#bearf

The low rumbles coming from Flint’s mustang rang through his ears loudly as he drove to school. Another day, another day with assholes who snickered at the weak, Girls twitching their eyebrows at him and “dropping” their books for him to pick them up. The only good thing that came out of it was knowing after school he could scour the junkyard for a carburetor to work with the car he was restoring. Flint turned into the parking lot of Minerva Pallas calmly hearing the bell ringing and the rest of the students scamper to make it before the second bell rung. The boy didn’t care though; he knew his teacher would just give him a look and turn away not wanting to upset him. This was a trump card he involuntarily clung to.  Sliding out of the driver’s seat Flint casually strolled up the steps heading to his first class.

There was nothing interesting happening in History. Only the talks of Sun Tzu’s Art of War and it’s application in the French Revolution. Boring. Flint’s dark brown eyes glazed over with indifference to the words being sputtered out by his fuddy duddy teacher.  Blobs of blue ink were scattered across his notebook of cars, tic tac toes and the number of minutes left in the class. Flint wished Kieran was in the same class as him. The raven-haired lad always cracked him up making perverse faces at the girls sitting in front of him.  Although his best friend wasn’t in the class Flint was relieved to know the other periods didn’t count. Luck was on their side when they discovered they were in class together from periods two through eight.

“Mr. Renard, would you please be kind to tell us---”, but the bell rang a high-pitched noise, saving him from answering the question. Without a word he packed his doodle book into his backpack and shuffled to his locker. Another day of mindless numbing classes, people stopping in the middle of the hallways. Nothing special. Cold steel touched the palms of his hands as he reached his bright blue locker. Flint rolled the lock left, right and left again until the satisfying pop of the lock passed through his ears.  “Yo Flint, I wish you were in my Chemistry class. Aryana Monroe stood up to answer this question and her ass was well in a word. Damn.” Flint shoved his notebook into the locker before giving a dubious look at Kieran. “You said the same thing yesterday when Elisabeth Bell went up to the board. Before that it was Aria Hough, before that,”

Kieran waved his hands frantically trying to quiet down the list of girls Flint rambled on about.  “Okay okay. I got it, but I swear if you saw what I saw.  You’d be saying damn too.” With a silent shaking of his head, Flint closed his locker and placed the lock back on the hinge. “Shut up Kier, let’s just grab some lunch,” he chuckled striding towards the cafeteria with his best mate in tow. As his hands pushed against the doors he could already see the cliques separated by the rectangular tables they sat at. Jocks, Bimbos, Nerds, So-called Rebels, Outcasts: everyone had a place. However, there was only one table in the near back with no one sitting at. Flint’s table. That was what everyone named it. Standard procedure was to stay away from Flint’s table unless you felt the need to die that day. Kieran was the only person who sat with him.

He threw his backpack onto the table along with Kieran’s stuff before heading into the line for food. The sounds of gagging from Kieran said it all about the food. What was supposed to be clam chowder looked like slop for pigs to eat. Nauseating and unappetizing, Flint held up a red tray asking for a burger instead. It was the only food one could count on being mediocre. Much better than risking food poisoning from the “fresh” tacos.  The lunch lady slammed the burger onto his tray before nodding to keep moving. Jello, fries and a bottle of water finished up what Flint was having for lunch as he walked back to his table…with no backpacks.

He could the soft curses under Kieran’s breath as they approached their empty table. Someone wanted to piss him off, but Flint controlled his anger through deep breaths. First mechanism completed. He dropped the tray on the table before perusing through the crowd, trying to see who was being a pain in his ass today. After a few minutes of scanning his eyes fell upon the brunette with light brown eyes, the complete opposite to his dark ones. With a heavy sigh he and Kieran walked up to the table. “Washington hand over our backpacks,” he grunted extending a hand out to retrieve them.

  “Oh come on, why don’t you sit with us humans for a change instead of being a sourwolf with your pervy friend,” she said grinning widely at the two. Flint rolled his eyes, ignoring the sultry voice and grabbing their backpacks underneath the table.

“You don’t want a fucking sociopath sitting with you Georgia.”

Flint glanced up seeing Christian Schrader staring down at him. The jock had been a thorn in his side since middle school, always trying to rile him up in the worst ways. “You’re right Schrader, I want to be a steroid meathead like yourself, who probably will end up a fat slob living in a trailer park,” he said shrugging off the lame insult thrown at him. Christian pushed through the tables until he stood face to face with Flint, “At least it’s better than being in prison. We all know that’s where you’re going to end up.” Flint’s jaw clenched up, his fingers curled up as he began to crack his knuckles trying to remain calm. Second mechanism completed.

“I’m not going to end up there. So just shut up and be stupid somewhere else,” he spat out before turning around to head to his table. “I bet your parents must be so disappointed in you. The fucking rageaholic of Asteria and future prisoner Flint Renard!”

His hands were already curled into fists, teeth grinding against one another. Chest heaving in a sluggish movement. Third mechanism completed.

Flint’s feet turned back to point towards Christian. The flecks of brown in his eyes were already black. “Say that again, but closer,” he growled. The cafeteria shifted from a loud, hustling center of adolescent to just a quiet lull, everyone staring at the two boys.

“Hey Flint, don’t do this…you’ve already been in enough trouble. Don’t do this.” The rambles from Kieran were blocked out by a low beep. All of his focus was on Christian. Nothing else.  The jock stepped closer to Flint, running his hand threw his chestnut hair. He could take Flint on, sure. All he needed to do was catch him off guard. The boy stood in front of his opponent, noticing the anger radiating off him in waves. No fear Schrader, no fear.

  “You’re a fucking loser who will end up in prison,” he muttered before raising a fist towards Flint to sucker punch him.

  But the boy caught sight of it beforehand, catching the thrown fist into his left hand and raising up his own.

  Game over.

  All it took was the echoes of a cracked jaw before the students jumped from their tables and ran over forming a circle around the two boys. Kieran scrambled to reach the collar of Flint’s shirt to pull him off, but hands and shoulders jabbed him from the inner circle to the back. “FLINT!” he shouted hoping his voice would reach his best friend…but it didn’t.

  Flint dived into the stomach of Christian bringing him down with a hard thud. His opponent pushed his hands upward trying to block the barrage of heavy hits from Flint to no avail. All he could see were the dark orbs burning into his skull with nothing but rage behind them. Flint took another swing at Christian’s face. Another crack, but from his nose this time. The marks of blood painted his fists as he pummeled Christian again…and again.

  “Should we stop him?”

  He punched the boy in the stomach several times until the sounds of breaking ribs hummed.

  “He’s taking a beating.”

  Another slam against his head. Concussion for sure.

  “I don’t think he’s breathing….”

  They were somewhat right. Christian’s chest rose slightly, his hands became limp by his side as the numerous beatings took a toll on his body. If only I got that sucker punch he thought to himself, coughing up blood onto Flint’s face while flobbing from every hit.

  No…I still wouldn’t have beaten him.

  “STOP HIM RIGHT NOW!” bellowed the principal as the security guards shoved their way to the center of the circle. Kieran followed right behind hoping to get a glimpse at the aftermath.

  Red.

  It was the color Flint was bathed in as the security guards grabbed his arms and hoisted him off of Christian. His normally snow white beater was splattered with crimson. His hands still fisted had speckles of Christian’s blood on them. The students backed away as Flint struggled from the hands on him. “Get off of me!,” he growled loudly like a deranged man heading to prison. But he was overpowered and dragged out of the cafeteria whilst the nurse checked on the boy who was grasping onto the last bit of life he had left in him.

Flint’s feet scraped along the floors of the school as security firmly kept him from escaping their grasps until they reached the principal’s office. They shoved him in, making him stumble until gaining his footing once more. As he turned to leave the door was slammed shut and the clicking sound informed him it was locked.

“Take a seat Flint.” His head whiplashed to see his mother seated.  For them to have her here instead of teaching English meant this wasn’t good news. The boy sauntered over to the chair and plopped down, crossing his blood stained arms and resting them against his chest. 

“Now,” the principal rubbed the crease in his forehead before continuing on, “Mrs. Renard this is not the first time we have seen Flint in here for his…temper. On several occasions the altercations have been reckless and unfortunate for the second party. But today, was the worst I’ve ever seen.”

“I know that Principal McDemott—“ Flint’s mother tried to raise her voice to speak, but was cut off with a single hand. “Christian Schrader is on his way to the hospital. If no one stopped had stopped you we would have to put him a body bag. This can’t go on any longer.”

Flint’s eyes glazed over as if he was still in first period History. Where was his notebook when he needed it to make more doodles and contemplate life? He knew what was next. Out school suspension for an X amount of days, his dad yelling at him for being stupid, his mom giving him a disapproving look and an X amount of days he was grounded.

Just another day.

“You’re expelled Mr. Renard." 

Not another day.

Flint stood straight up, scratching his chin and scraping off the dried off blood. “Wait, I can change this Principal McDermott. Don’t expel me, I’m sorry.”

But the Principal frowned, knowing this decision was bound to happen. “I’m sorry son, but we can’t have you in this school with that temper of yours sending students to the hospital. You’re expelled. Pack your things and go home.”

The stammering apologies bubbling up from Flint’s mouth did nothing to change the principal’s mind. Even as his mother pulled him up from his seat, he continued to apologize hoping one more sorry would help him. But the principal turned to face the window, avoiding the babbling boy’s gaze.

Flint stopped struggling and walked out of the office until he and his mother reached the main lobby. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I just got—“

  “Angry?”

  He looked up seeing his mother’s lips turned into a frown. “Yeah…” he trailed off, knowing it was the same excuse he had been using since second grade when he punched a boy for angering him. 

Mrs. Renard sighed, knowing she had to get back to doing her job as a teacher. But being a mother came first. “When you were born your eyes were pitch black. It was somewhat creepy people said, but then you smiled and a little spark happened. Like flint being struck. It’s how I named you. But this spark has become a fire I can’t stamp out.”

 Her lip quivered as she forced the tears away, “I don’t know what to do anymore. So, I’m just not going to say anything.”

“Mom, I’m so—“

“Grab your things from your locker and go home Flint,” she whispered before turning her back on her own son.

He stood in the same place, watching his mom continue to shake her head as she turned a corner, disappearing from his sight. Flint looked down before heading to his locker. Students walked passed him, whispering and spreading his expulsion throughout the school. By the time he reached his locker every student would already know it. By the time he left, every faculty and by the time he’d reach home, every citizen.

  The stares and whispers were starting to agitate him, but Kieran was in class and there was no one else who could stop his anger but himself. He stuffed his books and papers into his backpack and held the rest in his arms before shutting the locker for the last time.  He turned around seeing Georgia stare at him, no words being said. Giving her a burning glare, he turned to leave the school. The walk to his car seemed to take an hour when in reality it was only a few minutes until the black mustang was in front of him. Lifting the trunk open he dropped his books and backpack in not caring if they were in reach of getting stained with oil. There was no need for them anymore. GED here he comes.

Flint flopped into the driver’s seat, taking a hold of the steering wheel. He couldn’t bring himself to turn the ignition, to hear the low grumbles of the revved engine. Glancing up at the rearview mirror he saw the man in front of him. Caked in dried blood and not a single drop was his own. This was who he was and he hated every bit. He was a good person, he cared for his parents, and the one friend he had.

But still the quiet rage rumbling in the pit of his stomach always came back up like acid reflux. It was the curse he was born with since day one and would continue until his heart stopped beating.

“I’m not a sociopath,” he muttered to no one, gripping the steering wheel tightly until his knuckles turned ghostly white. “I know exactly what I am.”