NERDZ

Retribution – Friday, 8:49 pm

Jamal lifted the pantyhose above his lips. “I don’t know if this is a good idea, us being here.”

The other three boys looked at him; their noses squished flat beneath the constriction of the undergarments.

“Goddammit, Jamal. Pull your mask down. We can hear you fine with it on,” said Brent.

“Right, sorry. It’s just, this seems like an unnecessary risk. What if Matt sees us? What if the cops see us? This is screwed up.”

“Screwed up is what we do, Jamal. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” said Carlos, yanking his mask off completely. “Plus, watching is the best part.” his joker-like grin grew, almost touching the lobes of his mousey ears. All four of them were a little goofy, but Carlos took the cake in the looks department with his buck teeth and baby ears.

“Put your fucking mask back on Carlos!” said Brent. “I’d prefer to keep my knowledge of the judicial system theoretical if that’s all right with you.”

He turned away from the black-clad crew and parted the bushes they were crouched behind. He stared down the stretch of sidewalk lined with perfectly painted homes and their manicured yards. The street was clear except for one black car parked at the end of the block. “Still no sign of Matt and Britt. Are you sure you have the right time?”

“Positive,” said Jamal. “I followed Britt for a week to get this intel. Their date was tonight at 7:00 pm. The movie is exactly one hour and thirty-six minutes as credits roll.”

“What if they stay for the credits?” asked Carlos.

“Do they seem like the type who want to know who the key grip is? Or the special effects supervisor? Plus, in Britt’s text to Matt, she said she had to be home by nine at the latest or her dad would kill them both.”

“Maybe we should have just made sure they were late; pops would have done the dirty work for us,” Donny said, then turned to face his friends. “How many ways do you think this would play out on the quantum level? You think there’s a world where we all go to prison?”

“Ugh,” said Brent. “I don’t buy that many worlds bullshit. Empirical science all the way.”

“Wait, I’m having a vision,” said Carlos, touching his index fingers to his temples. “Donny changes his major halfway through his undergrad from physics to philosophy.”

Everyone laughed except Donny. “Not happening, but I’d minor the shit out of some philosophy. Broaden your minds, little drones.”

Carlos cleared his throat. “Where are they, guys?”

Jamal assessed his leather-strapped wristwatch. “It’s a fifteen-minute walk from the movie theater to Britt’s house, which means they should be arriving in—“

The sound of giddy laughter made them all hunker down lower. Brent pulled a single branch back to see through the bush. “It’s them.” He looked at Jamal with pursed lips, nodding his head with approval. “Not bad, squid. You just might pull this off.”

Jamal looked around at the three of them, the blacks of their eyes fixed on his through the nylon. For a moment, he thought about booking it. He had only known these guys for a short time since his family relocated from the city to the foothills of Mt. Baldy. They were crazy as hell, but he felt different around them. He felt powerful. He had thought being a sophomore at a new school with a clean slate would make his troubles disappear, but it was just a new sandbox, same old cat shit and dirty needles. Matt Frantz made sure of that. Jamal was going to need this new power if he was going to survive to graduation.

They heard the laughter getting closer and a car door shut.

Brent parted the bushes again. Matt and Britt were rounding the walkway up to her front door, and two burly men were just a house length behind, closing in fast. “Here we go, guys.”

The house's front door opened when Matt and Britt were halfway up the walk, and Britt’s dad appeared in the doorway, ready to greet them. The two men were now rounding the walkway. Britt’s dad perked up when he noticed them.

“Matthew Frantz,” one of the men said.

Matt and Britt spun around.

The two men drew their guns as they approached, “Mr. Frantz, stop right there.”

One of the men grabbed Matt’s right arm and spun him around. The other man ripped his backpack from his free shoulder and threw it to the ground.

“What in the world is going on?” asked Britt’s dad.

One of the men pulled out a black wallet and flashed his badge. “Officers Vasquez and Pierce, Claremont Police Rapid Response Team. We received an anonymous tip; this young man, Matthew Frantz, has been dealing drugs to the kids at his school. I suggest you take your daughter inside.”

Britt ran to her father and wrapped her arms around him, watching the officers manhandle her boyfriend.

Pierce bent down and unzipped Matt’s bag. After tossing out a couple of notebooks and two handfuls of wadded-up paper, “Ah ha!” He reached in and slowly lifted a clear Ziplock sandwich bag. Inside the bag were three white rocks about the size of shooter marbles.

“What the hell, that’s not mine,” said Matt.

The officer returned his hand to the bag and retrieved a handful of miniature Ziplock bags and a pocket-sized digital scale.

“How about these?” said Pierce. “Not yours too, I presume?”

“No. None of that’s mine.”

“Get in the house, Brittany,” said her dad.

She gave Matt one last look with welling eyes and sprinted for the front door.

Britt’s dad walked down the porch steps and pointed a finger at Matt. “If you ever so much as look at my daughter again—“

“It’s not mine, sir. Please.”

“Officers, please remove this young man from my property. I would also like to file a restraining order. And mark my words, if that boy sets foot on this property again, he’ll be dead as a broke dick donkey, I promise you.”

“Sir, you will need to go down to the station to file a restraining order, and please, it’s not wise to make threats, especially in front of law enforcement.”

“I know my rights, Mr. Officer. Now, please remove this little shit from my yard, and thank you very much.” At that, Britt’s dad turned triumphantly and walked into his house.

The two agents clapped handcuffs on Matt’s wrists and walked him to the end of the block to their waiting vehicle.

“Let’s go, boys,” whispered Brent. And the four of them ran to the nearby gangway, staying low and out of sight.

Ceremony - Friday, 10:40 pm

Carlos reached into his backpack and retrieved a folded lump of black fabric and a length of rope. He turned to face the other three. His long black cloak dragged as he moved toward them, collecting dirt and pine needles from the forest floor. Donny and Brent’s cloaks fit them better, hanging just above the ground like they were meant to. This drove Carlos mad because his mom was the one who stitched them together for what she was told was cosplay.

The four stood evenly dispersed in a circle around the fire ring. Standing opposite Jamal, Brent pulled out his phone and swiped at the screen. “Now,” he said. “We will play the ceremonial ballad. Let us bathe in the dancing light of the fire as the larynx-shredding vocals of Brian Johnson lead us into the next stage of this sacred event.” ‘TNT’ began to blare from the speakers of Brent’s phone as he placed it on the stump beside him.

The three robed boys stared, entranced by the flames. Jamal took notice and followed suit. Halfway through the song, Carlos inched closer to Jamal and whispered in his ear. “Hey man, where’d you get all that coke you planted on Matt?”

Jamal looked at the other two, their eyeballs strobing orange and black in a flickering daze. “My cousin, Kiki. Back in Watts, my old neighborhood. She—well, she can get just about anything, so it was no biggie. But having to fork over my life savings of allowance for it, that was a bitch.”

“No shit? We’ve done some pretty cold-blooded stuff to exact our revenge, but you may have one-upped us all with that one. Well done.”

Jamal nodded, and Carlos shuffled back into position as the song ended.

They all gathered at Jamal’s side, hoods up, hanging low so he could barely see their eyes. Carlos handed the robe to Brent and bowed. Brent turned to Jamal, arms out, black cloak draped over his hands, and he nodded to Donny. Donny picked up a shovel leaning against a tree with a huge, weathered ‘N’ carved in its trunk and began digging just to the left of it. After Donny dug a few heaps of dirt, they heard the shovel strike clank. Donny reached into the hole and retrieved a rectangular case. He brushed it off, revealing a nineties-era depiction of Wolverine. He flipped open the top of the lunchbox, revealing three items within. One Mewtwo EX Pokémon card, one copy of Final Fantasy X for PlayStation 2, and a copy of Preacher Book 1.

“Did you bring it?” asked Donny.

“Yeah.” Jamal reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, faded red and yellow Ironman action figure. The one he played with more than anything as a kid. The one that pulled him out of the harsh reality of growing up in Watts and led him to dream about one day being impenetrable, just as he felt in this moment. It was his most prized possession, just as they had instructed. He placed it into the tin, and Donny closed the lid. Carlos grabbed Jamal by the wrist and placed his hand on the tin.

Brent took a step back. “For too long, we, and those like us, have been subject to the cruelty of bullies, tormentors, assholes, and outright dickwads. Isn’t that right, my brothers?”

Carlos and Donny chanted, “Yes!” and spun their hands in a circular motion, urging Jamal to join in.

“We are sick, we are tired, and we are downright fed up with this treatment. Isn’t that right, my brothers?”

“Yes!” they all chanted.

“We are done standing by and allowing these twats to tease us, pinch us, slap us, kick us, and otherwise defile our dignity through their heinous acts. Isn’t that right, my brothers?”

“Yes!”

“Will we let them shove us?”

“No!”

“Will we let them give us titty twisters?”

“No!”

“Will we let them give us swirlies?”

“No!”

“Will we let those sons of bitches give us wedgies?”

“No!”

“Hell no, we won’t!” said Brent.

“From this day forth, brother Jamal, do you solemnly swear that you will do anything in your power to protect yourself and protect your brothers from bullying assholes that may mean us harm by using your one true gift, your brain, to remove said bully from the equation?”

“Hell yes, I do!”

“Hell-Yes-You-Do!” said Brent. “Brother Jamal, we are proud to welcome you to the brotherhood of NERDZ. Congratulations.”

Brent walked around Jamal's backside and draped the cloak over him. Carlos stepped in front of him and tied the rope around his waist, and they each shook his hand.

Donny entombed the sacred items beneath the dirt, and Jamal used the shovel to snuff the flames with a heap of dirt.

“Let’s get out of here, guys,” said Donny. “We’re all gonna catch hell for staying out late tonight.”

“Yeah, we are,” said Carlos.

“Totally worth it,” said Jamal.