Virgil sat staring at the clock that was stuck on 3:40, the second hand visibly catching on the minute hand bringing the whole system to a halt. Virgil was currently in an after school detention and not for the first time this week and it was only Wednesday. Virgil had been looking into the face of the clock for what felt like hours but couldn’t have been much more than ten minutes as he had seen the clock stop working, its face staring back at him as was his own in the reflection of the thin plastic. Virgil was a sixteen year old boy although you couldn’t tell that by looking at him he was smaller than most of his class mates both male and female and of a much narrower build then some of the students in the years below him, his court appointed therapist had told him this wasn’t something out of the ordinary for a boy in his circumstances nor were the myriad of scars that covered his body. Virgil’s most noticeable features were his hair and his eyes both were so pale that they bordered on being white and appeared to be getting paler as the years went on, at least to Virgil as it’s not like anyone else would notice. Virgil sat alone in the detention room as the instructor who was supposed to be watching him, a man by the name Mr Wont had left in order to make himself something to eat announcing that the staff area had recently gotten a new panini machine that he needed to try, as for all the other students who were also stuck after school they were in the main detention hall Virgil had been there yesterday and would be back there tomorrow as the schools policy in regards to students who got detention for fighting was to have they rotate who would be in the main hall for the duration of the punishment.
Virgil was supposed to be writing out the school code of conduct as one of the provisos to leaving the detention was to have the whole thing written out and for at least an hour to have passed. Virgil had finished the writing last night as he knew he had another two weeks of sessions normally it took him about 15 minutes to write the rules as detentions where so regular to him he had the thing memorised but last night due to the extra disciplinary punishment his foster parents gave him each version took at least 20 minutes and he had to scrap some midway through as they had gotten some blood on them causing a task that should have taken no more than two and a half hours taking a little over four. Virgil had spent the time in detention drawing something he was forbidden from doing at home for some reason although he didn’t know why. Virgil was sketching out a woman who had been appearing in his dreams for weeks her raven black hair appearing to swallow all the light in every different setting she appeared in and if Virgil was honest she frightened him but it was her eyes that terrified him the most, there was no white anywhere in them just a black that appeared to swallow the light so completely it was like the space her eyes occupied had been removed from existence leaving behind an absolute nothing. Virgil was terrified even now drawing the woman but something in him compelled him to continue to draw her the fresh graphite gliding across the page as he detailed every last facet of her face from the way her hooked nose curved slightly to the right as though it had been broken and not healed correctly to her seventy-three individual freckles and the way her left ear lobe was three millimetres longer than her right. Virgil had every detail memorised somehow.
Virgil was roused from drawing as the door to the room swung open as Mr Wont returned the fluorescent lights from the hallway reflecting off his recently polished bald head sending a ray of light directly in Virgil’s face. When Wont closed the door and Virgil could see again he saw the man carried two plates with him a half eaten panini on one a full on on the other, steam was billowing off of the fresh one, they must have been good Virgil thought as he noted the crumbs clinging to Mr Wonts grey moustache and covering his paisley sweater. “Hungry boy” Mr Wont called in that gruff voice of his developed from over half a century of teaching and an even longer time spent chain smoking. Virgil nodded his, if he was honest he couldn’t remember the last time he had had an actual meal. “Well boy” Wont continued “in trying out the new machine I accidentally made a second meal, my wife use to always say my eyes were bigger than my stomach which would be quite the feat, now boy I’ll gladly give you this smoked ham and cheddar cheese panini on one condition, you tell me who started the fight between you and Mr Cameron because while everyone on the faculty has their opinions whoever started the fight conveniently did it in a blind spot on the schools camera systems” Mr Wont let his statement hang in the air implying not very subtly that he and by extension most of the staff believed that Virgil had started the fight.
“Yes sir, I started the fight sir. Myself and Mr Cameron were in Ms Sprite’s English lesson we were reading To Kill a Mockingbird, I don’t remember what part of the book Ms Sprite was reading but it contained the n-word being said and I over heard Mr Cameron turning to Doug Holland and saying that the only good n- is a dead one but he actual said the word, sir”
“I see, I see” Mr wont said, stroking his many chins as he walked towards Virgil, setting the plate down on Virgil's desk. “And you took umbrage to his use of the word to the extent that you restored to violence?”
“No sir while yes I took offence to the use of the word as you are aware some of my sisters are black or mixed race the reason I choose to use violence to solve the problem was because when he said what he said I saw Tanya Barret flinch at it.” Virgil kept his eyes firmly locked on his teacher, ignoring the food mere inches away from him although he could feel his stomach trying to reach out for it.
“I’ll talk to Principal Costa about commuting the rest of your detention telling him you had noble if misguided intentions, does Mr Cameron know you struck him on Ms Barret's behalf?”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“No sir I walked into him deliberately when he was exiting the second floor boys bathrooms the camera directed to look towards its door broke last term and hadn’t been replaced yet, I used that as the excuse to hit him”
“Good plan Virgil I wouldn’t want anymore hardship to befall the Barret family at the hands of Mr Cameron or Mr Holland’s families, how Peter Holland walked free last summer I’ll never know, personally I think they should have given him the chair for what he did to the Barret family” Mr Wont was referring to a court case last summer in with the father of Doug Holland was tried and ultimately allowed to walk free with just a fine for the accidental murder of Tanya Barret’s father with his car claiming that the medication he was on caused him to go unconscious while driving his car resulting in him hitting Mr Barret and somehow dragging him under the car for almost three miles. Virgil's foster parents had defended the decision to allow Peter Holland to be a free man, something that resulted in himself and some of his white brothers receiving pretty rough beatings for voicing their opposition to on behalf of their nonwhite siblings. Mr Wont turned to leave the room again, pausing as he got to the door, his hand resting on the door handle before turning back to Virgil.
“Mr Frost, do you have a preferred soft drink?”
“No sir, we aren't allowed soft drinks at home” Virgil said, his eyes drifting towards the window and away from his teacher.
“Well you aren't at home now my boy, it’s just because I just realised that the deliciousness of that food distracted me and I forgot to get myself a drink so I need to leave again but I’ll only be a few moments this time still you should start eating paninis taste much better when they are still hot” and with that Mr Wont turned and left the room without another word.
Virgil picked up the sandwich, the heat stung his fingers which wasn’t a surprise to him over a decade of cold soup and what amount to army rations had left him extremely sensitive to heat of any kind. Virgil tentatively bite into his meal and even just that small bite nearly overwhelmed him from the heat to the sheer flavour was nearly too much for him to handle but as Mr Wont had said it was extremely good definitely the best thing Virgil had eaten since his parents death when he was only five years old. Virgil took bite after bite, sometimes he chewed his food with a fury making sure to chew until there was little to no flavour left before swallowing and other he’d swallow just after the initial bite as if it would be taken off him at any moment. Virgil’s euphoric enjoyment of his meal turned slightly sour when his eyes landed on the plate, sat resting on his teacher's desk. It had visibly gone cold, the melted cheese congealing back into a solid mass and a pang of guilt hit him like a truck. Virgil was debating placing his own half eaten meal on his teachers desk when an alarm sounded in the hallway and then the classroom less than a second later the big red bell hanging above the whiteboard was shaking as it rang out signalling that somewhere in the school there was a fire.
Virgil tore open the door starting to head right to the fire exit stairs and out to the school courtyard when he paused, Mr Wont had probably gone to the staff room on the other end of the floor and would be heading out the exit on that side of the building would he be in trouble if he went to the courtyard without Mr Wont or worse still would Mr Wont be in trouble in that case. Virgil turned around and began sprinting as hard as he could to catch up to the teacher who had just shown him kindness. As he ran Virgil could feel himself getting hotter and hotter. As he rounded the corner to the hall where the teachers lounge was located he saw Mr Wont standing in the hallway by the lounge door, a fire extinguisher in hand trying to beat back the flames that were leaping out at him.
“Mr Wont is there any--” Virgil began but he was cut off as the flames came out the door striking Mr Wont in the face, a blood cruddling scream coming from his melting face as the hallway filled with the smell of ash and burnt flesh the fire extinguisher fell from his hands with a clang of the linoleum floor. Flames engulfed Mr Wont in an instant. Virgil started towards his teacher hoping beyond reason that he might be able to save him. Both their bodies were on fire Mr Wonts literally but for Virgil every nerve in his body when thrumming from the heat sending waves of pain coursing throughout him but he pressed on he was use to pain use to forcing himself to move through it if he could just pull Mr Wont free everything would be okay he would carry him to safety. Virgil extended his hand just as Mr Wont collapsed to the ground and was lost to the flames and as though they were sentient they started straight for Virgil. He tried to move but his legs didn't want to move the flames coming closer and closer to him and all he could do was watch as death drew near. At least he’d be reunited with his parents soon, he thought. The irony of the fact that they drown and he would be incinerated was not lost on him. As the flames came closer, lapping against the walls and turning them black the thrumming of his nerves got harder and faster the closer the blaze got. The crackling of the fire louder in his ears than the still ringing bell. It was nearly upon him now and all he could do was close his eyes and embrace it. A jet of flame licked his hand and it felt like the pain coursing throughout his body had all become located in his palm. The sensation stung as if every wasp, scorpion, bee, stinging nettle and all the knives in the world stabbed him at once. And then it stopped. A cold chill took hold of him and the world went quiet. Too quiet. The sound of fire was gone. The ringing of the bell gone. It was like the world was frozen. And more importantly Virgil wasn't dead yet. He slowly opened his eyes afraid that he was actually just in that moment before death where life flashes before your eyes. He wasn’t. He was however shocked by what he saw. The fire was dying out rather quickly and more puzzlingly it was encased in ice, pale blue ice that Virgil could feel expanding crushing the fire beneath its weight. Mr Wont’s ashes lay in a pile. And Virgil's body began to thrum but not with pain this time but with power.
