Compass Rose
By
Scott Roche
Published by Scott Roche at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Scott Roche
Discover other titles by Scott Roche here http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ScottRoche
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Special thanks go to Becky Raymond, Lorna Cunningham-Rushton, and Clay Dugger for helping me with this story and to Doug Lance for the cover. Any issues with either the text or the cover is the sole fault of the author who is merely human and likes to refer to himself in the third person.
This short story takes place in the same universe as “X Marks the Spot”, also available from Smashwords. Look for more stories in this world and featuring these characters in 2012.
Children of Legend Stories:
“X Marks The Spot” (Mark Feaney) – Prequel Short Story
“Here, There Be Dragons” (Maria Perez) Prequel Short Story
“Compass Rose” (Rose Covington) Prequel Short Story
Hostile Takeover (Mark Feaney) Children of Legend: Book 1
Knife’s Edge (Maria Perez) Children of Legend: Book 2
I heard the screaming as I left the school by its back door. There was no way for me to resist going to check it out. It was a scream of abject terror in a high pitched voice. Such screams tore from my own throat on more than one occasion. I cursed the decision to wear the long gypsy skirt today. As cute as I think I looked in it, it got in the way of an all out run. Still, I pushed my body as hard as I could.
The playground was only a few dozen yards away. School was out for the day, and the kids in lower grades should all be on their buses well on their way home. Older kids like me might still be around, but it would be for organized after school activities, not for random play or climbing monkey bars. Most eighth graders believed themselves to be above such pursuits, even though swinging was the closest thing to flying that many of us would achieve.
In spite of my skirts and the non-sensible, but lovely sandals Mom had given me, I got to the fenced in playground in good time. A couple of my classmates stood over the prone body of someone much smaller than they were. As I got closer I recognized them. Ben was a tall blond, the handsomest boy in Mr. Lester's biology class. The second boy was Jackson, my terror since third grade. I saw Jackson get one more kick in as I ran up.
"Get off of him!" My voice picked that instant to crack.
The pair looked up from their victim. Ben had the decency to look guilty. Jackson just looked annoyed at the interruption.
"Well, well if it isn't Ross the busybody." Jackson’s lip pulled up into a sneer he probably practiced in a mirror.
"It's Rose, you moron." Getting most people to acknowledge my new name had been difficult to say the least. People like Jackson probably never would. "Now, what are you doing to..." I looked at the ground and was shocked to see Dawn. She was a sixth grader I had taken under my wing. Still a tomboy, she came to me a few times about the way I dressed, and we talked a lot about choices. I saw a thread of bright blood trickling down her upper lip.
I'd often heard of people seeing red when they were angry. I thought it was just a figure of speech until that day. I planted both of my hands on the short fence and somehow made it over without getting caught. It was one of the few times I was grateful for the testosterone I had raging through my system. My first target wasn't either of the two bullies, though. I went to my friend and knelt by her.
She opened her eyes and scrubbed at them with a bright green sleeve. She had been crying for a long time if the redness was any indication. "Rose?" Her voice was thick with snot.
"It's okay, sweetie. I'm here. We're going to get you some help. Just lay still for a few minutes." I stood, not coming anywhere close to either boys' height. "So, what's going on here. You guys run out of things to pull the wings off of?"
Ben flinched.
Jackson balled up his fist. "Nah. We were just hanging out and this little queer got too nosy for its own good."
I drew back at the smell of cigarette smoke on his breath. "Sneaking a smoke out behind the school, and you got caught. No reason to beat up a little kid."
"She was going to tell the teachers. Things got out of hand." Ben bent down as though to help Dawn up.
"You leave her alone and get the hell out of here, before I finish what she started. I saw Mr. Reed out by the shop class. He could be here in two minutes, and you two would be out of school for the rest of the year."
"No. You can't do that. I won't be able to run track, and we're doing good this year." His world was all about the asphalt oval. "You can't tell on us. She'll be okay."
"I won't tell, if you just get lost."
Jackson punched Ben in the chest. "Come on big guy, let's leave these two queers alone." He looked down at me. "I'll talk with you later." I felt certain talking was the last thing he wanted to do.
The boys turned and left the yard, and I stooped down again.
"Can you stand up, buddy?" I rested one hand on her shoulder.
"I... I think so. If you help."
I could tell she was going to have a black eye, at least. The nose bleed wasn't bad. The way she winced when I got her to her feet meant she had a few bruises around her ribs. Together we eased to the building.
Dawn stopped us halfway. "You're not gonna tell are you?"
"Do you want me to?"
"No. I think that would just make things worse."
There was a lot of wisdom there. Even then, I realized how horrible the truth was. Both of us had seen movies and heard talks about bullying, but on the schoolyard tattletales always paid double. If I told, she would get another beating whether she did or not. "I'll leave it up to you. If you tell, I'll say I saw everything. If you decide not to then I won’t either."
Mr. Reed was still talking to the Robotics teacher. When they saw us come in, Mr. Reed said a word I'd never heard him use in class. We were whisked to the office in short order. Dawn claimed she had fallen from the monkey bars. The look Principal Mayhew gave her was incredulous, a word I didn’t know until much later. My class would all know by the summer of our Sophomore year, that her previous husband had beaten her more than once. That's why she was a Ms. now.
Once everything was calm, I excused myself.
"Are you sure you don't want one of us to take you home?"
I shook my head. "No, thank you, Mr. Reed. I only live a couple of blocks away and there's still plenty of light."
"Okay. But be careful."
I nodded solemnly. In a world where you could get a beating for being in the wrong place at the wrong time though, no amount of care was capable of protecting you from getting hurt eventually.
I left by the back way again. There was a shortcut to my house through the woods at the edge of the school property. I could get there in around eight minutes. I stepped carefully, trying to avoid briers and hidden sticks. Four minutes into my walk I got to the thickest part of the woods and smelled smoke. I looked around for the source, worried someone had gotten careless with a match.
I felt something hit me between the shoulder blades, at the same time I saw movement as someone stepped from behind a tree. All the air left my lungs in a whoosh, leaving me unable to scream. I had the misfortune of falling face first into a nasty patch of thorns. They were tiny, but clung to my skin and hair tenaciously.
I drew in a breath, nearly choking on a sob of pain. Whatever it was my attacker used, a tree branch or a baseball bat, worked its way up and down my back and buttocks. Off balance and unable to turn over, I tried hard to curl up into a ball. The last thing I remember was a thump as the weapon landed near my head and the sensation of meaty hands pulling at my clothes.
I was in and out of consciousness for what felt like forever. Pain was the only constant. My whole body felt tender, like a sunburn I had gotten a few years ago, only worse. The tenderness wasn’t as bad as the clogged nose, which in turn wasn’t as bad as the sharp pain when I tried to breath. These fleeting moments were inter-cut with dreams, twisted by the drugs I was on. Things with too many teeth or too few fingers chased me through torturous underground passages. All of those things had red hair.
Finally, my eyes opened, and I was able to keep them open. Mom sat nearby, trying to knit and failing. She looked up and her eyes widened. “Baby.” She dropped her knitting and rushed to my side. I knew it must have been bad.
“Mom.” The word came out a little mushy. My tongue was thick.
“Take it easy, Rose. You rest.”
I looked down at my body, covered by the bed sheet. Now I was conscious, even if I was still hazy around the edges, I could feel the sunburned feeling over most of my body. I wore a gown, but I could also tell that my ribs were taped up. I put one hand to the cannula up my nose. “What happened?”
“One of the teachers found you out behind the school. Had you been smoking?”
I tried to shake my head and instantly regretted it. “No, Mom.”
“You fell down in the ditch, and all the grass around you was on fire.” There was a tremor in her voice I didn’t like. “Your face was scratched up by the fall, and you have some cracked ribs. You’ve also got some first degree and a few second degree burns.”
I ran my hands over the bandages covering my arms. Then I touched my face and found more gauze there. My vision blurred for a moment.
“You’ll be all right, sweetheart. Falling in the ditch probably saved your life. We can talk about what happened when you’re better. Just close your eyes and get some sleep.”
I closed my eyes, but sleep was far from me. Whether I ended up in the ditch because of Jackson, or in spite of him, I didn’t know. I was certain he was responsible though. The question became, do I tell on him or not? I didn’t know for a fact it was him, but didn’t know who else it could be.
The boy had made my life a nightmare for years. Even before I started to discover who I was inside, I had always been the butt of jokes and mistreatment. He was the ringleader for most of it. There was almost never physical abuse, other than the occasional shove or unnecessary roughness when we were forced to play some ball game. The majority of it was just sheer meanness; name calling, knocking books out of my hand, and defacing any of my property he could get his hands on.
If he tried to kill me, a thought I couldn’t comprehend, then telling on him wouldn’t keep me safe. Of course if he had tried to kill me, was he capable of doing the same thing to Dawn? I needed to find out. First though, I needed to get well.
Nurse Potter came in to my room later that day. Her look held a mix of pity and concern. She addressed my Mom first. “Ross’s injuries should heal quickly. He has a few cracked ribs, so you’ll need to make sure he stays still as much as possible. The burns on his hands and feet are painful, but the antibiotics should keep the possibility of infection down. The rest of his burns will fade after a few days.”
She turned to me. “You’ll need to be careful, young man. The doctor will write you a note excusing you from school for two weeks. You will need to take it easy for at least a month, though.”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“How long will she have to stay in the hospital.”
The woman looked confused and then shrugged. “He’ll be discharged later this evening. Keep a close eye on him, and if you notice a reaction to any of his meds call your family physician.”
Mom’s mouth dropped open. “Only a day? But she’s in so much pain.”
“Sorry, ma’am. The doctor doesn’t see any reason to hold him... To hold her any longer than that.”
“It’s my insurance, isn’t it?” Mom smacked her fist into her hand.
“I’m sure I don’t know, ma’am.” She excused herself and left us to get ready to leave.
I left the hospital in a wheelchair, thanks to the burns on my feet. I wouldn’t walk for a week at least. Those and the burns on my hand were the worst. I wheeled into my room at home, welcomed by my Care Bear collection and a host of Get Well cards and balloons. The best one was from Dawn. She made a card out of a sheet of poster board and covered it with Transformers stickers surrounding her own drawing of she and I holding hands and smiling.