by Blake Nelson
Of course. That was perfect. “No, Officer,” I’d say. “We just pushed him and ran away. We didn’t know he got killed by the train. Only when I saw it on the news, and then I knew I should call you right away.”
Okay, that was good. Better to just get everything out in the open. It was just manslaughter, right? Or whatever you call it when someone accidentally gets killed. And I’m a minor. And I didn’t know! That was the key. I didn’t even know that he died!
I dialed the police. Then I slammed the phone down again. No. What if something went wrong? What if Scratch thought I snitched on him? He would kill me. He would have friends in jail who would kill me. If I told the cops about Scratch, I was taking a huge risk. I had to leave Scratch out of it. If I could.
What about footprints? There must have been footprints at the scene of the crime. And blood. Did I track blood somewhere? What about that sports car that saw me skating away from the train tracks? I had totally forgotten about that.
This was getting crazy. I had to calm down. I had to refocus and think logically. Scratch was probably long gone. He had a ten-day head start. He was probably a million miles away in Canada, or Mexico. And he was smart. Wherever he was, they would never find him.
What about witnesses? Who else was at Paranoid that night? The two friends of Scratch’s. They would remember me. Paisley was the girl’s name. And the other guy. I didn’t remember his name. Maybe I never knew it.
More importantly: Did I tell them my name? No, I did not. Did I tell them I had a car? No, I lied and said I didn’t. Did I tell them where I lived? No, I did not. I didn’t tell them anything because I was afraid of them and I didn’t want them to know who I really was. Okay, but would they remember what I looked like? Probably not—I was a Prep, completely ordinary; I looked like a million other high-school students.
But what if Scratch went back there? What if they were all together somewhere? And what if they get scared and decide to blame it all on me, to protect themselves?
It was a terrible night. I lay in bed, my brain spiraling downward, faster and faster, every possibility I could think of, every course of action, it would all end in disaster. I could feel the weight of it destroying me. No matter what I did, I had killed someone. There was no escaping that. Someone would tell, someone would remember me, something would go wrong. And then the police would come.
I thought about the police. It was really my fear of them that had stopped me from doing anything. But why didn’t I trust the police? And why was I so quick to think of myself as a criminal? Why was I so sure this would all somehow go against me?
I had a revelation then, lying in bed in the dark: I was a bad person.
I was. I realized it all at once. That explained everything. Character is fate. My English teacher had written it on the board at the beginning of school. I had a bad character, I was a bad person, and now my fate had caught up to me.
In my mind I went through every bad thing I had ever done. I’d lied to people, I’d stolen stuff, I beat up Howie Zimmerman in fourth grade. I threw a shopping cart in the Clackamas River my freshman year. I kicked the side mirror off a car once when I’d crashed skateboarding. The list was endless. It covered every stage of my life. I had just that weekend had sex with a girl I didn’t even like!
At dawn I fell asleep for a few minutes, and then the alarm went off. I had to go to school. I went to the bathroom and not even the hottest water in the shower could loosen the tightness in my back and neck. My whole body was like a throbbing knot. In the mirror, my face was swollen and blotched red. I looked so terrible I thought for sure my mother would say something.
But she had her own problems. I ate breakfast and avoided the newspaper that Henry had spread over the table. I was a bad person. I had accepted that over the night. I was evil and I would die and then I would be off the planet and that would be good. It would be good for me. It would be good for the planet.
Then I started to cry. I had to stand up and walk out of the room without letting anyone see my face. I ran down into the basement and fell onto the old couch, sobbing as quietly as I could.
“Honey?” my mother called down the stairs. “What are you doing? You’re going to be late.”
I had become very good at covering up. I instantly stopped crying, and in a perfectly reasonable voice, said, “Nothing, Mom, just looking for a book. Can I take your car to school?”
“You’re going to have to if you don’t hurry up....”
“I know. I’m coming,” I said. I dried my eyes with the back of my hand. I wiped the snot on one of the cushions. I took a deep breath and walked up the stairs.
My mom stopped me in the hall. “Honey, your eyes are all red-are you all right?” The funny thing was, she thought it was her fault. She thought I was upset about the separation.
“I’m fine,” I answered. “It’s just allergies.”
“Did you take those pills?”
“I did, but they make me so sleepy. I gotta go. Can I take your car?”
She gave me the keys and I hurried out. I threw my books in the front seat and sat in the car for a moment, trying to pull myself together.
That’s when I saw Macy McLaughlin standing in the grass beside me.
Macy needed a ride to school. She had missed her bus. Could I take her with me?
That was about the last thing I wanted to do. But what could I say? I motioned for her to get in. She did, putting on her seat belt while I started the car. I backed down the driveway, but I went too fast and just missed taking out our mailbox. I had to take it easy.
I put the car into drive and started forward. But then Rufus, the neighbor’s dog, dashed into the street right in front of me. I slammed on the brakes. “Get out-ta the street, you dumb dog! ” I shouted.
Macy stared at me.
“Why can’t people keep their stupid dogs in their stupid houses, where they belong?” I muttered.
Macy remained silent.
“What?” I said. “You saw him. He ran right in front of me!”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“And now he’ll go knock over our garbage cans. And I’ll have to clean it up.”
“You’re sure in a good mood this morning,” she said. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”
“Nothing. Allergies.”
“I thought people got allergies in the spring,” she said.
I didn’t answer. I stopped at a red light. I turned on the radio. But I hated the radio now; I couldn’t listen to anything for more than a few seconds. I turned it off.
“Actually, I’m supposed to ask you something,” said Macy.
“Yeah? What?”
“My friend Rachel wants to buy her boyfriend a skateboard. For their anniversary.”
I shook my head.
“What’s wrong with that?” she asked.
“Skateboards aren’t something a girlfriend can buy you.”
“That’s why she wanted to ask you.”
“Nobody can buy you a skateboard,” I said. “It’s a personal thing. You have to pick it yourself.”
“Would you at least go with us?”
“And they cost too much anyway. A decent skateboard can cost a hundred bucks.”
“She doesn’t care.”
“It’s just not a good idea.”
“But couldn’t you just come with us?”
“No,” I said. “And she shouldn’t do it at all.”
“Ohh-kay,” said Macy. “Obviously someone’s in a bit of a mood—”
“Why would someone think they could buy someone a skateboard?” I snapped. “It’s idiotic.”
I was driving too fast again. I made myself slow down.
Macy watched me. I could feel her eyes on me. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Jesus.”
She watched the houses going by on the right. “I heard about your parents.”
“My parents are the least of my worries.”
“Yeah? What is i
t, then? Is it something about Jennifer Hasselbach?”
“It’s nothing,” I said, lowering my voice. “I just didn’t get enough sleep last night.”
I didn’t say anything more. We arrived at school. I drove slowly over the speed bumps at the front entrance. “If you guys want to buy a skateboard, go to that place at the mall.”
“But that’s why we wanted to ask you. Isn’t there a better place downtown? That’s what everyone says.”
“I don’t know what’s downtown,” I lied, pulling into a parking space. “I never go there.”
“I thought you did. Everyone said you would know.”
“It’s not true,” I said. I turned off the car.
Macy unclicked her seat belt. “So you won’t even come?”
“No,” I said. “And don’t give me that look.”
“What look?”
“Like I’m being an asshole about it.”
“I’m not looking like that.”
I got out and slammed my door. “You kinda are.” Macy got out and slammed hers. “Well you kinda are being an asshole about it.”
I walked away from her, toward the junior/senior wing. It was so ridiculous about girls. They get these schoolgirl crushes on you, and you can do no wrong. Then they stop liking you and they want to boss you around, like you were once their boyfriend, which you never were. You never even liked them.
I went to class. I went to my locker. I went to the cafeteria for first lunch. Parker and James were sitting in their usual spot, but Parker stood up the minute I sat down. He had vocab to study. James left a few minutes later.
So I ate by myself. I stabbed at my green beans with my fork. I remembered freshman year when we’d kid around and eat “prison-style.” It was a game where you kept your forearm in front of your tray, to guard your food. Then the other guys tried to stab your fish sticks, or sneak their hand under your armpit and steal your Crunch bar or whatever. Just stupid frosh stuff. Games you play. And now, here I was, barely able to eat I was so scared. Eating “prison-style” wasn’t so funny anymore.
Macy and Rachel walked by; they had first lunch, too. They sat at the end of my table with some other sophomores. They talked for a minute, and then Rachel came down the table to where I was.
“So Macy said you won’t come downtown with us,” she said, smiling, trying to put on the charm.
“I told her, you can’t buy a guy a skateboard.”
“Could you at least tell us where to go?”
“I don’t know where to go. I told her to go to the mall.”
“But there’s a better place downtown. I know there is. Why won’t you help us?”
“Because!” I said. “It’s a bad idea!”
She became alarmed and went back to the other end of the table.
What the hell am I doing? I thought. I’ve got to calm down.
One thing I’d learned, though. When you think you’re about to totally lose it, if you can just hang on a few more minutes, a few more seconds, things turn normal again.
That’s what happened. I finished lunch and went to AP history. We watched the second half of Doctor Zhivago, and I sat in back and managed to sleep for almost an hour. That felt a lot better. Then for sixth period I had math, and Mr. Minter was in a good mood and gave everyone a “pass” grade on our last quiz because his computer screwed up.
I even felt bad about Macy and Rachel, and when I saw them after school, I yelled to them and waved them over to my car. I drew them a map to the skate shop downtown.
“But won’t you come with us?” they pleaded. “We won’t know which things are good.”
I thought about it and realized if I didn’t go with them I had nothing to do but worry and obsess all afternoon, so I said yes. We all got in my mom’s car.
Downtown, we parked and walked to the skate shop. Rachel was serious about buying a skateboard. Her boyfriend was this boring guy named Dustin, who as far as I could tell never skated, or did much of anything. He sucked at basketball—I knew that because I’d seen him play rat-ball in the back parking lot.
Rachel studied all the decks carefully. She wanted to know about the different trucks and wheels and all that. It was kind of fun actually, playing Mr. Expert for an hour. I had bought my first board there. The board that was now under fifty feet of water in the Willamette River. As I looked at some of their new stuff, I regretted buying my new board at the mall. This place had the best stuff.
Rachel bought a board for $119. This seemed like too much to me. And the “anniversary,” it turned out, was not for going out, but for the first time they talked on the phone or some ridiculous thing. Girls were so weird.
Once we had the board, we walked farther downtown and went to Starbucks. That was kinda fun. Rachel was pretty cool to hang out with. She was cute and funny, but in a real way. I wouldn’t have minded going out with someone like her.
Macy was another story. She sort of bugged me for some reason. But my mood changed every three seconds. I couldn’t tell what I thought.
After we’d sat there a few minutes, I glanced out the window. A girl caught my eye. She was across the street talking to a Streeter guy who was begging for change. The girl was sort of dirty, too. I couldn’t see her face. Then she turned, and I saw who it was: Paisley.
I almost spit up my mocha. I lowered my head, but I realized she couldn’t see through the window. She was busy talking anyway. The guy gave her a cigarette. She lit it and stood there smoking and talking to the guy.
“So have you bought Jennifer anything yet?” Rachel asked me. Macy had gone to the bathroom.
“Uh. No,” I said. “Not yet.”
She saw that I was looking outside. She looked, too, and saw Paisley and the guy with the dog. “Isn’t it weird how kids like that live downtown? On the street?”
I nodded.
“I heard that there’s more homeless teenagers in Portland than in any other city.”
“Yeah?”
“Look at that girl,” said Rachel. “She’s probably younger than us. And she smokes. And dresses like that. Her parents probably hate her.”
I turned away from the window. “So when are you going to give Dustin the board?” I asked.
“This weekend,” said Rachel. “He’ll be so psyched. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s a nice board.”
I dropped Rachel off first. She got the board out of the backseat and skipped up her driveway with it. I felt this weird tingling in my heart. I had helped someone. I had done something worthwhile. It felt pretty good.
I drove Macy toward our street. We drove in silence. It started to rain, and I put on my windshield wipers.
“Can I ask you something?” asked Macy.
I didn’t answer.
“You seem really weird lately,” she said. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“I mean, your family stuff. That must be doing something to you. Don’t you think?”
“I don’t know.”
“You seem so stressed. And when you’re not freaking out, you have this look in your eyes. Like you’re a thousand miles away.”
I stared straight ahead. “Maybe it is my family stuff.”
“Is it something about Jennifer?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest with you.”
“You’re not mad at me for some reason?”
“You?” I said. “No. Not at all.”
“I don’t have a crush on you anymore. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I know.”
“And I’m sorry, if I embarrassed you back then.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
We drove.
“The whole thing with Jennifer ...” she continued. “I have to say. That seems weird. She doesn’t seem like your type. Like, I understand about Elizabeth and Christian, and how the other girls want skater boyfriends. But you and Jennifer. That just seems ...”
“I know. I agree.�
�
“Really? You don’t really like her?”
“I like her. I mean, we had fun last summer. It’s just like ... she’s just decided we should be together. She didn’t let things develop naturally.”
“That’s it, isn’t it? She’s forcing things-”
“No, that’s not it. To be honest.”
“Really. What is it?”
I turned into our housing development. Windermeyer Terrace, it was called. Her house came up first. I pulled up to the curb in front of her house.
“It’s just stuff that happened,” I said.
“What stuff?” she asked, watching me. She meant it. She wanted to know.
“Just some things that happened,” I said, quietly. “I can’t really talk about it.”
Something in my voice stunned her into silence. She could feel the weight of it now. She was shocked by the weight of it.
She blinked and stared at the dashboard. “Oh,” she said. “It must be pretty bad.”
“It’s just one of those things.”
She looked at me then. “Can I help you somehow?”
“I already feel a lot better,” I managed to say. “Just saying anything at all.”
“It must be bad.”
“It’s probably not what you think,” I said. But then an alarm in my brain went off. I couldn’t say any more about it. In fact, I may have already said too much. “It’s really just stupid,” I lied. “I mean, you know how it is. Sometimes you get all bent over nothing.” I looked out my side window. “It’s really nothing at all.”
Macy didn’t say anything.
“I gotta go,” I said. “I gotta give my mom her car back.”
Macy opened the door and got out. I pulled away and turned into my own driveway, six houses away.
Two days later, I was sitting in math class when an announcement came over the intercom.
“Would the following people come to the principal’s office....” said the voice. I was one of the people. The others were Jared Fitch, Christian Barlow, Paul Auster, and a couple of the other known skaters.
