The Old Bones

Initiation

            "Now, I want everyone to get out a sheet of paper. Today's lesson will be on the local history of the town." Mrs. Crates paced back and forth in front of the small classroom, mixed with all ages of children from the community. The schoolhouse wasn't very big, as a matter of fact, it was Mr. Johnson's old barn; he had passed away some years ago, and his son had no desire to break his back working a farm, so he sold it and all the property off to the Lockhurst Mining Company. "I understand some, if not most of you have moved here in past years because your daddy's wanted a job in the mines; that is perfectly alright. If you aren't familiar with factual history, then things you may have heard will be accepted."

The families weren't the only ones that had moved in because of the company; Mrs. Crates had moved here as well, brought in by the company to teach children the basics so they could function well on their own when they went to work in a few years. It wasn't uncommon for kids 14 years old, even in some cases younger, to leave school and go strap on that helmet and wonder down into the blackest places on earth. "So. We could write down anything we want to? Just so long as it sounds good?" A kid blurted out in the crowd.

"Yes. As long as it is something that could be true and believable. Like for instance, maybe a civil war battle, or a famine of some sort. Anything that could be a possibility."

"Whatta bout the Witch of Black Oak?" Harvey chimed in on the conversation. This was a rare occasion; he was the sort that only contributed to get the other kids wound up, mostly it was just him wanting to be a jerk. The only times he really ever paid attention was when Mrs. Crates discussed a topic about death and despair; he really enjoyed learning all about World War II.

"Although it seems very unlikely, there have been instances of Witch hysteria in America. The Salem Witch Trials is a good example. So, if you think you can convince me of the events, then you are allowed to discuss it."

"So long as someone else writes it fer me." He laughed, looking around the room for other kids to join him. No one did. There wasn't a single kid in the schoolhouse that he hadn't tore into at least once, calling him a bully would be a compliment; his jokes were typically cynical and most times would result in someone getting hurt with him standing over top of them laughing. He was a local boy like me and my little brother Randall; before his mom passed away, he used to be very pleasant company. His cousin Clint and I were basically the only two left who could put up with him; I suppose it was hard for me to let go of the memories I had made with him before he turned sour.

"You will write it yourself Harvey. If you absolutely feel the need to have someone else do it, I will find out, rest assured, and I will be getting in contact with your father." Mrs. Crates smirked at him; she knew any mention of that man would make Harvey cower. It was kind of mean of her to threaten him with it though, everyone knew how much of a hard ass his daddy was. On more than one occasion, the sheriff had to go down to their house and take his daddy down to the jail house for him to sober up.

"Yes ma'am." Harvey said through his teeth.

"You ain't very bright, are you Clint?" Court asked, looking over the school bus seat; the leather was worn and cracking, some spots were jagged enough to break the skin if you grazed them just right. Clint Gummer was a rough looking kid, covered in zits; his hair was so greasy that if the bus windows were opened, the wind wouldn't be able to pry it from its matted down, I woke up like this, position.

"Screw you Court, Harvey told me so himself!" Clint argued, he jumped up from his seat, snarling right in his face. His reasoning was about as sound as the ridiculous story he just tried to sell Court.

"Well, you can definitely tell the two of you are cut from the same cloth then." Harvey Gummer, an older boy -about a year or so- was sprawled out in his self-proclaimed throne across the aisle from the two of us and must have heard the insult. He rushed across the bus and got in Court's face; the smell of Harvey's breath was enough to disorient him. Harvey didn't bother to say a single word before smacking him right in the side of his head; the blow had caught him off guard and before he realized it had even happened, he found myself sitting back down in the seat.