Legend Of Marauder: The Dawn Of Supremes

10. Condolences

‘Thanks.’ He began walking away again.

‘Your loss is great!’ She shouted after him as he entered the school building. ‘You’ve lost the source of your foolishness!’ she added.

He did not stop to listen or react to her words. A part of him knew that something like this was bound to happen because even despite how much he wanted to believe that Samantha might possibly have even an atom of sympathy, she would always be Samantha.

When Brendan walked into class, Miss Putin, the new Russian teacher, was scribbling something on the board.

‘Brendan, why you late?’ she asked in her usual bored voice. She always wore floral dresses and her hair was always in a ponytail. On her feet were white stilettos. She was tall, slim and beautiful. Very beautiful. Still living the youth of her early twenties. The omission of words in her speech and breaking of the English language were her two fields of expertise.

Brendan was always bewildered at how she could be this young and beautiful but yet single. ‘I was burying my father, Miss Putin.’

Curious whispers spread through the classroom.

‘Ho, ho!’ This bellow of mockery came from Thomas.

‘Is there some funny about burying one’s father, Thomas?’ she asked him, her gaze terrifying as her sudden and unpredictable character.

‘No, ma `am,’ he replied in a humble tone.

‘Good, so shut up…And take off that ridiculous bandana!’

Thomas just grinned but did not take it off.

Brendan looked across the room. Natasha Andrews was talking with a friend…probably gossiping.

‘What happen?’ She had stopped writing on the blackboard.

‘Unnecessary use of drugs.’

‘You mean drug overdose?’ Her expression showed concern.

‘Something like that.’ He was starting to get uncomfortable.

‘I’m so sorry, Brendan, may his soul rest in peace. So who going to look after you, my child?’

‘Me.’ He was not even sure of what he was saying.

‘You?’ Her mouth was now partly open in surprise. ‘Where will you get money?’

‘I’ll manage. I can get a part-time job.’

‘If you need any help, Brendan, know that I always here for you.’

‘Thank you, Miss Putin.’ He walked over to his desk where Thomas and Angus were waiting for him.

‘Hey, Eriksson,’ Thomas whispered into his ear. ‘Good riddance to the old goat. You must have been happy about his death. This town doesn’t need fossils like him.’

Brendan felt hatred rise inside him. He looked at Angus, expecting him to add to this statement. But Angus was awful quiet. The beating Thomas had given him the previous day must have been embarrassing for him.

‘And, oh…’ he picked up from where he left, ‘Putin’s my kill.’

“Yeah, right,” Brendan thought. How could anyone as dirty as he was ever have a chance with a woman like Miss Putin?

At recess, Brendan and Simon sat together in the cafeteria at their usual table. Apart from Miss Putin, it seemed Simon was the only one who felt sorry for him. As they chatted, Natasha Andrews, Susan Raymond and Patricia Okerlund joined them.

Natasha was roughly as tall as Susan. She had brown eyes and her hair was in a pigtail. She was a school prefect, which made Brendan’s intolerance towards her worse because of her gossiping hobby with Susan.

Patricia on the other hand was a very quiet African GEMian girl. Her hair was in braids and she wore spectacles. Her face was intelligent looking and she was tall and thin. Her teeth were laced with braces which made smiling something too embarrassing for her. Of these three girls only one was not a prefect; Susan.

‘I’m so sorry about your dad, Brendan,’ Susan began.

‘Me too,’ Natasha and Patricia spoke in unison.

Brendan noticed that each time Patricia looked at him she would immediately turn her gaze to the floor.

‘I hear he was a really nice guy, apart from his father being a magician scientist.’ Susan shook her head sorrowfully. ‘Tell me the whole story.’ Her expression of sorrow had suddenly disappeared.

‘Simon says it’s time for you to go,’ Simon snapped at her.

‘Forgive me. What I was trying to say is…’

‘Just leave! All of you!’ he snapped again.

‘Okay, okay,’ she gave up her prying. ‘I’m just trying to express sympathy here,’ she defended herself. ‘It’s not like I gave him the drugs.’