The next day is a day like any other. I wake up, get dressed for school and jump on the bus. The Deadman's words again didn't affect me. They called all the older members into action, some doing small tasks with others performing grander missions. I being so young, don't have anything to do today. I take my regular seat on the back of the bus, where my group of friends instantly surrounds me. I sit there and think about what it means to have a friend. In this day and age, that word is tossed around freely between children of all ages. I sit with a kid named Tommy. He speaks first,
"There's going to be a game today between the wolves and the hawks. Personally, if I were on the court, I'd score a million points. I think Ima go. I got nothing better to do, and Louis will pay for all of us to come."
Louis chimes in,
"I don't see anything wrong with the squad going to a basketball game. Will there be women?"
Louis remains the richest in the group. He only goes to public schools because he wants to connect with his friends as we used to when we were younger. His family owns 1/3 of the whole city, and his father says he'll inherit everything, so we know he's set for life.
"Not like you could get any."
That remark came from Ronny. The oldest of the group. He's like the big brother of the group, and he's been a childhood friend of ours. He graduates before us, but we know we'll always hang out like we still do. This year is his last year in middle school, and he'll be a high schooler. Ronny reaches over and snatches my phone from me.
"Ayo, give that back, or we're gonna have a problem there, Jimbo," I say.
I chuckle, only to notice I'm the only one laughing. I look up, and Tommy gives me a rough look.
"What's up, man?"
"I've thought about it. We need a new name for our group. Something cool with lots of power and frightening energy."
Carl finally steps in.
"I think I should be the leader. I am the smartest in our group."
Carl does have the highest achievable grades the school can offer. Already he takes college-level courses and is seen as a super genius compared to some people. He participates in most extracurricular activities even though he never studies; he gets all A's on his grading. I reach over the seat fighting Ronny, trying to get my phone back but to no avail. He's much stronger and faster due to hitting puberty before us, but I won't let up. That's our dynamic. I look over and examine the seats to his right. Down the aisle comes two 8th grade females. The Queen of middle school is Valeria and her sidekick Melissa. They sit next to Ronny's seat, and I look at him. He's gawking at them, and I take this chance to swipe my phone back and return to my seat.
"Why not choose The Deadmans Army or something about him?" I ask.
"Come on, bro, you gotta get over that guy. Do you want to marry him, and don't get me wrong, I have nothing against it. I always thought Charles was going to be the gay one, though." Ronny says
Charles, the last member of our six-man group, is the quietest kid you'll ever meet. When we first met him, we all thought he was one of those weird kids who are mute. It took us a whole month to get a word out of him. After Ronny makes that cheap shot towards me, we look over at Charles, who is just vibing to the music. He doesn't even acknowledge us half the time, but he still listens.
"Enough with the cheap words Ronney and no, we aren't choosing that as a name I say call us the Sinister Six," Carl said.
He's most likely trying to look cooler in front of the females, but they pay him no mind. They both have begun giggling and talking amongst themselves, probably talking about some new music video from their favorite artist.
Louis talks next,
"The Million Dollar Crew."
"Nah, we aren't all rich like you; what about the Hard hitters United or something like that," Tommy added.
"I can get with that," Ronny said.
"Lame and boring what about the future 8."
We all look over to see who dared buts in our conversation. Ronny looks to his left to see Valeria has not only included herself in our convoy but also included herself in our group. We all sit there stunned, and Charles is the only one to speak.
"No women allowed."
"Why not, scared a couple of girls are going to take over your group. You all sound like some chickens."
She says, imitating a chicken's caw. She continues for a while, while we sit there, embarrassed with red faces. Her sidekick joins in, too, making fun of us and attracting the attention of the whole bus.
"A couple of girls could never join our group, especially not you two ugly girls!"
I say, standing up. This was a bad idea as the bus hits a speed bump, going a little faster than usual, and I'm sent flying into the skies. As I rise, I notice the look on my groups' faces. All stunned or surprised, I could go that high. I reach the ceiling of the bus and hit my head, and being sent back down at excellent speeds. I fake being unconscious as Tommy grabs me and starts reenacting a soldier in a war. He leans into me and says,
"You were a perfect soldier till the end of your time, sonny. Tell me, is there anything you want me to tell your family."
"Tell them to name us. The Crew," I say on a whim, and by the expressions I received, it wasn't such a bad name. Everyone's face switches from concern and starts looking like I had a good idea. Tommy being the person who sits next to me the most, has known that that occurrence isn't something abnormal. I've been hitting my head on the bus for years now. I'm surprised I don't have any internal damage or bleeding.
"Sounds like a good idea. I'll start making shirts," says Louis.
"Ima need an XL. I'm still growing, you know," "this coming from Ronny, the skinny guy," Carl says.
The rest of the bus has a good laugh at that.
"That name is unique. What made you think of that?
"I don't know, Carl; It's was on the tip of my tongue, so I said it," I said.
The bus finally stops, and we line up to get off. Some kids push and shove to get passed, but not my group of friends. We crack jokes and start saying our group name under our breaths. The air filled with children's laughter. It echoed with the sounds of a typical school day. Older adults seem to forget what it means to be a kid. Especially with the responsibility of everyday life, not to mention having kids. The kids add to your struggles, seemingly anchoring you down and rendering you unable to have that freedom that you did when they weren't there. As we stepped off the bus, a thought sprung into my head. What if I was never born? What if I never was conceived into this world? What would it be?
My friends seemed to notice my face changing and asked what was wrong. According to Tommy, my face went red, and my eyes blackened. He even told the nurse what happened, and she didn't believe him. I wonder what would've happened if people started to see us kids as we are—a mindless weak set of individuals who can't live in this world without help. My friends had to carry me to the infirmary. I woke up an hour later and was dazed and out of it. The nurse gave me an Ice pack for my head and called my parents. I lay there, unsure of what had happened. I felt the same feeling I felt last night, like my stomach was about to explode. The nurse continued helping other children, not paying me any mind. I could be dead in here, and she wouldn't know. My feet feels wobbly as I look at the news. The same old channels are back playing what happened to The Deadman wherever he was. It speaks,
"The critically acclaimed Deadman has now been held in prison for over 60 hours. We don't know where or what happened at the end of that broadcast. All we know is that a group calling themselves Devils Angels tried to break the Deadman free. Ultimately they failed, and we await his trial. All those involved in the attack were killed or arrested. None of them seemed to have any linking to any of his killings. We believe those involved were merely fans with too many rights of freedom. The democrats and Republic parties have both jumped in on this. With the leader of the Republic party saying, quote "menaces like these should be swept off the streets, they need to be wiped clean, and he needs to be made an example. End quote. With the democratic party standing beside them, they believe the people following him shouldn't roam freely. They also need to be executed."
The news anchor continues spouting nonsense about the Deadman and his dealings. I wish I were there reporting the truth and opening people up to his messages. He didn't intend things to get like this or get out of hand. Or maybe he did. I sit up. Perhaps that was his plan all along to get caught and form this group to exercise his will. He couldn't do it all alone, and he wanted us to help him. That could be his plan. I hope I can speak with him in person, ohh, the things I would ask him. The things I would feel, the things I could say to him. I could make a list, or well, I would. I struggle to reach over to my backpack and unzip the zipper. A slight hand motion as I open its casings and spill its contents onto the nurse bed. Pencils, books, a library book, pens, candy wrapper, two sticks of chewing gum, a binder, and a folder fall out. I grab a piece of loose sleeve paper and a pencil, then write away, logging my questions, my reasoning for everything onto this piece of paper. It starts off in a list format, first jotting down everything prior. After I erase and scribble as much thoughts it turns more into a letter of sorts it reads.
"To my great hero, the one the only Deadman. I've followed you for a year now, and with this anniversary of ours coming up, I wish to give you the lasting effects of my loyalty. I want you to understand. I've been reading your teachings, waiting on edge for you to make a new killing. I can't express enough how I know your message, and I understand entirely what it is. I wish to make this world a better place alongside you, and I am willing to give my life for your happiness. I will be a sacrificial lamb if you so choose to. Grant, my only wish, and provide me with pleasure by meeting me in person."
Sincerely yours.
I left that last part if I never got the chance to give him this letter. I'll send it to him or have someone in the group chat send it for me, which sparks my interest; my phone hasn't gone off yet. The group has been oddly quiet after such a big event yesterday. I open out our greeting app and scroll through the groups. The last message sent was from yesterday. They still haven't allowed anyone to speak since then. Of course, we all knew our missions beforehand, but surely they would've sent reassurance to us for confirmation. I never knew the plan, and anyone like me wouldn't know either. It was only for members who lasted a certain amount of time. It depended on a time limit no one knew. They could've hit you up a minute after you joined. I got my invitation only three months in but again was left out due to being so young. Some other members older than me, who lasted way longer than me, still don't even know what that final message meant.
We all wait for some spectacular event to aspire to on this day. Yet here I am in the infirmary, weak in the mind and body, waiting for some newer and better news coverage. It did mention the attack about some special force, but it was nothing I ever heard of. It could be what he meant, but that happened yesterday. I shrug my shoulders fold the paper in halves and put it in my pocket. I call for the nurse, and she releases me into the outside world. My stomach still hurts, but I can deal with it for today. Hopefully, it'll be over before I even know it. I have a lot to consider today, especially with what's been happening with these strange feelings. I could ignore them, but that'll never happen. I enter the classroom late, and my friends greet me. They rub elbows like some oddballs, and we chat up a storm. Who knew today would be my final days with them.