Wolf Iron

Chapter 2 / Barlow Books

"Booked!"

Barlow's large hands upended the boy's binders and down to the floor they crashed with a slunk, followed by a chorus of prepubescent laughter.

It was a three step orchestra with which the maestro, Barlow Morris, had become intimately acquainted with since his first day at Warrington Secondary and he reckoned he could ride it all the way into Wallace Upper 6th form if he wanted. 

But of course by then, the books would be heavier he thought, whilst giving out high fives.

Barlow never gave a twopenny for learning, or for books. To him, they were a hot bother to read and he could never focus on exactly what it was that teachers wanted him to gain from reading them. Sure, you could read the books, but your outcome had to be the same as all the other students reading it. It was all just very bothersome for him.

And so in class, and just for fun, Barlow would mispronounce words like "Oedipus" and "peanuts" and appreciate the raucous response from his classmates. And naturally, it never occurred to him that people would think he was learning-disabled, because he reckoned if anything, he was boredom-disabled. 

His great Auntie Sandra was a nice old girl but she had thrown up her hands long ago and let Barlow do what he pleased. And to be fair, neither of them were responsible for his sudden expulsion from the Harris Boys Academy of Dulwich and so Barlow felt content. 

Making his way through the crowded hallways, he pitter-pattered frenetic hands against lockers and classroom doors and took his time getting to 6th Form Arithmetic because honestly, how much better could he do the 2nd time around? 

Barlow pulled his phone out of his pocket and immediately opened up the most popular social network used in his school, Reeve, and he thumbed to the "Trending Tab" for the group Warrington Secondary so fast he could have done it blindfolded. He was waiting for the upload of the booking video because he knew absolutely everything worthwhile was uploaded on Reeve. Whether the professors liked it or not. 

Damn. Nothing yet. The video had uploaded but no likes or mentions. Give it a tad, he thought. 

He closed the app and opened the music player and his favorite band, Banshee, was bookmarked. Like a seasoned vet, he pulled handily concealed earbuds from under his sweater and led them behind his shaggy blonde hair to his ears. He turned the volume up and escaped into his own little world. He let the upbeat drums guide him around the school, coasting past faces illuminated by their own little screens and the importance of what was happening in Reeve. And sometimes he even passed teachers who also had their phones out, perusing through whatever news the cycle had to offer that day.

Having finally made it to his locker, Barlow let the song finish, and eagerly breathed in the final notes. He opened his locker and took the earbuds out. Opening an orange prescription bottle, he sighed audibly and took his medication dry. It worked better that way anyway.

Elsewhere, a man from another time and another place struck the final axe blow to the old English Oak tree near Rodney Chang's flat. The blade, still stickly sweet with sap, emanated an otherworldly glow as the axeman walked right into Rodney Chang's lounge and waited.