Rock God
By
Jason Gabriel Kondrath
Copyright © 2024 by Jason Gabriel Kondrath
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a
retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—
electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—
without the prior written permission of the author, except in the
case of brief quotations used in reviews or critical articles.
Google Books Identifier: GGKEY: G9EKN290UR2
First Edition, 2024
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or
locales is entirely coincidental.
Printed in the United States of America.
Table of Contents
1. Jayra
2. A House Divided
3. Homecoming
4. The Widow and the Sheriff
5. How to Be Southern
6. Watershed
7. Pole Barn Sessions
8. Word Games/Horror Nights
9. Lines You Don't Cross
10. Gentleman Caller
11. Smoke There's Fire
12. Cube and the Clients
13. The Sky That Split
14. Road to Crownpost
15. Lavender and Lightening
16. Single Cot Problems
17. The Ride to Cotton Ridge
18. Cotton Ridge Still Breathes
19. Weight of Still Water
20. Gate Would Not Open
Chapter 1: Jayra
Jayra Jenkins was a hard case, even at nine years old. Trouble
stuck to him like red dirt to boots, not always his fault but always
his shadow.
In Sweetwater, Texas, life had it out for boys like him—boys with
a scowl carved deep and a daddy whose name hung heavy as a
storm cloud. Third grade at Forest Trail Elementary was no
different; he kept his head down, but trouble always found him.
The classroom smelled of chalk dust and old books, Ms. Woe's
voice droning over fractions like a tired hymn. Jayra slouched at
his desk, scratching a jagged skull onto his math worksheet with
a pencil stub.
Why didn't Jayra pay he no never-mind?
All the other boys had already told her how pretty she was and
how much they wanted her to be their girlfriend.
It was his best friend, Leo, who clamored for her attention
instead. Leo was cute too. In first grade he'd even offered to eat a
crayon if she'd kiss him.
She told him she would — if he ate the whole thing — but he spit
it out halfway through.
The face he made her laugh.
She'd only made the bet to teach him a lesson; she never intended
to kiss him.
She just wasn't interested in Leo. It was Jayra — his best friend —
she liked. He had dark hair like hers, and that aloof, cool façade
that drove her crazy, even in first grade.
But Jayra never offered to eat a crayon for her.
Jayra didn't play those games. Girls like Cheryle, with their bold
stares and trouble in tow, were a risk he didn't need, not with the
fights waiting at home.
A nudge at his elbow made him glance up. Cheryle Lee, all dark
curls and sheriff-daddy swagger, slid a folded note across his
desk. Her eyes stayed locked on the chalkboard, but her lips
twitched, hiding a spark.
Jayra squinted at her. He unfolded the note, the paper's rustle too
loud in the quiet. Ms. Woe's chalk froze mid-scratch.
His pulse kicked, but he read fast: Jayra, do you like me?
Check Yes or No.
Do you have a girlfriend?
Check Yes or No.
Would you like to sit with me at lunch?
Check Yes or No.
He glanced at Cheryle, now rigid, her cheeks flushed, hands
gripping her desk.
Gutsy, he thought, a grin tugging his mouth.
He didn't know Cheryle Lee all that well, but she seemed pretty
snotty. Her father was the sheriff, so—coming from that
background—she might have felt privileged.
She certainly seemed bossy. And she was weird; whenever he
caught her looking at him, she'd turn away laughing.
He felt like she was laughing at him, like she knew a joke he
didn't. Or worse was the punchline. Probably some dumb story
Leo had told her.
She was pretty. She always had the best photo during class
pictures. But despite her beauty, Jayra figured she was nothing
but trouble. So, he steered clear.
Pretty girls gathered a lot of attention, and he wanted none of it.
He checked No, No, and Yes—lunch might be alright if Leo
wasn't along.
He folded it, ready to slide it back, when Ms. Woe's voice cut like
a whip.
"Bring up that note," she said.
How did Ms. Woe catch him? He was very sneaky.
"What note?" Jayra repeated, trying to play it off like he had no
idea what she was talking about.
"The note you were checking off," Ms. Woe said.
Cheryle Lee had been caught several times before, but never with
Jayra. Ms. Woe must have eyes in the back of her head!
Now caught, she figured Jayra was sure to blame her.
When Jayra turned to Cheryle Lee, she was beet red.
He saw her wiping a tear. Cheryle Lee had quite the reputation
for being little Ms. Note-Passer.
The teacher threatened to call her parents the next time it
happened.
If Jayra brought the note up, Ms. Woe might read it in front of the
entire class. She was known for embarrassing students that way.
Cheryle Lee would've died if she did.
She'd rather go to the principal's office, than to have that
punishment, even if it meant her father punishing her. But if it
was he who passed a note to her, she would have ratted him out.
He deserved it, for never offering to eat a crayon for her!
Now she almost started bawling right there on the spot.
"No, she didn't pass a note," Jayra said. "I was taking notes."
"I don't believe you," Ms. Woe said.
"Well, it's true," he said casually.
"Bring it up, Jayra," Ms. Woe said.
Then she snapped her fingers for him to be quick about it.
Suddenly, Jayra tore the note into little pieces.
Nobody could believe he'd defy a teacher—especially Ms. Woe—
by doing that.
She ran her class like a prison warden.
When he finished everybody stared.
A beat.
"Now you can bring me the pieces," she said.
Immediately, he shoved some of the larger ones into his mouth.
"You little pig," she called him. "You get to the principal's office
this instant."
Reluctantly, Jayra got up, collected his notebooks, and slung his
bag over his shoulder.
Right before he exited, he belched loudly—a dramatic, deliberate
belch, like a final insult.
Everybody laughed as she slammed the door behind him.
Leo, his best friend, was stunned.
But in the hall, Jayra's grin faded. His stomach churned, not from
the paper but from the thought of his father's voice later, low and
cold.
He kept walking, the principal's office looming like a jail cell. But
for Cheryle's sake, it was worth it. By recess, the story would
spread, and he'd be a legend—for better or worse.