The Awakening by David J. Phifer

Author:David J. Phifer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-06-02T19:02:03+00:00

***

The teacher’s lovely assistant wasn’t in Science class on Thursday. But Al Capone was. And he had a cast on his right arm. His eyes bore into me from the corner of the room.

If I could have seen the back of my head, it would be bleeding from the hole he was creating from the intensity of his stare.

He smacked his cast into his palm like a baseball bat. He took his pointer finger and sliced across his throat. I would normally have been worried, but thinking ahead, I had a get-out—of-jail free card.

For my last class of the day, I forged a note to Miss Anderson from my Dad saying I had to leave class early. It looked official. Signature and all.

And when the end of the day came, she fell for it. Like clockwork.

After school, I didn’t have any crowd cover since I left early. The school’s back yard was pretty big. So I was in the open until I hit the trail. But I thought I’d be safe since I was out twenty minutes before the bell rang.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t early enough. Frick and Frack yelled “There he is!” and “He’s trying to get away!” Al Capone was already on this bike, his cronies not far behind.

Pedaling like a madman, I rocketed toward the trail as if my life depended on it. I tell you, I was the wind.

Capone yelled from a safe distance “You’re dead, Summers! I’m gonna get you!” I focused on the trail.

“Hurt him so bad his Pa will feel it,” Frack said.

Frick shouted, “Catch him, hoss.”

What a bunch of rednecks.

Al Capone gained speed on me. His voice got uncomfortably closer. “You’re dead meat.”

I hit the open field. My house was through the wood patch at the end. If I made that, I was home free. But the enemy was only ten feet behind me. When I hit that wooded patch, I coasted into my backyard. My dad was in the back, raking leaves.

My savior.

When Al Capone saw him, he skidded to a stop. My dad winced at him like John Wayne. Allen gave him the finger.

What a delinquent.

He got out of there quick. Heading back to the field, I heard him yell at his posse. “Go back,” he said. “We’ll get him tomorrow.”

I’ve never been so grateful to see my dad.

“You okay, son?” he asked.

“I am now,” I said, breathing heavy.

“I don’t much like the look of those boys.” He adjusted his glasses. “Not one bit.”

“They’ll get what’s coming to them,” I said. I didn’t know where that came from. I felt like I was channeling Emery’s vengeful spirit.

My dad made a little grunt with his voice. I wasn’t sure if it was a sign of approval or shock or worry. But it didn’t matter to me. For the time being, I was safe. Kids in America shouldn’t have so much stress. Seriously.

My pits were sweating.

No matter how bad or stressful the day was, it was nothing compared to Friday. On Friday, everything changed.

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