Choices of the Half-Elven: Part 2
#2 of Half-Elven
Well, this took me longer than anticipated. I had about four pages done within two days after the first part, but then I fell of the wagon, it seems. I pulled it out again today though, added about a page more, and am now posting it here. Sorry for the wait. Also, I haven't taken the best look over it all, so there may be minor changes in the future. We'll see where this takes us.
One more thing. I apologize for any spacing errors. Sometimes the SoFurry submission system messes up a little when I copy from OpenOffice to here, so there might be some places where there isn't a line break between paragraphs. I'll try to fix it as soon as possible.
Without any further ado, here is the next portion of Choices of the Half-Elven.
Due to my forward seat, I managed to avoid being jostled by the small crowd of students getting off the bus behind me. I walked at a faster than average pace so I wouldn't have to worry about the throng overtaking me. A few steps later, I was in Raymore High.
The school was home to 250-some students for six and a half hours, Monday to Friday. It was a simple one-story affair with numerous classrooms, a small library, and a gymnasium. The student population was almost exclusively human. There were about a half-dozen elves here, but they were less likely to associate with me than the humans. A human might be fooled for a little while into thinking I was an elf, but the elves knew right away that I was a half-blood. They didn't bully me like some of the human students, but they completely ignored me except for when they absolutely had to. I remembered seeing a were here on the first day, but never again after that. I couldn't say for sure, but I supposed he stopped coming because he was picked on a lot. Other than that, it was all humans, teachers and staff included.
I headed to my locker, avoiding eye contact and keeping my hood up. As long as no one got a good look at my face, I was just another body in the crowd. When I got closer to my locker, though, I could see my hood wouldn't do me any good. Gregory and his little gang were waiting right by my locker. I sighed in exasperation. Gregory was the worst bully in the school and the only person who actively sought me out to bother me. The others were just opportunists whereas Gregory made his opportunities. The first time he had camped by my locker, I made the mistake of waiting for the bell to ring in hopes he would leave. He just waited anyway, so I got my daily dose of abuse and a reprimand for being late. I shrugged off my discomfort and assumed a neutral expression. Showing fear or worry would only encourage the bastard.
I stepped up towards my locker, and, sure enough, "Well, look who's here, boys? The half-breed mutt."
I stuck with the traditional ignore-him-and-maybe-he'll-go-away approach. I didn't expect it to work, but I certainly couldn't fight back against five boys, so any retaliation would only make it worse. If I didn't respond, they would get bored a little bit faster and let me get on with my day. I started twirling my locker dial, wondering if I could get it open and duck out of there before they had time to get a hit or two in.
"Oh? The half-blood is too good to talk to us, eh? Looks like we need to teach him a lesson in modesty."
I sighed as the lock popped open. Apparently not. I quickly slung my bag and jacket into the locker. No need for them to get messed up while the boys gave their "lesson." A hand on my shoulder turned me to face the gang. A second hand gave me a quick jab to my stomach, causing me to reflexively curl in on myself. Another fist pulled back to deliver another punch. I braced myself, but the blow was stopped by a voice calling, "What's going on here?"
I got my breath back and stood up straight, for all the good it did me. The other boys were all taller than my 5'6" body, but despite my inability to see past them, I could tell whom the teacher was by the voice. Sure enough, Gregory and his pals turned, and I could see Mr. Preperninsky coming down the hall. Gregory opened his mouth to answer the teacher, but I beat him to the punch. "I just had a coughing fit, Mr. Preperninsky. Greg here was just helping me out." This was a backhanded move on my part; Gregory hated being referred to as "Greg."
"Is that all?" Mr. Preperninsky asked doubtfully.
"Course it is, Mr. P," Gregory said. Most people called him Mr. P because they couldn't pronounce his name.
"Very well," Preperninsky said, sounding resigned. "On your way, boys. Class is starting soon."
Gregory and his cronies sauntered off down the hallway while I turned back to my locker, grabbing the books I'd need. I remained uncomfortably aware of Mr. P's continued presence. I could practically feel his gaze on me as I closed my locker and replaced the lock. I faced the hallway again, and sure enough, he was still standing there, looking at me. I masked my discomfort behind an inquisitive face and raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"Why did you lie?" he asked. "Why protect them?"
My lips turned up in a small smile, but my heart clearly wasn't in it. "I wasn't protecting them. I was protecting myself." The five-minute bell rang, and without another word, I walked off down the hallway towards my first class, leaving Mr. Preperninsky standing there in the hallway. I could still feel his gaze for a little while before he presumably went to his classroom. I was touched by his concern but felt it misplaced. It wasn't going to change anything anyway. Nobody liked half-breeds besides other outcasts, and putting some kids in detention wasn't going to change their behaviour. It would probably only make things worse.
I arrived at my first class: Calculus. Mathematics wasn't my favourite subject, but I liked it. It was all very methodical and black and white, meaning that even if the teacher didn't like me much, I could still get good marks. This year, the teacher treated me like everyone else, which is to say he didn't really care about anyone. His responses to questions were curt and to the point, and his lectures were pretty boring. The workload wasn't too bad, though, so I was getting through his class with a low 80%. It was one of my better marks.
I sat down near the back of the room, close to the door. Whenever possible, I grabbed a seat close to the door to avoid students when we got out of class. I set up my notebook the right side of my desk and a small sketchbook on the left. If I didn't draw or doodle during this class, I fell asleep. I knew from unpleasant experience. Mr. Lenhart predictably went to the board and started writing down notes for us to take, droning as he did so. I managed to pay half-attention for most of it and completed one and a half drawings. Fortunately, we didn't get through all the notes we needed to in the hour, so there was no homework. I sighed as the bell rang. One down, four to go.
I gathered up my stuff quickly and left the classroom even quicker. I didn't want my notebooks dumped on the floor again. I moved quickly to get to my second class. It was literally on the opposite corner of the school. Raymore wasn't that big, but when you had to occasionally stop to pick up the stuff other students kindly assisted to the floor, it could take a little longer. I had learned quickly to move twice as fast to avoid being late.
I picked up my books three times by the time I arrived in class, having only thirty seconds to spare. This was my English class. The teacher, Mr. Walker, was actually one of my favourites, which was surprising considering how he treated me when I first came to school. He was rather mean to me and docked me marks for no good reason, at first because he thought I was an elf. He didn't like elves much, partly because they were rather good with language. Once he found out I was half-elf, he only half-disliked me, although he treated me the same on a point of principle. As time passed, however, he discovered my passion for language and especially poetry, and seeing as most students hated English, he began to warm up to me. We were on good terms, and I often chatted with him about poetry outside of class. He still marked hard, so my mark was mid seventies, but he didn't discriminate against me, so I actually wasn't doing too badly compared with other students.
Today, however, was not about poetry. We were reading William Golding's Lord of the Flies, a novel about a bunch of boys who are stranded on a small, deserted island. I actually wasn't too fond of the story on the whole, but the ideas about human behaviour intrigued me. It made me wonder how differently the story would be set with an elvish author and elvish boys---or, even more unlikely, what if there were mixed races?
The class passed rather uneventfully. We just discussed the novel, we being the six out of about thirty students that actually cared. Mr. Walker assigned us the rest of the novel to read at the end of class, and then the bell rang. There was a fifteen minute break before our third period class, which most students enjoyed. I would have enjoyed it but for the fact that other students liked to pick on me during that time. I usually ended up going outside and sitting in the field, drawing. Most students stayed inside, so it gave me some peace.
There was a door to the outside right near the classroom. It locked you out, but I could come in another way at the end of break. Once outside, I made my way to the uprights and sat down with my back on a post. I took out my sketchbook again and turned to my latest pencil sketch. It was a drawing of an old were legend describing the origin of the moon. The legend said the moon and sun were the two eyes of Reanos [pronounced REE-noss], a were god and creator of Earth and its inhabitants. The eye of the sun looked upon the concrete things while the eye of the moon saw thoughts and hidden things. The part of the myth that intrigued me the most was the description of the phases. The weres didn't believe Reanos closed her eye with the new moon and opened it on the full moon. Rather, they believed that Reanos was always watching, but during the new moon, thoughts and secrets would be only between oneself and Reanos and during the full moon, thoughts and secrets were likely to be revealed to others. My drawing showed the full moon looking at a human, an elf, and a were around a fire. In the fire, I was detailing images of the people's lives. I thought it was okay, but I was touching it up, making small changes and wearing down my eraser. I continued this until a shadow fell across my book, causing me to glance up. I expected to see Gregory smirking there.
I got a double shock. One, it wasn't Gregory. Two, it was an elf.
My shock must have shown in my face. I think I felt my irises turn white for the briefest of instants. The elves never so much as looked as me unless a teacher forced them to work with me for a group project or something. So why was one here, looking for me? There was no one else around, and there was no mistaking me, so he must have come to see me. I was so confused that I lost my social skills and just stared for a long moment.
The elf---I couldn't remember his name---spoke first. "Would you mind if I joined you?"
His voice dispelled enough of my shock for me to remember how to speak. "Please do," I replied, gesturing with my arm.
He sat gracefully, living up to his elvish heritage, assuming a cross-legged position beside me. He held out his hand. "Evander," he said.
After one more moment of staring, I grasped his hand in a firm shake and replied, "Oliver."
He looked out at the empty field and asked, "Do you come out here often?"
I was still a little perplexed, but I decided to just roll with it. "Yeah, most breaks. I like the outdoors, and I can get some peace out here."
He turned back to me. "Don't let me disturb you if you want to be alone."
"No, it's fine," I reassured him. "I meant peace from Gregory and other bullies. I could use the company."
Evander smiled, and I finally took a good look at him. His hair was worn short, clearly showing his pointed ears, and was currently a vivid red. His eyes were green and held a calm mirth in them. It was hard to tell now that he was sitting down, but I guessed he was around 5'3" or 5'4". He was a little more wiry than I, and his face was a little more angular. He had an easy smile, though. He wore blue jeans and a black T-shirt with a white wolf emblazoned on it.
He looked at the sketchbook in my lap. "What are you drawing?" he asked.
"Oh, just a doodle about a legend I heard," I replied dismissively. I really wasn't satisfied with how it was turning out.
"Looks pretty good for just a doodle," the elf remarked.
"Thanks," I said embarrassedly. I wasn't used to having people talk to me, more the less compliment me, and I was feeling a little out of my depth. "So what brings you out here?"
"It was feeling crowded indoors, and I was growing tired of the conversation, so I decided to get away from it."
"Ah." I was at a loss for words. What do people talk about? I wondered. A life as an outcast left me without the easy smalltalk topics that sparked normal conversation. I had to try something, though; I knew enough to know that he shouldn't carry the whole conversation. "Do you draw?" I asked, more than a little awkwardly. I wasn't sure if it was the best way to go, but it seemed like a good start.
"No," Evander replied. "I don't have the talent or the patience for it. I'm usually more of an active kind of guy."
Crap, I thought. I felt it was a point against me as it was something that separated me from him, giving me a little less common ground. It wasn't that I was unfit or hated physical activity. It was more that I avoided physical activity as it was an invitation to be picked on once again. Physical Education was perhaps my least favourite class. Yet, despite this apparent disparity in personality, he was still here, talking to me. Why?
I was casting about for another topic when Evander provided one. "Why don't you fight back?"
I was taken aback by the comment, and all I could manage to say was, "What?"
"My locker is across the hall from yours," Evander said. I hadn't noticed, but I tried to remain as low key as possible at school. If you didn't look at others, others usually didn't look at you. "I've seen Gregory and the others there. Why do you just pretend they're not there? Why not fight back?"
I could hardly believe what he was saying. "Fight back?" I repeated incredulously. "There are five of them! And if I even try, they'll just come down on me harder." I shook my head in disbelief. "I learned a long time ago that fighting back is a bad idea. It looks all good and heroic on paper, but in reality," I trailed off and shrugged my shoulders. "How do you turn back the tide?"
"Reanos did," Evander replied.
Once again, I was perplexed. "What?" I asked, not even trying to sound intelligent.
He gestured towards my drawing. "I recognize the lore," the elf said. "Legend says Reanos turned back the tide."
"The difference," I retorted exasperatedly, "is that this is real life, not legend."
Evander shrugged his shoulders. "So? Reanos does it in real life, too."
I almost said "What?" again, but I was tiring of the repetition. Instead, I just stared at the elf before with a disbelieving expression.
"Everyday, the moon directs the ebb and flow of the tides. We learned about in science, remember? Well, granted," he amended, "I already knew thanks to elven lore, but we talked about it in science."
"Yeah, well the moon has a bit of a size advantage on me," I replied. I couldn't believe what this elf was suggesting.
"And the Earth has a size advantage on the moon," Evander said stubbornly, "but that doesn't stop it from controlling the movements of all the water on Earth."
I couldn't really argue with the logic, but I felt that the cases weren't exactly parallel. "Whatever," I said, tiring of the whole idea. "Fighting back is just asking for trouble, and I get enough of that as it is."
"You make it sound like you can't win," Evander said, frowning thoughtfully.
"Wow, you're right," I said, sarcasm thick in my voice. "Five jocks who work out should be absolute pushovers."
"Yeah, they're strong," the elf replied, "but they don't really know how to fight. They just throw a few punches and grab at you. They have no clue what they're doing."
I looked at him inquisitively. What was this madelf talking about?
"You just need to know how to take their strength and redirect it. Even with five of them, they're so inexperienced that it wouldn't be hard."
"One problem with you're little plan," I said. "I know even less about fighting than they do."
The bell rang, warning us that we had only five minutes to make it to our next class. I stood in tandem with Evander, both of us rising in much the same way. I was a little disconcerted. I was more used to seeing humans than elves, so having someone mirror my movements was odd and rare. I was also thrown by the determined look Evander was giving me. "Are you coming back out here at lunch?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied cautiously, a little unsure of his intention.
"Good," he said firmly. "I'll see you then." With that, he walked back to the school, leaving me standing there, staring after him. My thoughts were churning, wondering at him and asking why he had come to talk to me. It was only when the bell rang again, signalling the start of class, that I came to myself and hurried back inside. I was late, but my bigger concern was Evander. What did he want?
There it is. Leave (constructive/beneficial) comments please. I'll love you forever if you do. *winks*