Page 11 of The Serpent King

No peace, no peace. No peace, no peace.

It cheered Raynar Northbrook’s spirit every time he returned from the hunt to see the battlements of Northhome. He wanted nothing more than to sit beside a roaring fire and let his weariness melt away with a flagon of summer mead, trading tales of conquest of lands and beautiful women with his captain of the guard. Until he looked down from his highest battlement and saw the ranks of Rand Allastair’s army of fell men and Accursed approaching to lay siege to his walls, he meant to enjoy life….

Travis walked in to see his father finishing off a can of Budweiser, his feet on the coffee table, watching the Braves play the Cardinals. A plate covered in congealing chicken wing bones sat on his lap. His eyes were red and bleary.

His father didn’t look up from the TV. “Where were you?”

“In Nashville, school shopping for Lydia and Dill. I told you.”

His father belched, crumpled the can, added it to a large pile, and drew a new can from a dwindling pile. “You get yourself some new clothes? So you don’t look like Dracula?” He popped open the beer.

“No. I like my clothes.”

His father chuckled. “And why on Earth wouldn’t you. Reading all that shit about wizards and fairies.”

“Clint, honey, please don’t curse,” Travis’s mom—timid and red-haired like him—called from the kitchen. How Travis ever came from such a tiny woman was a mystery. Actually, how Travis came from his father was also a decent mystery.

“My house. I’ll damn well curse,” his father called back.

“Well I wish you wouldn’t. Travis, are you hungry for supper?”

“No ma’am.” Travis started for his room.

“Hang on. Ain’t done talking with you yet.”

Travis turned.

“First day of school,” his father said.

“Yep.”

“I ever tell you I was quarterback my senior year? Threw the winning pass against Athens High in the semis. Matt was quarterback too.”

“You had mentioned that before. Couple of times.” Travis felt a sharp pang at the mention of his deceased brother. Matt had always sat down with him the night before school started and given him a little pep talk. Told him how to talk to girls. To stick up for himself. To be a leader and not a follower. Travis already didn’t care for this new sort of pep talk.

“You plan on spending senior year with your dick in your hand?” his father asked.

“No sir. In my pants like normal.”

“You being cute?”

“No sir.” Travis inched toward his room.

His father wasn’t done. “What do you plan to do?”

“Shop classes. Try to get good grades. Graduate. Learn, I guess.”

His father smirked. “You gonna kick some beaner ass again this year?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Travis said. “Alex’s left me alone.”

During junior year, Alex Jimenez cornered Dill in the cafeteria and began playing the “slapping game” with him. The game was simple: Alex slapped at Dill until hopefully he provoked Dill to retaliate, so that he had an excuse to beat Dill’s ass. As the only Latino in their class, Alex wasn’t much higher in the social hierarchy than Dill, but winning a fight usually moved you up a rung.

Travis walked up as Dill dodged another slap and told Alex to stop. Alex turned his attention to Travis. Winning a fight against someone much bigger than you? That would really cement his status. Travis didn’t do much to defend himself until Alex landed a hard slap across Travis’s eye.

Then Travis boiled over. He picked up Alex by his soccer jersey and half-pushed, half-threw him a solid seven or eight feet. When Alex landed, he turned his ankle, causing him to fall and crack his head against the edge of one of the cafeteria tables. Blood gushed. He went into seizures.

That was Travis’s make-or-break moment. Had he said something like “What now, bitch?” and spit on Alex, he would have advanced in the school hierarchy. Instead, he tried to go to Alex to help him, but the crowd kept him away. He paced and ran his fingers through his hair, sobbing and telling anyone who would listen that he was sorry. EMTs showed up. His clear remorse proved his salvation from a full twenty-day suspension. The school administrators knew that if someone could win a fight and still come out the loser, it was by revealing such gentleness. The contempt that earned him would be punishment enough. And when the video hit YouTube, captioned “BIG DUDE TAKES DOWN BULLY AND CRYS LIEK A LITTLE BITCH LOL,” it confirmed the administration’s suspicions.