The Root Read online

  the ROOT

  NA’AMEN GOBERT TILAHUN

  Night Shade Books

  An imprint of Start Publishing

  Copyright © 2016 by Na’amen Gobert Tilahun

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Start Publishing LLC, 101 Hudson Street, 37th Floor, Jersey City, NJ, 07302.

  Night Shade Books is an imprint of Start Publishing LLC.

  Visit our website at www.nightshade.start-publihsing.com.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  ISBN: 978-1-59780-602-2

  Cover illustration by Charlie Bowater

  Cover design by Claudia Noble

  Printed in the United States of America

  To:

  Sarah Griffin—For your words, your viewpoint, and your encouragement, my writing buddy no matter how far apart we are.

  &

  Beyoncé—For your music that got me through my dark night of the writer’s soul and fourteen-hour days of editing.

  SAN FRANCISCO

  ERIK

  The door had barely opened into the lemon-yellow infirmary before Nurse Dan was hurrying over to help him onto a cot, resignation clear on his round, pink face, the skunk of weed thick as always.

  He reached for Erik’s arm but pulled back at the appearance of the two men that followed him. The school’s flashlight-wielding security looked decidedly unhappy bracketing the young man who was covered in scrapes, sporting both a black eye and bruised knuckles. Despite his appearance, Erik was not moving as if he were in pain—nothing like the bent over, cradling vivid yellow-green-purple bruises under his clothes posture that he usually appeared here with.

  Erik took all this in through a haze of euphoric sensation, and made no noise as the school nurse shook himself and moved to help him sit. The security escort stayed at the door. Dan hurried over to his supplies and brought them along with a chair to sit across from Erik, seated on one of the three cots. His pupils were blown wide, head moving lazily around.

  “Bastion and Melisande?”

  Erik nodded at Nurse Dan’s words, smile stretching his aching lips. He felt the vibration of the man’s voice in his hands where he was cleaning up split knuckles, felt the shockwaves of the man’s breath against his face. He giggled. Partly because it tickled and partly because he could never call those two assholes Bastion and Melisande without laughing.

  Two of the stupidest stage names he’d ever heard. What kind of private arts school let teenagers pick their own stage names for fuck’s sake? It was why there were students running around calling themselves Morgana and Amaranth and Tam Lin!

  At least the two idiots weren’t here with him.

  He hissed in surprise as the alcohol bubbled on his knuckles, but the sensation wasn’t bad, merely as if the chill and fizzing of the liquid had entered his blood.

  “Where are they?”

  “Hospital.”

  Dan froze for a moment then hummed and broke a small cold patch between his fingers, to activate it, before placing it over Erik’s black eye.

  Every school from pre- to graduate and every level in between had its psychopathic bullies. Not the ones who were misguided or had bad home lives, or were suppressing their feelings or were in danger themselves.

  No.

  The ones who were just junkyard-dog mean all the time, every day, with little or no cause. The ones who liked to hurt those weaker than themselves just to hear them scream and went further and further each time just because they could. All schools had at least one, most more than one. Sometimes they were kept in check by strict rules, watchful parents, or a bully just a touch more sadistic.

  And sometimes two of them found each other and joined forces.

  Bastion and Melisande were the latter, an unholy duo, bullies with no redeeming qualities who played the “poor misunderstood me” act to the hilt whenever they were reported. Somehow they never got in trouble.

  Erik was sure it had nothing to do with the money their parents continued to donate to the school.

  They were careful in their choice of victim. Picked the ones no one would believe, the ones who were always in fights anyway, or the ones who’d never tell.

  The ones no one liked.

  They picked their prey and they played. They’d been playing with him since he transferred in last year but had stepped it up at the beginning of spring semester. Today had been different though; something had risen up inside Erik, something hungry and red and uncaring. It had unfurled from his core and cocooned him in this soft new world.

  It had also allowed him to whoop their smug asses.

  For almost two years now he’d been searching for something—a direction, a hobby, love, something to be proud of, and now he thought . . . no, he felt—deep in his gut—he’d found it.

  He clenched his fists and the knuckles of his right hand split open again, leaked more red sluggishly onto the yellowed-white and grayed-black linoleum floor. One of the rent-a-billy-club folks—calling them guards gave them way too much credit—met his eyes before their gaze darted away. Ignoring them he turned back to Dan, who was clucking his tongue and working on the knuckles again.

  “Sorry.”

  “What happened this time?”

  Erik sighed, and the sound felt like it hissed out of him forever. He knew if he changed the subject Nurse Dan would go with it, would pontificate on whatever liberal crusade he was on this month and allow Erik to remain silent, but for once he didn’t mind talking.

  “They cornered me in one of the courtyards, like usual.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Started talking the same bullshit as always.” A flare of hurt pierced his comfortable haze as he remembered their words: “has-been,” “arrogant,” “full of himself”: phrases that repeated in his own brain every night, yanked him from sleep. “Then I just . . . I gave in.”

  That was the only way to describe it, the tide that rose up inside of him, swamped and coddled his mind even now. He started to hack at something lodged in the back of his throat and Dan held up a large stainless steel bowl. Erik leaned over it, hrokking up the blood and mucus slicking its way down his throat. The mix of black, red, and yellow stained the sides of the bowl as it slid down to the bottom.

  “It was beautiful,” he whispered and smiled.

  “I’m sure it was and they deserved it.” Dan said as he put the bowl to the side, then paused. “You didn’t do any permanent damage, did you?”

  “No. I just roughed them up a little.” The memory was actually fairly hazy; he remembered the satisfying snap of bone, the grace of his body moving under their childish swings and kicks. He remembered them lying on the floor, but he assumed if he’d hurt them too badly it wouldn’t be the faux-lice here, but the police. He shuddered, trying to remember the fight more clearly, and crossed his legs, hoping Nurse Dan wouldn’t notice the hard-on he was now sporting.

  “Take these.”

  Erik swallowed the pain pills down without complaint.

  “And lie down, nothing else you really need.”

  “Cool.”

  Erik lay back on the cot and waited. His parents would be on their way already. His mom’s art kept her schedule flexible and he couldn’t remember the last time Robert had actually done anything. Mom would be worried. Robert would be furious. He was running for city council and to have his already “failed” son draw even more attention wouldn’t sit well. Robert had a love/hate relationship with Erik’s life. Robert knew it was the only reason he was known at all but he resented the way it had ended and how it “tainted” the family.

  He could see the argument now, the two
of them toe to toe. The extra two inches he’d gained since his eighteenth birthday meant he was only five foot seven, but it still allowed him to loom over Robert. He could imagine their mouths open, voices screaming, hands flying through the air like so many times before. Robert might even try to hit him.

  He shivered at the idea of Robert throwing a punch, his own body moving like it had only a few minutes ago to intercept the hit, turn it into a hold. He imagined snapping the elbow like a twig, the scream of pain and the way it would soothe his anger. He made a sound of satisfaction at the back of his throat and relaxed.

  The next half hour was spent in relative dreaming peace, interrupted only when Erik occasionally coughed up another wad of disgustingness to add to the bowl. The intensity of emotion did not fade from Erik but neither did pain come. He still only felt the sharp shock of sensation, as if his whole body was covered in new skin exposed to air for the first time.

  He had drifted into a light doze, lulled by the puttering of Nurse Dan and the steady breathing of the two rent-a-billy-clubs when the door banged open, hitting one of them. Erik sat up, smiling at the man’s grunt of pain, and opened his arms to his mom. She blanketed him in her hug and pressed her lips to the top of his head. She had three inches on him so her hugs always felt engulfing.

  “You’re fine. Good,” she said pulling back, in control as always.

  She smelled of turpentine and he felt the tackiness of nearly dry paint smear from her hands onto his bruised jaw as she studied his face. She must have been worried at the call; she had seen some of the bruises on his back and chest though he’d refused to talk about it.

  He’d learned his lessons about trusting and talking too much very well and repeatedly.

  She’d probably assumed he was in much worse shape if she was actually getting a call from the school. The first time he’d reported it, he’d been the one suspended. He’d since learned to just take his lumps.

  No matter money or (former) fame, he still had dark skin and it carried costs and assumptions. He gazed over his mom’s shoulder. Robert was two feet away, watching them, a blank look on his face.

  His mom physically moved his head until he met her gaze.

  “Oh baby.” She sighed and pulled him against her again. “It’ll be okay.”

  Erik closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her. She cradled him and from where his head was pushed into the curve of her throat he imagined he could see her bones, the cement-strong links that held them together. He smiled.

  “We already spoke to the principal, let’s just get you out of here.”

  Erik nodded and when her grip loosened he raised his head to stare at Robert. Again it was like he could see beneath the skin down to muscle and bone, but instead of strength he saw weakness, fragility, and how easy Robert would be to break. Perhaps Robert read those things in Erik’s face, because he spent his time quietly talking to Nurse Dan while his mom fussed over him. He reveled in being the center of her attention. He didn’t doubt his mom loved him but she was often too wrapped up in her art to express it. It was a mostly-absentee love.

  He basked in his mom’s focus as they moved through the campus toward the parking lot, until the car doors shut and Robert began to yell. Erik stared out of the window and half-listened to the tirade as they pulled out and made their way home.

  He was entranced by the things he felt as they sped down Geary Boulevard. Though the windows were up, he could feel the speed of the wind, the pressure of gravity, the heft of the metal frame of the car; all these things affected their ride and Erik could feel it all over his body.

  “What the hell were you thinking!?” They were halfway home by the time Robert actually paused and waited for an answer.

  Erik shrugged and told the truth. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?!” Robert’s voice broke on the second syllable and he turned his attention from the back to the passenger seat. “Do you hear your son? He was thinking of nothing!”

  Erik rolled his eyes and caught the reflection of his mom doing the same in the rearview mirror. It made his own smile wider. Robert’s eyes flicked back and forth between them but he chose to ignore it, though his face twisted in on itself even further.

  The yelling directed into the back seat again. “Well maybe you could think of me, you know this doesn’t look good!”

  Erik snorted. “Whatever. How much lower can you go than last in the polls? Is there a sub-basement of opinion I’m unaware of?”

  Robert froze at the wheel and Erik smiled. He felt invincible. He’d never been a shrinking violet but he’d always gone with the flow. Until Daniel—since then he’d been working on speaking up for himself and for some reason now he felt fine saying things he’d only thought before. The light tan skin of Robert’s face grew flushed and dark.

  “What the fuck would you know?” Robert roared while Erik kept his gaze on the reflection he could see in his window.

  He didn’t think Robert realized they were building speed; lost in his anger, he pushed the car faster and faster. Erik smiled and leaned his forehead against the chilled glass. They cut through an intersection, the light turning red as they crossed the first of the double line. The cars around them stopped, the cars going perpendicular to them started and stopped rapidly. Their actions and reactions pushed against the surface of the car, tickled the surface of his skin. Erik threw his head back and laughed.

  “Oh you think this is funny!?”

  He felt Robert’s anger rough and jagged against his body but he was too entranced by the speed of the car to truly care. Still, he answered Robert’s question. “I think you’re funny. What are you planning on doing when someone asks you a question about me? If anyone ever cares enough about you to ask questions? Duck your head? Apologize for me? Maybe have me come out and say sorry for something I’m not really sorry about?”

  “Aren’t you?” Suddenly the force of Robert’s anger shrank and instead something slick and slimy rose from his skin, made Erik shudder. Robert smirked. “What about Daniel? Regret that consequence at all?”

  And the smile dropped from Erik’s face, the small sound of his mom’s inhale signaled her intent to intervene but it was already too late.

  Something shifted.

  Erik’s own anger filled the air, lifted from his body like some creature of thorns and spikes and filled the whole cab of the car, thick and hot, turning the air to soup.

  His mom turned around to face him, trying to communicate with the height of her eyebrows. She took deep breaths, drawing in huge gulps of sour air.

  “Do you regret that I’m already more wealthy and successful at eighteen than you are at forty? That it’s thanks to Mama and I that you have anything at all? That you’re the most useless member of our family?”

  The silence in the car was as sudden as a gunshot.

  They flew across the intersection, wheels losing contact with the asphalt as they catapulted down into the tunnel. The light was fully red and other vehicles tore around their speeding bullet of a car trying to avoid it, trying to stop.

  A high-pitched scream filled the car.

  Robert.

  And again Erik laughed, the swift pressure of the cars that almost hit them, Robert’s fear, the terror he could hear from those in the other cars. Erik saw Robert’s hands loosen on the steering wheel, too afraid to keep control. Mom reached over and took the wheel in hand. She guided them through the intersection, twitching by small centimeters to the left and the right, moving the car just enough to avoid collision.

  Three times he felt them scrape against other vehicles and knew there would be patches of black paint missing from the Mercedes when they reached home. Once they’d shot to safety and reached the other side of the road, his mom’s right hand struck, yanking up the hand brake as her left guided the car to the side of the road.

  For a few minutes the only sound in the car was heavy breathing. Robert was done screaming and was now hunched over, face in his hands. Finally he straightened an
d got out of the car without a word, leaning against the hood. Mom also exited and leaned toward Robert, whispering. Erik stayed in the back seat, still giggling, the anxiety bubbling like champagne in his blood.

  Mom took over driving and got them home with no further delays. The remainder of the short drive was silent.

  As soon as they stepped inside the house, Robert opened the liquor cabinet and poured himself a tumbler of scotch. Dayida followed suit, then tilted the bottle to Erik in offer. He nodded and took the tumbler she poured him from her hand and walked upstairs. He had no interest in waiting for Robert to recover his wits.

  What few he had.

  He had no interest in hearing another speech about manliness spew from Robert’s mouth. He also had no confidence he could control his anger or that Robert would survive it.

  He ignored the footsteps following him until his mom shut his bedroom door behind herself. Only then did he turn and face her. Her expression held none of the fear Robert’s did, her dark brown skin held no traces of gray pallor; instead it was flushed and alive. Her smile was wide and Erik was surprised by the life shining from her eyes. She usually only looked that vibrant when painting. Slowly the joy and happiness faded, replaced by worry.

  She took a step forward, held out her arms and he again folded into her embrace. She wrapped him in thick arms and he felt shielded. He shuddered as the comforting numbness that had lain over his mind slipped away, leaving him exhausted. He took his first breath since the fight that didn’t seem to crackle with energy; his body wasn’t tense and ready to snap any longer. But he could still feel it, the readiness, the anger, right under the surface of his skin.

  “My poor baby. You’re still riding high off your awakening. It’s intoxicating but better not to give into it. For so long I worried about what would waken in you. At least it suits you.” Her smile was sad but proud.

  He didn’t understand a word.

  “Mama, I—”