CHAPTER FIVE
Tough Guy
Martin opens his eyes the next morning, groaning heavily. The early morning sun peeks through his bedroom window, and Martin covers his head in his pillow to hide. He smells something cooking downstairs and his stomach growls. It smells like bacon.
He risks peeking out from under his pillow to check the time. It’s nearly 7:00 am.
Great, Martin moans. He’s going to be late for school. He throws off his covers and his pillow and turns to face the ceiling. The face of Jesus stares back at him from above the bed and he leaps up, smashing his knee against the bed stand as he tries to escape the dreaded sight.
“What the…” Martin is disoriented for a moment before he remembers where he is. He’s at Mr. James’ house. This isn’t his bedroom, and he’s not running late for school. Martin stares ominously at the frame on the wall. How did Mr. James fix it so quickly?
“…Jesus,” Martin rubs his eyes and his sore knee before sitting back on the bed. He stares at the clock again. 7:02. He’s got to get out of here, somehow. The picture, and Mr. James, is giving him the creeps. Martin hears Mr. James whistling downstairs to the gospel music on the radio.
He rolls his eyes and considers returning to bed. He thinks better of it and takes a shower instead. By the time he’s done it’s 7:30. Mr. James is still downstairs playing his music. He probably won’t bother to knock on Martin’s door until 8 o’clock, so Martin figures he has a half hour to get as far away as possible.
Martin puts on his tennis shoes and heads for the window. He pulls open the curtains, feeling a renewed sense of freedom, and pushes the window open. Martin smiles as he looks past the bars into the distant trees that will cover him as he makes his escape. He knows Logoria backwards and forwards, and Mr. James is no match for him.
Martin allows himself another moment to bask in the cleverness of his plan. He’ll camp out at a friend’s house for a couple days and by then his parents will be too worried about him to punish him and too concerned with what he might do next to try to send him away again.
Martin takes a second look at the bars on the window. They stand in watchful pride as they imprison him. Soon enough, the bars will cower in quiet defeat, and Martin will bid them farewell. He pulls against the first, but it doesn’t budge. He shrugs, then pulls on it a second and third time.
Still, it doesn’t move. Martin scans the base of the bars for a latch, but finds none. He hadn’t anticipated this. He’d assumed they were simple bars to keep pigeons off the ledge, not bars to keep people out. Their only hope of release is a deadbolt on either side that Martin would need a few days and a box full of tools to loosen.
Martin groans in frustration and kicks the bars with his feet. He can hear Mr. James making his way up the stairs. He swears again under his breath as Mr. James walks in.
“Breakfast is ready downstairs; we’ll be headed out in ten minutes. I’m glad to see you’re dressed and ready.” He smiles and makes his way back downstairs.
Martin rolls his eyes. “The guy never knocks,” he mumbles under his breath as he follows him downstairs.
•••
“Okay, on three? One, two, three!” Martin grunts as he and another teen lift the long, heavy pew and make their way to the basement. The old pew is damaged and needs to be removed from the sanctuary.
Martin steps in first and immediately realizes the pew is too wide for the narrow entry.
“Hold up,” he tells the kid on the other end. He looks younger than Martin, possibly 15. The pew keeps moving towards Martin despite his warning. Martin’s knuckles scrape the side of the door and he cusses.
“Hold up, hold up! Man, I said stop!” Martin yells.
“Oh, sorry,” the kid stops and backs up. He puts his side of the pew down; at the same time, Martin slams his to the ground and makes his way to him. He pushes the young boy, angry.
“Yo, didn’t you hear me say hold up?” Martin glares at him. “What are you, stupid?”
“I’m sorry,” the young kid replies timidly. “I just didn’t hear you man, chill out.”
Martin grabs him by his shirt and throws him into a nearby pew. “You’d better watch yourself, kid. And stay outta my way if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
The young kid stares at Martin, frightened, and Martin’s eyes narrow as he watches him cower. “What? Are you gonna cry? Huh?”
The young kid shakes his head no, but is immediately contradicted by the tears falling down his face.
Martin laughs. “Seriously? I barely touched you. What, you can’t take it?” Martin raises his voice an octave higher and launches a verbal attack on the young boy.
“Shut up, you little cry baby! I said shut up!” Martin kicks the boy’s legs when he doesn’t comply. Agitated, Martin picks the boy up by his shirt. The boy winces as Martin raises his fist.
“What’s going on in here?” Martin hears Mr. James behind him and immediately releases the boy.
“Nothin,’” Martin grumbles. “Except this little idiot tried to take the skin off my hands.”
Mr. James narrows his eyes at Martin. “Mitchell, go to the youth building,” Mr. James instructs, never taking his eyes off Martin.
Martin glares back at Mr. James, eyes defiant.
“Is this how you build yourself up, Martin?” Mr. James bristles. “You pick on kids who are smaller than you, so what, now you’re a tough guy?”
Martin rolls his eyes and looks away.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Mr. James barks. Martin returns an icy glare. Mr. James continues.
“You’re not tough, Martin. Not even close. Mitchell is thirteen years old. He’s here because his mother had nobody to watch him after school today. He’s partially deaf, and he has no father and no brother to look up to or watch out for him. You must be so proud of yourself for being able to intimidate someone like him. Bravo.”
Martin exhales in frustration as Mr. James makes his way to the abandoned pew.
“I didn’t know the kid was deaf,” Martin defends himself. Mr. James ignores him and continues to pick up the pew and make his way to the basement, angling it so that it fits through the doorway with ease. Martin skulks towards him and grabs the other end, but Mr. James waves him away.
“I’m sure you’ve done enough for today,” he dismisses him. “Wait for me in the sanctuary.”
•••
Martin rides back with Mr. James to the house and sinks into a chair as soon as he gets inside. He broods in the living room all afternoon as Mr. James prepares dinner.
“There’s a youth meeting tonight, Martin,” Mr. James breaks the silence.
Martin shrugs. “What’s that got to do with me?”
“I want you to come with me,” Mr. James grabs some plates from the cabinets.
“You’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming back to that place,” Martin scoffs.
“Is that really necessary?” Mr. James sighs. “You know the rules, Martin. I’m not leaving you here by yourself.”
“Forget it, I’m not going.” Martin crosses his arms stubbornly and slouches in his seat. Mr. James lets out a long sigh.
“Martin, the way I see it there is only one option.”
“And what option is that?” Martin asks with a smirk on his face. “You can’t touch me, so I don’t see how you plan on getting me out of this chair.”
Mr. James raises his eyebrows as Martin smiles smugly.
•••
Martin scowls as Mr. James walks past his chair, smiling.
“Good evening everyone,” Mr. James greets the youth group. “Let’s start with a word of prayer. Where’s Jennifer?”
“She said she couldn’t make it today,” one of the youth offers a reply.
“Ok, no problem,” Mr. James shrugs. “Mitchell, why don’t you start us off this evening?”
The young boy stands quietly and begins a prayer. “Lord, thank you for bringing us all safely here this evening. I pray
the word falls on good ground and bears fruit in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
Mitchell sits down quickly, daring a glance in Martin’s direction. Martin looks away.
Mr. James begins his message, and Martin makes an immediate exit to the bathroom. He spends the duration of the service there, sitting on the toilet with his head in his hands. When he hears the final amens he makes his way out. He’s instantly greeted with smirks and snickers.
“Somebody really had to go,” one of the teens jokes. Martin turns his head in his direction.
“You got somethin’ to say to me?” he snarls.
The teen stares at him, wide-eyed. “Nah, man I was just joking. Relax.”
Martin balls his fists. “Yeah, you’re real funny. How about I wipe that stupid smirk off your face?”
The young teen is obviously nervous, fueling Martin’s bloodlust further. “What, nothing to say now? That’s what I thought.” Martin shoves him, but Mr. James immediately pulls him back.
“That’s enough, Martin,” Mr. James bellows. “Get to the car, now!” Mr. James releases him, and Martin glares at his victim one last time before making his way outside.
“Wow, you okay, Trevor?” one of the youth asks the teenage boy. Trevor is still rubbing his chest where Martin shoved him.
“Yeah, I’m alright,” Trevor replies. He looks at Mr. James. “What’s that guy’s problem? I was just joking around.”
Mr. James shakes his head. “Don’t take it personally, Trevor. He’s got some things to sort through. Keep him in your prayers, okay?”
Trevor nods and helps Mr. James and Mitchell clean up the youth room.
•••
Martin sits in Mr. James car, sulking. If he’d been with his parents, instead of Mr. James, Martin would have knocked Trevor’s face off. Mr. James is really starting to cramp his style. Martin hadn’t expected him to be such a difficult person to get around. His parents never fought with him when he told them he wasn’t going to bible study. They just told him to try to behave while they were gone.
Martin stares at his knuckles, still bruised but no longer swollen from Monday’s fight. Had he known he’d go through so much trouble afterwards, he would have really laid into Johnny. He went easy on him Monday compared to what he’d do the next time he saw him. Johnny would wish he’d never heard the name Martin West.
A knock at the window startles him. Martin turns to see his mother’s face in the window. He rolls his eyes and turns away, ignoring her. Her voice is muffled, but he can hear every word.
“Hey hon, I know you’re probably still upset,” she starts, “but I want you to know your father and I love you, okay?” Mrs. West sighs as Martin continues to look away.
“Listen, this is for your own good, Martin. We’re only thinking of what’s best for you, honey.”
After a few minutes of silence, Mrs. West gives up and finds Mr. James. Martin watches angrily as they both talk, convinced they are discussing Martin and his behavior. Mrs. West frowns several times, but when they finish, she leaves. She doesn’t even look in Martin’s direction.
Martin frowns as he watches her make her way to the parking lot. She meets with Mr. West and they both drive off. His father hadn’t even bothered to speak to him. Martin sniffs. What does he care, anyway? They’ve already dumped him off with Mr. James, so why should they bother with him at all?
Mr. James opens the car door and starts the engine. Martin expects a lecture during the ride back to the house, but receives none.