in the begining

 I try and think back to where my life started, but get caught up in the details. I can't remember anything about the very beginning, so I assume that when people say that, they mean what they can actually remember. I remember a snow covered patio, and my sister and father making a snow man, while I screamed from within the house. I remember the feeling of shag carpet under my toes as I walked my first steps. Clear as day I remember my mother and sister embraced and crying as my father backed his blue Camaro out of the driveway for the last time. I'm sure that what happened between 0-5 were some important moments, but I barely recall. On my fifth birthday I swore up and down that a witch flew past my window, but I never told anyone that. There were Christmas gifts, Easter egg hunts, and spring break at the grandparents. Things were fine. That was my life, Michael James Murphy. A well spoken boy with a strong imagination. But that's not who this is about. This is about Clayton Magnet.

 My first inclination that Clayton was different, was after school one day in November. We were probably eleven years old and the whole world was four square miles of farm land, subdivisions, and Alexander Robinson Elementary School. Clayton skipped home after being beat up for the seventh consecutive day. There was a confidence that existed even though it appeared his life was in constant peril. It had become as if the trickle of blood from his nose to his lip, was a badge of honor. He would later opine that being beaten up by kids his own age was a welcomed relief from his home life. "At least I stand a chance against them" Even though I never saw him hit back. Into adulthood Clayton was a staunch pacifist, and few knew why, but I'd seen the evidence first hand. That day after school, Clayton walked with another social out cast, Amy. The rumours had already begun about the two of them, and it was only elementary school. Everything was a lie anyway. Craig Robertson and his cronies trailed behind the two of them hurling insults. His thrashing of Clay earlier was clearly not enough. I'm sure that why he was always smiling afterwards, just to piss them off even more.

 Amy got to her home in time for her stepfather, John,  to scream at her to make him something to eat. He was scary guy. He scratched his rough beard and stared at Clayton at the end of the driveway. "What the fuck are you looking at?" Clayton's smirk answered for him. The other kids including Craig walked by with their heads down. This crazy bastard was known for picking up shovel and chasing people. And it wasn't a threat, you actually got the impression that he was going to swing. But Clayton didn't care. He stared right back. It was getting to be quite obvious that Clay could take a beating. When I think back now I wonder if he was aware of how fearless he was, if he was keeping a list of names in his head, or if he was just that crazy. John flinched his arm back as if to strike, but from fifty feet away, Clayton wasn't  moving. He reached over and grabbed the shovel and started to sternly walk towards Clayton. He wasn't moving. Face to face he whispered something threatening to Clay, and I swear a single tear started to form in his eye, but he wasn't moving. John drew back the handle to swing. Amy ran out of the house screaming, and John held up the spade right before impact. Amy's tears ran down her face, her little brother wrapped in her arms. The corner of Clayton's mouth went up with a slight chuckle. He peered around John's skinny frame and said goodbye to Amy. His eyes met with John's, and for the first time, there was fear in there. "Get the fuck off my property you fucking crazy faggot". Clayton adjusted his backpack and turned to walk away. I watched him close his eyes tightly, as if to expect getting hit once his back was turned, but it never came. He exhaled and began to walk.

Some people claim that he ran once John brandished the shovel, others say he beat Clay to the ground, but I was there. I watched the entire thing. From that moment on, I was sure to be aware of the potential that Clayton  had. I also wondered, for the first time, what his life was like outside of the school day. I'll never forget the image of him strolling down the long road to his house. It was like a western, and he was heading off into the sunset. The sound of Amy getting her licks filled the air. She felt the brunt of John's misplaced anger. She was weak, she had the fear, and he sensed it. He went back to dominating his household, now that the hero had left. I'd always seen Clayton at school, but I never spoke to him. He rarely spoke to anyone. I was new to the school from the year before, and was just attempting to fit in. Craig Robertson and his pals, Shane and Neil, had created a very uneasy situation. They wanted me to be part of their little crew, but I wasn't sure. Their most recent exile was Clayton, and when it fell apart they destroyed every chance at normal elementary life. Stories about Clayton being gay, stealing, saying things behind people's back. It went on and on, and when you're eleven this is important shit. Most of their day was dedicated to ruining Clayton's life.All this before the 3:07 beating that he'd taken for over a week.  After this day, I decided to be strong, be an independent. Clayton had taught me in one moment about right and wrong. It was the day that I decided to start a lifelong friendship with a very unique individual. These are the adventures of Clayton Magnet.