X-Files Fanfic Challenge 13: Young CSM

Author: SyndicateGirl
Archive: Yes, definitely! But please keep my headers attached and let me know where it is if you can. Thanks!
Spoilers:
Rating: PG
Classification:  Response to fanfic challenge: Story must includea very young CSM, and an experience in his group home that helped him shape his world view. Between 500-2500 words.
Summary: CSM teaches the group home bully, and the bully's dad, a lesson.
Disclaimer: The X-Files characters are Chris Carter's and 1013 Productions', not mine, unfortunately; no infringement is intended. Please don't sue - I'm a writer, and have no money! :D

TITLE: My Wooden Car

Young Spender looked up at Scott Evans, professional bully, and all around jerk, “I don’t want to give up my car. It’s my favourite toy. My only toy.”

It was true.

The small wooden car may not have been much to look at, with its dings and chipped paint, but it was the only thing he remembered his mother ever giving him, and he loved it.

CSM was on the verge of tears as the overgrown bully took a threatening step towards the younger boy.

It was really no wonder that Scott was so obnoxious.

His father, Mr. Evans, was one of the teachers at the school, and he let Scott get away with murder.

Mr. Evans was never so lenient with his punishments of the other boys at the home.

Since Mr. Evans lived on the grounds, Scott did, too.

Unfortunately for young CSM, Scott was also in Spender’s classes, and spent every spare minute of the day tormenting both Spender and Spender’s only real friend Jack.

Toys went missing, lunches got pilfered, and punches got thrown.

Scott was an all around bad apple, and someone needed to teach him a lesson.Sister Marie, his favourite nun at the group home, tried her best to reign him in to place, but there was only so much punishing she could do to a teacher’s son.

She did a good job, often stepping in to assuage tensions, but she couldn’t be everywhere at once.

She had also threatened to talk to the headmaster and tell him what was happening if one more “incident” occurred, but Spender wasn’t sure it would ever happen.

Scott took a step forward, casting a towering shadow over young Spender’s slender frame.

He had never felt so helpless.

He cast a quick glance around, looking for Sister Marie, but thought better of it.He was 9 now, he needed to be a man.

Sister Marie had told him that he was very mature young man, and he was going to make her proud.

Even if it meant getting bruised up again by Scott.

He looked past the towering bully and saw Mr. Evans standing there watching.

Clearly he was not going to get involved.

Spender made eye contact with him, letting him know that he had been spied as a spectator.

Mr. Evans looked away immediately, uncomfortable.

Young CSM closed his eyes, thinking.

He couldn’t just hand the car over without a plan.

He knew what would happen to his favourite car.

It would wind up broken, burned, or floating somewhere in the nearby lake.

And he would have nothing to show for it. If he was going to hand over his most prized possession, it was going to be for a good reason.

He stepped forward towards Scott, “No.”Scott pulled his fist back, intending to punch the younger child, and a few other boys gathered around to watch the fight.

Spender stepped back, “You can’t have it yet.

Meet me in the playground at 2:30, after school is over.

Then you’ll you get what you deserve.”

Scott smirked.

If the skinny little runt wanted a few more minutes with his precious toy, he could have it.

Scott was just going to light the thing on fire anyway, and watch it crash and burn.“Fine, Spender, but you better be there, or you’re dead!”

Scott punched him on the arm on his way past, and a few of the other boys laughed.

Scott turned, glaring at Spender, and repeated one word for emphasis, “Dead.”Spender rubbed his arm.

There’d be a bruise.

But there was no time to worry about that now.He had a plan that needed to be put into play.“Jack,” he called out to his friend.

Jack was almost the same age as Spender, and the two would spend long afternoons in the library, reading and writing stories together.

They both wanted to be writers when they grew up.

Unlike all of the other boys who seemed to want to be policemen, firemen, or soldiers.

But not Spender and Jack, they wanted to be the world’s best authors.

He wondered if that was why they both got picked on relentlessly by Scott.

Jack closed his book, and strolled over to where Spender stood, “Hey, what’s going on? What did Scott want?”

“The usual,” Spender said flatly, reaching in to his coat pocket for a piece of hard candy.

“Say, Jack, what would you say to a plan I have to get rid of a pest?”

Jack looked interested.

He was always curious about Spender’s plans, and today was no exception, “Whatcha got in mind?”

“You know how Scott has all those girly magazines hidden under his bed?”

Jack nodded, blushing a little, “Yeah, what about ‘em?”

Spender grinned, “I have a plan that is going to get Scott out of our hair for good.”

Jack looked a little nervous, but he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of freedom.

*****

Spender was getting antsy, checking the clock every few minutes.

2:23pm.

This plan had precision timing, and he wanted to be sure that it worked perfectly.Like clockwork, Sister Marie always went through the teachers’ classrooms at 2:35pm until about 3:00pm, to straighten up a little, and make sure that things were in their proper places - out of place books, erasers, etc.

If there was one thing you could count on besides Sister Marie’s compassion and sense of humour, it was her love of order and punctuality.

And today she would be in for a surprise.

Spender raised his hand, “May I be excused, please?” he asked in his most polite tone.

Mr. Evans glanced over from the chalkboard, “Yes. You have 5 minutes.”

There was a strict code of conduct, and an even stricter set of rules at the group home.

5 minute bathroom breaks supposedly kept the kids honest about not heading out to play during class.

Young CSM nodded, “Thank you, sir,” He got up, and made his way out into the hall.

As expected, Jack was there waiting for him.

His hands were stuffed into his pockets, and he looked a lot more nervous than Spender did.“Do you have them?”Jack nodded, pulling 2 tightly rolled girly magazines from his coat.

“I’ll take care of the rest,” Spender said, stuffing the magazines into his own coat pocket.Jack looked doubtful, but gave a nod as he walked back to his own class.Spender returned just under the 5 minute mark, magazines safely in his coat pocket, and took his seat to wait out the rest of the class.

Minutes later, the clock chimed 2:30, and it was mass exodus - boys were practically

flying out of the classroom, and it was empty in a matter of seconds.

It gave Spender the perfect opportunity to hide out behind the map rolls without being noticed by anyone.

Mr. Evans took a little longer to pack up his things, but soon he switched the light off, and left the room.

Young CSM poked his head up.

The coast was clear, and this would be Sister Marie’s second classroom to clean.

Mr. Evans’ classroom was always her second stop in the afternoon.

If he wanted this to be a success, he would have to hurry.

He quickly slipped the magazines on the desk, and reached into his pocket for the creme de la creme - a cut out picture of Sister Marie’s head.

He carefully taped it onto the cover of the girly magazine, right over the face of the scantily clad model.

It was only seconds later that he heard footsteps, and slipped out of the nearby window to let Sister Marie make her classroom discovery.

*****

“I thought maybe you chickened out, Spender,” Scott said, spitting into the snow.

Spender reached into his other coat pocket, pulling out the car, “No, I didn’t forget.”

Spender stepped towards the ice, looking down at his feet, searching for the cracks.

It was spring, and the ice was just starting to melt.

Aha - a crack, just near his foot.

Perfect.

“You want this, Scott, you toad?”

Spender held out the car, and Scott took a step forward.  First he’d snatch it out of Spender’s hand, then he pound him.  The little runt deserved it.

Scott was grinning wickedly.

Clearly the boy had thought that this was his triumph.

“You want it?” Spender repeated, “Go fetch!”

Spender’s little mittened hand shot out, and he tossed the car onto the ice.

It slid across to the middle, right near the culmination of all of the cracks that had formed.Scott’s eyes narrowed, “As soon as I take your toy, you’re dead, Spender.”

Scott took a few steps out onto the ice, still turned to torment Spender, “You hear me, you little runt?!!

I’m gonna…”Scott’s words were cut short by a loud splash followed by a scream.

Both Scott, and young CSM’s car, had been plunged into the icy depths.

Scott screamed and flailed wildly, drawing the attention of every boy in the schoolyard.

Spender watched as his water logged car floated to the surface, and towards the nearby shore.

He grabbed his now soaked, even more paint chipped car, and shoved it into his pocket, not caring if his coat pocket got wet.

The car was ice cold and dripping, and it may never roll right again what with its swelled wheels.

But none of that mattered to young Spender; he understood that sacrifices had to be made sometimes for the greater good, and this was even more true when those sacrifices were in the name of sweet revenge.

It made the sacrifice easier to accept.

It made the sacrifice seem more temporary.

It was worth a little water damage to his car.

And besides, water logged or not, the car was once again his.

Mr. Evans came running, reaching a large stick out to his son, and the flailing boy grabbed it, and held on for dear life. As he was pulling Scott to the safety of the earthy shore, Mr. Evans didn’t even see a furious Sister Marie talking animatedly with the headmaster.

*****

“Attention, boys,” Sister Marie started.

A hush fell over the dining room, and a sea of wide eyes stared up at her - she rarely made announcements at dinner.

Sister Marie smiled, “Thank you, young gentlemen.  I am sorry to say that both Mr. Evans, and his son Scott, have had to leave St. Agnes’ Home for Boys.  He had some,” Spender noticed a stall in her voice, and couldn’t help but smile to himself, “family business to take care of out of the area, and had to move away unexpectedly. I’ll be stepping in to teach Mr. Evan’s class for a bit until we can find a new teacher for you.”She added with a smile, “I trust you young men won’t give me any trouble.”

Spender grinned.

He wouldn’t give her any trouble at all, he had no reason to.

*****

That night, young Spender lay in bed.

Content for the first time in a while.

It had been easier than he had expected to maneuver Mr. Evans and Scott right where he wanted them to be.

It was like playing with puppets. A small grin touched his face as he looked down at the toy car.

It may have been a little water damaged, and a little worse for the wear, but it was still his.

He pulled it closer, and drifted off to sleep.

CSM: Nothing vanishes without a trace...burn it!