Shadow Things

III

Hansel Schwein had a past.

It was not the kind of past one could be proud of; Hansel had done wrong too many times for that to be the case. But it was also not a terrible kind of past, not by the usual standards, at least.

If you looked at it Hansel had it all: a mansion in a safe town, far away from the shadow-infested cities, a private chef, a fancy car, a butler to wait on him, a chauffeur to drive him around, too many friends and too much money. They adored him at home, they adored him at school, and with both his parents out of town he was also allowed an unhealthy amount of freedom.

Everything a middle-schooler could dream of having, he had it all. And in the beginning he was happy, because that was as much he wanted.

Perhaps he could have stayed like that, a spoilt kid with people falling at his feet, wasting his life the way he wasted money, mucking around with friends, too naïve to know that those so-called friends were only sticking around because of his parents, because his father was the CEO of a conglomerate and his mother was big in the showbiz; because he threw extravagant parties at his mansion and made them feel like they were rich too; because he made stupid kids like them feel all smart and cool and grown-up.

He could have stayed like that if he hadn’t been so greedy, so jealous, so foolish. If he hadn’t gone and ruined it with his own hands.

What happened to him, his moral degradation, his loss of happiness and his eventual fall from grace, it was all his own doing.

All his own fault.

Two and a half years ago Hansel was sitting in a classroom in the woodsy town of Marsance, attending a double session of his least favourite subject. Mr. Karloff had his back turned to the class, scribbling algebraic expressions across the greenboard. It was the last period of the day and drowsiness hung over the classroom like an early morning fog, making most students in the classroom go cross-eyed in their endeavours to keep themselves awake.

In this sleep-saturated classroom, Hansel alone sat ramrod straight, his hands placed upon his desk neatly. His eyes followed the motion of Mr. Karloff’s chalk attentively, unblinking the entire time. If he turned around now, Hansel would give Mr. Karloff an impression of being a model student. At least, that was the point, because Hansel wasn’t paying attention to a word that was being taught. It was all show.

Hansel had a reason to fake attentiveness. Although most teachers at his school brown-nosed him and treated him like a precious little snowflake, a few of them regarded him with a certain amount of disdain. Mr. Karloff was one of those teachers. He seemed to harbour a specific sort of loathing for Hansel, especially after the ill-natured prank he had pulled on the math teacher with Baron Finley last year. He and Finley had gone and spread dung under his desk and stuck chewed gum to the seat of his chair.

Mr. Karloff had no fans in the school. The students lauded them as heroes for what they did.

It was certain that Mr. Karloff had not forgiven him yet. If he had he would not have given Hansel such horrible grades and trashed his entire image for his father during the only parent-teacher meeting his father had ever deigned to attend. His father had only told him two short sentences to him after the meeting. “I did not know my son was so classless and obnoxious. I am disappointed.”

That was the last time he saw his father. For whatever reason he did not pay Hansel another visit.

And hence Mr. Karloff was placed into the list of the people Hansel hated. Because he was the reason why Hansel’s father had a low opinion on him now; also, because Mr. Karloff hated him, and, naturally, Hansel too hated the people who hated him. Still, he needed to prove to Mr. Karloff that he was a good student now, that he had amended his ways. What if his father came back for another PTA meeting?