Last summer, I found some of my old notes for a follow-up story to PSB set ten years after graduation. Since then, I've been adapting those ideas into my upcoming novella Larsen: A Prep School Blues Story, coming soon to Kindle. Read an excerpt below...
Larsen: A Prep School Blues Story
Derek sat in his secluded spot under the old railroad bridge, shadows cast by the overhanging wooden beams shielding his face from the scorching summer sun as he languorously smoked a thinly rolled joint. The bridge had fallen into ruin over the preceding years. No trains crossed this way over the creek anymore, but enough of the structure still stood to provide the shade Derek needed. He was fifteen-years-old that summer, good looking in a shifty, brooding sort of way. His fringe of dirty blond hair fell low enough over his face to hide how bloodshot his blue eyes often were nowadays.
He had just discovered marijuana and snuck away to smoke it at every opportunity from the modest house he shared with his sister and her boyfriend. He had his own bedroom there, but the place felt cramped to him. His parents’ house had been more spacious. He missed his childhood room. He missed everything from the time before the accident.
Derek took another hit from the joint. He closed his eyes and drifted away from his painful recollections, until he heard footsteps nearby. He looked up to see a menacing figure approach, a tall balding redheaded man with the muscular build of an ex-jock, offset by a jutting beer belly.
“Got enough to share, kid?” The nasty tone of the man’s voice made Derek uneasy.
“I think you should get out of here.”
“What?” The stranger chuckled. He stepped close enough that Derek could smell the sour alcohol on his breath. “You gonna make me?”
“This is my spot.”
“Oh yeah? Who says?”
“Me.” Derek stood to his full height, but he still came up a few inches short compared to the stranger.
“You are a little snot, aren’t you?”
“My name is Derek Wayne.”
“Well, that explains a lot. I know all about you, the kid who lives with that dumb shit Michael Larsen.”
“You don’t know anything!” Derek snapped, his anger rising. It was one thing for the stranger to insult him, it was another to insult Larsen.
“Sure I do. I’ve seen your sister around town. She’s hot. I don’t see why she had to shack up with a loser like Larsen just because your parents up and died.”
“SHUT UP!” Derek could not take any more. He balled up his fist and threw a punch in the stranger’s direction. The tall man easily dodged the blow and knocked Derek to the ground. Derek’s fist hit a sharp rock instead and he winced in pain from his bloody knuckles.
“This will teach you to mess with…Brandon. Patrick. O’Reilly.”
Derek struggled to get up as Brandon savagely kicked at his abdomen.
“Get the hell away from him!” Derek heard the roar of that familiar deep voice before he saw Larsen tackle Brandon to the ground in a blur of motion. He watched the two men tussle in the grass. Brandon was bigger, but Larsen was stronger. Larsen easily overpowered him.
Ten years may have passed since he graduated high school, but Michael Larsen still kept himself in shape. If anything, from old pictures Derek had seen, Larsen looked more imposing now than he had then, with broader shoulders, more defined biceps, and the addition of a thick brown beard. Seeing Larsen in action now, Derek knew he had always been right to imagine that, in a contest of physical force, Larsen could take on just about anyone. Derek felt slight and weak in comparison.
“Larsen…been a long time…” Brandon panted heavily as the other man pinned him down. “I was just trying to teach this kid some manners.”
“I didn’t know you were back in town, O’Reilly.”
“A lot of familiar faces around lately. Like that Jack Winters. From high school.” Brandon flashed a wicked grin in spite of his predicament. “You remember Jack, don’t you?”
Derek could not comprehend the look that passed between the two men or the long silence before Larsen spoke up.
“If I see you giving Derek trouble ever again, I’ll wipe that smile off your face.” Larsen relaxed his grip finally and let Brandon go. “And I’ll enjoy doing it.”
Brandon hesitated for a moment, but a snarl from Larsen sent him running.
“Derek, you okay?” Larsen knelt down by Derek and examined his injuries.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I just..”
“Got into another fight?”
“It wasn’t my fault.”
“He started it?”
“Sort of…” Derek did not want to repeat any of Brandon’s taunts, especially those about Larsen. He changed the subject. “Larsen, who’s Jack Winters?”
“Nobody.” Larsen answered too quickly, before adding, “I haven’t heard that name in years.”
“But who is he?”
“Never mind that. Let’s get you home. We’ve gotta figure out how to explain this to your sister.”
Larsen extended a hand to help Derek up. Derek clasped the hand in his. He could feel the sweat of Larsen’s palm. Something had clearly unnerved Larsen, but whether it was the fight with Brandon or Derek’s questions about Jack Winters, he could not be sure.
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