In my young adult Work in Progress (WIP), 13-year-old Jacob Jollimore is trying to make it through a summer filled with adversity, but things go from bad to horrible when a bully chases him and he knocks down a 72-year woman from Vietnam, breaking her arm and sending her to the hospital.
The role of my bully was almost funny, in a way. The Neanderthal was originally intended to appear in one or two scenes — tops — and then disappear into the ether. But a writing friend who read my first three chapters told me she wanted to see more of the Neanderthal, and that touched something in me.
I wanted that, too.
I want him to feel real, and not be a cliché. I wanted him to be smart, but poor. I wanted him to theaten Jacob — who is also Vietnamese — so that my teenage protagonist was scared silly, but was never physically harmed, not in any real way. The more I wrote him, the more I wanted to write about him.
He reappears again and again in The Secrets of the Hotel Maisonneuve, and though his role is small, it’s pivotal.
Please let me know what you think of him. I love comments, friends.
During the second week of summer vacation, a neighborhood kid decided to make Jacob’s life a living hell. He got on the bus, and walked down the aisle, smirking. He was a muscular, tough six-footer, with a nose that had been broken badly at some point. Jacob was scrawny, and he knew it, but it never bothered him much. Until now.
The big kid took the seat in front of Jacob’s, even though the bus was three-quarters empty, and sat sideways, looking Jacob directly in the eye, as if daring him to say something. His smile displayed a badly chipped tooth. Three notable scars marred the rest of face: on his lower lip and left cheek, and an evil one bisecting his eyebrow. His eyes were as cold as a Montréal winter.
Jacob grabbed his knapsack, and slid across the aisle.
The older kid followed him.
“What’s wrong kid? You’re not scared of me, are ya?”
Jacob didn’t answer. Refused make eye contact.
“What’s in your purse?” he snarled. He made a grab for the knapsack, but Jacob was too quick. Not that it mattered, as the kid just stood and ripped the bag away from Jacob’s chest. After a quick search, he found what he wanted, an iPod Nano. He slipped the player into his pocket, and threw the knapsack back at Jacob.
“Nice, kid. Really nice. You just avoided a beating.”
And with that, he rang the bell, and exited at the next stop.
Jacob was terrified, and realized that he had been holding his breath. He exhaled in a long, slow whoosh. He could feel his heart beating, and wondered if his legs would support him if he tried to stand.
He didn’t tell a soul.
The same scene repeated itself three days later. Jacob caught a later bus, his heart sinking when the same kid got on at a different stop. He even seemed to be wearing the same clothes. He spotted Jacob instantly and slid into the seat next to him, cutting off the exit, and the air supply. Man, did this kid ever stink.
“What have you got for me today, sweetie?” the Neanderthal asked, making a kissing sound.
Jacob offered no resistance as he rummaged through the knapsack, finding nothing but a hoodie, a copy of Airborne, and other worthless odds and ends. Jacob had taken to keeping his cash in the secret pocket inside his jacket.
“What’s your name, kid?” he asked.
“Henry,” Jacob lied.
“Well, Henry, this is a problem. You got nothing I want, and that’s no good. You got money?”
Jacob was amazed at how jeopardized he felt, but the Neanderthal wasn’t swearing or raising his voice. It all sounded so normal, like a couple of pals talking about a hockey game. He desperately wanted help, but instead mumbled something about just having enough money for the bus.
He made Jacob hand over his wallet, to confirm that it really was empty. Too late, he realized his library card had his real name on it, but the Neanderthal wasn’t after library cards. He didn’t notice. Or maybe he couldn’t read.
“Empty! Well, that’s no good, Hen. Can I call you Hen? Or how about Chicken?”
Jacob nodded.
“Look, Chicken. You got to have something good for me when we chat. You understand? When I get disappointed, I get angry. When I get angry, I hurt people. I’ll hurt you, Chicken. So you gotta have money next time, right?”
Jacob suddenly saw his whole life stretched out before him, a long series of shakedowns on the bus and putrid idiots snatching everything he owned. He couldn’t speak.
“You understand, Chicken?” The Neanderthal lightly slapped his face. Just a tap, but with the promise of more to come.
Jacob nodded.
“Money’s best, but I take anything. CDs, PlayStation games, DVDs. But it has to be more than bus money.”
He slapped Jacob’s cheek again, this time so it stung. Then he hopped up, surprisingly light on his feet, and got off at the next stop. Jacob watched his hateful shadow strutting down the street. The Neanderthal caught his eye and blew a kiss at the bus as it passed.
“Bucka-buck-buck-buuuuuck!” he called. Jacob felt every syllable.
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The first appearance of Neanderthal is here.
