Return of the Ancients

Chapter 1 Becky and the Boob Monsters

Arn ran out to the waiting bus. His large dog bounded beside him, trying to leap up and catch the loose cords of his backpack that flapped as he ran. He turned to the dog. ‘No Jess, stay here — sit.’

The big black shepherd sat down hard, struggling to obey the command. ‘Go home, girl. See you soon.’

He leapt up onto the bus — hopefully for one of the last times, considering his dad had agreed to match him dollar for dollar when he went new car shopping this weekend. Visions of girls fighting to be the one to sit next to him in his new SUV were quickly replaced by the smiling face of just one. Who was he kidding? There’d only ever be one girl for him.

The doors groaned shut behind him, and the bus lumbered away from the kerb. He flopped into a seat and turned to the boy next to him. ‘Wazzup?’

Arnold Singer, Arn to his friends, and the only Native American at Naperville High, had dropped down next to his best friend, Edward Lin, who had his head buried in a comic book. Arn looked over Edward’s shoulder at the coloured panels, catching sight of a superhero lifting a car in one square and then bringing it down on his foe’s head in another.

‘At your age, don’t you ever get bored with that stuff? I mean, how smart is that guy anyway? Every single time, he solves his problems by braining someone — why can’t he outsmart them for once? I mean, how intelligent is he?’

Edward spoke without taking his eyes off the comic. ‘HunterMan outsmart them? Sure, maybe he should give them a good talking to… or maybe he could hand out pamphlets about anger management or how we should eat more fibre — that’d be pretty cool, wouldn’t it?’

He turned to peer at Arn over the top of his glasses. ‘You know, Arn, I’m the smartest kid in our class — straight A’s all the way, and you know what I get for that? Every week, I get smashed by the meatheads, and laughed at by your make-believe girlfriend and her gang of mutant boob monsters. Oh yeah, did I tell you that I suck at gym and track? So comics like this are for people like me, who would just once like to be able to solve their own problems like this dude does.’

‘Sure, violence is always the answer… dude.’ Arn laughed, but understood his friend’s feelings of alienation. Arn was the only Shawnee to have ever won a scholarship to the school — and some acted like they resented him for it. For a start, he looked different — with his straight, sharp nose, shoulder-length black hair and eyes so dark, his mother sometimes called him Shadow for their being so deep and mysterious. Average height, smart, okay at gym and track, and sort of good looking — different, but unremarkable.

He looked at his friend and smiled sympathetically. He could get straight A’s if he wished, simply because he was a Native American; there were plenty of teachers and administrators at the school determined to try and give him a leg-up — he’d refused every one of them. If he couldn’t make it simply by being himself, then he didn’t want to make it at all.

He nudged Edward, who was trying to go back to his reading. ‘And hey, who doesn’t like boob monsters?’ Arn chuckled and stole a quick glance over his shoulder to the rear of the bus. Rebecca Matthews was in her usual seat, chatting animatedly with two of her friends. Make-believe girlfriend Becky and the Boob Monsters — Arn smiled at Edward’s insightful name for the group.

While Arn sat smiling, Becky caught him looking, and for the split second their eyes locked, Arn felt the usual electric tingle travel from his toes to his scalp. He knew he blushed as his face suddenly felt hot and tight. For her part, Becky’s mouth turned down in one corner, and she looked away.

So beautiful, he thought… and so unattainable.

The bus slowed to pick up more students. Arn sighed and tried to make himself more comfortable for the long trip ahead. Today was science excursion day — an entire day devoted to visiting the Fermilab particle collider at Batavia. Apparently there was to be a test firing of the new acceleration technology the company had developed — atom smashing day, Edward had called it. Their class was chosen to attend because of its grade point average prominence in the state.

He loved science, but had an idea what to expect from the lab visit — a robotic voice would count down to some sort of initiation event, lights flashed on monitor boards and screens, ignition would be called, everyone’s breath would be held… and then a technician would say, test run complete, and that’d be it. Everyone would be invited to look at rows of numbers scrolling down a computer screen. Riveting!

It was going to be a far cry from what science fiction writers had described in countless novels he had read in the past. The reality was always uneventful — and mind-numbingly boring.

More students filed past seeking seats, and as Edward flipped another page in his comic, as if by magic, it disappeared from his hands. He and Arn stared up into the comically brutish face of Steve Barkin.

Naperville High was ranked in the top five per cent of colleges nationally, but looking up into the face of Barkin made Arn wonder whether every now and then someone bubbled up through the academic cracks — just to ensure that life didn’t become too comfortable for the normal people.

‘Whatta you, six years old?’ Barkin sneered, baring his teeth.

Arn looked at Edward, who sat staring up, not saying a word. Barkin leafed quickly through the comic.

‘Are there pages stuck together in here? You know, from where you been drooling over the muscle man in his tight superhomo clothes?’ He brayed at his joke, and then started to read some of the comic’s panels. His lips moved and his eyes narrowed in concentration.

Arn shifted and tried to look out the window, but he felt the hot waves of humiliation coming off his friend. In his mind he could hear a little voice repeating over and over: Stay out of it, he hates you even more, just stay out of it… As usual he ignored it.

‘Take it slowly, Steve — a few big words in there.’

Two piggishly small eyes lifted from the page. They blinked as if their owner was taking a few seconds to register, in some deeply buried memory centre of his brain, that they were meant to be insulting.

‘You got somethin’ you want to say, Singer?’

‘Just that you should try ’em, before you rag ’em, Barkin.’ Arn kept his face serious.

‘Kiddie comics? They’re for nerds and dweebs — like you two min-or-ity creeps.’

Arn ignored the jibe, but pressed his attack anyway. ‘Not comics, Einstein; I meant reading in general.’

‘What did you say, Chief?’ Barkin’s eyes narrowed to two angry slits.

C’mon Arn, pull back before you cop it. As usual, Arn’s mouth and brain never agreed on a strategy.

‘I think you heard, redneck.’

The slits widened and Barkin’s mouth opened a little, as if about to deliver another insult or a stream of unintelligible cursing, just as the deep voice of Mr. Beescomb, their physics teacher, rolled down the aisle of the bus.

‘Seats… now.’

Barkin’s mouth snapped shut and instead returned to its familiar sneer. He ripped the comic in two and threw the halves back at Arn and Edward, hitting neither.

‘You pair of jerk-offs.’ He leaned over Arn and whispered, ‘Beats me why they ever let you in here — quotas, I reckon.’ He straightened. ‘I’ll see you later, Singer.’ He lumbered away, first towards the front of the bus, and then changed his mind and bullocked his way down the back, where he stopped in front of Becky and her friends.

Arn watched for a second, and then sighed, turning back to the front of the bus, where he noticed the eyes of Mr. Jefferson the driver momentarily fixed on him in the small overhead mirror.

Edward held up the two halves of his comic. ‘Thank you Arn; that went well.’

Arn shook his head slowly with his mouth turned down in distaste. ‘He doesn’t scare me.’

‘Does me.’ Edward stuffed the comic fragments into his bag.