Legend Of Marauder: The Dawn Of Supremes

7. Nightmares Unfolding

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. ‘Morning,’ he mumbled.

Howard nodded in response. He was sitting in his rocking chair smoking a cigarette. He was wearing the same blue jersey he had been wearing the previous day. He was also wearing light brown pants that showed signs of tearing at the ankles and his leather sandals.

Brendan’s breakfast was on the coffee table in front of the couch. It was a bowl of steaming oatmeal. He sat down and began to eat.

‘Is it too hot?’ Howard asked him.

‘No.’

He sighed after a brief moment of silence. ‘About yesterday…’

‘Can we just forget about it and move on, please?’ He was gulping down the oatmeal much faster now as if rushing to get away from him.

‘I just wanted to say that you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. It’s your choice, I’m sorry,’ he apologized.

Brendan stopped his movement, his spoon loaded with oatmeal. ‘You know something? You just caught me by surprise with that potion thing, you really did. You do know how serious witchcraft is in this city, don’t you?’

‘It’s not witchcraft, its magic.’

‘Oh, so you want to give me another lecture?’ He frowned at him in aggravation.

‘No, I…’

‘I’m late for school.’ He dropped his spoon on the table just as he dropped the subject. He stood up in a rush of fury off to school. He slammed the door on his way out, leaving Howard sitting in his chair.

When Brendan got to the school gate, he found Samantha and three other male prefects, probably in the tenth grade, writing down names of late students. He tried to sneak in from behind her, sneaking stealthy glances at the same time.

‘And where do you think you’re going, Orphan boy?’ She looked to be in a serious mood as she straightened her blazer.

‘Where does it look like I’m going?’ He responded with spite clearly detectable in his voice. He walked towards her, realizing his plan had failed.

‘Well, to me it looks like you’re going to detention.’

‘It’s my first time. I deserve at least some kind of warning, don’t I?’

‘A warning? Humph! That’s why you will never be able to wear one this color,’ she stroked her blazer in boastful pride.

Brendan never wore any blazer only because it was in the color he despised; red. ‘I think it’s worth it if it means I don’t have to be next to you all the time.’

‘You really have a nerve, don’t you, Orphan boy?’ She folded her arms in impudence.

‘Keep it up, brat. I’ll smack you wild one day and you’ll forget that name you call me by,’ he looked at her irritably.

‘Is that a threat?’

‘Doesn’t it sound like the words you say to your mother each time she calls your name?’

She sighed in exasperation, then said, ‘Orphan boy! Orphan boy! Orphan boy!’ Her arms were still folded. She waited for him to make his move. Only two prefects were left and they were now watching this drama.

He felt tears of rage swelling in his eyes. The two prefects watching began to laugh.

‘Oh, is the poor little orphan going to cry? Do you want mommy to bring you a handkerchief? Well, newsflash! She’s six feet deep and decayed to the crisp!’

Brendan raised his right hand at her in an attempt to strike her. She lifted her hands to her face to protect herself, ducking and shrieking at the same time. His hand paused in midair. He had remembered what Howard had told him when he was younger; “Boys who beat up girls are cowards.” These had been his exact words. He stared at Samantha in pity and disgust, his hand still in the air. He finally regained his peace of mind and dropped it.

The other two prefects had left unnoticed, probably afraid that he would go for them next.

‘Go ahead and write my name,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to beat you up. I would but you’re just a lost cause…a crazy brat.’ She now only had at least one hand raised up in defense. He began walking into the school building.

‘What a lousy excuse for a peasant like you!’ she shouted at him as he walked away. ‘You can’t even beat a girl!’

Brendan did not stop to hear her. He just went straight for class.

As Brendan walked into class, he saw his worst nightmare unravel. Angus and Thomas Bradley, the newcomer, were sitting beside his desk with Angus on the left and Thomas on the right. Angus winked his eye while Thomas grinned at him maliciously. He pretended not to pay attention to them but instead walked over to Mr. Price, the Physics teacher’s desk.

Mr. Price had white, silky long hair which almost touched his waist. This was unusual for a man in his early forties. His eyes were grey and his skin was pale but this time, Brendan noticed, he looked much paler than usual. He had a thin, long nose. He only wore white suits and this made people think of him to be of a rich status. He was also thin as if he suffered from a weight loss disease.

‘I’m sorry I’m late, sir,’ Brendan apologized.

‘Mr. Eriksson. I see you don’t even bother to knock,’ said Mr. Price. His voice was sharp but pale and shallow like his skin tone.

‘He’s an orphan. He doesn’t have to knock, he just… “walks in”,’ Thomas said from his desk, making the whole class laugh in the process.

‘Shut up, Thomas!’ Mr. Price snapped from his desk.

He turned back to Brendan. ‘And why are you late, Mr. Eriksson?’ he asked him.

‘Uh…’

‘What? Cat got your tongue?’ Thomas mocked him again arousing more laughter from the class.

‘Another word and its detention for you, Bradley!’ Mr. Price snapped again.