RED PARALLEL

Chapter 70: Birthday Phants

Exactly six years ago

Traviz was mouth dropped. It turned out that Owen was actually a fucking genius. All his grades were over the top, especially the ones Traviz was sort of a tragedy, like English, History, Geography, Literature, any subject that happened to be full of texts and scary essays. Owen was the king. His speeches were perfect, and Traviz was scared. He could talk like an adult, with complicated words and stuff. To think that the prank puzzling conversation they had two months ago was difficult... Each time Owen spoke more formally, exhibiting his verbal skills, Traviz felt the urge to cry or to vomit. That was so nerve wracking. He'd rather talk with the black guys in codes than getting lost in lexical grammars. Actually, he missed the black guys. He couldn't remember where did they live. Not that he'd go straight to meet them. He'd never do that. Too ridiculous. At least they liked his kicks and Redpools... Owen wasn't interested in that.

All he cared about was trespassing what he called 'the system'. But he recommended to give a break during the prank season. They had to trace a strategy. Traviz used to laugh whenever he said that 'strategy' thing. So ridiculous. So irritating. Another pain in the ass was Owen's constant bossy attitude. Who did he think he was to simply decide what he should do or how? Traviz attempted several times to dodge from Owen's creepy paws: boom at his face all possible rude adjectives, sit ten chairs away from him, pretend he wasn't listening to him, act grumpy and stubborn, but the boy was still around. Whenever he attempted a fight, Owen immobilized him against the wall, and kept it like that until Traviz couldn't stand no more. Owen was fond of tortures. Definitely. Physical and mental tortures.

One way or another, Traviz ended up tied. Despite wanting to do the opposite of everything Owen said, he was somehow afraid. Doing pranks and rioting suddenly seemed risky. Owen's argumentative speech was so strong that Traviz was getting numb. He was sort of just waiting for his eccentric commander present the cautious and meticulous prank plot.

Doing nothing was beyond boring, though, and the whole family of guts and stomachs and intestines were protesting. The less he did, the more it ached. Owen's words tagged along, burning Traviz's neurons. The freedom thing. Each time the belly groaned, he stated how much he was not free. He even thought about locking himself in his room just to confirm his lack of freedom and stay away from that unpleasant inevitable person. As if.

In the middle of June, during class break period, in an empty classroom, Traviz laid his head over the table, sighing and imagining how it'd be good to be in a nice, comfortable and enormous bed, with soft and clean sheets. And sleep forever. Plus, he wanted to eat, and drink black soda, and then he'd sleep again. But no, he was stupidly trying to put his head in a decent position over that wooden and hard surface. Realizing the impossibility, he picked his bag and put it over the table. Ridiculous. The bag was so huge and large that he couldn't even lay his head on it. Trying not to cry or burst out kicking all the chairs in a dumb self riot, he snorted and dug his head inside the sweater, gloomy.

He heard steps. Slow and shuffling steps.

Ugh. Get away. Awaaaaay...

Owen sat in the front chair and watched Traviz trying to hide himself under the sweater, the hoods, the cap.

"Troy, you're just like those kids who think getting under a rug is a good hide-and-seek spot. Hate to say it, but it's not."

Owen had the irritating habit of comparing Traviz to little infants. All the time.

Traviz turned his head, ignoring him.

"Here." Owen threw a wrapped sandwich over Traviz's gloomy mountain. "Thought you might be hungry."

Traviz raised his head and stared at the sandwich, suspicious.

"I don't like tomato," he said, getting back to his improvised unhidden cave.

"It's not tomato, dumbass. It's a fucking salami."

"Ugh, whatever. Bet it's poisoned."

"I wouldn't do that to you, Troy. It wouldn't make sense. You already vomit, like, always."

Traviz shrugged, dull.

"I'll have it, then." Owen picked the sandwich and unwrapped it.

Traviz thought the boy would stay quiet and eat, letting him sleep, but no.

"Hmmm." Owen chewed, and swallowed. "This sauce is great. I'm impressed. And, like, if this thing is poisoned, I'll sure die happy. You know their kitchen, right? I guess we can pay a visit, next week. We can pick more and take it to our secret spot. We need supplies."

Ugh. Just another of his fictional stupid plans. Getting into the kitchen was no big deal, and c'mon, a secret spot?

Gimme a break. Stupid liar. 

"But if we're taking perishable foods to our spot, we might need a fridge or something. And an electricity source." Owen took another bite. "Hmm, unless we build a rechargeable battery--"

"Gimme that." Traviz suddenly grabbed the sandwich from Owen's hands, and he took a large big bite. Within seconds, the sandwich was gone. With the mouth still full, Traviz got back to his sweater.

Quite a sandwich.

Traviz thought he'd be soon strangulated or beaten to death by his fella, but no. Instead, the boy burst out laughing, and then he slapped Traviz's neck. "Animal."

"Shuhup," Traviz retorted, still under the sweater and chewing.

"Troy-Biter, now you owe me a thanks. And, two congratulations."

"Fuck you," Traviz grumbled, swallowing the bread.

This time Owen kicked the middle of Traviz's leg.

"Ouch, man! And what's with the congrats thing? And why two?"

Owen grinned. "'Cause it's my birthday, Troy-Biter. July 22..."

"It's your birthday?" Traviz asked, dully. He was under the impression that soon he'd die from boredom.

"Yes, that's what I just said, dumbass."

"Hm. Great," Traviz grunted. Suddenly, he realized something. "Hang on. So that means I'm older." He laughed, pleased. "How 'bout that, motherfucker? Who's the little baby, huh? My birthday was on March 23rd. Eat this." Then he hammered the desk, triumphantly.

Owen giggled. With a malicious shade under his grin, he got up and laid both hands on Traviz's desk. The menace pose. He whispered:

"I'm doing fourteen, Troy-Biter. How 'bout that?"

Traviz made a face; he had just been betrayed. He stuffed his head in the hole, mouth shut, head steaming and belly twisting.

"You are the little piti-piti baby. You hear me? Now get up, Biter, we gotta go."

"To where, Phantom Hag?" Traviz growled. "To your grave? I'm on it."

Owen raised his eyebrows.

"Phantom Hag? Seriously?" Owen chuckled, throwing back his head. "I pity you. Whining and hugging your Teddy Bear... Anyway, this is the second congrats: we're doing a 'bail'. Get ready, Teddy."