Damian King's Story

I. Catch

The football left Damian’s fingers, gliding in a shaky arc towards the target ten yards away. The other boy caught it, taking a step back as he did so, and smiling. “Whoa, calm down there, kid,” he laughed, stepping forward and tossing Damian the ball.

“Sorry,” Damian replied, catching the football in his hands and throwing it back, softer this time. “And for the millionth time, quit calling me that!” Leif – the other boy, whom Damian had been best friends with since the second grade – knew perfectly well that Damian hated to be called kid, especially by someone his own age. Leif laughed again.

“No-can-do, big guy.” He grabbed the ball with his left hand and held it, taking a few steps forward. “Anyways, what’s got you in such a mood this time? Is it your dad again?” Leif also knew just how much Damian’s father got on his nerves constantly. ‘I wish.’

“Yeah, he just…he wants me to be taking two math courses instead of the one, and…yeah,” Damian lied, making up something quick on the spot. In actuality, the reason he was flustered had nothing to do with his father at all, which was a surprise. It was something he’d overheard in the locker room earlier that day after practice – something some of the other players were planning on doing. Most of the boys on West Rogers High School’s football team were huge jerks, save for Damian, Leif, and a few others. They walked around school treating everyone else like they were bugs, like just because they were on the football team meant they were royalty. Which, at West Roger’s, was almost true – being on the football team contributed quite a bit to social status. But even Damian, the captain of the team, didn’t run around like he was superior to everyone else. And even though he WAS captain, he couldn’t control how the other boys acted.

Leif stepped back and began to toss the ball again. “What the hell, really? Your dad’s insane, man. You’re already taking one of the…I mean… Mrs. Katchman is like, insane, you know? I don’t think you could-“ Damian began to tune Leif out, knowing that once his friend had started, he would keep going until interrupted. Instead, Damian focused on what he’d heard…

From what he’d gathered, one of the other kids on the team – Victor Locke – was planning on staying with a few others after practice to wait for the concert the West Rogers Singers was having. After the concert, they planned to pull some stupid prank on one of the members of the choir. Damian wasn’t even sure why he cared so much – it was just a useless prank, right? He tried to tell himself that, over and over, tried to calm himself down. He knew that Locke and his stupid goons were big. And they could be dangerous, if they wanted. But…they wouldn’t, right? They couldn’t…hurt the kid. There was nothing to worry about, really, except for that-

“DAMIAN!” Damian snapped out of his trance as Leif called his name, focusing back in on the African-American boy.

“What? Uh, oh…sorry.” Damian had accidentally thrown the ball way over Leif’s had, back into the forest beyond the clearing they were playing catch in. “I…uh, I’ll go get it.” Leif shook his head, giving Damian an odd look.

“No, I got it…are you sure you’re okay?” Not waiting for an answer, Leif turn and jogged back into the woods. Damian sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the illuminated screen. It was nearly seven…the concert would be starting soon. He swallowed the lump in his throat, shoving the phone back in his pocket.

It would be fine.

Locke was an idiot, yeah, but he wasn’t stupid.

It would be fine.

Damian sighed, running his fingers through his dark hair, the other hand stroking his chin. What if it wasn’t okay? What if… He knew who the boys were after. He knew how much they hated him, and he knew…he knew they could get out of control. He pulled out his phone again. 6:58 pm.

Would he go, or would he stay?

II. Decision

Leif emerged from the trees, still giving Damian the ‘what-is-wrong-with-you’ look: one eyebrow arched, head slightly tilted. Damian ignored the look, staring down at his hands, picking at a small sliver of skin hanging off of his pinky.

Inside, his whole body was outraged – every part of him was screaming at him to go, to help, to stop Locke and his boys, to do SOMETHING. Anything. On the outside, though, Damian remained somewhat calm. He knew that if he went…those boys had a good chance of beating HIM up to. And what would he be able to do, really?

Somewhere trapped in between all the anger and confusion and calm, Damian was…scared. Scared for the boy Locke was after, yeah, but in some ways he was scared for himself too. Because he knew who the boys were after, and he knew why. His name was Will. And he was like Damian in…that way. The reason the boys were after him. The reason Damian was so fired up inside, so eager to go and DO something. Will was gay, too.

Damian had always admired Will’s courage. He walked around school, so clearly…WHAT he was, who he was. He wore and did whatever he wanted. And sure, he was bullied a ton. But Will never stopped being himself. Never even let the bullying get to him. Sometimes Damian wondered if they were alike in more ways than one – if, maybe, Will hurt so much on the inside too, for different reasons. If all of his…ignoring was just an act. He also thought of how…maybe…what if he could be like that? To be Will. To be out and open and himself.

Except for Damian’s father would surely KILL him. The boys on the football team would be sure to make his life a living hell. He could never handle the heat as well as Will did.

Damian sighed, making a split decision in his head. He glanced up at Leif, catching the football as it flew his way. “We have to go,” Damian said, quickly, tossing the football back and turning to run out of the clearing. Leif cried after him, but Damian ignored it, running as fast as he could through the woods behind his family’s large house. He was quick and agile, somewhat surprising for his size, ducking below branches swiftly and hopping over obstacles. Within a few minutes, he broke through the forest into the large span of land between his house and the woods.

Leif was right behind him, panting, clutching the football to his chest. “Damian! What the hell are you doing, man?” Damian turned back for an instant, shaking his head.

“Locke. He’s doing…he….we have to stop him, I have to go!” Damian stuttered, pulling his phone out and checking the time. 7:10. Depending on how long the concert was…and what Locke was planning on doing…he could probably make it.

“Um…what?” Leif replied, confused.

“We just, we have to get to the school!” Damian turned and started jogging towards his house. Leif shrugged and followed behind Damian, running around the side of his house and into the separate building the King family used for a garage. Damian hopped into the driver’s side of his silver truck, Leif taking the other, and in an instant they were off, heading towards the school. Damian glanced at the dashboard.

7:14.

The school was roughly twenty minutes away, give or take a few for traffic and stoplights. The concert had to be at least an hour…he would make it. For sure, he would get there in time. But then what? He didn’t know WHAT Locke had planned. He didn’t know how many boys he had with him…and even then, his chances of taking on Locke himself were slim. Locke was…big. Very tall, very wide, and very strong. Damian had no idea how he was going to stop the goons…but he had to try.

III. Stand

The silver truck sifted through the parking lot, looking for a place to stop and park. ‘Come on, how busy can this thing be – it’s a CHOIR concert for crying out loud,’ Damian thought, tapping his heel impatiently. Fortunately, the concert still lasted for at least another twenty minutes. West Rogers’s choir program definitely wasn’t the highlight of the school, mostly due to lack of participation and interest. Damian himself had thought about joining in his freshman year, but soon it became apparent that choir meant social suicide. So that option was out. He wasn’t even sure he had that good of a voice; he only sang in the shower or along with the stereo while driving alone. Singing was something he liked, though, a way of communicating that wasn’t just words.

“There!” Leif suddenly exclaimed, pointing through the passenger seat window at a small, black parked car. “That’s the one, I’m sure!” After about fifteen minutes of asking and asking over and over what Damian was planning on doing, Leif had decided to shut up and start looking for Locke’s car as they circled around the parking lot. Apparently he’d found it, too, but there still wasn’t an open parking space next to it and nobody was in it.

“I guess they went in, then,” Damian sighed. “Or…somewhere else.” Where HAD the boys gone? For some reason, Damian didn’t think they would have gone into the concert. Which meant they were preparing something…something around here. Maybe this was worse than Damian had thought in the first place. Would Locke actually do something to HURT Will?

“Ooh!” Leif tapped Damian on the shoulder, pointing to a vehicle a couple places over that was beginning to light up and pull out of the parking space. After it had gone all the way, Damian slid his truck into the now-empty spot, giving a sigh of relief. It was only 7:35, now – they had plenty of time to find Locke and figure out whatever he had planned.

Damian hopped out of the car, slamming the door shut a little harder than he meant to. By the time he’d pulled his keys out of his pocket and locked it, Leif was already standing beside him, ready for whatever Damian had in mind.

“I guess we should probably find them first?” Damian suggested, heading up the lot towards the high school. The building itself wasn’t very big, although about 1500 students somehow crammed into it each day. One of the few things that actually surprised Damian about his father was the fact that he’d let him go to a public school like West Rogers in the first place. It definitely wasn’t the best school; there were plenty of private schools around that his father could have shipped him too. But Damian had pleaded, gotten down on his knees and begged even, and his father eventually decided that as long as Damian maintained a good grade point average and participated in extracurricular activities, he could go.

“We should probably split up and find them as quick as possible,” Damian said when they had reached the entrance to the building.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Leif agreed. “You stay out here, walk the perimeter, see if you find them. I can look inside.” Damian nodded, giving a thumbs up.

“Got it. If you find them, text or call as soon as you can.”

“You, too.” Leif disappeared into the school and Damian turned, walking along the ring of concrete that surrounded the building. He shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting his head up slightly, looking ahead for any sign of the boys. How many people did Locke have with him? At least two others. So fighting was clearly out of the question – Locke didn’t care about playing fair. So he would need to find another way to stop them from whatever it ways they were planning. He could try to distract them, giving Will time to get home before Locke could hurt him. And there was a slim chance he could talk them out of it…

Damian was about to turn a corner when he heard something. Voices, without a doubt…somebody was on the other side of the wall. Damian swallowed once and stepped forward, turning to find out who had been talking. Much to his surprise, nobody was there…there was nothing in this little crevice, besides a couple of doors leading inside and a couple of big dumpsters. Could they have gone inside? No, that was impossible, these doors were always locked. To confirm, Damian walked forward and tugged on one of the door handles. The door budged a little, but stopped short: locked. So that meant that they were gone, somewhere else. Maybe he’d just been hearing things. Unless… Damian’s eyes widened as he spun around – too late. A fist instantly connected with his jaw, pushing him backwards into the brick wall.

The dumpster. They had been hiding in the dumpster. Locke’s goons pinned Damian down to the wall, and he knew it wasn’t worth the struggle. Locke stupid, ugly face smirked back at him.

“Haven’t you heard, King?” Locke spat, rolling his eyes a bit at the mention of Damian’s nickname. “It isn’t nice to butt in on other people’s business.”

“What are you doing here, Locke?” Damian gritted his teeth, glaring at the other boy. His jaw was beginning to swell up, he could feel it. Locke’s sinister grin grew even wider, his eyebrows lowering.

“Oh, none of your concern. You can join in, if you’d like. But, I don’t know if your boyfriend would appreciate that.” All three boys began to laugh, and Damian’s face reddened. What? Will and him had never spoken a word in their lives… Damian scowled again and stomped down, hard, in one of his jailer’s feet. The football player howled with pain, stepping back, surprised, and Damian saw his escape, if only for a moment. He broke free of the other grip on his shoulder, and darted past Locke, heading back…towards another wall. Damian turned around, ready, as Locke charged for him.

Damian faked left and then broke right – or tried, rather, but unfortunately Locke saw through his trick (a frequently used move in practice) and pinned him down, hard, on the concrete floor. Damian squirmed under Locke’s weight, struggling to break free of the firm grip on his shoulders. Locke chuckled, and Damian could feel the attacker’s breath on his neck, smell Locke’s smoky breath. “Look at you, ‘King’. Pfft. Some King YOU are. If it were my way – the right way – I’d run this school. But whatever. You know, when I’m done with you, you filthy little queer, you won’t even be able to PLAY anymore!” Damian could feel his blood pumping in his ears, could feel his face get hotter at the sound of the word. Queer. He didn’t hear what Locke was saying, could only here his voice repeating it, over and over, and then laughing, laughing from everywhere…and then another hard fist connected with his face, knocking Damian unconscious.