felt somehow tougher in the baggy clothing.

It had to have been the coldest night the fall had seen so far. A thin frost was settling on the windshields of the cars that were parked along the side of the streets. The boys picked up their pace, trying to keep the blood moving and their bodies warm. Nate didn’t need any help with that. He could feel his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest; rapid, powerful thumps, impossibly quick. Nate felt as is his heart was going to explode, but he honestly didn’t care. His mind was set on a single mission. He was Orion the hunter, determined to get revenge, but unlike Orion, he was not going to fail.

At last, the five hooligans reached their destination. The street was silent, empty. Orange, as always, from the glow of the streetlights. Nate glanced at his house; the windows were dark, blinds drawn behind the glass. David’s house was also asleep. Knowing that David was apt to be awoken at the slightest noise, they quietly crept into the backyard.

“What’s the plan, boss?” Brandon whispered once they were in the backyard.

Nate looked around. David’s truck was still parked on the cement slab next to his shed. Nate shrugged. “We could just take some stuff from his truck.”

“What’s in there, fishing stuff?” Tommy asked.

“I don’t fish,” Brandon said roughly. He looked around and spotted something near the shed. “Ha,” Brandon said.

“Shh!” Nate whispered. “You don’t want to wake him!”

“You want to get back at this guy?” Brandon continued, quietly, “I’ll show ya how to do it.” The other four boys watched curiously as he walked over to the shed and picked up something and came back. When he returned, Nate recognized the object as a gas can.

“We ain’t setting fire to a house,” Sean said fiercely.

“Not the house, dumb ass,” Brandon replied. “His truck. We light it and run. It’ll be just like in the movies and no one will ever be able to trace it to us.”

“I dunno,” Nate said uneasily.

“What? Do you want to get back at this guy or not?!” Brandon said, his voice getting loud again.

“Either way, I’m not staying here all night. You guys make up your mind or I’m going home,” Luke said.

Nate was nervously taking his hands in and out of his pockets. “Ok, fine,” he finally said.

Brandon nodded and walked over to the truck. He unscrewed the top to the can and started dumping the destructive liquid. The other boys made no move to help. Brandon looked back a couple of times but didn’t seem to mind doing all the work himself. After giving the back a good soaking, he started rummaging around under the tarp, finally pulling out a small hatchet, the metal head of the axe glinting in the moonlight. He looked back at Nate and the other boys. “Get ready to run,” he whispered ferociously.

Nate was no longer mad, he was scared, but he knew it was too late to stop Brandon. Brandon brought back his arm, firmly gripping the hatchet. With a viscous swing, he brought the hatchet down on the back window of the cab. It easily shattered, breaking the calm quiet of the night. Nate jumped and started backing away, as did Tommy, Luke and Sean. Nate knew it was only a matter of a minute before someone would come running from the sound of that glass. Brandon quickly dumped out a line of gasoline from the back into the cab and threw the entire container on the front seat. He pulled out what must have been a lighter and lit the tarp that covered the back. Fueled by the gasoline, it quickly went up in a blaze. The flames made its way towards the cab as Brandon turned, still brandishing the hatchet, and ran.

Nate and the others fell in behind Brandon as they sprinted out of the gate and into the front yard. Out of the corner of his eye, Nate saw a figure running toward them down the sidewalk. Nate recognized Mr. Taylor and felt his stomach suddenly sink as he watched Brandon raise the hatchet. Nate’s friendly neighbor raised his hands in defense and Nate let out a cry as Brandon brought down the blunt end of the hatchet on Mr. Taylor. Brandon mostly missed, but still managed a glancing hit on Mr. Taylor’s head. It was enough; the old man crumpled, collapsing to the sidewalk. Nate stopped running and stared at the motionless figure.

“No,” he breathed, “oh God, no.”

“Come on,” shouted Sean, running back and grabbing Nate, pulling him down the sidewalk. Just then, David’s back yard erupted. A deafening explosion shook the sleeping neighborhood. Car alarms down the street started to go off in a chorus of mocking honks. Nate, dazed, shocked, took off running after Sean and the hooligans.

They ran all the way back to Sean and Luke’s house. It was literally farther than Nate had ever run without stopping in his young life. When they finally reached the relative safety of the twins’ backyard, Nate collapsed in the grass, damp and slightly crunchy due to the gathering frost. No matter how hard he sucked in, Nate could not get enough oxygen into his lungs. He got up on his hands and knees and started awkwardly crawling around the dark yard, gasping for air. His friends were in no better state to assist, they also were suffering from the long late-night run.

“Jeez, I’m out of shape,” Brandon wheezed.

Through bouts of coughing and gasps, the other boys agreed.

After a couple of minutes, his lungs seemed to figure out how to process oxygen again, and Nate lay still on the ground, staring up at the stars. Orion still kept watch, his bow frozen in time. Nate felt sick. He did not feel vindicated, like he had hoped. There was no release, no glorious revenge. Instead, just sickness. He rolled over and vomited into the grass. Nate felt a hand on his shoulder as he heaved half-digested pizza onto the well-trimmed lawn.

“You going to survive, buddy?” Sean asked.

Nate grunted a reply.

“Come inside and get some water,” Sean directed.

As Sean helped Nate up to his feet, Brandon said, “This is going to be all over the news tomorrow, guys. Civil War!”

“Can’t wait,” Luke muttered. “I swear, if I go to jail for this, I’m going to hurt you.”

“There will be no jail for anyone,” Tommy said, but didn’t sound too convinced himself.

“I wonder who that old man was that I dropped with the hatchet.”

Nate got sick again, barely making it back to the lawn.

“Oh man, my parents are really going to wonder what happened out here,” Sean sighed. He looked up at Brandon and Tommy. “Listen, you two should probably go. We’ve got to get to bed.”

Nate felt like laughing. It seemed so ludicrous: sleep. After blowing up his neighbor’s truck. Sleep! After leaving Mr. Taylor lying on the cold sidewalk. Sleep! But Tommy nodded and walked toward the gate. Brandon, after a moments delay, started walking after him.

“Oh!” Sean said just as they reached the grate, “What did you do with that hatchet?”

Brandon shrugged. “Dunno. Threw it somewhere while we were running.”

“Brilliant, as always,” Sean muttered.

“What!?” Brandon replied.

“Keep it down, will ya?” Luke hissed.

“We’ll worry about it all in the morning,” Sean said, waving Brandon and Tommy off.

Nate lay awake through the entire night. On a couch in the twins’ basement: awake. Morning came slowly. Through the dirty windows, too small for any use, a dull gray filtered in, then brighter gray, then a light gray. Eventually, an alarm clock blared from the boys’ room and Sean and Luke emerged, hair astray. Nate looked up at them, not finding the energy to say anything.

“Sleep at all?” Sean asked.

Nate shook his head.

“Yeah, neither did I.” He glanced over at his brother, who shook his head. “Gonna be a great day at school,” Sean concluded sarcastically.

Nate rolled off the couch and stumbled into the bathroom. He had to blink a couple of times to make sure it was his reflection that he was seeing. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, his hair transgressing every rule of proper conduct, his face imprinted and wrinkled with the odd contours of the couch. A quick shower did little to offend the sight into seclusion. After staring at the alarming reflection for a couple of minutes, a loud pounding came at the door. “Hurry up, I gotta pee!”

“Your parents around?” Nate mumbled as he left the bathroom, relinquishing it to Luke, who had been dancing about outside the door needing to use the toilet. “No,” he said quickly as he shut the door behind him.

Sean walked out of his bedroom. “They’re at work by now. You want some breakfast?”

“Dunno if I can keep it down, but I’ll try.”

“Last night really shake you up, huh?” Sean asked softly.

Nate looked away, feeling like he was about to cry, and nodded.

“Yeah, me too. Man, that ain’t our type of work. We ain’t like Brandon.”

“Wish I would’ve figured that out before I blew up…” Nate trailed off, unable to put into words their destructive act. David didn’t deserve that. And Mr. Taylor…

“C’mon,” Sean said, patting Nate on the back. “Come get some food.”

He led Nate up the frayed staircase. In the kitchen, he set about preparing a couple of bowls of cereal. On the table, Nate noticed a newspaper. Curious to know if their faces were plastered across the front pages, Nate wandered over to take a look. If it was possible to feel any more surprised, any more sick, any more surreal, the newspaper did it.

The front page was split into two. On one side, the charred remains of David’s truck. “Truck explodes, one hurt in related incident.” On the other side was a picture of his dad. “50 Million asked for in sex abuse case – class action suit linked to local suicide.”