The Boy Who Understood
by Biff Spork
Chapter 3
A Protein Supplement and a Stomp-fest
On Friday morning, David woke up feeling happy. He didn't know or care why. Opening his eyes and seeing a sunbeam slanting onto his bedroom floor seemed wonderful. He lay on his side and watched a few dust motes tumble in the faint breeze from the open window. A dark shadow made him look up. A crow had landed on his windowsill. The bird cocked his head and looked at David, then hopped into the room. David retreated to the far side of his bed and pulled the sheet over himself. The bird jumped onto his bedside table and dropped a folded paper from his beak. He eyed David again and gave a low croak. His wings rustled as he flew toward the window and out into the morning.
David shot up in his bed, grabbed the piece of paper, and unfolded it. The paper was a strip of cheap newsprint, something that might have been torn off a piece of junk mail.
He read:
Dear Boy who was hiding,
Thank you for the bar and the fruit. It was too good.
I want to see you.
Please come and see me.
Thank you.
Zhiv
David leaped up and whirled around. A note from the boy in the forest! Zhiv. That must be his name. Zhiv. David hugged himself and spun in circles. He read the note again, then held it against his face and sniffed it in case he could smell the sender. It smelled like paper, musty paper.
David bounced in and out of the shower, then dressed. He was thankful that both his parents departed for work before he needed to leave for school. They would have noticed his excitement, and if they had questioned him, he would have told them everything. It was too amazing. A crow! Inside his room! A note! That amazing boy hadn't been a dream.
He wanted to shout it out to the entire world, but instinct warned him it had to remain a secret. By the time he walked out to his school bus stop, he had calmed himself.
All day at school, he felt the note in his pocket of his jeans like it was glowing. He took it out and re-read it a half-dozen times, to assure himself that it was real. When the final bell rang, he walked toward where the school-bus riders assembled.
"Where are you going?" said a voice behind him.
David looked over to see Jude Bedford on his left side. The boy grabbed David's arm like he was a good friend.
"Home," said David.
"We're afraid you're not eating enough," said another voice, and he felt someone clutch his right arm. He looked over and recognized River Jameson.
"Yeah," grinned Jude. "We're afraid a little vegan queer like you is not getting enough real food."
The two boys pulled David behind a dumpster and pinned him against the school wall. David's nostrils filled with the smell of rancid pizza garbage in the dumpster.
"Don't worry about me," said David. "I'm fine. Leave me alone. Let me go!" David struggled, but he was no match for the two heavier, stronger boys.
"We're just gonna help you with a little protein we brought for you. As soon as you eat it up, you'll be free to go," said Jude.
River brought a plastic bag from his pocket and pulled out a strip of fried bacon. "Open up now," he said.
"No!" David renewed his struggles. Jude used his free hand to pinch David's nostrils, so he had to open his mouth to breathe. As soon as he did so, River stuffed the bacon into his mouth. Before David could spit it out, Jude forced his jaw shut.
"That's a good boy," said Jude. "That's a good little vegan-queer boy. Just chew it up and swallow. It's good for you. You'll feel more like a real man right away. C'mon, swallow now. Let's see those throat muscles working. As soon as it's down in your tummy-tum-tum, you can go and catch your bus."
"What's going on here?" barked a commanding male voice. Mr. Davis, the Playground Supervisor, stood looking at the boys.
Jude and River relaxed their grips on David. He bent over and spat out the bacon.
"We're just playin' a little game," said Jude. "No problem. Right, River?"
"Yeah," said River, patting David on the shoulder. "Just playin' around."
"David?"
David stood up and wiped his mouth. "Yeah," he said. "No problem."
Mr. Davis suspected he'd interrupted a bullying event, but it didn't look like anyone had been hurt. The school year would be over in a week. Reporting a bullying incident meant engaging a lengthy administrative process. He gave the three boys a stern look and said, "I don't want to see any more of this kind of behavior. Now you'd better get to your buses, or you'll be walking home."
Jude and River rode a different bus from David, so he was able to recover on the ride home. For the other students on the bus, unaware of what had happened to him, it was a normal Friday afternoon. They created a relaxed atmosphere that calmed him, but even after his heartbeat had slowed, he felt as if Jude and River had violated him. It wasn't the force-fed bacon that bothered him so much as the hate. Where did the hate come from? Was there something hateful about him?
When David got home, he brushed his teeth, thankful for the toothpaste's minty flavor. He heard his mother arriving home from work, ran down the stairs, and hugged her.
"Wow!" said Doreen. "I love it. And I love you too," she added, as she returned the hug. She pulled back then and looked at his face. "What's up?" she asked. She and David were always affectionate, but he seemed more enthusiastic than usual.
"Oh," he said, "I just feel really good, and it's Friday. How was work today?"
"Busy, busier than usual. A lot of people are afraid this new strain of COVID is going to mean another lock-down and more shortages." Since COVID arrived, the supermarket where Doreen worked had faced supply chain problems. Those and shopper hoarding resulted in empty shelves and customer complaints. "How was school?"
David followed her into the kitchen. "Okay." He paused and then admitted, "Well, actually, not so okay as usual."
His mother turned and looked at him. "What?"
"After school, I was just walking to where I get on the school bus, and two boys grabbed me and tried to make me eat a piece of bacon, because I'm vegan. Then Mr. Davis came over and they let me go."
Doreen's face flushed with anger. "They made you eat a piece of bacon?"
"They tried, but I spit it out."
"Who was it? Who did that?"
"It doesn't matter who it was, Mom. I'm okay. I didn't get hurt or anything."
"But the school has got to punish those kids. They've got to learn not to do that. That's bullying, and it has to stop." Doreen pulled him into a hug. "Honey, I'm so sorry. Are you okay? How do you feel?"
"I'm fine, Mom. Please don't make a big deal out of it. It'll just make it harder for me at school. Nobody likes a fink. And a vegan fink? I might as well just put a sign on my back saying 'Kick me, please.'"
Doreen had faith in her son, in his ability to think things through. He was more mature than most children his age. She looked at him and said, "So?"
"I don't mind much about the bacon, but I'm more bothered about why they did it. It was like they hated me, and I don't understand why. I never did anything to them. Why would they hate me? Getting back at them, getting them punished, won't answer that question. It would just make them hate me more. How come they hate me?"
Doreen forced herself to relax her fists. She sat down at the kitchen table. She had no answer. "I don't know. Maybe just because you're different."
"Everybody's different," said David.
"You ever have anything to do with those kids?" asked Doreen. "Any fights or arguments?"
"Nope. I see them around, but we don't hang out together or have anything to do with each other normally."
A minute later, Doreen said, "I don't have a good answer to your question, but that doesn't mean there isn't an answer. Let's you and me put that question on the shelf and keep looking for an answer. I'll tell you what I think right now, though. That hate comes from somewhere else. It's got nothing to do with you. You were just a convenient target where they could dump some of the hate that's inside them."
David absorbed what she had said, then leaned over and hugged her. "Thanks, Mom. I hope you're right."
Doreen hugged him back and said, "Me too. Listen, I've known you for a long time, and there is nothing, nothing hateful about you. You're the best."
"You've known me for a long time? Really?" David grinned.
"Almost fourteen years now," said Doreen.
"I'm only thirteen, Mom."
"Yeah, but you and me go back before that. I started to know you when you were about as big as a peach."
"Ew, can we talk about something else now?"
"Okay, but let's not tell your dad right now about this. He'd go ballistic. He'd be down at the school Monday morning to get some answers."
"He would?" said David, surprised.
"Yeah," said Doreen. "I know things have not been good between you two for a long time, too long, but you should know that he loves you more than anyone on earth. If he knew someone laid a hand on you, he'd make sure they regretted it."
"Wow," said David. He felt as if a huge wheel was revolving in his head. He'd never imagined his father would defend him like that.
"Yeah," said Doreen. "He'll never tell you, but I know it's true, and you should know it too." She paused to let her words sink in. She wished she had said it years ago. After Pete and David's disastrous fishing trip and David's decision to be vegan, he and Pete had settled into an uneasy truce. They lived in the same house but without any joy in each other's company.
Doreen continued, "So, we'll let this go for now, but if those boys do anything else to you, we're going to follow it up with the school. They may be terrorizing other kids who are not as stable and confident as you. They need to learn that bullying is not acceptable. Okay?"
"Okay," said David. He wished he hadn't told his mother, but it had slipped out before he thought about it.
Pete was finishing his Friday afternoon on a hobby farm near Jana Mountain. Richard Wilkins, a retired rancher, was dead. The report said some horses had trampled him to death. It was routine that a deputy attended when anyone called in a 911 accidental death. He pulled into a yard shaded by tall pines and walked over to the Emergency Medical Technicians. They were sitting behind the house on the upper rail of a wooden paddock fence, waiting for him. They pointed him to the blanket-covered body inside the fence.
When Pete lifted the blanket, it was a gut-wrenching sight. The man's head was mush. Judging by the hoof prints, it was clear it was horses that did the trampling. The gaudy pair of western boots the man wore drew Pete's eyes. The uppers had fancy silver inlays, and his spurs were gold plated. Stiletto-sharp points on the stainless steel rowels gleamed in the sun.
"Anybody see what happened?" he asked, as the ambulance crew gathered up the body.
"The wife called it in. She saw it. She seems to be taking it pretty calmly, but maybe it hasn't registered yet. Sometimes a sudden death is like that. It takes time for people to realize someone just died. She's in the house," said one of the ambulance attendants. He gestured to the other. "Jeff here called the daughter. Lives in town. She's on her way here now."
"Where are the horses," asked Pete.
"Never saw them," said the ambulance driver. "They musta lit out after they done it."
Pete signed the documents that released the body to the EMTs and walked over to the house. He knocked on the back door and went inside.
An elderly woman sat at a worn kitchen table with her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. She looked to be seventy-five or eighty.
"Mrs. Wilkins," said Pete, as he sat down across from her.
She nodded, and Pete expressed his condolences.
"Thank you."
"Can you tell me what happened?"
"It was after we ate. He always liked to go for a ride in the afternoon. I was washing up the lunch dishes and looking out the window over the sink. I saw him go into the paddock. He went up to the gray gelding and started to put its bridle on as usual. Then the bay mare came up behind him and grabbed his shoulder with her teeth. She pulled him down and they all started rearing and stomping on him.
"By the time I got out the door, the horses were racing around the paddock, screaming. It wasn't like normal horses' neighing. It was a crazy noise, like they lost their minds. Then they ran right at the fence and jumped over it like it wasn't there. I got the paddock gate open and run over to him, but as soon as I saw him on the ground, I knew there wasn't anything I could do."
She paused and stared at the table top for a minute. Pete sat with her in silence.
"There's a lot of money tied up in those horses," she said. "There's four of them, a bay mare, a gray gelding, a black stallion and a pinto. When you get them back for me, I can sell them. It'll pay for his funeral, at least."
Pete asked her if her husband had a lot of experience with horses.
"He was a rancher, spent half his life on the back of a horse. He was a great rider," she said. "He used to say he could ride any horse ever foaled. He never took any nonsense from a horse and let them know who was boss from the get-go. He always said, 'If you want them to respect you, you gotta whip them until they learn who's boss.'"
A well-dressed woman entered the kitchen, and the two women embraced. The visitor proved to be the daughter. A few minutes later, Pete left.
River dropped his school bag on the floor and crashed onto his bed. That Jude was something else. They had sat together on the bus and talked about what they had done to David. They laughed at how stupid he had looked, and how he had been afraid to rat on them to the playground supervisor.
Jude said, "We can do anything we want to that kid. We own him!" He said it was just a matter of breaking him down bit by bit, training him to obey them, like a slave. They had made a good start on it today.
River remembered how good it felt to hold onto David's arm, to feel that silky skin and not worry about anything. Pushing that bacon into his mouth was perfect, such a great way to treat a vegan. Next time they grabbed him, he wouldn't even bother to cook the bacon first. He imagined pushing raw bacon into David's mouth and noticed he was hard. He shucked his pants and underwear, and stroked himself. His hand was a blur, and it took less than a minute.
While he cleaned up, he felt sad and stupid. He didn't want to be mean like that. He wondered what was the matter with his brain.
Jude raided the fridge when he got home. There was always some fried chicken there. He wolfed down a drumstick while recalling his and River's after-school adventure. That was what life was supposed to be like. It was exciting to force someone to do something they hated. It was fun to grab them and hold them and make them do it, to treat them like an animal.
He fantasized how he and River might get David naked and make him do dirty things. Jude leaned against the fridge, stuffed chicken into his mouth, and lost himself in this fantasy.
Jude's father came into the kitchen for his afternoon coffee break. His arrival interrupted Jude's daydream. "Great, you're home," he said. "I need you in the barn as soon as I've had a cup of coffee. Go change. Twenty minutes."
There was no discussion. Jude had learned long before that when his father said what they were going to do, that was what they did.
A half-hour later, he was in the vast chicken barn. The throat-catching stink of ammonia was nauseating, and the incessant clucking and squawking of the fifty thousand chickens was deafening. Jude put himself into robot mode, where nothing bothered him.
His job was to start at one end of the barn and find any dead, dying, wounded, or sick birds. He had to pick them up, wring their necks if they were alive, and chuck them into a wheelbarrow. When the wheelbarrow was full, he emptied it into a dumpster. After he got bored, he tried new ways of killing the sick chickens. Sometimes he crushed their heads under his heel. Others he choked with one hand to strengthen his finger muscles. That was his preferred method. He liked gripping the sinewy neck and squeezing it until the chicken stopped flapping. He enjoyed having strong fingers that could grab, and squeeze, and hold something tight, no matter how much it struggled.
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