Author's note : I'm very interested in any feedback anyone has for me so please leave a comment or get in touch with any thoughts you have on what is good and what could be done better. All votes and comments are much appreciated.
The characters in this story are 18 years old. The school system mentioned is that used in my native Scotland, I hope it doesn't cause anyone confusion. This story is not an attempt to evangelise or criticise faith or religion, please don't take it as such.
"Hey! Hey Jesus! Do a miracle for us Jesus!"
Athlai didn't reply. He didn't even look round to see who it was. There would be five of them, all in their first year of high school and they had been following him on his walk to school since the start of the year. Briefly he wondered if they deliberately set out to intercept him each morning or if their own route simply joined his. Whatever the truth of the matter was they certainly took a great pleasure in shouting taunts at him all the way to the school. The first time they had done this he had made the great mistake of asking them to stop it. This had amused them even more and guaranteed that they would persist in doing it all year.
Mercifully they drifted away as the first bell of the morning rang to signal registration. There was a last shout of "Where's your bible, God-botherer?" as he climbed the stairs and then he had peace for a few minutes. Athlai was the first to enter the room and immediately made his way into the far corner and sat down. Moments like this he quite enjoyed, when there was nobody taunting him or exhorting him to work harder or trying to talk to him out of pity. For just a few minutes he was left alone with his thoughts.
All too quickly the peace was broken. Students filtered into the room in pairs and small groups. Nobody liked to be seen by themselves for fear of being branded a 'loner'. Athlai didn't let that bother him, he had far worse labels to endure. He watched them come in and sit down in huddles around the room. None of them sat very near him, he didn't care. For close to six years he had sat in a room with this group of people every morning and he had never felt inclined to speak to any of them. It occurred to him how much he had changed in that time. The world seemed a much colder and less inviting place to him than it did when he had first come to this school.
Further movement caught his eye as more classmates darted through the door just as the final bell rang. Kelly Nixon and two of her friends quickly sat down and he saw her smile apologetically at their registration teacher. Seeing her reminded him there was an exception to his disinclination to speak to any of this group of students. Kelly was beautiful.
A lot of his peers talked about girls being hot. Athlai didn't use such terms because as little as he liked to admit it, his parents had drilled him to avoid the use of slang and it was such a deeply ingrained habit that he never did. Even if they hadn't he wouldn't describe Kelly as hot. Unquestionably those same peers would have no hesitation in doing so.
She was around 5"8 and had the perfect figure that was slim without having harsh angles and curved without any hint of being overweight. She didn't dress provocatively like a lot of the girls at the school did – "wanton hussies" his dad would call them- but she always looked good and had an air of class that was obviously lacking in those same hussies. Her skin was tanned a golden brown but he was sure she didn't employ the bottle tan, that left a number of her peers an ugly orange hue, because of the way her skin tone waxed and waned with the seasons. Brilliantly expressive blue eyes were set above that melting smile and framed by her long blonde hair which today was tied back in an elegant ponytail.
To Athlai it would not be a fitting description to simply call her hot. He knew there was an element of his parents' moral conservatism in the view but he felt that to use a term used so crudely by his peers as a measure of sexual desirability was to sell her short. Like any teenager he found her attractive but there was more to it than simple hormones. Every time she smiled or laughed it tugged at his heart, not just his libido. She captivated him. And yet he had barely ever spoken to her. She was well liked and always around friends that shared the same attitude toward him as the rest of the school so he had never felt confident enough to approach her and have a conversation.
The voice of his teacher tore him out of his reverie as he called their names in turn.
"Athlai Parsons?"
"Here, sir," he replied.
The same man had taken his registration class for six years and had never bothered to pronounce his name properly. Every day he called him "Aff-lie" and after a couple of years he had given up telling him it should be "Ath-lah-ee." His parents had shown either a gift of foresight or a cruel sense of humour in naming him, in English it roughly translated "whom God afflicts." As far as he was concerned it told the whole story of his life.
The rest of the registration class passed quickly and Athlai got up and trudged toward the door with the rest of the class when the bell signalling the start of the first class of the day rang. From his starting position in the corner he was last to make it to the door and cursed his tactical error when the teacher handed him the register to take to the school office. Quite why the school couldn't use the network to register pupils electronically he had no idea but he didn't rule out the possibility they just liked to screw with him.
Inevitably after fighting his way against the flow of bodies to reach the office it took him longer than normal to get to his first class of the day – English with Mr. Kaplinski. Most of the students found it amusing that an Estonian was responsible for teaching English but as far as he could tell the man himself had never laughed in his life. Kaplinski was a short, dour man with grey hair, a nearly impenetrable accent and a permanent expression of glum resignation.
The old Estonian was in what haltingly passed for full flow when Athlai knocked politely on the door and entered. Shutting the door quietly behind himself he turned to Kaplinski, who had looked up at the noise, and said "Sorry I'm late sir."
The man in front of him fixed him with a disapproving glare and walked towards him, dashing Athlai's hopes of slipping into a seat relatively unnoticed. He knew that he wasn't his English teacher's favourite person and had a sinking feeling he was about to suffer for that.
Not for the first time, Athlai found his life made more difficult by the interference of his parents. They were not content simply to subject him to their hard-line religious and moral views. They kept a close eye on everything he did at school and attempted to meddle there too. Kaplinski had drawn their wrath for setting the class erotic poetry to study. His father, a single minded man that Athlai was sure would have been an inquisitor had he been born earlier had turned apoplectic when he had read some of it.
After ranting and raving for a good half hour about the "pervasion of filth in society" and the "decay of morality" he had declared that he would take the matter up with "that corrupt man." Athlai knew from the reactions of his classmates that in truth it was fairly tame material but there had been no reasoning with his parents. They had phoned up the school and demanded to speak to Kaplinski. After questioning his integrity at length they had demanded he set different poems and had been quite taken aback when he refused.
After that they had made a series of complaints to the school about his attitude and competence. Ultimately the school had politely but firmly brushed aside their grievances but they had been obliged to be seen to be investigating diligently and the experienced had not sat well with Kaplinski. Ever since he had been noticeably unfriendly to Athlai.
"You are late," he said.
"Yes sir, I had to take the register to the office before-"
"Whatever your excuse, the fact remains you are late," he said, a rare smirk on his face. Athlai instantly decided he didn't like it or the spark of petty vindictiveness that flashed in his eyes. "Your attitude recently has been poor, I am going to arrange detention for you."
"What?!" Athlai snapped at him furiously. "Because I was a few minutes late? People are late for your class all the time!"
"Sit down Mr. Parsons or I will ask you to take your objections to the headmaster."
Athlai stood where he was and glared down at the obstinate teacher. The injustice of it stung him, he was being punished for his parents lunacy and he hated their fundamentalism more than anyone. He knew what Kaplinski was doing was unfair and he opened his mouth to say as much.
"Sit down!"
He stood for another long moment when thoughts of walking out or lashing out ran through his mind and eventually calmed himself and stalked furiously to the back of the room and flung himself into a seat. He sat, fuming, as the old teacher started to speak again, uncomfortably aware of the amused smirks on the face of the class.
The rage generated by the confrontation had barely faded by the time lunch arrived. It had simmered away in his subsequent classes as he lurked at the back of the rooms. Like most of the student body, Athlai usually walked to the local high street to get something to eat. Nominally the school forbade any student from doing so but this was ignored by students and staff alike. Naturally his parents insisted he should follow this rule anyway. It was a trivial act of defiance but it felt good to make even a small decision that they opposed.
He walked quickly, eager to make it to the shops before the swarm arrived. Going into the least occupied shop he could see, he bought a sandwich and set off again. There was a path back to the school that went through the adjacent woodland. Most of the students avoided it because it added ten minutes onto the journey time. Athlai liked to take it because it offered some rare time to himself.
It didn't concern him too much when he saw a couple of figures standing a short distance along the path in front of him. He'd grown accustomed to people stopping to give him the benefit of their razor wit. It was only when he was closer he realised they weren't students. They looked to be in their early twenties. One had a hopelessly overgrown beard and the other sported a livid scar on his right cheek. They were looking at him with intense expressions that he felt could not be good for him.
"Alright mate," the bearded one chirped.
"Just fine," he replied and kept walking.
Scar moved in front of him as he attempted to pass by. Athlai looked at him in resignation.
