Jackson was halfway across the parking lot when someone yelled “Hey!”
At first he didn't realize it was directed at him. He kept walking, swinging his little brother’s sports bag back and forth, cell phone pressed to his ear. The sun glistened in the dark puddles the thunderstorm had left on the asphalt merely an hour ago and burned hot on his head. On the other end of the line was his best friend Ryan, lamenting the fact that there were only three days of summer break left.
Jackson laughed. “Come on, it’s our last year. And it’s really not that bad.” He moved his shoulders under his hoodie, feeling his damp t-shirt underneath catch at the skin. Gross. He should have left the hoodie at home.
“Of course you say that. You actually like school, you freak,” Ryan said amiably.
And yeah, maybe Jackson did like school. He found the atmosphere of lit class soothing, loved the smell of the grass on the soccer field. Sue him.
“Gotta admit,” Ryan continued, “if the teachers loved me only half as much as they love you, I’d probably like it too. Just how do you do that? Is it your eyes? I swear, they think you're a cute little puppy or something.”
“You’re an asshole,” Jackson kindly informed him. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Mr. Hastings hates me.”
“Oh yeah, totally,” Ryan agreed, “but he hates everybody. No need to feel special.”
He dropped the bag next to his car and started digging through his pockets for the keys, then stopped when he noticed a new tiny fleck of rust right underneath the window. He picked at it with his index finger. “Great, one rainy afternoon and my car is turning into a rustbucket. I need a new job. One that pays better than being Dad’s stand-in secretary over the summer does.”
“Just ask your dad for a new car. Like, a real new one. Go for a BMW. It’s not like that’d put a dent in his pocket. He can lease it as a business car.”
“He laughed in my face when I asked him last week. Said I should learn to work hard for the things I want, that’d make me appreciate them more.” And the thing was, he knew his dad was right. He just didn’t like to admit it. He sighed. “I guess a little rust isn’t so bad, huh?” He resumed looking for the keys.
In the background he could hear the muffled voice of Ryan's mother. “Mom wants to know if you're coming over tonight,” Ryan said. “She's making dinner and she says it's going to be terrible. I might need someone to commiserate with.”
Ryan's father usually took up dinner duties, but every now and then, his mother decided to do some 'experimental cooking', as she liked to call it. The results varied from ‘delicious’ to ‘unfit for human consumption’. Jackson wouldn’t want to miss it. He was about to accept when he heard another yell.
“Hey kid, wait up!”
He turned around and squinted into the sun. A man was jogging towards him across the parking lot, gesticulating with a dirty rag. “Hang on a second, Ryan.” He lowered the phone while he waited for the man to catch up.
The guy was in his late thirties, maybe early forties. He had short dark hair, peppered with grey at the temples, a stubbled jaw and green eyes. He was wearing work boots, jeans and a black short sleeved shirt that revealed muscular arms. Coming to a halt in front of Jackson, he was almost a full head taller
“Hey,” the man said for the third time, smiling. “Thanks for waiting. My battery died on me.” He held up his hands with the rag and presented dirt smudged fingers. “Could you help me out with your car?”
“Sure,” Jackson said. “Which one’s yours?” The parking lot was almost empty at this hour, swim training over. Only about half a dozen cars were still strewn randomly across.
“That van over there.” The man pointed towards a dark blue van Jackson hadn’t even noticed until then. It was parked in the shadows beneath a group of trees at the far end of the lot.
He glanced over and nodded. “Ok. Just give me a minute.” He pointedly waggled his phone.
“Great, thanks.” The man grinned and waved the rag as he walked away.
Jackson turned to his car again, his fingers finally getting a grip on the keys. “Ryan, you still there?”
“Yeah. What was that?”
Jackson tossed his brother's bag into the footwell on the passenger side and slid into the driver's seat. “Just some guy who needs a jump start. I'll give him a hand and then I'll be over.”
“Great. Jessica can’t wait to see you. She’s over the moon that you and Brooke broke up – ow!” There were smacking sounds on the other end of the line and then he heard Ryan’s little sister cussing and calling him a horrible brother and Ryan laughing uncontrollably.
Jackson leaned his head against the headrest. “She’s right, you know. You are horrible.”
“Nah, I’m just teasing her. That’s my job."
“Whatever.” Jackson turned the key in the ignition. “Wanna go down to the lake after dinner? The heat is killing me.”
“Yeah, sounds good to me,” Ryan said before, in typical Ryan-fashion, jumping back in conversation. “Hold on – did you say someone needed a jump start? Where are you?”
“At the swimming hall. Tyler slipped on the tiles during training and sprained his ankle. Dad picked him up but he forgot his bag.” Jackson huffed in amusement. Of course he had. Tyler would probably forget his head if it wasn’t attached to his body.
“Of course he did,” Ryan echoed his thoughts. The grin was audible in his voice. ”Good thing he has a brother with a helper syndrome. Who else would pick his stuff up all the time?”
“I’m just being an awesome brother. You should try it some time, you anti-social freak.” Jackson parked his car in front of the van's propped open hood. “I've got to go now. I'll be over in about an hour. Got to drop off Tyler’s stuff and take a shower first. I’m soaked. Tell your mom I'm looking forward to dinner.”
“See you then.” Ryan hung up.
Jackson dropped his phone onto the passenger seat and pulled the lever for his own hood before he got out. The man was nowhere to be seen. He shrugged out of his hoodie while looking around. “Hello? You there, Mr. –“ he trailed off, realizing he hadn’t asked the guy for a name.
“Back here.” A hand appeared over the roof, waving.
Jackson rounded the front of the van and found the side door slid half open. The man was bent inside, rummaging through a big plastic chest. Jackson spotted towing ropes, an orange vest, cable ties and a first aid kit on top. “Sorry, still looking for the jumper cables. I’m Ian, by the way.”
“Jackson,” Jackson said. He pulled his sticky t-shirt a couple of inches away from his skin and leaned against the driver’s door of the van. In the surrounding heat the metal felt almost cool, shielded from the sun by the trees. “If you can’t find your cables I can go back in and ask the coach for help,” he offered.
Ian looked at him over his shoulder. “That’s very kind of you, Jackson.” He rolled the name around in his mouth, almost as if he was tasting it. His friendly grin suddenly seemed cold and his eyes moved over Jackson’s body with a calculating look.
Jackson felt the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rise and a weird, uneasy sensation in his belly. He abruptly realized how lonely this spot under the trees was, far away from the entrance of the swimming hall and shielded from sight by the van. For a split second his instincts screamed at him to turn around and run for the safety of the hall, his car being useless with the popped open hood. He involuntarily took a step backwards. Then Ian looked away and resumed digging through the chest and the moment passed as quick as it had come.
Jackson scrubbed a hand over his face and let out a weak laugh, suddenly feeling stupid. He wasn’t some little kid on a deserted street in the middle of nowhere. This was the swimming hall parking lot, for Christ’s sake, in broad daylight to boot, and some guy just needed a jump start. He’d never live it down if he mentioned this to his friends.
“Here we go,” Ian said.
Jackson raised his head and saw him straighten up with the jumper cables. He felt the color rising in his cheeks.
Ian shot him a cautious look. “Everything ok?” he asked.
Jackson forced out an embarrassed smile. “Yeah, fine. The heat’s just getting to me, I think,” he lied.
“You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?” Ian took a step towards him and held out a hand, hovering it just inches from Jackson’s chest, as if he was worried Jackson might keel over any second. He shoved the plastic chest back with his foot and pointed to the floor of the van. “Maybe you should sit down a bit. You want some water?”
Jackson shook his head, feeling his face grow even hotter. “It’s fine, really.” He reached for the cables and turned towards the van’s hood, brushing Ian’s hand off in the process. “Let’s get your car started.”
He’d only managed a step when Ian grabbed his arm and yanked him backwards so hard that he stumbled, his elbow connecting painfully with the van’s door. “What the hell?” he wanted to say, but Ian pressed a hand over his mouth, letting only a muffled noise escape, and crowded him against the van’s side, holding him there with his weight. Panic flared up in his belly and he tried to kick out, succeeding only in banging his knee against the van.
“Easy, kid.” Ian leaned in even closer, chest flush against his back.
Jackson felt warm breath ghost across his ear. He twisted sideways and jerked his elbow back, but met nothing but air.
Ian chuckled. “Calm down. You’re not going anywhere,” he said.
Then Jackson felt a painful sting in his neck, followed by a sharp burn, and seconds later the grip on him loosened. He tried to turn around and found himself staggering. He put out a hand to stabilize himself, but it was no use. The world seemed to move at a much faster pace than he did and he slid to his knees and slumped dizzily against the van while black clouds edged out his vision.
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