Cemetery Summons Ch. 04byGalloglaich©
The next day, Jack woke up, ate breakfast, and walked to school without Elassa nagging him. In fact, it was a tad bit odd that he didn't even see her while he was getting ready for school. At the moment, he was trying to get the last few lines of 'Romeo and Juliet: Act II' read before Mr. Jacobi came in and bitched to the class about how terrible his life was.
Honestly, with the little bit of English literature and playwriting he'd shown them, he should have gotten fired for lack of doing anything. With a sigh, Jack finished the act and slammed the book down on his desk, relieved to be done with the crap.
"Tired of this thing already?" asked Rob, Jack's best friend since kindergarten.
"You of all people should know that I hate romance in its base forms," Jack shot back with a yawn. Rob rapped his fingertips on the desk.
"And that's why you'll never have a girlfriend, Jack. You're a cold-hearted fiend, just like that guy who killed six million people in Europe? What was his name, Hitler?"
"I'm not Hitler, and that guy wrote poetry, certainly not a bit like me. And screw you, I got laid by a thirty six triple-F chick on Saturday, so you can kiss my ass right now."
"I call Bullshit," Rob declared immediately. In front of Jack, Jonathan, another of his friends, turned around and slapped his hand down on Jack's desk.
"So, what's this giga-titted woman look like, eh?" the blonde-headed teen asked. Jack slammed his fist down on Jonathan's hand and grinned widely.
"I was just getting to that. Well, she's got-"
"Get back in your seats!" yelled Mr. Jacobi as he slammed the door, stuffing his cell phone into his pocket. Rob returned to sitting in his chair instead of hanging out of it across the aisle. Jonathan turned around as Mr. Jacobi sat down in his desk, huge, rotund stomach settling long after the rest of him had stopped moving. He turned around in his swivel chair and wrote the day's work up on the board, messily as usual.
Jack groaned. They had to write a synopsis on the act, and that meant using quotes and page numbers and lots of other things that just made the activity suck up time and turn into homework in seconds. Jack begrudgingly took out his pencil and paper, reopening his book to find the start of act two. He cursed under his breath.
About half way through with the synopsis, Rob started poking him with the sharp end on his pen. And after about six pokes, Jack growled at his friend to quit it. But Rob had no intentions of letting Jack get his work done in class. He was already done, as usual, and had all the free time in the world to do whatever the hell he wanted to while he bothered Jack for an obscure reason.
"So..." Rob began. "About that chesty chick you say you got laid by. What's her name?" he asked curiously, barely above a whisper. Jack arched a brow.
"Not a chance," Rob shot back with a silly grin on his face.
"Fine, whatever. Her name's Elassa." Jack watched as his friend's face became dull and bored.
"You could have said Jenny, or Eli, or even Franka, and I might have believed you. But Elassa? You are such a bad liar."
"I'm not joking, Rob. Her name is Elassa. Do you want living proof?" he asked.
"You know where she lives?!" Rob whispered furiously. Jack put a thumb to his own chest and flashed Rob a wolfish grin.
"Do I know where she lives? She lives with me, boyo," he mocked. Rob grabbed Jack by his collar in his usual gesture saying that he was about to relent and change the subject. But when he did this, Mr. Jacobi looked over at them and tapped on his desk.
"Hey, you two, quit horsing around and get back to work," he ordered.
"Yeah, you two are interrupting my studies with all your talk about fantasy girls," said Brandon, the typical school jock with a hot cheerleader girlfriend that was too good for him, and the perfect teeth and the heart-winning smile, and the asshole attitude to fit. And Jack was his kryptonite, so to speak.
"Hey, Brandon, what was this act about again? Or are you going to suck Josh off again for another summary?" Jack asked cheerfully, leering at the quarterback as everyone burst into laughter. Mr. Jacobi stood up and pointed to the door with a thick, meaty finger.
"Jack, get out. And take your talk about girls with you," he bellowed. Jack inclined his head in a gesture of thanks, packed up his stuff, and threw his backpack over his shoulder. He walked down the aisle toward the door.
"You'd dead sixth period," whispered Brandon as Jack passed by him. He ignored the jock's threat and opened the door. On his way out, Mr. Jacobi said something that made Jack's blood boil and all the gears in his brain stop at once.
"Like he could ever manage to get a girl," he said. The class erupted into another fit of laughter and Jack walked back into the room, backwards. He spun on heel to face the fat teacher, a livid look in his eyes. He balled his fists when he spoke.
"Oh yeah? When I go home today, I'm getting fucked by a beautiful woman, which is more than I can say for you, you fat asshole!" And with that, Jack turned back around and slammed the door behind him as he left.
He walked down the hall to his next class, which happened to be lunch. He never had understood why lunch was considered a class in its own right, nor why he and every other student got a hundred in it every year. But then again, he rarely ever understood anything about how this place worked.
The bell rang and Jack opened the door to the cafeteria and set his backpack down at the nearest table. He plopped himself down on the bench and waited for the big room to fill up. Within minutes, it was packed as it usually was and his table filled up with friends. On his side of the table was Samantha, himself, and then Nick. On the other side were Jonathan, Francisco the foreign exchange student, and Rudolf.
None of them were what anyone would consider entirely normal. Like everyone else, they had their vices, and their odd spots. But Rudolf, Samantha, and Francisco were the only ones that could be considered part of the normal classification.
Nick was really into German stuff, entirely engulfed in the culture and the music and the language. In fact, he was in German V, a class that he was taking via online college classes. The guy was going to be some kind of translator, either that or a WWII historian.
Jonathan was inclined to be a bit boisterous, much like Rob, but with more inclination toward shouting perverted or very odd things in the middle of a conversation so loud that it drew attention from even the nerdy students absorbed in their talk about God-knows-what.
Jack, well he was the anarchist. He talked back at his teachers when they were belligerent toward students, had jovial conversations with his crazy history teacher and Nick about the early forties in Europe. He stood up for the little guy, really, and that was what had earned him much ire from people like Brandon, who wanted to assert authority that didn't exist.
"So, guys, what's new? Anyone find a girlfriend yet, or am I still your clique's only girl?" Samantha asked to start up a legitimate conversation. Jonathan took the mustard-smothered corndog out of his mouth and glanced at Jack before speaking.
"Jack got fucked by a chick who had thirty six triple-F's Saturday. And she's living with him right now, so he says." Everyone looked at Jack and he turned a bit red. Samantha elbowed him in the side playfully.
"Hey, way to go buddy. Finally lost your virginity, eh?"
"Yeah, and why the hell are you three still staring at me? You got a problem with consensual missionary-position sex?" Jack growled jokingly. Rudolf shielded his eyes as if he were trying to block out the light of the sun.
"My eyes! They burn with the horrible image!" he cried. It was a running joke between the group of friends that if any of them ever had consensual missionary-position sex, that the others would beat him within a inch of his life and then make him, or her, repent by fighting a battle to the death against a bear. (weird, right?)
But, seeing as everyone present had their own way to be weird, it wasn't out of the norm. In fact, their usual conversations at lunch tended to make the prissy girls at the next section over blush and try to tune them out. And at their worst, they could even get people to move, simply with words.
"So, Jack, tu tienes puta?" Francisco asked. Jack shrugged.
"Whatever that means, yeah."
"You have pussy?" the foreigner asked in a hushed, secretive tone.
"Damn straight amigo," Jack replied, snapping his fingers. Rudolf scratched the side of his head and then looked around as if he didn't want to be heard. He even leaned in toward the center of the table so he couldn't be heard by anyone not already involved in the conversation.
"So, her tits were big?"
"Hell yeah, dude, like two cantaloupes on her chest. I couldn't even get my hands all the way on 'em," Jack boasted, trying to put his hands at a distance from himself to represent her bust line. Rudolf's eyes went wide.
"You lie! That tongue of yours may be silver, but I have a brain of gold."
"Which may explain why you have your head down in English all the time," Samantha commented dryly, giggling. Jonathan slapped Rudolf on the back and grinned.
"Hey, let's just see if he's telling the truth, mein herrgott," he said, making his best effort at a bow. He was lightly mocking Rudolf's German heritage. And by God, the senior was built to fit the part of one. He was broad-shouldered, Aryan, and six feet four inches. On top of that, he weighted two forty, and had a loud, baritone voice to boot.
"Yeah, you just wait. With all the craziness Jack tells us, I wouldn't be surprised if she had a big zauberstab down there instead of a-"
"Alright Rudolf," scolded Samantha.
"You know he's right, Sam, it is Jack after all," Nick chimed in, his thick brow lifted.
"Guys, give him a chance. Maybe she really does stuff her bra with balloons," she joked. Everyone fell out laughing and Jack rolled his eyes. Again, the jokes piled on. He couldn't wait to prove them wrong.
The last class of the day was gym, and Jack walked into the huge gymnasium talking to Sam about the homework they had to do for history class. They se their stuff down and got changed in their respective locker rooms, coming back out for class afterward. They sat down on the wooden bleachers and started talking again.
About ten minutes passed and Coach Kell arrived and they began class. All sixty or so students lined up as they had been doing for the past few months since school had started. They did their exercises and then Coach Kell had them go out to the track field to play football. On the way out, Brandon shoved past him and glared wordlessly. Not caring much, Jack simply shrugged it off and continued walking as if nothing had happened.
On the field, Coach Kell handed them flag belts and told them that they were to divide into teams based on their lines in the gym to play flag football. Jack wrapped a belt around his waist and pulled his shirt down over the actual belt like everyone else did. It helped, sort of.
They split into teams and then the other team was thrown the bal to kick it off. Of course, they just happened to have the kicker from the football team. The ball sailed over to them and Jack was unfortunate enough to have it come to him. He caught it with a grunt and ran down the field. He got about twenty or so yards before a forearm hit him in the face and his belt was torn off. He dropped to the ground and blinked away tears.
"Told you I'd get you back," said Brandon arrogantly, dropping Jack's flag belt.
"Hey, asshole, it's a game. No need to get so worked up over it," he growled, pulling himself to his feet. And as usual, Coach Kell was entirely oblivious to anything at all while he texted away on his phone.
A few plays passed and Jack's team scored a touchdown. Then they kicked off and it was run back to them. Tom, another of Jack's minor friends, almost destroyed the poor little guy that'd caught the ball on accident. They had chosen to dodge to the same side, and Tom was a full foot taller and almost that much broader than the short kid. Falling to the ground, the kid's nose began bleeding and Coach Kell noticed now that someone was hurt.
After looking around, the teacher whistled sharply.
"Jack, take Jeffery to the nurse's office!" he said. Jack took off his flag belt and set it on the sideline as he took Jeffery to the main building. But when they got inside, Jack felt a trail of snot running down his lip. He licked it, and tasted something coppery, metallic. He smeared the stuff on his fingers and looked at it. It was blood.
"Hey, Jeff, you can go to the office along, right? I think I have a nosebleed too." he said. The crook-nosed boy nodded and waved Jack off. Jack put a hand over his nose and walked to the bathroom, which was empty. He stood over one of the sinks and realized that it was both nostrils that were bleeding. He grabbed a brown paper towel and daubed it to his nose. The blood didn't stop at all.
He took the paper towel away, and found that his nose was bleeding more now, onto his shirt. Jack leaned over the sink and exhaled sharply through his nose. Droplets of blood splattered on the bowl of the sink, and the red stuff came out of his nose faster. Jack, alarmed, stuffed another paper towel to his nose.
He waited, and then felt blood trickling down his chin. Taking the paper towel from his nose a second time, a torrent of blood came out and he coughed hard. Clots of blood hit the sink and some hit the mirror in front of him. Jack put a hand over his mouth as he felt something coming up his throat.
He threw up, and his hand tightened over his mouth to keep it from spilling out. Red ooze seeped through his fingers and his eyes went wide. It was blood! He was puking blood! Jack coughed again and blood streamed out from between his fingers, like a red lake breaking its dam. He emptied his mouth of blood, tasting the metallic liquid with disgust. Jack realized that any more of this and he was going to die.
But he couldn't drag himself away from the sink as he threw up again, blood spilling into it. Jack turned the water on to help dissipate the disgusting red color in the bowl. Blood continued to stream from his nose and he felt sick to his stomach. He coughed more blood up and spat it out of his mouth.
After another round of vomiting and coughing, Jack was finally through with the ordeal. With several paper towels, he cleaned his face of blood and wiped off the blood that had splattered onto the countertop. But when he went to clean the mirror, he stopped cold.
He was far too pale to be healthy.
His skin held an unearthly pallor to it, the veins on his arms a clear blue color against the slight tinge of pink his skin had retained. He was gaunt, tired, and looked spent in every way. His eyes looked tired, and he wore a grim expression on his face. Veins crisscrossed his hands and his right cheek. Overall, he looked strikingly like a corpse.
Dismissing the thought, the teen wiped away the blood from the mirror and cleaned up any evidence of his ordeal. What had just happened? Why had his body purged blood from its own systems? Didn't he need that stuff for, oh, say...living?!
Jack put his hand on the wall for support and walked to the door. Outside the bathroom, he used the wall as a support to keep himself from staggering. He felt so tired, so used up and spent. He felt like he had just run a marathon at a sprint. Even so, he walked with a little help from the wall back through the gym and then out to the track field. By the time he reached the fence surrounding the black circle, he felt better and was able to walk on his own just fine. His head hurt a little, but that was to be expected after losing God knows how much blood. Jack rejoined his friends on the field.
When Samantha looked at him, she furrowed her brow and took his hand, examining it.
"Jack, you don't look so good. You're pale as hell; what happened?"
"I had a nosebleed that wouldn't stop," Jack said, technically not lying. He had just failed to mention the pints of blood he'd coughed up with the nosebleed. Samantha looked skeptical, but said nothing. She was a lot smarter than most of her friends took her for, and Jack knew it. He had no idea why she hung out with a bunch of morons, but she did nonetheless.
With an offhanded wave, she walked away and Jack was put back into the game. For essentially being touch football, the bruises on Tom's brow looked rather rough. Jack took his place right in front of Brandon and the jock snapped the ball. He surged forward with his elbow out, but Jack ignored the arm.
Spinning to the right, he passed by Brandon completely and slapped the jerk in the back of the head with his fist, running for Josh who had the ball. Josh pulled his arm back for a throw, and Jack tore the ball from his fingers, running it to the endzone without hindrance. When he stopped, he looked down at the ball and then back at where he had originally been standing.
Why had that been so easy?
"Jack! That was awesome!" exclaimed Samantha, running over to him. Jack stared at the ball in his hand, and scratched the back of his head. Why had that been so easy?
"I don't even know how that happened. I just ran and it all happened," he said, dumbfounded. Jack tried to figure out how that had happened for a long time, for the rest of the class even. And without barely registering the game was going on, he had pushed all the way down the field for another touchdown after stealing the ball right out of Josh's hands again.
The bell rang inside the school and they changed out of the gym clothes in the locker rooms before leaving. Jack slung his backpack over his shoulder and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror while Samantha waited for him outside the door. He looked a little better, but still pale. Why had he coughed up all the blood?
Ignoring the occurrence as some freak incident, Jack left the bathroom and met up with Rob and Jonathan in the hallway. Together, the four walked out behind the school where students were being picked up by their parents and those who could drive were exiting the parking lot. Others were walking home down the sidewalks on either side of the street.
Jack groaned as a familiar busty succubus waved at him from a bench in the park neighboring the school. Rob nudged Jack in the ribs with his elbow, grinning. Jack knew a snappy comment was coming soon.
"Looks like it's your lucky day. She thinks you're me," he chided. The four walked across the double lane of the school entrance and to the park where Elassa was waiting quietly. As they drew nearer, she stood up and Jack groaned audibly. She was wearing a tank top, her striped bra, and stretchy shorts that only reach a third or the way down her thigh.
"Jack, I can't tell you how long I've waited for you to come back. I can barely stand it," she said, a light pink flush on her cheeks. She took Jack's head and held it in her hands, kissing him after winking. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and moaned. Jack pushed her off momentarily to get some breathing room.
"Elassa, are you kidding me? At home, yes, here, no!" he growled. Rob's jaw would have dropped to the ground had it not been hinged to his skull. Jonathan simply laughed.
"You really weren't lying! She does have melons! Rob, you owe me fifty bucks!"
"Un-fucking-believable," Rob said in sheer and utter disbelief.
"Elassa, quit it. I wanted you to meet my friends today," Jack whined, trying to pry the succubus off his chest. She smiled sweetly and forced a hand into his pants.
"There's only one friend I want to see, and that's your co-" Jack slammed a hand over her mouth before she could finish her sentence and shook his head slowly. Elassa licked his fingers and slipped her tongue between his fingers. Jack put his head against hers and glared into her lime green eyes.