The Devil's Mercy

Eli

“Let’s all welcome our new classmate, Eli Samson,” Mrs. Gargus announces, her hands resting on my shoulders as the entire class turns to look at me.

“Hello, Eli,” they chorus.

I nod, wishing I’d taken the chance to run away when I could.

Mrs. Gargus guides me down the aisle to the back of the room, where she seats me next to a girl with glasses. The girl’s head is bent over her notebook, where she’s busy sketching a turtle.

“Mercy Jones, meet Eli. He’s your new hall buddy for the week. Stick with him and make sure he doesn’t get lost,” Mrs. Gargus instructs, pointing a finger at Mercy for emphasis.

Mercy doesn’t look up from her drawing. She just gives a thumbs up and continues humming a tune. Mrs. Gargus pats my shoulder and smiles at me.

I settle into my seat and hang my backpack on the back of my chair. Mrs. Gargus returns to the front of the room and resumes her lesson. The other kids get busy, pulling out books, pencils, and notebooks from their desks.

I don’t have any of that.

My foster parents only took me in last night. The only things in my backpack are a change of clothes and my lunch.

I rest my head on the desk, pretending to be somewhere else. Anywhere but here.

Something nudges my elbow. I look up.

“This is the page.”

Mercy slides a notebook and a pencil into my lap from under the desk. I just stare at her, unsure of what she’s doing.

“Take it. It’s yours now,” she insists, pushing it towards me.

I accept it and place it on the desk. I open it and start copying the work from the board.

“Time for lunch, class,” Mrs. Gargus announces, opening the door.

We line up, with Mercy leading the way. We walk to the cafeteria and join the queue.

I follow the line without selecting any food. It smells good, but I don’t have any money for a hot lunch.

I follow Mercy to a table and take out my battered sandwich and apple from the brown bag.

A chatty blonde girl sits next to Mercy and starts talking loudly.

I keep my head down, pretending I’m alone.

It would be easier if I was.

“Trade?” Mercy slides her tray towards me.

I look up, confused.

“Yeah?” she asks.

I just stare at her.

She swaps my sandwich and apple with her tray. She takes a juice from the loud girl next to her, despite her protests.

Mercy eats my sandwich and apple. I eat the food she gave me.

It’s delicious. I haven’t had warm food in a long time.

I finish the milk in one gulp.

I stay quiet and wait for us to line up again.

During recess, I follow Mercy to a tree. She sits in the shade, leaning against the trunk as she pulls out her turtle drawing and takes a pencil from her ponytail.

I watch as she shades the turtle, giving it a shadow. I glance at the other kids playing, but none of them are as interesting as the girl next to me.

The teacher calls us to line up. Mercy groans and closes her notebook. She tucks the pencil back into her ponytail and stands up.

We join the line and wait.

A kid behind me starts making fun of my shoes. I can hear them laughing about how worn out they are. I hang my head, pretending to be somewhere else.

Anywhere but here.

Suddenly, Mercy moves from in front of me and pushes me forward, taking my place in line.

“Shut up, Robby. You’re so ugly your mom has to tie a bone around your neck just to get your dog to play with you,” Mercy retorts.

The other kids laugh, and Robby leaves me alone.

I hide a smile and keep my head down. We return to class and finish our work.

The final bell rings, signaling the end of the day.

I follow Mercy outside.

“Which bus?” she asks.

I just shake my head. I don’t even know which city I’m in. I was dropped off at my new foster home so late last night that I don’t even know what the outside of the house looks like.

“Come on.” I follow her to a lady with a sun visor and a clipboard.

“Eli Samson. Today’s his first day,” she informs the lady.

I just stand there.

The lady pulls out a walkie talkie and says my name into it.

“Bus number ten, 406 Green Street,” a gravelly voice responds over the walkie talkie.

She tugs my sleeve and leads me to a bus.

“406 Green Street. He’s new. Make sure to let him know when his stop comes up,” she instructs the bus driver.

The large, bald, overweight man grunts in response. She tugs my sleeve again and walks me onto the bus.

“Move over there,” she orders a redheaded girl who’s hogging an entire seat.

The redhead glares at Mercy. Mercy picks up her bag and tosses it to the seat she pointed to. The redhead huffs but gets up and moves.

“Here. Your street will be on this side. He might not tell you when your stop comes up, so just watch the stop signs. They’ll tell you which street you’re on. See you tomorrow.”

She waves and hops off the bus.

I watch her walk to the grass and wait for the loud girl from the cafeteria.

I watch as she adjusts her backpack strap on her shoulder and walks to the sidewalk, heading away from the school.

I hide a smile and keep my head down.

Goodbye, Mercy Jones.

***

“This is your class schedule. Wait here and I’ll call someone to show you around,” the cheerful secretary tells me, pointing to the leather seats behind me.

I nod and sit down, suppressing a wince as the cuts on my back press against the back of the chair.

Just pretend everything’s okay.

I tune out the secretary’s conversation.

Screw this place. I won’t be here long. Just a few days at most, then they’ll ship me back home. Just like every other time.

“Behave. I mean it, Mercy. I don’t want another call about something you’ve done. Behave.”

A man with hair touched by gray peers down at a young girl with dark hair and glasses. Her face is a mask of indifference.

“Ah, there she is. Darling, you’re going to be the guide for your new classmate here. He’s got the same schedule as you. Show him what it means to be a bulldog and stick with him for the day.”

She grins, but Mercy doesn’t mirror it. She just nods and presses her lips together in a thin line.

The woman waves goodbye. Mercy silently mouths thank God before she picks up a black backpack from the floor and walks over to me.

“Hey, I’m Mercy. I’ll be your guide through Middle Earth.”

She slings one strap over her shoulder and opens the door out of the office. She steps onto the threshold and waits for me. Her dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail with a pencil sticking out of it.

It’s her.

Hello again, Mercy Jones.

I pick up my bag and follow her out, hiding the smile that threatens to break out on my face.

I watch her as she leads me upstairs and down a hallway lined with lockers.

She stops at one and swings it open, pulling out some books and tossing them into her bag. I try to catch the title of one when a blonde girl steps in front of me.

“OMG, like, okay.

“So I was in the gym and Ashley and I were just talking or whatever and freaking Teddy and Matty snuck up behind us and freaking popped our bra straps and it really hurt so I slapped Teddy.

“Mr. Kase was all ‘keep your hands to yourselves, ladies.’ How dumb is he? Like, really!” The blonde girl puts her hand on her hip and flicks her ponytail.

“I’ll talk to dumb and dumber.” Mercy doesn’t look up from the locker. She bends down and grabs something from the bottom.

“Oh, and fair warning, Rob and Dane are talking shit about Mom. I guess he saw it and is showing anyone who will look.”

The blonde is her sister?

“I’ll handle him too. Just go to class.” Mercy stands up and shuts her locker.

“Kay, byeee!” The blonde waves at Mercy and winks at me as she walks by.

I watch her walk away, mentally filing the image away for later.

“Uh, can you do me a favor and not look at my sister’s ass in front of me?”

Mercy slings the strap back over her shoulder as she walks past me. I nod and follow her.

I gotta get better at that.

Mercy leads me down the hall and around a corner. When we walk into a room filled with paintings and musical instruments, I know this is the art room.

Mercy takes a seat at a desk in the back by a black electric guitar and pulls out the chair next to it. I sit down and look around.

Not bad.

“Is this your boyfriend, Mercy?” A boy with brown hair sits backward on the chair in front of us.

“Fuck off, Rob.” Mercy pulls two notebooks out of her bag.

“Speaking of, is your mom picking you up today? Love to get an autograph.” Rob smirks as Mercy pulls her pencil out of her hair.

“She’s not, but I can get you one. It’s fifty bucks.” Mercy opens one of the black notebooks and flips through the pages.

“Hey, man, wanna see something?” Rob turns his chair closer to me and slides his phone over.

A blonde woman with huge tits is bent over a couch while one guy fucks her from behind and another shoves his dick down her throat. I slide it back, face down.

“Thanks, Rob. You know, the more you view it, the more money my mom makes.” Mercy chews on the eraser of her pencil as she reads over a page in her notebook.

“How long till I get to see you on screen? If you wanna practice, I can show you a few things.” Rob runs a hand through his hair.

Mercy fakes a laugh.

“Why did you laugh? Ask Cami how good I am.” Rob smirks.

“I don’t have to ask her, she told me about the Tic Tac between your legs. You know she still thinks she’s a virgin? Said she doesn’t even think you got it in.” Mercy looks up and smiles.

“Your sister is a liar and your mom’s a porn star. That must be so hard for you. If you ever wanna talk about it, maybe I could come over sometime.” Rob blows Mercy a kiss.

“If I wanted company, I’d call your dad.” Mercy flips through a few more pages.

“At least my mom doesn’t fuck for a living.” Rob’s face turns red. He jumps out of the chair, making it screech.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Robby.” Mercy doesn’t move or flinch like I do.

“What are you talking about?” Rob puts his hands on Mercy’s desk.

“Your mother is a trophy wife. How do you think she got her new Mercedes? Or anything else she wants?

“She climbs on your daddy’s ding-ding and screws his brains out so she can go have a spa day once a week.”

Mercy looks up from her book and smiles as Rob steps back and calls her a liar. She just nods as he walks out.

“Sorry ’bout that. He’s a nuisance.”

Mercy tucks her pencil back into her hair and pulls a guitar pick out of her pocket. She lifts the guitar out of its stand and onto her lap.

She pulls her notebook closer and starts to strum along. She hums words I can’t hear, reading off the page in front of her.

The class starts filling up but Mercy doesn’t seem to notice. The teacher comes in and goes to the board. He looks around and nods when he sees Mercy playing.

He goes around the room and talks to everyone, saving Mercy for last.

“You have a shadow, Mercy. Who’s your friend?”

The teacher holds out his hand to me. I stare at it, unsure of what he wants.

Mercy puts the pick down and shuts her book.

“He’s new. Today’s his first day,” she says as she puts the guitar back.

The teacher drops his hand and looks back to Mercy.

“Seems like you’re making good progress. Are we about to witness the birth of another hit?” He plants his hands on his hips, causing his brown jacket to bunch up at the sides.

“I’m not sure. It’s not quite there yet. I’m not satisfied.” She leans back in her chair, her shoulders hunching up.

“Why not play it for your new classmate? Fresh ears might help.” The teacher glances at me, then back at her before walking away.

The bell rings, and the rest of the students gather their belongings and leave.

“Would you mind if I played this for you? We have a free period.” Mercy turns to me, her light brown eyes warm and inviting.

I nod and shift to face her.

She’s really pretty. How am I just noticing that?

Mercy opens the book and picks up the guitar again.

“If you don’t like it, that’s fine. Just don’t lie about it. I want your honest opinion.” She looks at me, her gaze earnest.

I nod again.

Mercy strums the guitar, the slow rhythm reminiscent of the old country music my nana used to listen to.

“Everything is all right, it’s just fine for now.”

I’m livin’ a dream, a nightmare, or fairytale.

How does one truly tell?

A hero of my own story,

A villain, all the same.

Everything is all right, it’s just fine for now.

I’m livin’ a dream, will I ever wake up, I just don’t know how.

How does one ever find out?

A fighter for my story.

A monster in the history.

How can you tell, how can I get help, how does one ever really know?

I’m livin’ a dream, a nightmare or fantasy.

I’m livin’ in a dream, a nightmare or fairytale.

Everything’s all right, I’m just fine, for now.

I’m livin’ a dream.

A nightmare.

Or fantasy.”

Mercy’s voice leaves me in awe. She sounds incredible. More than incredible.

“Could you sing it again?”

Her eyes light up. She sings it six more times, and it still isn’t enough.

I want to hear it again.

I want to hear her again.

“So, I take it you liked it?” She chuckles, slipping the pick back into her front pocket.

I nod and look away, unable to hide the smile on my face.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever sung for. I’m glad you liked it.” She closes her book and tucks it back into her backpack.

I’m the first?

I want to tell her she’s amazing, that she sounds perfect. I want to say I love it, even though I’ve never been a fan of country music. I want to hear her play it again and again.

But I don’t.

I keep my head down and hide the smile on my face.

We go through the rest of our classes. I replay her song in my head over and over.

With ten minutes left in the school day, Mercy leads me downstairs. We sit on a bench, waiting for the final bell.

More students start to arrive, breaking our silence. A girl in a cheer uniform stomps down the steps and calls out to Mercy. When she looks up, I can feel her tension.

“What?” Her voice is as tight as her body.

“How dare you spread that ridiculous lie about our mom to my brother? You’re nothing but a pathetic freak with a slutty sister and a mother who’s a porn star.”

The cheerleader’s words echo through the hallway. The other students turn to stare at Mercy.

“My sister’s a slut? Well, you would know, being the gold standard for all things slutty. My mom’s a porn star, so what? It’s old news.

“Your brother is a whiny little bitch who can’t handle getting a taste of his own medicine. And I’m not a pathetic freak. I’m an angry freak. It’s like you’re not even trying anymore.”

Mercy stands tall, dropping her bag on the bench. The cheerleader crosses her arms over her chest and shifts her weight onto one hip.

“You and your twin are nothing but trashy sluts. Don’t you dare talk to my brother again. Freak.” The cheerleader spins on her heel and walks away, parting the crowd.

Everyone stares, but Mercy doesn’t seem to care. She simply picks up her bag and sits back down.

When the crowd starts to disperse, the blonde girl from the lockers makes her way to Mercy, an ice pack pressed to her nose.

“What happened?” Mercy jumps up and guides the blonde girl to the bench.

“Damn Robby. I was at my locker and he kicked the door.” The blonde lifts her face for Mercy to see.

“Stay here with him, and make sure he gets home. Don’t leave without him.”

Mercy turns to me. “I have to deal with this. This is my sister Cami, she’ll be your new guide. See you tomorrow.” Mercy stands and walks down the hallway.

I watch as she clenches her fists at her sides.

I watch as her knuckles turn white.

I watch as she walks away, all the while hiding my smile.

Goodbye, Mercy Jones.