Tatum's War

“Are you serious!?” Jonny’s face showed unbridled horror and couldn’t believe what Tatum was saying.

Tatum nodded while he munched on his apple. After Mr. Chance had thrown him the egg, Tatum stared at it knowing deep down what an idiot he had been for letting himself be manipulated by Jackson. No matter what Jackson might have said to him, the final decision to go had been his. No one was to blame but himself.

During his explanation to his father on what he had done, Mr. Chance’s demeanor continued to be friendly and cheerful considering the egg goo dripping on the front of his house. His dad though, hadn’t been as cheerful nor as friendly when Tatum had come to the conclusion of his story. His father profusely apologized and assured Mr. Chance that he come down to clean the front of his house after school tomorrow and pay for any damages that Tatum might have caused. Mr. Chance had nodded before assuring his father that no damages had occurred except for the egg goo. He thanked his father for his understanding, nodded to Tatum and then left with the Terror. In one of the few times that his dad actually got mad at him, Tatum received an earful that even his little sister would remember.

“You are an idiot.” Alexa mumbled.

His other friends, the ones Alexa seemed to tolerate the best, agreed.

Tatum sighed. “I know. I can’t believe it.”

Molly, a brown haired, shy girl, stared wide eyed at him. “You have to go over there today?” Her voice grew soft. “With the Terror?”

“Yep. If you guys want any of my stuff after that dog devours my entrails, go ahead.” Tatum took another bite of his apple.

Alexa rolled her eyes at him.

“You doubt, Alexa, but you’ve seen how mean that dog can be. I’m not the only one who believes that dog has wolf genes in it.” Tatum told her. “That is the most wolf looking dog I’ve ever seen.”

The others nodded vigorously in their agreement.

“Like you’ve seen a wolf up close, and she’s not mean.” Alexa scoffed. She opened her note book and began writing something, ignoring them.

Jonny tried to sneak a peek, but Alexa gave him one of her legendary evil eye stares, and he immediately turned away with a mumbled apology. Quite by nature and loner by choice, Alexa’s evil stare brought her a measure of notoriety she didn’t desire, but it also created her preferred bubble of separation from the other students by making people leave her alone. Though, sometimes, students tried to blame Alexa and her evil stare for their school troubles. They would spew radical accusation of witchcraft and say that Alexa had bewitched them into doing their miss deeds, which had gotten them into trouble, but of course no one ever believed their fabricated lies. Tatum had to admit at times, though, odd things did occur to students who crossed her and made her angry. But of course Tatum knew there was no such thing as magic, and therefore, didn’t give it much thought.

“So, anyway. That’s my afternoon. Dad was not happy.” Tatum told them.

“What about Jackson and his thugs? Did you throw them under the bus?” Martha asked.

Before Tatum could answer, a hand slammed down onto their table. Everyone around them jumped, startled by the sudden noise. Jackson and his thugs moved into Tatum’s view. Other students began to get up and leave. Those at Tatum’s table stared fearfully at Jackson, who glared menacingly at Tatum. Alexa continued writing in her notebook ignoring everyone. Tatum slowly turned his head and looked up at Jackson.

“He better keep his mouth shut.” Jackson growled. “If he knows what’s good for him.”

Tatum returned Jackson’s menacing stare. “Don’t worry, Jackson. Your childish prank is still childishly safe.”

“You mocking me, Tatum.” Jackson leaned down closer.

“You have to know the term to understand its meaning.” Alexa commented while continuing to write in her notebook.

Jackson looked up. “Shut up, slut.”

Alexa slowly lifted her head up, evil eye stare in full view. “At least I don’t have sex with my dog.”

Jackson’s eyes grew wide and angry. “Take that back before I kick the shit out of you!”

“Don’t threaten her, Jackson.” Tatum’s warning came in a low, controlled voice.

Jackson’s face turned ugly. “What you going to do about it, Tatum?” Jackson laughed.

“Yeah, Tatum?” Link snickered. “What ya going to do.”

Tatum put his apple down. “Walk away, Jackson. I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Yeah, Jackson. Nobody wants trouble.” Molly pleaded.

Timmy grabbed Molly’s neck and placed his mouth close to her ear. “Maybe we want trouble, you little whore.” Timmy whispered.

Molly cringed.

“Let her go, Tim.” Tatum got up from the table and faced Jackson.

Those students at the tables nearest the fray, who had been brave enough to watch the beginning of the ordeal, decided it was best to exit the area now that things looked like they were going to escalate. A circle of dead space appeared around Tatum’s table.

“You better sit your ass back down, Tatum.” Jackson told him.

“Tell your thug to let her go, Jackson.” Tatum warned him again. “This doesn’t involve her.”

Their eyes met. Tatum knew his first strike on Jackson would have to be quick, since Jackson favored sneak attacks against his opponents. Tatum had watched too many of Jackson’s fights not to realize he had to act first. Jackson had already tensed his right fist when Tatum got up, and now Link was moving slowly behind him. Time slowed for Tatum.

“Lick her face, Timmy.” Jackson ordered maintaining his eyes on Tatum’s.

Tatum could see the uncertainty playing in Jackson’s eyes. He knew that he’d pushed Jackson to take action to save face with his gang, but, Tatum reasoned, Jackson could just have easily walked away when Tatum told him that his secret was safe. What was going to happen next was Jackson’s fault.

Timmy smiled maliciously, opened his mouth and let his tongue hang out like a dog next to Molly’s face. Molly whimpered.

The next few seconds moved with the smoothness of an orchestrated dance. Jackson fatally turned his head ever so slightly to his left to get a better view of Tim, when Tatum acted. Tatum grabbed a handful of hair on the back of Jackson’s head with his left hand and slammed Jackson’s face down on the table. Next, Tatum whirled around bringing the back of his right fist into the side of Link’s head dropping him like a lumber jack felling a tree. Timmy’s eyes went wide with surprise. He let go of Molly and fell to the floor, curling up like a new born baby and whimpering with his hands raised up to protect himself from the rampaging monster before Tatum could punch him. Jackson slid to his knees, while grabbing his nose. Tatum grabbed the back of Jackson’s head, pulling it back so he could look into his face. Hatred mixed with fear danced in Jackson’s eyes while blood dribbled down his face from a nasty gash along Jackson’s forehead.

“You wanna FUCK with me Jackson, then fuck with ME! Don’t EVER make the mistake of fucking with my friends.” Tatum reared his right hand back and punched Jackson square in the nose, shattering it.

Jackson slid to the floor, unconscious in a pool of his own blood. Tatum stood there, breathing heavy as the adrenaline rushed through his body. When he finally became aware of his surroundings, the silence was deafening. Tatum looked at the two unconscious bodies without remorse. He knew they had made their choices. Just as he had made his choice to act. Out of the corner of Tatum’s eye, one of the school security guards was running towards him with several teachers in tow. And now he was going to be punished. As the security guard grabbed him and began to take him off to the principal’s office, Tatum sighed. Molly and the others watched him go with a mixture of awe and surprise, while Alexa’s smile would always be the thing he remember most from the encounter.

Tatum sat in the principal’s office nursing his right hand with a bag of ice.

Mr. Resler continued to write on a piece of paper, ignoring him. Numerous awards hung on Mr. Resler’s office walls like metals on a soldier’s chest. Mr. Resler had only been at the high school for five years. The youngest principle in the district, a mere thirty three years of age, he’d become very popular with the kids. Mr. Resler was known for his heavy disciplinary hand, but uniformly appreciated by the students and parents for his even handedness in dealing it out. There was never a question of favoritism for any clique. The law was the law, which why many students liked him and many didn’t, but everyone respected him. Mr. Resler placed his pen down and flexed his writing hand.

“How’s your hand?” Mr. Resler asked not looking up.

“Hurts like a mother.” Tatum answered.

“Not like the movies, then?” Mr. Resler laughed.

“No sir.” Tatum agreed.

Silence fell between the two again, while Mr. Resler finished up. A rap at the door made Mr. Resler look up and Tatum turned his head. The secretary, Mrs. Zartman, stood there. Tatum could see his father behind her in the distance. A cold sweat raced through Tatum’s body, while he looked quickly down at his feet, and his stomach turned to mush. The hurt in his hand disappeared.

“Tatum’s father is here.” She announced.

Tatum could hear the sympathy in her voice.

“Thank you Mrs. Zartman. I’ll send Tatum out shortly.” Mr. Resler told her.

“Do you want to speak to him?” She inquired.

“I don’t think so. I believe Mr. Harper understands what is going to happen.”

Tatum nodded.

“Please shut the door though.” Mr. Resler asked her.

“Of course.” The door closed softly but the click of the door latch sounded like a single bell of the damned.

Tatum lifted his head. Out the window behind Mr. Resler’s desk, he saw the ambulance driving away. His stomach turned even sicker.

“Well, Mr. Harper. I’m not going to condone your actions. Fighting isn’t the best way to solve problems, though, some people just don’t understand that.” He sighed. “I’ve talked to Jackson’s parents and explained the circumstances. According to the testimonies from the other students, you didn’t provoke Jackson, and even tried to dissolve the situation, but just because Mr. Ingersaul was going to lick Ms. Champlain’s face doesn’t mean you can send a kid to the hospital. You should have just gotten security.”

“I know.” Tatum quietly contemplated his shoes.

“Understandably, Ms. Champlain’s dad, believes you acquitted yourself quite satisfactory in protecting his daughter, if that’s any consolation.” Mr. Resler chuckled. “He thought your decisive actions to be very noble in defending his daughter’s honor, and he made it very clear that if you wanted to date his daughter, he would be most pleased by that prospect.”

Tatum smiled, but it quickly went away as the image of Jackson lying in his own blood flooded his memory.

“Okay. I’m going to suspend you for the rest of the week. You’ll need to do community service for one hundred hours, and write an apology to Jackson’s parents. Starting next week, you and Jackson will have counseling with Mrs. Macklemoore. Understand?”

Tatum looked up. Mr. Resler’s face was stern, but tempered by some sympathy.

“Yes, Sir.” Tatum said.

“You’ve had a rough go, since your mom passed away…”

Tatum’s heart flinched at the mention of his mom.

“Your dad has done a great job with you and your sister. From what I’ve heard from other students, you are doing a fantastic job with your little sister too. However, your grief doesn’t absolve you from your choice, Mr. Harper, you don’t need to fight to solve problems.”

Tatum nodded.

“Mr. Tucker says you have a knack for strategies. He gave you high praise during conferences for your ability to find solutions to complicated problems. Especially those that require implementation of complex tactics. Why don’t you join the chess club?”

Tatum shook his head. “To one dimensional. You move back and forth. Doesn’t really allow you to improvise. Though I’m grateful Mr. Tucker said those things.”

Mr. Resler nodded. “Okay. Well, I hope you learn from this or it’s going to be a long senior year. I’m not going to apologize for the punishment given to you, you need to take responsibility for you own actions. But I am a little surprised by your response to the situation.”

Tatum nodded. “Me too, in all honesty.”

Mr. Resler stood and put out his hand. Tatum shook it.

“Thank you Mr. Resler.” Tatum turned to leave but stopped. “Is it true you are going to take over as Principal of Apollo Academy?”

“You heard about that.” Mr. Resler smiled. “Yeah, the school should be finished next fall. Our first kindergarten, third, seventh and freshman classes will be at orientation at the end of May.”

“Is it true that it was funded by an old little man who owns a winery?”

Mr. Resler shrugged. “I haven’t heard that rumor, but I can’t disclose private donations, Mr. Harper.”

Tatum nodded. “Well, good luck.”

“Thank you, Mr. Harper. Take care.” Mr. Resler nodded as Tatum left.

Tatum turned towards the closed door. He didn’t want to face his father, especially after last night. But the one hard lesson he’d learned since his mother’s death was that his father would always have it harder than himself. He opened the door. His father stood by Mrs. Zartman’s desk, watching him. Disappointment clearly etched upon his concerned face.

“Tatum.” His father said.

Tatum closed the door behind him. “Sorry, dad. I messed up again.”

His Dad walked over to him. He smiled. “Clearly something is going on that I’ve missed. Let’s go.”

“Do you know about my suspension?” Tatum asked him.

He nodded. “Yeah. Mrs. Zartman gave me a copy of it. I…” His Dad fell into silence as they walked towards the school entrance. Students he passed nodded to him showing their support or sympathy, Tatum weakly smiled back at them.

They walked outside. The sun blazed brightly in the blue sky of the fall day. Cars traveled along slowly out front of the school, making sure not to break the speed limit with the security car sitting off to the side. Tatum waved to Officer Howard; he’d be the one that had taken Tatum to the principle, he waved back. They continued walking quietly to the car. Each got in; moments passed before his dad started the car and they drove off.

Tatum stared out the window; his mind running over the events of the fight, wondering what had provoked him into such a drastic action. He couldn’t really place his finger on it, but the image of Timmy going to lick Molly’s face wouldn’t leave him. The neighborhood passed by quietly. The NPR station his dad usually listen too, turned off. Tatum was thankful for the silence.

“Care to give your side?” His dad finally asked.

Tatum continued to stare out the window as he told him what happened. His dad listened quietly.

His Dad shook his head. “Did you have to put him in the hospital?”

“I didn’t mean too. I just punched him in the face. He’s done it to a bunch of kids and they never went to the hospital.” Tatum explained.

“Sounds like you had it won when you crashed his face into the table. Why the second punch?”

“I don’t know dad! Between Timmy going to lick Molly’s face, and Jackson being stupid and not walking away, I… I… just wanted to make them stop.” Tatum flexed his hand. “I don’t understand him. Why does he have to be that way?” Tatum returned his attention back to the outside that passed by. “Why can’t everyone just leave everyone else alone?”

His dad sighed. “I don’t know, Tatum. Bullies don’t even know I think. They hate something about themselves. They lack something inside, and hate those they perceive have it.” His dad fell quiet. Then, “Look, I know it’s been tough without your mom, and I’ve put a lot of extra responsibilities on you. Maybe it’s my fault that I haven’t been there enough for you or your sister.”

Tatum turned, anger and guilt rushing to the surface. “Shut up, dad!” Tatum yelled. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who chose to do that! Just like I chose to go with Jackson last night. It’s my fault!”

His dad looked at him with surprise. Tatum turned back to the window. Silence stretched on.

“I’m sorry.” Tatum whispered after a bit. “I don’t mean to yell at you, I’m just so angry at myself. But, I brought those things upon me. I should have just let Timmy lick Molly’s face, let her report him to Mr. Resler and Jackson would have not gone to the hospital. I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

“Whatever disappointment I might have felt at first has gone away. I’m proud that you owned up to your mistakes, Tatum.” His dad laughed. “Not that I expected you to be in trouble two days in a row. But I appreciate you taking responsibility for your actions. And in all honesty Tatum, except for the hospital ride, I believe standing up for your friends was noble. You should stand up for those that can’t always help themselves. That part of your actions I fully support, let’s just not go all Ender on the next one. What did Alexa say?”

Tatum’s reflection showed his smirk. “She didn’t say anything. She just smiled.”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll have something to say.”

Tatum nodded. He didn’t feel any better about it. He was madder at himself than anything. Even he couldn’t believe so much had happened in two days.

“Now, about your punishment.” His dad sighed.

“Taking Gabriella to see The Initiare: Dark Gate,” Tatum offered.

His dad laughed. “That isn’t much of a punishment. You like dragons and magic!”

They both chuckled; a pleasant moment.

The car pulled into the driveway. His dad turned the key and the engine died away.

“Seriously though, Tatum. I have to do something.” His dad started.

“I know. Isn’t going down to Mr. Chance’s punishment enough? That guy is creepy.” A chill ran down Tatum’s spine.

“Come on, Tatum. Mr. Chance is a nice man. He could have pressed charges and after today, you might have spent some time at Juvenile Hall, costing me a boat load of money on a lawyer. Be thankful.”

Tatum sighed. “I am. It’s…it’s…just that dog of his. I swear it’s got some wolf in it and its going gnaw on my bones.”

“Better than being in jail and someone’s bitch.” His dad offered.

Tatum turned a surprised eye at him. “You can be quite harsh at times.”

“I know.” He waved him out of the car. “Go on down to Mr. Chance’s and I’ll think of something. I have to go and get Gabriella at school in a couple of hours and take her to soccer. Come straight home. No going out.”

Tatum nodded. “I don’t want to go out.” He opened the car door, tossed his backpack onto the porch and closed the door. He started off down the street to Mr. Chance’s house.

The warmth of the mid-day sun penetrated the heavy canopy of the trees that lined the road. Like a man walking towards his death in the electrocution chamber, the vividness of the moment pressed upon him. The green color of the trees leaves absorbed the light creating a lushness of hue that Tatum had never seen before. Dark and full of life, the leaves blew gently in the afternoon wind that made Tatum smile. Sunrays gently moved between the branches, accenting the blackness of the street top, lending a deeper richness of meaning than just a road that cars drive upon. But as the street shrank toward the yellow and white ranch style house at the end of the block, the colors appeared to lose their magnificence around the house. Like a bloated sore that consumed the brightness of an apple skin, the colors of the day grew darker and grayer. Tatum stopped across the street from the house. He warily watched for signs of the great Terror that roamed the manicured lawn and hid among the perfectly sequenced flower beds that could put a rainbow to shame.

Several cars drove past him, while he watched. Tatum never had an occasion to stop and look at the house during the day. As with most of the other kids, Tatum passed by the house as quickly as possible, petrified that the Terror might jump over the fence and devour them in an instant, never to be seen again. But deep down, despite the excuse used by himself and others that they might die at the jaws of his dog, he felt pity for Mr. Chance. He’d never seen anyone come and go from the house. Even the Mailman put his letters and packages in the lonely box that sat on the edge of the front walk way, and never venture into the yard. Now looking at the house, he began to appreciate it in a new light with his newly discovered awareness.

The yellow of the house really appeared to be a gold color where the sun gently shone upon the siding. The perfectly manicured flower beds with their seamlessly spaced colored flowers even appeared to be favored by the sun’s light, each displaying their colors as proudly as a dancer upon a stage. Blues, reds, greens, and whites appeared all around the yard like they were planted with church like reverence and that any other display would be an affront to nature. Silver colored flowers, a species Tatum had never seen before, lined the window boxes like books on a bookshelf. Tatum scanned the street and the other houses, and came to the conclusion that Mr. Chance’s house was actually the best looking one on the block. Tatum closed his eyes. The sound of the wind blew across his ears, fragrances of flowers tickled his nose, and the sun warmed his skin. When he opened them again, Mr. Chance’s house appeared much brighter than he had first thought. The complexity of color originating from his house and the yard made the other colors appear dim and gray. Not that the house was sucking the colors from around it, but the house itself was the pure spring of color that gave the other houses, trees, flowers, bushes and yards their colors. But if Mr. Chance’s house was the original master piece, the copies could never match the original’s greatness.

Tatum caught himself and wondered why he had never noticed this before.

“Grrr.”

Tatum froze. He knew the beast that made this sound of death. The Terror. Afraid to turn around, and secretly hoping that his death would come swiftly and without pain, he wasn’t prepared for the soft laugh that shortly followed the sound of death.

“Are there no classes today?” Mr. Chance’s amused voice spoke behind him.

Turning slowly around, Tatum peered into the amused brown eyes of Mr. Chance. The Terror stood next to him, and in the daylight, the Terror appeared even more frightening than at night. If the dog blended perfectly into night’s veils of blackness, than it appeared as a sun spot during the day. Tatum had trouble focusing on the edges of the shape around the blackness before him, which stood with its head at Mr. Chance’s shoulders. The only distinct feature was the blue eyes, which perplexed him. He’d really only seen the Terror at night, and the blue eyes of the dog during the day, didn’t match the red ones of the demon at night. Tatum shivered.

Mr. Chance appeared confused. “Oh, yes. Shadow doesn’t come out into the daylight much. It makes her to hot.” He ruffled Shadow’s ears.

“Sh..sh…shadow?” Tatum stammered.

“Yes. That is her name. A gentle beast…most of the time.” Mr. Chance mused.

Shadow head butted Mr. Chance’s shoulder, which made him stumble to the side. Clearly, Shadow had not liked Mr. Chance’s insinuation that she was not a gentle beast. Mr. Chance rubbed his shoulder.

Tatum watched the antic with disbelief and couldn’t find his voice to reply. Mr. Chance laughed again, pulled a treat out of his pocket and fed it to Shadow.

“Now. Is school over and what happened to your hand? I wasn’t expecting you until later?” He rubbed Shadow’s head.

“Uhm, something happened at school and I had to leave.” Tatum felt his face turn red.

Mr. Chance clapped his hands together. “A mystery. I love mysteries. Come then, into my humble abode.” He patted Tatum on the shoulder before walking across the street to the gate. He turned around, clearly not surprised by Tatum unwillingness to follow him. “Hurry, young man. Much to do today.” He opened the gate and entered the yard followed by Shadow.

Tatum blinked his eyes several times. Taking a deep breath and hoping he’d get to see the outside world again, he followed Mr. Chance into the house.