Soul Mates (2 page)

“Sound fair, Ty?” Ray concluded.

“Ok!” Tyler agreed.

“I’m serious, Tyler Swanson!” his mother reiterated. 

“I said ‘yes’!” Tyler argued.

“Oh, and you 
are
 going to wear safety glasses when you shoot, too!” his mother added, like a bill that passes under the shroud of night with sub-laws, the descriptions of which, were omitted in the initial proposal.

“Yep!” Tyler exclaimed. 

Ray and Cindy had inadvertently and comically nodded their heads in unison. Meeting adjourned. 

So, he had gotten his bb gun: a Sure-Fire air rifle (with a scope) that could shoot a b
b–
or a pellet (it was a hybrid
)–
up to six-hundred feet per second. He was ecstatic when he had opened it at his birthday party. His friends were all envious of his new gift and that made him Lord of the Land, however temporary. Secretive and covetous murmuring permeated through his assembly of friends once the wrapping paper was torn off of the gun’s box
.
                                        
 
His friends were his friends, tried and true. People like Ty (bookish) stuck together in school, like any other clique. A convenient byproduct of their cohesiveness was that there was always strength in numbers when dealing with the now 
intermittent
 bullies. They were envious of Tyler because of his gift, but every one of them also felt as if he had deserved it. Call it a reward for “Most Improved Boy of the Year.
”
                                                      
 
As soon as his birthday party was over and his last friend was picked up by their parents, he broke out his new air gun. He tore through the box it came in with such alacrity, that he gave himself a nasty cardboard paper cut and didn’t realize it until much later after the adrenaline stopped flowing. He picked it up out of the box and held it up with both hands, scanning it from butt to barrel, then back again. An ear to ear grin was plastered on his face as he carried one of the picnic benches across the backyard and set the bench parallel to the fence. He filled all of the empty soda cans left over from his party with water from the garden hose, and carried them two at a time to the bench where he lined them up. The cans stood there like the condemned in front of a firing squad, just waiting for Ty to pull the trigger. He pulled down the safety glasses which were previously perched on the top of his head. It was like how his father wore his sunglasses on days when there were more clouds than sunshine. Like father, like son. He disengaged the safety near the trigger-well of the rifle and ceremoniously lowered the barrel in front of him until he was peering through the sighting scope. He steadied the crosshairs on the first can on his left. 

“Right to left, just like reading,” he thought to himself. A natural before he even fired his first shot, he 
squeezed
 the trigger rather than pulled it. 

A small geyser of water erupted from the mouth opening on the can. Water began to leak out from the body of the can where the bb struck its intended target. 

“Fuck yeah!” Tyler celebrated. He quickly covered his mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding the rifle in pseudo-shame when he realized what he had shouted in an automatic and outright visceral reaction. He didn’t know it at the time, but this moment would set him down a path that would cause him to make a decision. It would be a decision from which the rest of his life would be carved. You don’t understand now, but you will later…much later.

Tyler made it his business to get out to his backyard with his Sure-Fire air rifle every day after school, weather permitting.  He loved challenging himself by keeping track of how many times he would miss and he would always try to reduce the number of errors in the subsequent rounds. He had also made it his business to follow his parent’s list of provisions when using his birthday gift…well, most of the time. He 
may
 have “forgotten” to wear the safety glasses a handful of times, although he justified it to himself by remembering that they gave him a headache after sitting upon the bridge of his nose for only a couple of minutes. Not to mention, even at his age, he understood that the odds of a bb ricocheting back and directly into his eye were astronomically low. Then again, he didn’t have the greatest luck in the world.

He would often have his friends come by and use his bb gun with them, having contests to see who the crack-shot was among them. It was never even close; and it wasn’t only because he had the bb gun to practice with at his leisure, although practice does make perfect, as they say, but he had natural talent. He wasn’t only accurate, but he was 
fast
.

*   *   *

 
            
 
On this particular day, Tyler had two of his friends with him, Jayson and Lilith. Jayson was a friend of Tyler’s since fifth grade, but they were rapidly outgrowing their friendship. That is not to say that they didn’t get along. They got along just fine… 
great
 even. They still slept over each other’s houses on sporadic Friday nights, still went to the movies together, and still hung out with the same small but intimate group of friends. It’s just that they were growing apart as kids tend to do. Their interests started to trail off into significantly different directions. 

But, Lilith…she was growing very close with Tyler; Jayson as well, but mostly Tyler. She was part of the reason Tyler and Jayson were growing apart. Nothing will pit friend against friend, especially at a young age, like an attractive member of the opposite sex, 
especially
 when members of that opposite sex are sparse or otherwise non-existent in a clique.

Chapter 4

Lilith was a transfer student from an out of state school called Mary Blevin’s School for Girls. Even though she was fourteen years old, a whole two years older than Tyler and Jayson, she liked spending time with them and their group of friends. She received the attention from that fairl
y–
but not entirel
y–
geeky clique that young girls seek out (sometimes with desperation), but do not necessarily reciprocate with their juvenile gentleman callers.
 
                                        
 
Of course she received attention from the boys. Even at fourteen she was quite bosomy and very attractive. She had very dark brown hair, almost black, that was straight and a little longer than shoulder length. She had hypnotic icy blue eyes that entranced anyone who engaged her in a conversation…even adults. Yes, she was the recipient of attention.
 
                                                                                  
 
“I love the control it gives you. Boys’ll do anything you ask them to do if you just 
look
 at them a certain way. You don’t even have to do anything, you know…anything disgusting,” Lilith had confided in her friend, Mackenzie, who was the co-conspirator in the ruse which sent them both to the Mary Blevin’s School
.
                          
 
Lilith found herself in the all-girls school when she and Mackenzie were caught selling kisses in the small restroom shack adjacent to their original public school’s outdoor tennis courts for a dollar a peck. Really, quite a bargain for any twelve year old boy whose hormones were starting to work double, no, 
triple-
time. Between you and me, males weren’t the only ones who occupied Lilith and Mackenzie’s line. Curious and/or confused young girls were beginning to make that long trek into womanhood, and some were discovering who they were as well.
 
                                                      
 
Lilith and Mackenzie had made a game of their kisses-for-cash business. They would often make a bet as to who would earn the most money at the end of the day, which happened to only span the time of fifteen minutes on three separate days when the buses were parked in front of the school, waiting to take the tired students home. The winner would take all when they were both feeling lucky enough to agree to those terms
.
                                                                    
 
The girls were caught when Hal Kelly, one of the school’s bus drivers, had radioed in to the school’s main office, describing what he was witnessing from his vantage point in his bus. He observed this while his bus was idling in the school’s traffic circle, waiting for the kids to burst through the main doors. What filthy old Hal neglected to inform the main office of, was that he was pushing and tugging at the crotch of his pants the entire time he watched Lilith and Mackenzie get up to their debauched extra-curricular activities. A little side note for you: he had also planned on storing this scene in his memory bank for later. Enjoy that caveat the next time you’re lying in bed at night, ladies and gentlemen. No need to go into great detail about Hal’s physical description. What you’re picturing is accurate enough, I am certain.

Even if Hal hadn’t snitched on Lilith and Mackenzie, the line the prospective customers had formed would have been noticed by
 someone
. A crowd at school attracts a bigger crowd, which, in turn, attracts a person with authority. This is why many school fights are broken up before they really get rolling. The line of students was akin to the gathering someone would expect to see if the girls were giving away the answer key to Mr. Grouper’s Algebra 2 exam. 

The school’s principal, Katrina Archiboro-Miller, “another professional woman who chose to hyphenate for the sole purpose of showing men who’s boss,” as the male faculty would mock, ra
n–
for the first time in her then sixteen year caree
r–
over  to the tennis courts to interrupt Lilith and Mackenzie’s flourishing business. They were in enough trouble as it was. There would definitely be detention, quite possibly a lengthy suspension, but certainly not expulsion. Certainly not for a little exercise in pubescent curiosity which just so happened to turn a profit…not a first offense. No, expulsion wasn’t even considered until a channel of communication was opened between Mrs. Archiboro-Miller and Lilith.

“What is going 
on
 here, girls? Why aren’t you on your buses; and why are all of these kids lined up?” the principal barked. 

“We-” Mackenzie started but shut her mouth the moment Lilith’s palm darted into the air, making her look like she was being sworn into office…or a trial, which would be more apropos if you knew the young lady. Mackenzie could swear that she actually 
felt
 the warm swelling heat of a physical slap when Lilith’s hand shot up.

“We are selling kisses, Mrs. Archiboro-Miller. 
That
 is what’s going on here,” Lilith said, as collected and matter-of-factly as ever.

“You’re going to stop this nonsense right now! I want both of you in my office! Let’s go! You’re going to have to call your parents and tell them that they need to pick you up from school today because you’re going to miss your buses,” she started. “The rest of you get on your buses…now!” the principal thundered at the dissipating two lines, of which, Lilith’s was a bit longer. 

“You both come with me,” the principal demanded while reaching out. Mackenzie stayed put, but Lilith took a step back.

“Don’t put one 
finger
 on me if you want to keep it,” Lilith threatened.

“Let’s go,” the principal barreled through, ignoring the threat, most likely because the fact that she was just about to put her hands on a student made her very nervous indeed. 

Lilith and Mackenzie began to follow her to the main building where the main office was located as the buses were pulling out of the traffic circle in front of the school. Lilith glared at bus number sixteen as it whipped around the curve of the traffic circle and caught the eyes of the driver behind the wheel; Hal Kelly. In order to add just an extra dash of truculence to Lilith’s glare, she actually stopped walking with Mackenzie and her principal for a few seconds, and concentrated all of her venom into her scorned adolescent gaze. Hal looked back and his countenance showing small triumph quickly morphed to one of budding trepidation.  

“Pick up the pace, Lilith!” her principal called back to her.

Lilith gave Hal a wink and then turned and began walking towards the main office building in Mrs. Archiboro-Miller’s tow.