Love and Hate (Landon)

Landon LaCoste is the name of a murderer, a high school student who turned on his classmates. It is the name of a loner, the one who supposedly could not understand anything in class. Such is the name of the boy life subjected to degradation on a regular basis, who had to hide his homework in his shoes and have trash dumped on his head nearly every one of his days at Havencraft High School.

It is my name. It is my curse to bear.

I have decided against changing my name because it was never mine in the first place. My parents chose it and I have to deal with it. Along with that came the associations I built upon it. When I stood before the cameras, I had no defense except for a wink and walking collectedly to my sentence. I projected confidence knowing I could die later in the week.

Because my parents pleaded for my life and liberty, I got off way lighter than I should have. I filled in for Caitlin to get Alice ready for next year. Alice looked uneasy in my presence. I was lucky to be in this place, to be able to add something better to my name as well as practice a passion.
          "Let's start with some long tones," I suggested, trying to get Alice to do something other than sit there and fidget with her horn. She raised her horn to face without a word. I had heard about Alice before. Her hands were covered with cracks and bruises, likely from working. She had a certain heaviness about her soul, the kind that comes with unrecognized heroism. Alice pulled out something she wanted to work on from her method book. I corrected a few of her errors and mostly worked with her on confidence. However, something still sounded off in the music. It sounded robotic, flat.

It is interesting how students' emotional states and, thus, musical tendencies, fluctuate in response to their leaders suffering. Alex kept her sound in the back of her throat rather than projecting it forward. This lent her songs a darker, richer timbre. She still had high spirits, but I could tell she was troubled. It is girls like these who are dismissed as "airheads". However, the extra air helps her stay afloat in ties of trouble. Alice's music became flat, detached, and uninteresting. I stopped her and suggested that we work on a slow minor piece. She thought, picked something, and played it. It was still uninteresting. Frustrated, I told Alice to put her horn down.
          "Am I playing well, Mr. LaCoste?" She asked genuinely, not seeking affirmation in the slightest. She actually seemed to search for criticism.
         "You're just making notes. They are correct notes, but not music. Work on your articulations and dynamics."
         "Okay." She played through the piece again, sounding markedly better. However, it sounded hollow, as if there were no soul to it. It would have to do for now. I dismissed her and decided to go for a walk.

Though I wield no weapon, I am trained in unarmed combat. I got into a skirmish with a creeper, throwing kicks and punches as well as dodging. I kept my eye on my target, dancing through each move as if I were fluid. The flow of movements released everything. I continued with finding targets, beating them into a pulp, and harvesting whatever spoils I happened to want at the moment. I felt a movement coming up behind me and I whirled around with another punch.

I felt something behind me. I stopped, looked around, and proceeded. However, I felt it getting closer. I braced myself to throw a punch only to hear the someone cry out.
          "Don't hurt me!" He had a messy crop of black hair and was shielding his face. I had noticed that he was shorter than me, by about six inches or so.
          "Why shouldn't I?" Over the last few days, I had endured a lot. I've had people throw rotten food and yell insults at me because of something that happened nearly six years ago. Some lady tried to kill me because of the Havencraft shooting. Was she a Havencraft student at the time? No. Was she the parent of a Havencraft student? No. She had no ties whatsoever with Havencraft, so I don't know why she tried to rip my head off. I couldn't take any chances with this guy either lest he try to do the same. It seems that I can't go one day without people assaulting me or at least trying to.
          "I don't mean any harm! I honestly don't." He held his hands up to signify that he meant no harm. However, I noted the dagger at his side. The startled gaze suggested that I had caught him off guard. He looked genuinely scared. I relaxed in posture, but still remained suspicious.
          "Who are you?" Whoever he was, he didn't really look human. He didn't look like a villager. I suspected that he had Ender blood running through his veins.
          "I...I'm Phillip. Phillip Evans. I was looking for Everan."
          "Who is Everan?" What did I just walk into?
          "My boyfriend. He's the best guy ever. I don't think you should try to punch him in the face, though. You look unsettled. I hope you're not a homophobe!" His face turned cold and glasslike.
          "I'm not. I just didn't expect you to cross my path."
          "That I get a lot." Phillip paused. "What's your name? You never introduced yourself." I braced myself to let that curse slip past my lips. 
          "Landon LaCoste."
          "You say that like it's a bad thing." Phillip looked up at me with innocent concern.
          "If you knew what my name was associated with, you'd think the same. By the way, what does this Everan look like? What's he doing here?"
          "He went to fulfill a task of some sort. I don't know why we ended up...where is this?"
          "You're in Minecraft. This is a plains biome. I'll help you." He handed me a description of Everan Thenath. Noting the dark circles under his eyes, I suggested he rest with me at my house.
          "But...Everan could be dead...or worse." Tears started to roll down Phillip's cheeks and then his whimpers turned into full on sobbing. Having never loved, I wanted him to have a chance.
          "It's okay. I saw a guy who fits your description doing some dance-like moves in combat. He was at these coordinates." His spirits lifted and we parted ways. At first, I felt good having done something good for someone who didn't know my history. However, a sinking feeling overtook me. I would need to return to the hatred of tomorrow, to scrubbing dried rotten food out of my hair and the smell of burning corpses haunting my mind.