Brendan made an innocent sound as if in answer to these words. Howard took him upstairs and using heaps of his jerseys and the basin he had used to wash him, he made a bed for him and no sooner had he laid him down had he fallen asleep. Howard stretched and yawned and before heading downstairs, he looked at baby Brendan one more time. He was quiet, as if dead. Although the mother had not explained the whole story, just by looking at him, Howard felt that there was more to the story than the father trying to burn down the house.
‘No,’ he said. ‘There’s much more to this story than meets the eye.’ With these words he headed downstairs.Many years passed by and Brendan was growing into a bright young boy always eager to help Howard around the house. With the little money he seemed to have, Howard sent him to Bradwield Junior School. Brendan always brought good marks at the end of every term to show his adoptive father, Howard. The relationship between the two grew so strong and Howard saw Brendan as his own son and when they spoke to each other it was as if they were two of the best of friends.
Brendan finished his education at Bradwield Junior and he went to Bradwield High School which was a walking distance from his home. This was where he met Simon Drewmorphin who became his first and best friend. Bradwield High School was a simple structured fortress. There was only one gigantic and long building which was where all students learned. The building was divided by a corridor into fourteen rooms. From the entrance were the boys’ and girls’ toilets. These were the only two rooms to the right of the building after the door. To the left, after the door, were the classrooms from grade eight to grade twelve. Only the grade twelves had two classrooms. Facing the last grade twelve classrooms were all the students’ lockers, one for each student. Made of metal and opening like wardrobe doors, these stretched from this point all across the walls of the hall to the entrance. The students kept their stationery and other school belongings in these lockers. Each locker had top and bottom sections and security codes. Each classroom could accommodate up to sixty students. After the classrooms were the staffroom then two of the teachers’ toilets. These were the last rooms on the left of the building in the direction of the door. Facing the Grade nine classrooms was the Function Hall. This was where all school functions were held. Beside the entrance to the Function Hall was the school library. After the library, a few yards away, was the school cafeteria where the students had their recess. The cafeteria was connected to the kitchen. All the walls in the building were painted red, even the ceiling and roof. The school building was surrounded by at least one-and-a-half kilometers of the school grounds and this was where all sports activities were held. Bordering the school grounds was the fence which had barbed wire. The gate entrance to the school was rusty but looked strong, tall, heavy, big and majestic. Just like the school building, it too was painted red which happened to be Brendan’s worst color. Well, actually, Bradwield High’s main color was red and this annoyed Brendan even more. The boys wore white shirts and black trousers to match. They also wore red jerseys and blazers and black formal (business) shoes of any choice. Sneakers were not allowed. This also applied to the girls. The girls wore white blouses, red blazers and jerseys, red dresses, “Not an inch above your knees,” Principal Johnston always reminded them. “I don’t want you turning my school into a brothel,” he would say. Black blazers, jerseys and ties were only worn by the prefects of the school. Their uniforms were different from the rest of the students by only these three forms of clothing.Brendan and Simon would hang around together at recess and chat. They had their own special table in the cafeteria which was at the very center. All Grades dined together in the cafeteria and each time at recess there was jostling and bustling to and fro but everyone in the school knew that the table at the very center of the cafeteria had “owners”.
Simon’s appearance was like the opposite of Brendan’s. Simon had scruffy brown hair and curious-nervous looking eyes with the same color. His jaws were sharp and his voice was like that of a person always in trouble. Brendan, on the other hand, had a perfectly carved face, ocean blue eyes and smart, short black hair. His eyes almost never exposed any excitement and he rarely spoke to anyone else besides his best friend, Simon.‘Well, look at that! If it isn’t “Orphan boy” and “My mama’s on weed”. ’ This was Samantha Patricks being her usual and annoying self. ‘You two make the most perfect and award winning couple.’ Samantha was known by everyone as the richest girl in the school but her self-importance deprived her of any friendship whatsoever. She was tall and had long silky black hair. Her face was always beaming with pride and face makeup. Although he always denied it, Brendan knew that she was beautiful, but her arrogance seemed to somehow tarnish that beauty. She was just as tall as Brendan and her green, furious looking eyes were enough to scare a vicious dog. By “Orphan boy” she was obviously referring to Brendan who had no birth parent and by the name “My mama’s on weed” she referred to Simon, whose mother was allegedly on dangerous and addictive drugs.‘You creeps are the lowest life forms on earth, you know that?’ She spat at them as she walked by, waving her hair for everyone to see as if she was a famous model. Apart from being just arrogant and rich, Samantha was also the Head Prefect of the girls in the school and this meant that both Brendan and Simon had to avoid trouble or suffer the consequences. ‘Spoiled brat!’ Simon shouted back at her but Brendan told him not to bother himself with someone like her. She would sometimes ask Brendan silly questions like, “Did they feed you on goats’ milk?” or “I heard you were born in a hatchery, is that true?” Brendan never answered any of her questions because he knew if he did, then she would only bother him even more. Brendan had been tortured by Samantha since junior school in the first grade which made his problems older than Simon’s who only arrived in Bradwield City in the eighth grade, but still, Simon seemed more annoyed than him. But Samantha was not the only pest on Brendan’s back. The Math subject was another demon he had to deal with. Being a sixteen year old teenager, Brendan was facing a lot of problems with his math. Angus Stu, the school bully, was another monster besides Samantha that he had to avoid each and every day.‘Let’s all take out our Math textbooks and open on page two-hundred-and forty-two.’Brendan was daydreaming.‘Brendan! Brendan! Brendan!’ Mrs. Cooke shouted. She was in her forties. She was always dressed in black suits and high heels and she always had a plaited hairstyle. Her nose was long and sharp and she would occasionally look at it as if she inquired something unexpected from it like a pimple. Her body was almost fat which showed that she was probably trying a weight loss diet but getting overwhelmed by the temptation of fatty goodies each time she tried. ‘Could you at least pretend you’re paying attention?’ She looked at him painfully with her dark-blue eyes. Brendan was still trying to snatch himself from his dreams as the class roared in laughter.‘I’ll call your father if you keep this up,’ she continued.‘If he had one,’ Samantha mocked from the back of the class, starting a much louder roar of laughter from the class.‘Yes, we all know Brendan is adopted, Miss Patricks now can you please shut it!’ she snapped. The bell rang for everyone to dismiss and Brendan took his books and walked out of the classroom. Susan Raymond, one of his classmates joined him as he was making his way out.‘Do you at least know his name?’ she asked him in a concerned voice. Susan Raymond was a thumb shorter than Brendan and the brown and black extensions in her hair were too obvious to miss. She had suspicious looking eyes which hastily gave away her gossip talent.‘Who’s name?’ He pretended to be surprised.‘I mean your father, duh! Do you know his name?’‘No I don’t and I don’t ever want to find out,’ Brendan responded quickly and harshly, getting furious with her
‘No,’ he plainly refused. He saw a note hanging by a shoelace from the hole in his locker. He snatched it and unfolded it. The paper was dirty and pathetic, which was typical, Brendan thought to himself, of the new boy’s appearance. His expression showing no concern whatsoever, he slowly unfolded the note. The note read: You will get to know me well Erikson. I am Thomas Bradley the werst nightmere you will ever hav. If you thot that life is unfair then you havent met me. Your life is about to be come more than unfair. Its about to be come suisidal for YOU! ‘If I were you, I would believe him,’ Simon advised him. He had been reading the note from behind Brendan’s shoulder. Brendan crumpled the note and threw it on the floor. He said, ‘If he wants to play dirty then we shall play,’ he said almost to himself. His mind was almost unconscious, still trying to digest what was before him.‘I can bet that that is the worst idea you have ever had. I heard him b
‘No. Does it turn people into frogs?’ He was starting to get a kick out of this.‘No, it doesn’t. This is not one of my surprise jokes if that is what you are thinking. I am being serious and I ask that you respect that,’ the stern expression on Howard’s face agreed with him. ‘This potion is called an “Oxygen potion”,’ he continued. ‘That’s one of the few things he told me about it. It enhances its drinker’s strength and speed making him or her, you can say…superhuman.’Brendan could not restrain a small and brief giggle at these words. ‘There is no such thing as a “superhuman being”,’ he said shaking his head skeptically. ‘That’s just ridiculous,’ he let loose another giggle.‘That’s what they used to say about magician scientists and the next thing you know, a man is being accused of being one and burnt alive right before his son’s eyes.’ A tear rolled down his cheek. This made Brendan become serious once again.‘So why do you keep it? Isn’t it evil?’ he asked in a ton
Brendan’s room was as simply decorated as their living room. There were no posters on the wall. His bed was to the far end of the door. It was a humble, small wood-carved bed. Beside the bed to the right was a small drawer where he kept his socks. To the left of the bed, leaning against the walls was his wardrobe. There was only one window in his room and it was just above the bed. As he cried into his small white pillow, his mind drifted into an abyss and he fell asleep.Meanwhile, Howard had still been sitting in his chair. He had been sobbing too, hurt by the words that Brendan had just said. He took out a photo of Patricia and stroked it gently. ‘You were right, Patricia,’ he said. ‘I’m not the father type.’ *The next morning, Brendan woke up late, which was unusual. He got dressed in not much of a hurry. He usually cooked them breakfast but Howard, knowing he was in no state to do so, prepared it himself.Brendan walked slowly down the stairs. ‘Mor
Thomas leaned back on his chair and put on a grin that meant to say, ‘Yeah, right.’‘I guess I woke up late,’ Brendan answered his teacher.‘And let it never happen again. This is the first time you’re late, Mr. Eriksson. You should tread carefully and keep your record clean. Sit down.’Brendan walked up to his desk trying hard not to let his two enemies change the expression of nonchalance on his face.‘Oh, darn it,’ Mr. Price said suddenly in regret. ‘Be quiet till I get back, understood?’‘Yes, Mr. Price,’ the class responded in unison except for three boys; Thomas, Angus and Brendan.Thomas leaned in towards Brendan’s ear. ‘We’re gonna have so much fun together, Eriksson.’ The coarseness of his voice annoyed him.‘You bet we will,’ Angus bellowed in agreement.His deeper voice only annoyed Brendan even more but he did not respond, fearing he would start an uncomfortable conversation with them. At recess, Brendan bumped into Angus.‘Happy to
The light of the sun outside woke Brendan up. He rubbed his eyes vigorously and realized he was still sitting on the floor, Howard’s cold head resting on his lap. This reality weighed his heart with more sorrow. He reached into Howard’s pocket and pulled out the small container with the liquid. He held it close to his eyes, examining it. The container’s glass looked somehow extraordinary in some way. It was definitely like the test tubes they used in Biology. The liquid looked as thick as dry goat’s blood.‘Happy now?’ He spoke to it with hopelessness and contempt in his voice. ‘You’ve led my father to his grave.’ He hurled it at the wall with all his strength but it only made a light thud and fell on the floor with no scratch. He stood up and approached it, leaving his father on the floor. ‘What is this thing made of?!’ He spoke aloud in astonishment. He picked it up and began tapping it with his forefinger. It produced heavy sounds, similar to a knock
‘Thanks.’ He began walking away again.‘Your loss is great!’ She shouted after him as he entered the school building. ‘You’ve lost the source of your foolishness!’ she added.He did not stop to listen or react to her words. A part of him knew that something like this was bound to happen because even despite how much he wanted to believe that Samantha might possibly have even an atom of sympathy, she would always be Samantha. When Brendan walked into class, Miss Putin, the new Russian teacher, was scribbling something on the board. ‘Brendan, why you late?’ she asked in her usual bored voice. She always wore floral dresses and her hair was always in a ponytail. On her feet were white stilettos. She was tall, slim and beautiful. Very beautiful. Still living the youth of her early twenties. The omission of words in her speech and breaking of the English language were her two fields of expertise. Brendan was always bewildered at how she could be this young and beaut
‘If you want to express something, try vanishing,’ Simon was getting even more annoyed.‘Fine,’ Susan said getting up. ‘I’ll get my story one way or the other.’Natasha and Patricia followed.‘Good riddance,’ Brendan said in a low voice, lowering his head at the same time. ‘I thought they’d never leave,’ he added. When he looked up, he saw Samantha walking towards their table.She sat right in front of them.Simon stood up and motioned Brendan to follow him but Brendan just sat there as though he had decided to confront his enemy like a man. Simon took his tray and went to sit at another table far away from them.‘So, Orphan boy,’ she began. ‘Your birth father tries to kill your mother, your mother dies while giving birth to you and your adoptive father commits suicide.’ She shook her head in cruel pity. ‘What do you have to say for yourself?’‘How do you know that’s how he died?’ Brendan asked her, his expression dazed.‘ “Drug overdose”?’ she teased. ‘You s