Humayre: The Chronicles of Ronin Wilder

Standing on Dick’s porch, Ronin sucked in a massive gulp of air through his nose. He slowly exhaled trying to calm his racing heart. For a fleeting moment Ronin felt proud. And then reality set in. Dick was right. It never really crossed his mind before but it was all he ever thought to be, to be better than Dick. Something began to rise up in Ronin’s heart. For the first time in his life he wanted more than to just get by. To endure each day. Something inside of him wanted much, much more.

The front of Dick’s house was no better than the inside. The grass had long been dead, all that remained was the occasional weed popping through barren cracked soil. The car in the driveway was old and rusted. The paint was faded. It was now a greyish color that might have once been black. The driveway was full of cracks that seemed to grow larger every time it rained. All of it was depressing. He had to get away. And then a sinking feeling washed over him. The pit of his stomach felt heavy, like he’d eaten too much. But it wasn’t satisfying like a full belly, it was more like a heavy emptiness. As he walked down the driveway his shoulders slumped and his head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. School, his only way out, was now the one thing stopping him. The Incident, as they called it, made sure of that.

“You okay sweetheart?” asked a voice from across the street.

So deep in thought, all Ronin heard were the words and not the person behind them. Startled, he looked up to see who had spoken to him. It was Mrs. Kinney. She was small and thin, practically frail. Her once black hair was white and always pulled back into a perfect bun. Her dark skin was wrinkled everywhere but her face. For the past six years Ronin spent just about every evening with her. And even though she had barely enough money to feed herself, she always made sure she could cook Ronin up the best home-cooked meals imaginable.

“Oh sweetheart.” Her voice was sympathetic and sweet.

A slight smile formed on Ronin’s face. Mrs. Kinney was the only person who could make him feel better when he was down.

“Come on over here, love. You look like the world just crushed you.”

Ronin crossed the street and walked up to Mrs. Kinney’s porch. She was sitting on her favorite chair facing Dick’s house.

“I knew somethin’ was up when you missed dinner last night,” said Mrs. Kinney. “You know, that’s the first dinner you’ve ever missed without givin’ me warnin’.”

“Sorry ma’am,” said Ronin. Maybe the most important gift Mrs. Kinney ever gave Ronin was a sense of respect for those who deserved it. Even men like Dick. Especially men like Dick, as Mrs. Kinney would say.

“Oh darlin’. You never need to apologize to me. I know you’d never do anythin’ disrespectful on purpose.”

Ronin lowered his eyes and let his shoulders slump.

“Never seen you like this, love. That fire in those beautiful blue eyes is gone. What happened? Does it have somethin’ to do with that man who showed up at your house last night? You in some kind of trouble, sweetheart?”

“No. I’m not in trouble. I promise. Nothing happened. I was just watching the planes take off last night. Wishing it was me on one of them. I just lost track of time was all. That’s why I missed dinner.” He wrinkled his brow in confusion. “A man? What man?”

“Oh I’m so happy to hear that, sweetheart. I was worried.” She massaged her hands. Her arthritis seemed to be flaring up. “Yeah. A man in a real nice suit. Looked like he might be FBI or somethin’. Sure it was just my imagination runnin’ wild though. You know how I get when I watch those detective shows on the television.” She chuckled. “He was there for a while. At least a couple of hours.”

That’s weird. Dick never has visitors.

“It’s school isn’ it, baby? That’s what’s botherin’ ya.” Her face was full of compassion. “Dick’s still not gonna let you transfer is he?” Her forehead wrinkled and anger ignited in her eyes. “Those teachers still treatin’ you bad? I swear, never heard of anythin’ like it. What kind of teacher blames a boy? Wasn’t even your fault. It’s Dick they should be goin’ after.” She folded her arms and huffed. “You’d be better off somewhere else.”

“Dick will never let me transfer. He’d have to drive me to school. That will never happen.” Ronin stared at his feet while he fiddled with his thumbnail.

“That’s it then. You get them to transfer you and I’ll drive you myself.”

Ronin loved Mrs. Kinney. She’d do anything for him.

“But you don’t have a car.”

“Who says I don’t. Got one in the garage. Just don’t use it is all. On account of my arthritis. But that don’t matter. I can get ya to school and back.”

A smile formed out of Ronin’s frown. He couldn’t help it. As bad as he had it, he also had it just as good. A friend like Mrs. Kinney was a rare gift and Ronin knew it. As nice as her gesture was, Ronin knew how terrible her arthritis was. It was so severe her son had to do all the shopping and just about everything else for her. No way would Ronin make her drive him around. She was in constant pain. He’d rather suffer indefinitely than put her in any sort of pain.

“Thank you ma’am.” He smiled. “It would just make things worse with Dick though. I’ll be okay. I think it’s getting a little better anyway. Just was a little down is all. I promise I’m okay.” He was lying. He knew his classmates and the school faculty would never forgive him. They wouldn’t be happy until he was gone. The whole school felt that way and there was no changing it.

“Okay, baby. Can’t make ya do anythin’ you don’t want.” There was slight disappointment in her tone.

“I promise I’m okay. Dick was just being his usual self is all. It’s not that bad at school. I promise.”

“Okay.” She smiled. Her eyes showed her appreciation, as though she knew Ronin was saying it all to make her feel better. She cleared her throat and assumed a more proper posture. “We still on for tonight?”

He nodded. “I won’t miss it again.”

“Good. Because I have a surprise for you. I found a Fred Astaire movie we haven’t seen yet. Picked it up from the library just last night. And I’m makin’ your favorite.”

Drool instantly formed under Ronin’s tongue. Mrs. Kinney’s Arroz con Pollo was even better than Casa De Plantain’s.

“Six o’clock.” She grimaced as she lifted herself out of her chair. “Gonna start early if that’s okay by you.”

“Yes ma’am,” said Ronin, as he moved forward to help her. But she waved him off. She was a proud woman.

“How’s your hands? Those fingernails were lookin’ pretty bad?” She gently grabbed Ronin’s wrists and took a look at his makeshift bandages. “Did you go see the nurse like I told ya?”

“No ma’am. But I’ll go today. I promise.” He wanted to tell her the nurse wouldn’t see him, on account of The Incident. But he didn’t want to get her all fired up again. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d go. He had every intention of going, if nothing more than for the principle of it. To let the school know he wasn’t just going to lie down and disappear.

“Okay then.” She held up her left hand and looked at her watch. “You’re up early. School don’t start for another hour and a half. Want to come in? I can cook you up some eggs, right fast.”

“No thank you.” He wanted to take her up on her offer but he had other plans. “I’m going to the airport before school starts.” Watching the planes always calmed him, filled him with a sense of hope.

“Okay, baby.” She nodded with a warm smile. “See ya tonight.” She hobbled into her house, rubbing her hip. Then, just as she began to close the door she stopped and faced Ronin. “Don’t worry your little head about that man I saw at your house last night. Probably just had business with Dick.” A devilish smile appeared on her face. “Maybe they’ll come back and arrest him. Then you could come live with me.”

The very thought filled Ronin with incredible joy. Nothing would have made him happier. He laughed a little. “That would be great.”

Mrs. Kinney winked at Ronin then disappeared into the house, the door closing behind her.

Ronin stepped off the porch and headed towards the airport. As he made his way down the sidewalk he stared at his hands. The pain was back. Throbbing and itching, itching and throbbing. It was an endless cycle of torture. He didn’t know how much longer he could take it. The worst part was, his fingers didn’t seem to be getting better. And then something horrible popped into his head. What if it was some kind of Gangrene? What if a doctor was going to have to pull his nails off? Balling his hands into fists and grinding his teeth, he tried to think about something else.

The first bell rang out as Ronin was making his way to his locker. Thirty minutes until first period, which was history, his favorite class, or what used to be his favorite class. Sweat beaded above his upper lip. His heart raced. It was worse that morning for some reason. Watching the planes usually calmed him, helped him get ready for school, but not today. Throbbing fingernails reminded him he had more to worry about then just school. As he squeezed his hands together he realized there wasn’t enough time to try the nurse, even though he knew she’d most likely not see him anyway. He’d have to go during lunch.

Locker one hundred and twenty three. The three had been missing for who knows how long. The only reason Ronin knew it was his locker was because it was sandwiched between one twenty two and one twenty four. That was the strange thing about Dorsey High. It was considered one of the best schools in California yet you would never know it by its upkeep. The lockers were dented and painted an ugly mustard yellow. The rest of the school wasn’t much better. Old buildings, old white paint, old everything. The teachers were its only saving grace. They were the true success of the school, which was why The Incident was such a big deal.

Shaking The Incident from his mind, Ronin opened his locker and pulled out his backpack. If he ever made the mistake and took the backpack home, it would be the last he ever saw of it. Dick was a big fan of making life as difficult as possible. He said it built character, but really all it did was satiate his sick need to see Ronin struggle. The backpack might have been Ronin’s favorite possession. Not because it was better or different than any other backpack but because Mrs. Kinney had bought it for him. He unzipped the large front pocket. The pressure from grabbing the zipper fired through the nails on his thumb and forefinger. Grimacing, he shook his hand in the air. A small red bead formed at the corner of the tape on his thumb. It rolled down to his knuckle leaving a crimson streak. Panic fired through his body. Something was very wrong. A soft touch on his right shoulder startled him. He spun around to see who was behind him.

“A bit jumpy, aren’t we?” said a man with short perfectly groomed jet black hair.

The man was wearing a black suit, patterned grey shirt and a black tie. It looked like one of those suits a movie star would wear at a premier, or what Ronin imagined one of those suits would look like. His eyes were so dark, they were almost black and the whites were just barely visible. Ronin took a step back. For some reason the man made him uneasy.

“I am sorry. Please excuse my manners. My name is Dr. Storm.” He held his hand out.

Apprehensively Ronin offered his hand. Dr. Storm grabbed it and shook vigorously. The pain was almost too much to bear. Ronin let out a slight whimper. Dr. Storm pulled Ronin forward and twisted his hand to get a better look at Ronin’s bandaged fingers.

“What happened to your hands?” Dr. Storm’s voice was cold, more curious than concerned.

Ronin tried to pull away but Dr. Storm’s grip was vice-like. “I don’t know. Can you let go?”

Dr. Storm snatched Ronin’s other hand and inspected it as well. “All your fingers are the same?” Before getting an answer, he pinched one of Ronin’s nails.

The pain almost put Ronin on the ground. Just as he thought he might pass out, Dr. Storm released his grip.

“Would you like me to look at them?” Once again, his tone was more curious than concerned.

Ronin recoiled into the lockers behind him. He glared at Dr. Storm. Both fear and anger exuded from Ronin like heat from the sun. There was definitely something wrong with the guy, Ronin even wondered if he really was a doctor. The way he looked straight through Ronin as though he were nothing more than an object was chilling.

Dr. Storm stood staring. It was odd how still he was, a mannequin exhibited more life. For what must have been fifteen seconds Dr. Storm just stood, not moving an inch. And then, with no warning he turned and walked away without saying a word.

Ronin furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. He wondered if one of the teachers put Dr. Storm up to it. To scare him. To make him want to leave. It’s not like he had a choice anyway. As bad as they wanted him to leave Ronin wanted it more, but there was nothing he could do. The middle fingernail on his right hand throbbed. The pain wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Adrenaline was sparing him from the worst of it.

“Did you get one of these in your locker too?” asked a blonde girl, holding up a sheet a paper. She was standing a few lockers away from Ronin, facing a brown haired girl.

“Yeah. But I didn’t read it,” said the brown haired girl. “Once I saw the word test, I was like, this is lame.”

The blonde girl giggled. “Well. It’s not just some lame test. They’re giving some kind of I.Q test to see if we qualify for a scholarship to BrightWood Academy.” Her thin right eyebrow raised. “Have you ever heard of BrightWood Academy?”

“Nope.” The brown haired girl flicked her hair off her shoulder.

“Hmm,” said the blonde. “Me either.” She pointed to the bottom of the paper. “It says here that it’s a boarding school for the gifted. It also says that those who attend BrightWood, and graduate, will be guaranteed full financial support to any university of their choosing.”

Double checking his own locker, Ronin was disappointed, but not shocked to find no such paper. Things like that happened all the time. Missing papers, lost books, withholding of information, anything that might make Ronin’s life more difficult at school was all fair game for the teachers and staff. The obvious repercussions of The Incident.

Curiosity dulled all of Ronin’s senses, including common sense. “Excuse me,” he said. The blonde girl glanced in his direction, obviously hearing him but pretending otherwise. “Hey,” he said even louder. “Did you say something about a test?”

The blonde girl faced Ronin, rolled her eyes and said, “That’s creepy you know.” She let out a sigh as though Ronin’s existence was an inconvenience. “You know, eavesdropping. That’s just creepy and gross.”

The brown haired girl snickered. “He is creepy, just ignore him.”

Both girls turned and walked away.

“Smooth,” said a boy. He forced a sarcastic laugh. As he walked past Ronin, he bumped him with his shoulder. “During first period they’re giving us an I.Q test. You’re so dumb you’ll probably fail it.” He forced a chuckle. “I wouldn’t even show up if I were you.”

Ronin furrowed his eyebrows, he had no ideas who the kid was. “You don’t know crap,” fired Ronin. He wanted to say something much worse but anger forced the words from his mind. “You don’t know me.” Normally he would’ve just ignored him, tried to be the bigger person, just like Mrs. Kinney always advised him. But he was in no mood to deal with jerks.

The kid stepped forward, his nose almost touching Ronin’s. The kid’s breath stunk of bacon. It nauseated Ronin. He wanted to step back, to get away from the pimply faced kid but he couldn’t. No way was he going to back down. If he did, that would be it. He could feel it deep down. If he didn’t take a stand this would be life for him at school from that moment on. The kid stepped back and lowered his eyes. Ronin exhaled and relaxed his shoulders. As badly as he wanted to punch the kid in the nose, he knew if he did he’d end up in The Boys Home again. He was relieved the kid backed down.

Out of nowhere the kid shoved Ronin in the chest. The air was knocked from his lungs as he slammed against the locker. The kid moved forward, his right hand balled into a fist. Laboring to suck in air, Ronin’s legs seemed to turn to jelly.

The punch started quickly, so fast in fact Ronin barely saw it coming. But then something strange happened. As the kid’s fist bounded towards him, it seemed to lose speed. Like a movie in slow motion. Ducking down and moving left, Ronin easily avoided the blow. A huge thump sounded, followed by a howl of agony as the kid’s fist landed square on a mustard yellow locker.

The kid took a step back holding his hand. The look in his eyes was of fear and surprise.

A man cleared his throat, obviously trying to get Ronin and the kid’s attention. “Get to class, Donovan,” he said.

Ronin fired his head in the direction of the voice. Standing there as though he’d been watching the whole altercation was Mr. Gilroy, Ronin’s fifth period pre-calculus teacher.

“Yes Mr. Gilroy,” said Donovan. He picked up the books he had dropped and hurried off cradling his fist.

Mr. Gilroy glared hard at Ronin, a total look of disgust consuming his face. He shook his head and said, “Just get to class.” He turned to walk away but before he was too far for Ronin to hear, he added, “Repulsive little bast...” He caught himself from finishing his last word.