“Ah ha ha ha ha!”
Thud
“Haa! Ha ha ha ha!”
Thud
“Pffft heh heh heh heh!”
“Why are you laughing!?” Jeff shrieked, “I’m beating the crap out of you!”
“Yeah,” I replied, still giggling, “But you’re crying while you do it! You’re getting your tears all over me, man. Gross!”
“Shut up!” he screamed as he hit me again.
It hadn’t taken long for Jeff to knock me on my back, pin my arms with his knees, and wail on me. Strictly speaking, I wasn’t laughing because Jeff was crying. He was crying, but I had started to laugh first.
Why was I laughing? I didn’t know.
Maybe it was because this was real life, not a movie, and the underdog doesn’t defeat the bully at the end of the story just because the bully is a jerk and deserves it.
Maybe it was because despite successfully blackmailing a teacher, lying to my parents, and forming a metal band with a demon, I could still get my butt kicked by a fat, angry chump with an inferiority complex.
Maybe my whole mission to become a metal god was pointless. Travis and I were losers. Bottom of the totem pole. Even the loser who had been one rung above us, Jeff, was now moving up. I had refused to accept being at the bottom and tried to challenge it. I failed. Maybe the universe was trying to tell me something with this beating.
No.
I still didn’t care. The universe could keep trying to beat me down. But I still had the songs I wrote with my band. We were still going to compete in the Battle of the Bands that Saturday. I was still going to be a metal god.
Maybe Jeff wasn’t really my enemy? Don’t get me wrong, he was still a jerk, but like I said, he was a loser with an inferiority complex, picking on the only people lower on the totem pole than him in a vain attempt to win the approval of those above him. Travis and I probably had more problems in common with Jeff than differences. No wonder he was crying.
But Travis and I had a few key differences with Jeff. First, we had friends. Well, we had a friend, each other. Judging by how the lacrosse team was reacting to Jeff’s tears, I don’t think Jeff could say the same anymore.
Second, we had never sought the approval of our peers. The whole reason I wanted to use the “summoned a demon” rumor to our advantage was to build notoriety in the metal scene. If it made the rest of the student body fear us, so much the better. I was only angry that Jeff had put us “back in our place” after the first beating because it ended the demon rumor, not because I cared about the other kids’ opinions.
This realization made me laugh even harder.
“Stop it!,” Jeff screamed, “Shut up!”
He stopped hitting me and stood up. I slowly did the same as my giggles died down.
“Congradulationsh, Jeff, you won!” I slurred through swollen lips, extending my hand towards him. Jeff didn’t even look at me as he took my hand and weakly shook it.
I looked around at our audience. Everyone, including the lacrosse team, were all looking at Jeff with the same expression: disgust. But they weren’t only disgusted by Jeff. There was some introspection in that look as well. They were all thinking, how did I ever idolize this loser? He’s not our hero, he’s just a bully. That’s all he ever was.
They all had the same expression when they looked at me as well: fear. Not the same fear as when they all thought Travis and I had summoned a demon. The proof I couldn’t do that was right in front of them for the second time. I was just an ordinary loser, the same as Jeff. But unlike Jeff, who had always tried not to be a loser in their eyes, I didn’t care. I was terrifying to them not because I had summoned a demon, but because I hadn’t. This was all me. I let myself get beaten up a second time to prove their hero was a fraud.
I turned to Travis. The crowd turned to him as well and gave him the same look they had given me.
“Well, time to go to rehearshal. Baddle of the Bandsh is lesh than a week away!”
Travis looked at me and chuckled, “Good thing no one can understand you when you death growl already. Otherwise that fat lip may have been an issue for us.”
“Shcrew you,” I said as we left for the parking lot.
–
After explaining to Purple Hair why we were late to meet her in the parking lot and why Jeff beating me up a second time was actually a good thing, Travis and I got set up in the studio. I don’t think Purple Hair quite understood my reasoning, but after I had blackmailed her she was probably afraid to ask too many questions.
After holding a piece of frozen chicken I found in Charlie’s freezer to my face to ease my swollen lips I turned to Travis and asked “Who is our enemy?”
“What?” Travis replied.
I explained my whole thought process as Jeff had beat me up.
“Sure, maybe Jeff himself isn’t our enemy. He’s no threat to our ability to crush Battle of the Bands no matter how many times he beats you up. Even if he had broken your fingers you’d still probably play just as well as you’re playing now…”
“Does this finger look broken to you?” I raised one particular finger for Travis to get a good look.
“…But you don’t think a loser who picks on the only people lower than himself can’t be dangerous?” he continued.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Remember how angry Jeff got when you told him his place with the ‘popular kids’ would be short-lived now that he couldn’t do anything to win their attention anymore? Remember how badly he beat you when he realized you were right?”
“Yeah I think I may remember something like that,” I rolled my eyes to the extent I was able. They were both starting to swell again.
“Who else do we know who lashed out when something threatened their power over another group of people?” Travis asked.
“Your dad?” I joked, “I dunno, Travis, we don’t exactly know a whole lot of powerful people. We’re middle school students, for crying out loud.”
“Exactly, that’s what I’m trying to say!” Travis exclaimed, “Who has power over us?”
“Our parents?” I guessed.
“Well, yeah,” Travis gesticulated with his forearms and palms facing up, “But who are we obligated to meet with every weekday? Who makes sure there’s hell to pay if we show up late, or worse, not at all?”
“Oh!” I blurted out, “Charlie! You’re talking about Charlie, right?”
Travis froze for a second or two, his eyes wide open, “Actually, I was talking about our teachers. But now that you mention it…”
“Wait, our teachers?” I interrupted, “How were you talking about them?”
“Yeah, man! Our teachers! When we’re in their classroom we live by their rules, no matter how stupid. Remember Mrs. Ledecki’s class last year?”
“Yeah,” I replied, “I always had to take a dump during her class, but she never gave me permission to go to the bathroom. One day I really had to go, so I just went without asking and she flipped her lid on me.”
“Exactly,” Travis continued, “We’re also legally obligated to attend class, and if we don’t they send the cops to our houses. They can have our parents fined or even arrested. But who else do teachers have power over? No one, really. Maybe their own kids if they have them, but that’s it. You take their one bit of power away from them, they lash out. Most of my dad’s coworkers send their kids to charter schools or private schools, and the local public schools haaaate that. That’s why teachers unionize. The teachers union fights to make it harder to take kids out of public schools. It fights to keep the only power the teachers have.”
“Okay, but what does any of that have to do with us?” I asked.
“Everything!” Travis exclaimed, “The bigger the union membership, the more it can do to stop kids from leaving public schools. And who do we know who just hampered the teachers union’s recruiting efforts?”
“Charlie,” I answered, “But hold on, you’re talking about the union making more from membership dues and spending it on political campaigns and stuff. But Purple Hair said you don’t pay dues for this teachers union with money, you pay with…oh.”
“What?” Travis asked. I guess he hadn’t made the connection I had just made.
“Purple Hair said you pay teachers union dues with your soul. If money pays for campaigns against school voucher programs, what can a bunch of souls get you? With enough of them you might even be able to…”
“…make a dude disappear,” Travis finished my sentence.
“Exactly,” I said, “That must be what the demons who run the teachers union get out of these deals. They empower the teachers by letting them retain their grip over the students, but the teachers’ souls give them unnatural powers. An individual teacher doesn’t have much power, but how many public school teachers live in this country? How many students do they collectively teach? Maybe that’s why Maggie demonstrated more power than anything we’ve seen Charlie do.”
“Maybe,” Travis replied, “But speaking of Charlie, why did you think I was talking about him?”
“The dude’s a middle school janitor,” I began, “Not exactly an esteemed profession in our world. And Porter referred to him as a ‘metalhead recruiter.’ I’m still not entirely sure what that is, but it doesn’t sound like it’s a very prestigious position in the demon world, either. But even at the bottom of the demon hierarchy, he was still able to get power over us when we agreed to rehearse with him every day. And when someone threatened to take that power away, Purple Hair, he lashed out! Like you said, there was hell to pay.”
“Hold on,” Travis objected, “Encyclopaedia Daemonica said Chernobog was a powerful and feared Slavic god. Why would he be at the bottom of the demon totem pole now?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but I have an idea,” I replied, “The Encyclopaedia also said he went from being a Slavic god, to finding a body double for a dead Paul McCartney, to dropping off the radar entirely. Maybe Charlie’s a has-been, resentful of the demons who now have the real power.”
“Like the teachers union recruiters?”
“Like the teachers union recruiters.”
I could tell by Travis’s expression that he was almost sold on my theory, but had one lingering objection. Usually when he wore that expression his objection was stupid, as I was hardly ever wrong, but in this case I was still having trouble answering it myself.
“So why did Maggie require Purple Hair’s soul to give her what she wanted, when Charlie never mentioned anything about our souls?” Travis asked, “All Charlie got out of our deal was dedicated bandmates. Could that really be all he wanted?”
“I doubt it,” I replied.
“So what did he want? And is he still going to get it from us?”