Jon's Scar

Chapter 1: The Enigma

Chapter 1: The Enigma.

        Dave resented his parents. He knew he was being unfair. What other choices did they have? After losing his manufacturing job at the glass plant in Atlanta, his Dad was on unemployment for 8 months before he found this new job at an aluminum casting facility in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Dave knew they had been running low on money, the fact that beans had cropped up as dinner instead of meat, made it obvious. He didn't like beans, but Mom had a way to make it at least palatable. He would have eaten beans for the rest of his life, if he just could stay in Atlanta, with his friends, and, of course, Molly.

         Now, he was faced meeting his new life, without any friends, in a strange place, where the August air was already crisp, not as hot and humid as he was accustomed to. Worst of all, he was standing in front of the door of the Math class. He hated Math. On the other side of the door, he contemplated, was most likely a very stern Math teacher that is going to expose his weaknesses. To make things worse, he is late, as the principal found another form for him to fill in. He cussed below his breath as he knocked and slowly pushed the door open.

         Jon was the only one sitting at his desk, at the back of the class. There was a seat open next to him. In fact, it was the only seat left in the class. As usual, Jon was not paying attention to what was happening in the class. He has given up on participating in the Math class. In fact, he was working on his English essay. Jon hated languages, especially English. He had the dictionary and some reference books, all spread open across the desk, taking up every open inch of the desk. As usual, he was struggling with the essay and his face was contorted with concentration, while his left hand was pulling and twirling a strand of his hair. Mr Pickard was rambling on in front about Algebra and paid Jon no attention.

         That was when there was a furtive knock on the door, and a boy slowly appeared, as if reluctant to enter the variables behind the door. Anton Pickard stopped, and looked at Dave: “Ah, Mister Gibson, I presume?” Anton called out: “I guess you are well formed up by now?” and he chuckled. Before him was indeed a young man of exceptional form. He had the built of an athlete, about 6 feet, 2 inches tall, with striking blond hair in a military cut and light green eyes. As Dave approached Mr Pickard, he saw that Dave also had striking features, a strong, straight nose, with cheekbones that accentuated the tall face and full lips that parted to say: “Yes, Sir, I am Dave Gibson, and the forms are completed.”

 “Well, why are you waiting? Take a seat there with Jonathan.” Prickard said as he pointed in Jon's direction.

         Jon was interrupted when the drone of Pickard's voice had stopped upon Dave's entry. He looked up and had seen Dave enter the door. Even though Jon had no love lost for the athletic types, and it was obvious Dave was one, the discomfort and vulnerability on Dave's face stirred empathy in Jon. It was only a year ago that he, Jon was in a similar boat. Jon shuddered and cold spell fell upon him. “Someone walking on my grave” his Mom used to explain that feeling. Jon willed himself not to think of that. He went back to his writing and books, until he heard his name. “Shucks” he thought, thinking of the lost real estate on his desk.

         Jon didn't look up. He just started to gather his books together clumsily into a pile on his side of the desk. Then he proceeded to work on his English. Dave sat down next to him, and looked over at the scruffy little kid sitting next to him. The black curly hair flowed over his face, obviously they have not seen a comb in years. In profile, Jon had a nose similar to Dave's as well as prominent cheekbones, but, Jon had dimples in his cheeks and what looks like a dimple or crease in his chin. A very strong face for a young unkempt kid, Dave thought. Jon was small, Dave guessed him about 5 foot 6 inches. He was skinny, but, had some clear definition to his arms and body, like he was a miniature version of Dave but more lean. “No competition here,” Dave thought, “he is too small.”