Flash Fic Friday: Farm Boy
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Christoarpher
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19 February 2016
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This entry is part 1 of 1 in the series Flash Fic Friday
I’m trying something new with my blog, in part to update it more frequently and in part to increase its interest. While I won’t always publish flash fiction, when I post flash fic, it’ll be Fridays.
Farm Boy is from a dream I had recently, and I plan to turn it into a YA novel when I’m done with my WIP (more about that later).
~~~~~
Farm Boy
</h3><h3>Jared sat in chapel, his head bowed. He believed not a whit of what was said in this building. Well, there’d been that one time they’d had that Wiccan lady in for services. Her words made sense. She’d spoken of the seasons and the rhythms of the earth and sky.
</h3><h3>But Providence Hill School required that all students entrusted to its care attended chapel at least once per month, and seeing as how today was his last chance, Jared sat in the pew, head bowed, as fought to recall the Wiccan priestess’s words. It had been several months, after all.
</h3><h3>So he sat in the pew, seemingly lost in contemplation, lost to the world. He knew what he looked look. He knew what people saw. They saw the farmer’s kid, already big for his age. They saw the boy everyone thought couldn’t read. Easy pickings, they thought, because he wouldn’t fight back. He knew he could crush them, so he didn’t try.
</h3><h3>He was finished with that. He knew the lessons his mother’s new husband had taught him…just as he remembered his mother’s as he boarded the plain for school.
</h3><h3>“You’re a big man already, Jared, even if you’re still a boy inside. Please be careful. You’ll be taunted and teased just because of who you are.”
</h3><h3>Jared had frowned. “Because we’re farmers, Stan?”
</h3><h3>“Because you stand out, Jared.” Stan had put his arm on Jared’s shoulder and guided him to watch the sun set over their fields. His, actually. They’d been his father’s and Stan was upfront that all of it was held in trust for him. Stan had his own acreage the next county over. “You’re big, and you’re smart. People will notice that.”
</h3><h3>“I see.” Jared had nodded.
</h3><h3>“They might not appreciate that combination, not with your looks thrown in there. You’re the spit and image of your daddy, and he was a handsome man.” Jared had looked over at him. “You may not remember, but we do, your family’s friends.”
</h3><h3>Jared pulled his hat lower on his head. All this talk of virtues made him squirm. It made Stan chuckle, a deep rumbling noise that hit Jared in his belly. He shoved that away. Not now. Not ever.
</h3><h3>“No, you be careful at school. Don’t let the teasing get to you. Don’t lash out at if it does. You could hurt somebody. Working your land has made you strong, and I think you’ll realize that once you get there,” Stan had said, and he’d been right.
</h3><h3>But Mama had told him, whispered actually, before he got on the plane, “Be kind, be gentle, but the time may come when you have to stand up for yourself. When that happens, always remember you’re a Foster. We don’t take crap from anyone.”
</h3><h3>Providence Hill School had certainly been a new experience, and Jared learned that anew each day. Only the riding lessons kept him from being too homesick at first. Horses, he knew. He hadn’t known too many of the games besides the usual—football, basketball, baseball—and hadn’t been much good at those. But Jared was strong and was learning to play rugby, a game all but made for guys like him.
</h3><h3>Jared also hadn’t known the other games people played, the vicious ones the prefects and the teachers never seemed to know about. “They’re just joshing around, Jared,” the Headmaster told him. “It’s all in good fun.”
</h3><h3>Jared passed the bruises off as rugby-gotten, but somehow he never had any fun with those games. That morning? That morning he would put a stop to them.
</h3><h3>That morning? That morning he sat in the middle of the pew some of his favorite tormentors liked to pretend belonged to them. It was time to set them straight on that score.
</h3><h3>He snorted to himself. Straight. As if.
</h3><h3>Five guys a class or two above him, yet even so, only one was bigger. Somehow they didn’t see that. But Jared knew they would before chapel started for the morning, oh yes they would. He allowed himself a smile as continued to consider the wiccan’s words. It was spring now, early spring, the time when the earth began to shake off winter’s sleep, a time when new things surged to life.
</h3><h3>“You can’t sit here.”
</h3><h3>With his heart pounding in his ears, Jared said softly, “I can.”
</h3><h3>“Dude, it’s our pew. Everyone knows that.”
</h3><h3>“There’s no plaque.” Jared looked up to see Tony, team captain of the junior varsity baseball team glaring down at him. Jared’s heart beat fast. Not because of the confrontation, however. But because it was Tony.
</h3><h3>Tony was why Jared did this. “I’m sitting here. There’s room on either side. I don’t think you’ll take up the whole bench.”
</h3><h3>Jared continued to pray, or pretend to, as Tony and his guys regrouped. There weren’t so many of them, really. Just four of them besides Tony. There was Geoff, Aaron, Danny, and Beth, who had a better arm than any of them. Of all of them, only Aaron came anywhere near him in size, and even then it was a close call.
</h3><h3>Jared hear them whispering, and then suddenly Aaron pushed past him to the end of the pew, followed quickly by Beth and then Danny, who tried to hit him on the neck on the way by. Jared reached out faster than a striking snake and grabbed.
</h3><h3>Suddenly Danny gasped and bit his lip to keep from crying out. He clutched his elbow.
</h3><h3>“Fuck,” Danny hissed. “That’s my pitching arm.”
</h3><h3>“And the next time you try to hit me with it, I’ll make sure you can’t use it for a week.” Jared yanked the still-whimpering Danny down by his good arm and looked him in the eyes. “Got that?”
</h3><h3>Danny’s eyes, suspiciously shiny, widened, as if he had just noticed for the first time, that Jared topped him by almost a foot. “You didn’t have to hurt me.”
</h3><h3>“Spoken like a true bully. You’re all fight until you realize your intended victim can beat the crap out of you.” Jared shoved him into Beth.
</h3><h3>Geoff eased on by, doing his best not to touch any part of Jared. “I don’t want any trouble, man.”
</h3><h3>“You got amnesia or somethin’?” Jared said in a folksy, down-home manner he knew made people think of pigs and dueling banjos. “You shoulda found something else to do during the fall semester, because now you’ve got trouble in spades, little buddy. You and me are gonna be best friends.”
</h3><h3>Jared looked up to find Tony staring at him. There wasn’t all that much room between him and Geoff, but he’d damned if would budge so much as an inch. “You. Sit.”
</h3><h3>“There’s not much room.”
</h3><h3>“You said this is your pew, Tony, so you sit yer ass right down. I have had enough garbage out of all of you.” Jared glanced down the row, sure he had their attention now. He held up his hands. “Any of you feel free to answer. See my hands? I can end you. I own a sizeable fraction of a backward county in a state you think you’re too good for. I’ve got pigs, so I know what to do with spare corpses.”
<h3></h3>
Copyright 2016 Christopher Koehler
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I’m trying something new with my blog, in part to update it more frequently and in part to increase its interest. While I won’t always publish flash fiction, when I post flash fic, it’ll be Fridays.
Farm Boy is from a dream I had recently, and I plan to turn it into a YA novel when I’m done with my WIP (more about that later).
~~~~~
Farm Boy
</h3><h3>Jared sat in chapel, his head bowed. He believed not a whit of what was said in this building. Well, there’d been that one time they’d had that Wiccan lady in for services. Her words made sense. She’d spoken of the seasons and the rhythms of the earth and sky.
</h3><h3>But Providence Hill School required that all students entrusted to its care attended chapel at least once per month, and seeing as how today was his last chance, Jared sat in the pew, head bowed, as fought to recall the Wiccan priestess’s words. It had been several months, after all.
</h3><h3>So he sat in the pew, seemingly lost in contemplation, lost to the world. He knew what he looked look. He knew what people saw. They saw the farmer’s kid, already big for his age. They saw the boy everyone thought couldn’t read. Easy pickings, they thought, because he wouldn’t fight back. He knew he could crush them, so he didn’t try.
</h3><h3>He was finished with that. He knew the lessons his mother’s new husband had taught him…just as he remembered his mother’s as he boarded the plain for school.
</h3><h3>“You’re a big man already, Jared, even if you’re still a boy inside. Please be careful. You’ll be taunted and teased just because of who you are.”
</h3><h3>Jared had frowned. “Because we’re farmers, Stan?”
</h3><h3>“Because you stand out, Jared.” Stan had put his arm on Jared’s shoulder and guided him to watch the sun set over their fields. His, actually. They’d been his father’s and Stan was upfront that all of it was held in trust for him. Stan had his own acreage the next county over. “You’re big, and you’re smart. People will notice that.”
</h3><h3>“I see.” Jared had nodded.
</h3><h3>“They might not appreciate that combination, not with your looks thrown in there. You’re the spit and image of your daddy, and he was a handsome man.” Jared had looked over at him. “You may not remember, but we do, your family’s friends.”
</h3><h3>Jared pulled his hat lower on his head. All this talk of virtues made him squirm. It made Stan chuckle, a deep rumbling noise that hit Jared in his belly. He shoved that away. Not now. Not ever.
</h3><h3>“No, you be careful at school. Don’t let the teasing get to you. Don’t lash out at if it does. You could hurt somebody. Working your land has made you strong, and I think you’ll realize that once you get there,” Stan had said, and he’d been right.
</h3><h3>But Mama had told him, whispered actually, before he got on the plane, “Be kind, be gentle, but the time may come when you have to stand up for yourself. When that happens, always remember you’re a Foster. We don’t take crap from anyone.”
</h3><h3>Providence Hill School had certainly been a new experience, and Jared learned that anew each day. Only the riding lessons kept him from being too homesick at first. Horses, he knew. He hadn’t known too many of the games besides the usual—football, basketball, baseball—and hadn’t been much good at those. But Jared was strong and was learning to play rugby, a game all but made for guys like him.
</h3><h3>Jared also hadn’t known the other games people played, the vicious ones the prefects and the teachers never seemed to know about. “They’re just joshing around, Jared,” the Headmaster told him. “It’s all in good fun.”
</h3><h3>Jared passed the bruises off as rugby-gotten, but somehow he never had any fun with those games. That morning? That morning he would put a stop to them.
</h3><h3>That morning? That morning he sat in the middle of the pew some of his favorite tormentors liked to pretend belonged to them. It was time to set them straight on that score.
</h3><h3>He snorted to himself. Straight. As if.
</h3><h3>Five guys a class or two above him, yet even so, only one was bigger. Somehow they didn’t see that. But Jared knew they would before chapel started for the morning, oh yes they would. He allowed himself a smile as continued to consider the wiccan’s words. It was spring now, early spring, the time when the earth began to shake off winter’s sleep, a time when new things surged to life.
</h3><h3>“You can’t sit here.”
</h3><h3>With his heart pounding in his ears, Jared said softly, “I can.”
</h3><h3>“Dude, it’s our pew. Everyone knows that.”
</h3><h3>“There’s no plaque.” Jared looked up to see Tony, team captain of the junior varsity baseball team glaring down at him. Jared’s heart beat fast. Not because of the confrontation, however. But because it was Tony.
</h3><h3>Tony was why Jared did this. “I’m sitting here. There’s room on either side. I don’t think you’ll take up the whole bench.”
</h3><h3>Jared continued to pray, or pretend to, as Tony and his guys regrouped. There weren’t so many of them, really. Just four of them besides Tony. There was Geoff, Aaron, Danny, and Beth, who had a better arm than any of them. Of all of them, only Aaron came anywhere near him in size, and even then it was a close call.
</h3><h3>Jared hear them whispering, and then suddenly Aaron pushed past him to the end of the pew, followed quickly by Beth and then Danny, who tried to hit him on the neck on the way by. Jared reached out faster than a striking snake and grabbed.
</h3><h3>Suddenly Danny gasped and bit his lip to keep from crying out. He clutched his elbow.
</h3><h3>“Fuck,” Danny hissed. “That’s my pitching arm.”
</h3><h3>“And the next time you try to hit me with it, I’ll make sure you can’t use it for a week.” Jared yanked the still-whimpering Danny down by his good arm and looked him in the eyes. “Got that?”
</h3><h3>Danny’s eyes, suspiciously shiny, widened, as if he had just noticed for the first time, that Jared topped him by almost a foot. “You didn’t have to hurt me.”
</h3><h3>“Spoken like a true bully. You’re all fight until you realize your intended victim can beat the crap out of you.” Jared shoved him into Beth.
</h3><h3>Geoff eased on by, doing his best not to touch any part of Jared. “I don’t want any trouble, man.”
</h3><h3>“You got amnesia or somethin’?” Jared said in a folksy, down-home manner he knew made people think of pigs and dueling banjos. “You shoulda found something else to do during the fall semester, because now you’ve got trouble in spades, little buddy. You and me are gonna be best friends.”
</h3><h3>Jared looked up to find Tony staring at him. There wasn’t all that much room between him and Geoff, but he’d damned if would budge so much as an inch. “You. Sit.”
</h3><h3>“There’s not much room.”
</h3><h3>“You said this is your pew, Tony, so you sit yer ass right down. I have had enough garbage out of all of you.” Jared glanced down the row, sure he had their attention now. He held up his hands. “Any of you feel free to answer. See my hands? I can end you. I own a sizeable fraction of a backward county in a state you think you’re too good for. I’ve got pigs, so I know what to do with spare corpses.”
<h3></h3>
Copyright 2016 Christopher Koehler
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