Chapter Text
The events after the island had left everyone scarred. They carried it with them, and no matter what they did to try to get rid of the memories, it never left.
Ralph had moved to America to forget entirely about his past and start a new life. He got sent to a boarding school, and he occasionally sent letters to Piggy.
Piggy stayed with his aunt, but since he had major head trauma, he had to take medicine for it and see the doctors every so often.
Roger got sent to a mental institute—where some people think he rightfully belonged—and he wasn’t seen again by any of his ‘friends.’
Maurice was still same-old, same-old, but there was a gleam in his eyes whenever he talked with Jack. Almost as if he was recalling the horrors he went through just to stay friends with him.
Jack got angrier, and he snapped at almost everyone. It was like he couldn’t control his anger, which may have been true, but some people were led to believe otherwise.
Simon may have been the worst of them all. His anxiety was through the roof, and he began to trust everyone less. The trauma he had been through was enough to almost make him cut everyone off in his life entirely. Simon didn’t, though. He stayed enrolled in school, despite it making him quieter than ever, although he did leave the choir.
This fact made Jack slightly upset, not because of Simon, but because he was the only person who harmonized fairly well with him.
Simon didn’t let that bother him, though. He knew he was okay in choir, but he didn’t feel any responsibility to ‘carry the choir’ like Jack had once told him.
But what Jack had said was in the past. It was long in the past, and shouldn’t be on Simon’s mind whatsoever. Simon had left Jack for the better. Right?
That's what Simon was telling himself as he accidentally crashed his shoulder into Jack Merridew in the school’s hallway.
“What the fuck?! Watch where you’re going, dumbass,” Jack scoffed, pushing past Simon and back into the crowd in the halls.
It was surprising to hear Jack cuss, considering how he’s heavily christian and calls certain stuff ‘sins’.
Simon brushed it off, and he continued to his next class. Latin. Not his particular favorite, but it was a mandatory course he needed to take in order to get to the next grade. To finally be a junior.
He’s younger than everyone, though. A year younger, to be exact. Simon is fifteen years old, and everyone else he knows is sixteen. He doesn’t know a lot of people, actually.
Who cares? He doesn’t have a bunch of friends to even compare with. Matter of fact, he couldn’t even compare himself to anyone. That would probably be unfair to the person he’s comparing with
“Mr. Cambourne,” Mr. Beaumont tapped his ruler on Simon’s desk. “Are you listening, or is your head in the clouds?”
“Sorry, sir. I’m listening.” Simon nodded, clearly startled as every boy in the class turned their heads to look at him. He swallowed, and all of a sudden he felt very nervous.
“That's right. You better be.” He walked back to his desk in the front, and pointed at the green chalkboard behind him. White chalk had been used to write certain Latin words and phrases. “Now, tell me, what is the Latin word for ‘courage’, Mr. Cambourne?”
Simon racked his brain for the correct word. Pietas…Fortis… “Virtus, sir.”
“Very good.”
Mr. Beaumont went back to teaching, and Simon tried not to let his thoughts wander once more. Although, that failed miserably when a certain word—insula, island—was mentioned.
He got brought back to the island. The leaves, the sand, the sticky air, the littluns, the fire, the beast…the screams, the claws…
Simon shuddered visibly, and then the bell rang, interrupting his traumatic flashbacks to signify students needed to head to their dormitories.
Was it the end of the day already?
Simon noticed he was in a different classroom. How did he get into the Mathematics classroom? Wasn’t he just in the Latin classroom?
Weird.
Oh well.
He stood up from his seat, pushed in his chair and walked out of the classroom, trying to make it seem like he hadn’t been dissociating for the past two and a half hours.
Simon was great at pretending nothing was wrong. He had been doing it practically his whole life. Since his mother passed, since his father became an alcoholic, since he joined choir, since the island, since Jack Merridew…
He cleared his throat and stepped out of the classroom. One foot in front of the other. Easy as can be.
Everyone learned how to walk when they were a couple months old, maybe one or two if time permits. So why was Simon so clumsy when it came to walking in hallways?
He must’ve bumped into seven different people, all of which either cursed at him— “Sod off!” —or gave him nasty looks from the corner of their eyes. Boys were really mean when it came to Simon. Maybe it was because he’s considered batty by everyone.
He’d rather not go into detail about why he’s considered that.
When Simon reached his dorm, he set his books down underneath his bed where he stored a majority of his items, and looked around the room.
He didn’t know most of the boys in this room. Except, of course, Jack Merridew and Maurice. They didn’t talk to him much, unless they were teasing him about dumb stuff.
When they did tease him, though, he usually ignored them, pretended it didn’t get to him, and then slipped out of the room at midnight and headed to the hill behind the church.
Simon was sure he didn’t need to do that tonight. Very, very sure.
Although, he quickly began to change his mind when Jack sauntered over and shoved past Simon. Jack’s shoulder hit Simon’s roughly, and Simon had almost fallen over from how harsh it was.
“Whoops, sorry,” Jack snickered, then he faked a cough and muttered under his breath, “Batty.”
Something in Simon snapped.
He very rarely got mad at people, but when it did happen? He was pretty terrifying. Only, it lasted a short time.
He whipped around at once, and he shoved Jack in the chest. Hard. Jack fell to the ground, rage filling his cold, blue eyes.
Simon immediately felt very guilty.
“Sorry… I–I didn’t mean to uh… to do that,” he almost whispers. He felt paralyzed.
Like he was back on the island. Back in front of the Lord of the Flies.
You silly little boy…
Jack stood up in front of Simon, enraged like a flame with gasoline being poured on it every second.
“The hell is your problem? HUH?!” He grabbed Simon by the front of the shirt, and pulled him close. He looked like he wanted to beat the everliving shit out of Simon for doing that.
Almost all the boys in the room froze, petrified, or they simply just wanted to egg on Jack to torment the poor, traumatized Simon who was practically like a deer in headlights.
Instead of Jack being pushed to the ground, this time it was Simon being pushed to the ground by him.
Simon was dead silent.
“Jack Merridew.”
A stern voice boomed through the room, and this time every boy was frozen as their heads turned to the dorm's entry way.
“Can you explain what exactly is going on here, hm?” Father Burke had crossed his arms over his chest, standing in front of the door.
Simon quickly scrambled up off the floor, snapped out of his trance the best he could be.
Father Burke didn’t give anyone a chance to explain. He turned around in the door, holding it open as he said:
“Jack and Simon, come with me.”
Simon immediately obeyed, but Jack seemed to hesitate. He looked over at Maurice, who looked a bit sheepish for encouraging Jack to bully Simon even more than they have before.
The three of them walked down the hall; Father Burke in front, Jack and Simon walking side by side.
Simon kept his head bowed, staring down at his shoes as he knew where they were going. He glanced at Jack from the corner of his eyes—Jack was somewhat nervously playing with the silver cross on his necklace around his neck.
Once they reached Father Burke’s office, he gestured for the two boys to have a seat.
Cautiously, Simon took a seat and Jack did as well.
“This is the second time this month I have caught you two fighting each other. It is quite exhausting, to say the least.” Father Burke intertwined his fingers and leaned forward on the desk. “We cannot continue to have a good environment in this school if you boys will not learn to obey the rules and quit arguing. How must you honor the will of God if you fight all the time?”
Jack looked guilty, for he was biting his bottom lip and also avoiding eye contact with Father.
“Winter break is arriving soon. You two must learn to get along before then, otherwise I will need to contact your parents to take you home.”
Parents? No.
Simon’s parents didn’t like him, and Father Burke knew that.
Simon’s parents were drunks. Alcoholics. Druggies.
And he hated them so much. He wasn’t one to hate people, but they made him want to hate everyone.
“Go back to the dormitories. I don’t want to have another report about your arguments anytime soon, understand?” Father Burke stood up from his desk.
Simon and Jack stood up as well.
“Yes, Father.” Jack spoke for the two of them, because Simon had just simply nodded.
Words left Simon easily when he was nervous or scared, and he was nervous almost all the time.
Father Burke sent the boys back to their respected dorms—unfortunately with each other—and Simon was relieved he hadn’t reached out to his parents yet.
“This is all your fault,” Jack muttered, walking side by side with Simon in the halls.
“How?” Simon simply asked. His head was bowed again, eyes averted from Jack whatsoever.
“You pushed me first, and I was just doing something back. Your fault.”
“You called me batty, though. I’m not batty.”
“Yeah, you are.”
Simon just shut up after Jack had said that. He didn’t want to cause another fight, plus they were already at the dorm.
Jack Merridew hadn’t changed, and he probably never will. Being a bitch to Simon is just what he does, and nothing is going to change that. Ever.