Lives Changed

LIVES CHANGED

What started as an accident, ends up being a nationwide strike as Patrick and Malcolm fight to change school policies on bullying and harassment. Behind everything is a plot to steal new technology that could render the armed forces virtually invisible to their enemy. With Malcolm's mother part of the conspiracy, it is hard for Malcolm to find peace.

Dirty cops, a senator, and secret service agents are all out to get something that isn't theirs.

As the strike comes to an end Malcolm almost loses his life saving the President, ends up temporarily paralyzed, but learns to fight on, not letting those out to harm him, win.

Can Malcolm achieve his aims against the odds?

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

FABER’S FALL

‘No I just need to think, and the phone looks closer,’ Erik said with a smile he didn’t feel. After ordering a steak and egg combo, a glass of milk and coffee, he decided to try phoning home.

Maybe his mom was home and she could help. Using the last credit on his phone card, Erik dialed.

We are sorry, but the number you have called is not in service, please check the number or call the operator for assistance, the recorded message intoned.

Hanging up Erik stared at the phone for a few seconds, trying not to show that he was worried…

He did not know his whole family had been murdered!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Michael was born fifty-six years ago and raised for twelve of those years on the southwest corner of Vancouver Island. His first writing was in grade eight when he wrote a piece of poetry titled War is not a thing of love for an English assignment. Over the years he has written many pieces of poetry and short stories that have been lost.

Today Michael resides in Alberta and continues his writing of poetry and short stories. His plans are not to become rich and famous but just to get his stories out to readers.

Acknowledgement

I thank all those who encouraged me to keep writing; it is through you that I have finished this book, including Dr. Callahan, youth psychologist, for his help in dealing with the anger Malcolm felt. To my late friend and collaborator Miguel Sanchez for allowing me to use some of his characters.

I acknowledge those in the LEA who dedicate their lives so we can enjoy our freedom.

LIVES

CHANGED

Book One

of a SERIES

by

MICHAEL KING

Copyright © 2017 Michael King

Published by

CUSTOM BOOK PUBLICATIONS

CLASSIC imprint

Asia’s Global Print & Digital Publisher

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

Fifteen years ago a family grew by one. The birth of Patrick was long expected, but the parents knew that now that there were six of them things would be hard, for they lived in the rough part of town, a place filled with hatred. Many young teens were out on the streets selling drugs or running in gangs. Every night there were fights; and people getting shot, but there was no chance for baby Patrick or his family to move away.

Patrick’s father worked as a janitor for one of the major companies in the city, and was barely making enough to feed and house his family, but he never gave up. Patrick was five when his oldest brother was shot and killed in a drive-by shooting. At five years of age Patrick couldn’t fully understand what had happened. All he knew was that his older brother had gone away.

School started for Patrick when he was six and he did well in his classes, but he didn’t put his heart into it. He felt that his life was on a dead end road and that there was no help for him or his family.

Now at the age of fifteen sucked, his clothes were worn out, his lunches when he had one them, consisted of a sandwich. What he didn’t know was that this was the year his life was about to change for the better. He had just finished putting his books in his locker and was heading back to his homeroom when he was knocked onto his butt. ‘Why don’t you watch were your walking girl?’ Patrick snapped, more surprised than hurt.

‘Sorry kid, didn’t see you, I’m kinda lost, and new here, as for being a girl well you got that wrong,’ the boy answered, helping Patrick stand up.

‘Sorry dude, but what are you looking for?’ Patrick asked

‘My locker, its number is five ten,’ the boy replied.

‘Come on, it’s this way.’

‘Thanks, I hope this doesn’t make you late for class?’

‘Doesn’t matter, they suck anyways.’

‘No way dude. School is awesome.’

‘For you maybe, but what good is it when you already know what you’re going to be doing when you’re done?’

‘It’s a chance to change things.’

‘Yeah right; well here this is yours, and good luck.’

‘Thanks, hope to see you around.’

‘Doubt it.’

‘Never know.’

Patrick left the new kid to stuff his things away and headed off to class. He had just sat down when the teacher walked in. ‘Okay class get your books out, today we are going to read a poem that was written by a fifteen-year-old, and after you have read it I want you to write an essay on it,’ the teacher spoke.

‘Why do we have to read some dumb poem?’ Patrick asked.

‘Well young man… Yes, who are you?’ the teacher asked.

‘Sorry ma’am, I’m Malcolm Daniels and I kinda got lost looking for your class,’ Malcolm answered.

‘Well, have a seat beside Patrick. Now Patrick, we have to read it because the boy that wrote it, died a week after he had it published, the teacher snapped.

‘Oh, cool,’ Malcolm smiled.

‘Malcolm, do you have a copy of the poem we are talking about?’ the teacher asked.

‘Which poem?’ Malcolm said.

‘The Walk, it was written by a Michael Andresen.’

‘Yes ma’am I do, and ma’am, the boy didn’t die, he went into hiding because everyone thought he was crazy, and so they bullied him,’ Malcolm stated.

‘Oh, how is it that you know so much about the boy that wrote it?’ the teacher asked.

‘Easy, I know the writer, and I have read all his poems, and I can tell you that he wasn’t crazy, he just had a dark side to him sometimes, sort of like Rimbaud.’

‘Well since you know so much about it why don’t you tell us how you felt when you first read it?’

‘Ma’am, I can’t do that.’

‘And why not?’

‘Because, how I felt is personal and very private, but I can tell you this, the poem deals with loneliness and true love. The rest you will have to figure out yourself.’

‘Well then, I want you to read another poem, and then do the same essay that the rest of the class has to do.’

‘Sure, I can do that.’

‘Dude, you got to be nuts talking to her like that, I heard she can be a real bitch at times,’ Patrick whispered.

‘There is nothing she can do that will bother me,’ Malcolm whispered back.

‘Yeah right, so what poem you going to read?’

‘I think I will do the one called A Rose’s Kiss.’

The class was silent as the students started to read, then write their essays. Just before class ended Patrick managed to hand his essay in. For weeks he didn’t hear anything on what mark the teacher had given him. During this time Patrick had started to build a friendship with Malcolm. The two were always seen during school hours sitting talking and laughing.

It was the last Friday of October, and three weeks after the essays had been turned in. Patrick’s English class had just sat for their lesson, when the teacher stood. ‘Afternoon students, I have gone over your essays for the poem that I asked you to do, and I must say, that some of you are very astute, and have grasped the meaning behind it, however one student, seems to have gone one step further, by writing what was going on in the writers mind at the time. So please sit up and listen,’ the teacher said.

‘There are many things one can take from this poem, but too many people think, that one must try to understand what the meaning behind some people’s words or writings are, I however don’t think we can do that. The Walk was written about a love found, lost and found again. All so simple, a true love will always come back. It is like a prayer or a dream if you want, and if you believe in both then they will happen.

The writer believed in true love and he found it,’ the teacher said as she finished reading the essay.

‘No he didn’t. He was ridiculed and laughed at, he wrote that poem hoping that his true love would read it and come back,’ Malcolm said.

‘Young man, I do not tolerate outbursts in my class,’ the teacher snapped, glaring at Malcolm.

‘Then don’t try to think you know what went on, you didn’t know him, I did, he was a broken boy, and he had only me to help him. As for that paper, you’re right the person got it perfectly in saying that if you pray and dream and believe in those things, then they will come true. I won’t sit here and listen to you try to show this class that you know what the writer was thinking.’

Patrick, who was sitting beside Malcolm, was shocked at the outburst, but inside he was happy, because now he wasn’t the only one on the teacher’s bad side.

When the class ended, Patrick saw that he had gotten a B plus on his essay. Leaving class he headed to his locker. ‘I hear you’re starting to get smart, I think you better learn your place in the food chain, and you are at the bottom with the other trash,’ a boy from one of the higher grades taunted.

This boy, and two of his friends had being calling Patrick and a few other kids in school names, picking on them and pushing them around whenever they could and they did it without ever getting caught.

‘I think your wrong, the only trash I see here are you three, so why not go jump in the bins where you belong,’ Patrick spoke with fear in his voice, but he wasn’t about to back down to these three.

‘Oh, so you’re tough also, I guess you think you can beat us,’ the first boy spoke again.

‘I have no idea what you think, in fact I don’t know if you think at all,’ Patrick laughed.

‘That’s it, you’re so dead.’

‘Patrick, you coming?’ Malcolm called.

‘Yeah,’ Patrick called out.

‘You’re not going anywhere, bitch.’

‘Sorry dude I got to go, see you around, unless you end up in the dump with the rest of your family.’

Laughing, Patrick slipped by the three before they could say anything. Outside Patrick stopped. ‘Thanks, I thought I was dead there for a minute,’ Patrick whispered.

‘Nah, there just bullies, they think that because no one stands up to them they have it easy,’ Malcolm replied.

‘Maybe so, but man I was shaking.’

‘Look if you want I will watch your back, see that they don’t do anything to you?’

‘Why, you heard what they called me?’

‘Yeah I heard, but I know differently.’

‘But I am trash; hell I live on the wrong side of the tracks, where it’s drugs, fights and killings all the time.’

‘So you believe what everyone says?’

‘Yeah, got to, no one cares what happens to people over there.’

‘You’re wrong, I bet.’

‘Why don’t you come over and see for yourself sometime?’

‘Okay, how about this weekend.’

‘You mean you’ll come to my side of town?’ Patrick said, surprised.

‘Sure.’

‘Okay, be here at ten Sunday morning and we’ll go together.’

‘Deal.’

Patrick walked home, not believing that Malcolm would show up. In his room he did his homework and then had dinner.

‘Mom, dad, I have to meet a friend at school Sunday morning, then I would like to bring him here to meet you both, would that be okay?’ Patrick asked.

‘Well I don’t know; what if you get hurt?’ His mom spoke.

‘I won’t, Malcolm said he wanted to come see this part of town,’ Patrick replied.

‘Why would he want to do that?’ his dad asked.

‘He doesn’t believe we’re trash like everyone says, and I want to show him that he’s wrong,’ Patrick replied.

‘Son, I know we don’t have lots, but the one thing we are not is trash, no matter what others say,’ his dad snapped.

‘Yeah right, I mean look at us, the house is falling apart, dad, I know you’re trying your best, and I love you, but please can you at least meet my friend?’

‘Son, I would be glad to meet him. Just stop thinking your trash, because you’re not.’

‘Okay and thanks dad; you’re the greatest.’

‘Now off you go Patrick, you can watch TV for a while with your brother and sister, then its off to bed.’

‘Sweet.’

Hugging his parents Patrick joined his brother and sister in the front room watching TV.

‘Well dear, that is something new,’ Patrick’s mom spoke from the table.

‘It sure is, I never thought that Patrick would have a friend that cared enough,’ his dad replied.

‘Well let’s just wait till we meet this Malcolm boy, but from what I can see, it makes Patrick happy.’

‘That it does.’

For Patrick, the next two nights seemed to last forever, but at eight Sunday morning he was up, dressed and out the door heading back to the school. He had just gotten there when looking up, he saw Malcolm sitting on the steps. Malcolm was wearing an old t-shirt, and worn jeans. His baseball cap was covering his eyes, and his hair was running down his back in a fantail. ‘I didn’t think you’d show up,’ Patrick said as he stopped at the base of the stairs.

‘I told you it was a deal, now you had breakfast?’ Malcolm answered with a smile on his face.

‘Not yet.’

‘Okay, then let’s go chow down, then head over to your place.’

‘You’re still coming over?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So where we gonna eat?’

‘Oh I was thinking of eating at Michael’s place, they serve great waffles.’

‘I’ve never heard of the place.’

‘Then you’re in for a treat.’

Michaels was packed, except for one table in the back corner close to the window. The waitress met the two boys at the front. ‘Hi boys; you must be Patrick? And morning to you Malcolm, the waitress said.

‘I am, why?’ Patrick asked.

‘Well come this way, your table is waiting for you, I understand you like fresh apple juice?’ she asked.

‘Yes ma’am, but how did you know?’

‘Oh a little birdie told me. Now have a seat, do you want two or three waffles?’ Maggie asked.

‘Can I have two please?’ Patrick answered.

‘Sure, and if that isn’t enough then you can have more.’

‘Sweet and thanks,’ Patrick said with a grin.

‘You are welcome. Now enjoy your meals, Malcolm your usual?’

‘Yes Maggie, oh and you better make it two glasses of apple juice for Patrick here,’ Malcolm said with a laugh.

‘Right away,’ Maggie laughed.

When Maggie had gone Patrick looked a Malcolm, a small smile on his face. ‘Dude, how does she know so much about you?’ Patrick asked.

‘Cause I come here all the time for breakfast before I head to school,’ Malcolm answered.

‘Oh, so I guess that you got lots of money.’

‘Does it really matter? All I wanted was a friend.’

‘Why do you want to be friends with a loser like me?’

‘You’re not a loser, besides, you were the only one that knew what I was thinking when I wrote that poem.’

‘Huh, wait, I thought you said your friend wrote them.’

‘What could I say? I didn’t want everyone to know that I was famous.’

‘Oh wow, but you could have told the teacher some other story.’

‘Not really, you see most of what I said was true, but it was my uncle, and he did die a broken man. The only person that really loved him was me; I mean even his own brother gave up on him. Grandpa thinks the world is better off without him.’

‘Wow, so tell me where did you get your writing from?’

‘Don’t know, I been writing since I can remember.’

‘I wish… well forget it.’

‘What, tell me, I promise I won’t laugh?’

‘Well, do you think you could kinda, like let me read them?’

‘I have to think about that, now eat up and let’s get going. We have a day to spend learning things about your life.’ Patrick ate his waffles and had three glasses of juice, then washed up before meeting Malcolm at the door. Walking out the door together, Patrick led Malcolm over to his side of the town. Street after street Patrick showed Malcolm around… the dirty parks, the broken cars. ‘This place needs a bulldozer to run through it,’ Malcolm thought. Going to Patrick’s place Malcolm was shocked at the way the place looked, the house on the outside was run down, some of the siding had fallen off and the roof needed to be replaced, but he said nothing.

Having met his brother and sister at school, Malcolm stopped and said hi to them before meeting Patrick’s parents. Malcolm was happy to find that they were almost like his, except for Patrick’s mom, she was different; his mother showed loved and cared for her children where Malcolm’s mother was a snob, anyone who didn’t have money to her was nothing but dirt and that pissed Malcolm off big time.

At seven that night, Patrick walked Malcolm back to the other side of the tracks before dark then headed home. That night as Patrick sat and stared out the window of his bedroom, He was thinking of Malcolm, and trying to figure out why he wanted to spend the day over here, there was nothing for him. Still thinking about the day, Patrick’s thoughts were interrupted by his mother calling him. ‘Patrick, phone call for you.’ his mom hollered.

‘Coming mom.’ Running down the stairs he grabbed the phone.

‘Yeah, this is Patrick.’

‘Dude I forgot something.’

‘What?’

‘Well I was wondering if you wanted to meet for breakfast.’

*****

Chapter 2

‘Sure; where?’ Patrick asked.

‘Same place we ate this morning, don’t worry, we will have the same table,’ Malcolm answered laughing at the joy he could hear in Patricks’ voice.

‘Okay what time?’ Patrick asked.

‘Seven thirty, don’t be late.’

‘I won’t and thanks.’

‘No problem, oh, I will have something for you also.’

‘What?’

‘You’ll see.’

‘Tell me.’

‘Nope, have a good sleep, Patrick.’

‘You too dude, and thanks for a great day.’

‘No problem, now go to bed or you won’t make it in time.’

‘Yeah right, I bet I’m there before you.’

‘You’re on, a week of homework done by the loser.’

‘Sweet, I am going to love this.’

‘See you in the morning.’

‘Night Malcolm.’

Patrick hung up and hugged his parents good night then headed off to bed, setting his alarm for six. His sleep was quiet, all he could dream of, was Malcolm and him being friends, hanging together, and both laughing and just being crazy.

Six thirty the next morning Patrick was sitting at their table waiting for Malcolm to show up. ‘You gonna be doing lots of homework dude, I beat you here,’ Patrick laughed when Malcolm walked in.

‘That you did, how long have you been sitting here?’ Malcolm asked, a crooked smile on his face, his eyes showing some sleep remained.

‘Half hour. Now what do you have for me?’

‘This, but take it to the bathroom first.’

‘Okay, but this better not be a nasty.’

‘Never crossed my mind.’

‘Yeah sure.’

‘Trust me, now go while I order us breakfast.’

‘Okay, I want your usual if I can?’

‘Sure two usual’s coming up, now get going or we’ll be late.’

Taking the bag, Patrick stood and walked into the bathroom, once inside Patrick opened the bag and saw that Malcolm had brought him a complete set of clothes; taking them out of the bag he saw that the jeans were brand new, along with the t-shirt, socks, undershorts and shirt. Quickly changing he looked at himself and smiled, the clothes fitted perfect. Walking back Malcolm had to smile, Patrick looked awesome. ‘I thought I had gotten them right, but they all fit perfect.’

‘I can’t accept these.’

‘You can and will, they sure won’t fit me, and don’t worry what others will say, now eat and let’s get to class.’

‘Okay, but my parent’s will have a fit when they see me in these.’

‘No they won’t.’

‘Uh huh.’

After breakfast, the two boys made their way over to the school. Both boys were laughing and joking around so they did not see the two seniors that had been giving Patrick a hard time, pull up.

Inside the school, the hallway was packed and noisy, the first bell had just gone, and Patrick was still at his locker when the two seniors showed up. Pushing Patrick against his locker, the leader of the seniors group started mouthing off. ‘Well if it ain’t the loser, where you steal them clothes, trash?’ the senior snarled.

‘I didn’t steal them and I am not a loser like some others around me here,’ Patrick snapped back.

‘Are you calling me a loser?’ The bullied snarled louder, drawing the attention of others students.

‘No, he isn’t, but I am, now back off and leave him alone,’ Malcolm snapped.

‘Well, well, looks like he has a boyfriend who is sticking up for him,’ the first bully laughed.

‘You mean sticking it up him,’ laughed one of the other bullies.

‘I think you three should get to class, before you’re late,’ Malcolm spoke calmly.

‘You gonna make us?’

‘No, but if you try anything, you might regret it, now I am warning you to back off, leave him and me alone.’

‘You warning us, why you’re nothing but a fag, with that long hair of yours. I bet you would piss yourself if I raised a hand to you.

‘Look, I don’t want trouble, and I have warned you once, now I am warning you again… back off.’

The hallway had suddenly become quiet and still, none of the students could believe what they were hearing. These two seniors had always gotten away with picking on everyone, and now here was Malcolm, a new student and he was standing up to them. All the students were watching as Patrick and Malcolm faced the bullies. ‘Dude, no one warns me to back off, I do what I please,’ the first bully snarled.

‘Patrick, move away from these jerks. Now you think you’re a big man, with your friends around you, well I think the two of you are nothing but losers. And I am giving you your last warning, leave us alone,’ Malcolm whispered, a calmness to his voice that sent a shiver down Patrick’s spine.

The first bully thought that it would be easy to teach Malcolm a lesson, so with his friends behind him, he came at him. With two quick palm thrusts the first bully was on the floor, and then the other one tried to grab Malcolm. Dropping to a squat Malcolm swept the legs from under the two and then Malcolm stood, that was when he saw the shock in Patrick’s eyes. It was over in a minute, the three were laid out on the floor with a look of surprise on their faces.

Malcolm was walking towards his locker, thinking that the two had learned not to mess with him or his friends, when he heard Patrick scream.

‘Malcolm, duck,’ Patrick yelled.

There was no holding back this time. When two of the teachers finally did show up it was over, and the two seniors were taken out of the school by ambulance. Malcolm was sent to the office and was sitting there waiting for his parents to show up. Patrick was sent to his English class and the other students to theirs. Patrick was trying to do his work and not think of what had happened, but he couldn’t. ‘Ma’am, can I be excused please?’ he asked. Standing before she could even answer, Patrick closed his books and headed to the door. Out in the hallway he met with others and leading the way he took off towards the office.

Once there everyone stopped and Patrick walked in. Seeing Malcolm sitting there, he smiled, ‘How are you doing?’ Patrick asked as he stepped into the office.

‘Okay, looks like I am about to get the boot from here though,’ Malcolm replied. His voice showed the frustration he felt.

‘No way dude,’ turning, Patrick spoke with the secretary. ‘Ma’am can you ask the Principal if he could step into the hallway for a minute please.’

‘Sure Patrick, but he is waiting for Malcolm’s parents to show up,’ she replied.

‘Ma’am, it is important.’

‘Very well.’

‘Hang in there dude, you have more friends than you know,’ Patrick whispered.

‘Yeah right. I wish,’ Malcolm said forcing a smile to his lips.

‘Trust me, now I have to get out there before the principal does.’

‘Thanks Patrick.’

Out in the hallway, Patrick and the other students waited, they saw the bullies parents come in just as the principal stepped out. ‘What is this, why are you all standing here and not in class?’ the principal asked.

‘Sir, it is because of Malcolm, you’re going to kick him out for fighting and we feel that wouldn’t be fair. Those three have picked on a lot of us this year so far, and when someone finally stood up and said no more, they attacked him. Sir, Malcolm gave them three chances to back off, but they didn’t, it gave us all a look at what they were. Then, when Malcolm was walking to his locker they tried to hit him from behind. So sir, all Malcolm did was defend himself,’ Patrick answered.

‘I see, well when the two of them wake up, the police are going to talk to them, and then they will come and want to talk to all who witnessed the fight.’

‘Please sir, don’t kick him out,’ Patrick asked.

‘Well something has to be done about him fighting.’

‘I know sir, but