Gravestone

by Travis Thrasher

  “Why don’t you go,” I say to Kelsey behind me.

  “Uh-uh. She’s staying here. You—Miss Braces and Glasses. This your painting?”

  “Get out of my face, Gus.”

  “Or what?” he asks me. “What are you going to do?”

  He laughs as he takes a knife out of his pocket and opens it. Then he sticks the canvas of the yellow painting and cuts several slits through it.

  I start to yell and go toward him, but Kelsey grabs me by the shoulder to tell me to stop. Meanwhile, Riley and Burt come to flank Gus while Oli remains at the door.

  “Put that away,” I tell him.

  “Or what? What are you going to do?”

  “Kelsey, leave.”

  “Kelsey, huh? Nice little pretty girl. So different from your last one, huh?”

  “Shut your fat face.”

  “Chris—”

  I glance back at Kelsey and see her almost in tears. “Gus, I’m serious. Let her go.”

  “I’m not a monster,” he says. “But I can do monstrous things.”

  “Gus.”

  “I want an apology.”

  He’s still holding the knife by his side. I honestly have no idea if he’ll use it.

  “I’m sorry, okay?”

  “Not good enough. Not sincere enough.”

  I see the gaping hole of the shredded painting Kelsey spent so much time on.

  See I told you I’m no good for you. People around me only get hurt.

  “Gus, I’m sorry. Now leave us alone.”

  “Uh-uh. Oli, guard the door.”

  Gus smiles. Riley and Burt chuckle.

  “Maybe you’d learn if something happened to little Miss Virgin here.”

  I look around me. I never bring anything to art, so there’s nothing to pick up and defend myself with or even to throw at him except some art tools.

  “You’d learn then, wouldn’t you?”

  I move my arm to shield Kelsey as I try to think through what I can do and how I can protect the girl behind me.

  Then something weird happens. Something not part of the suggested plot.

  Oli is standing by the door and peers through the tiny slit of glass as if to check and see if the coast is clear. Then he jogs to the side of the room and picks up a large palette knife that looks like an elongated spatula.

  I’m wondering what he’s—

  “Owwwww!”

  I guess that’s my answer.

  The blunt tool makes a loud slap against the back of Gus’s big head.

  It’d be hilarious if I weren’t so freaked out about the knife and the girl behind me.

  Gus puts one hand on the back of his head as he grimaces. But Oli doesn’t stop there. He flails down with the flat instrument and whacks Gus’s hand. I hear what must be the knife drop on the floor.

  Oli speaks. And this time he’s not whispering to me in the locker room. “No, Riley, you stay over there.”

  Meanwhile, Gus is yelling and cursing.

  “Shut up and get up,” Oli says. He’s holding the palette knife like it’s an actual knife. But there’s probably no one in the room who doesn’t think he’ll use it.

  “What are you doing, you idiot?” Gus says. He’s still rubbing the back of his head.

  “No more. Chris, you guys can leave.”

  “Kelsey, leave.”

  “Chris—?”

  “I’ll be just a minute.”

  She gets her stuff and quickly leaves the room. I’m standing there watching the scene play out.

  “Oli. Are you high?” Gus stares at him in disbelief.

  “Not this time,” Oli says.

  Gus curses at him some more.

  “I’m tired of watching you hurt people that don’t need hurting, and I’m not going to watch anymore. This time I’m not going home feeling guilty that I should’ve done something.”

  “You put that thing down—”

  “Or what? Huh? No more.”

  “That’s right, it’s no more. I’m done with you.”

  Oli nods as if that’s fine with him. “You can leave, Chris.”

  “Okay,” I say. “But after you.”

  He drops the tool on the floor. “You try and do anything to me, Gus, and I’ll kill you,” he says.

  “Not if I do it first.”

  It doesn’t look like either of them is joking around. Oli leaves, and I follow him into the hallway.

  84. Happy Accidents

  “Oli—dude—”

  “Look, it’s fine.”

  “What just happened in there?”

  We’re walking down the hall, and I keep looking around, hoping to see Kelsey.

  “It’s about doing what’s right,” he says.

  “Okay. But—”

  I spot Kelsey waiting for me.

  “I’ll explain another time. Go talk to her.”

  “You can come with me.”

  “She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

  I nod and am about to say thanks, but he’s gone.

  I reach Kelsey, and she starts crying. All I can do is hug her. For a few moments, it feels like we’re the only two people here. And that feels fine with me.

  It’s amazing how accidents seem to happen at the strangest times.

  Kelsey and I are walking to our next classes after the few moments I’ve spent trying to calm her down. We’re already late, but that’s okay. It’s not a big deal to be late to history class with Mr. Meiners. And I’m sure Kelsey is such a good student she could take a couple days off without getting in trouble.

  I stand in front of the closed door to her class and look down at her to make sure she’s okay.

  “Why’d he do that?” she asks. The big, blue eyes behind the glasses are looking at me with confusion and relief.

  “I have no idea.”

  “What’d he say to you?”

  “That he’ll explain later.”

  “It’s good to know you have people looking out for you.”

  I laugh. “Yeah. I guess that is good. I can use it.”

  “I’d better go in.”

  Before she does, I lean closer to her and slip my hands over hers.

  “Listen, Kelsey. I’m sorry, okay. I don’t want—I don’t want any stuff like that to come back and hurt you.”

  “It won’t.”

  Even though she’s shaken, she still somehow looks strong.

  “It almost did.”

  “It’s worth it.” She squeezes my hands, then opens her door to her classroom and goes inside.

  I’m standing there for a minute, once again surprised, not just at this girl but at my feelings for her and at how quickly they’re developing when I strictly said they couldn’t.

  I turn to go toward Mr. Meiners’ room when I face that happy accident.

  Poe is standing at the side of the hallway, watching me.

  “Hey,” I say, actually glad to see her.

  But she turns and heads the other way.

  She’s like a Halloween trick-or-treater in all black.

  I call out her name, but she’s gone.

  85. Purpose

  For the first time in a long time, I have purpose.

  I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like I had so much purpose as I do right now.

  Coach Brinks is nearby on the sideline along with the rest of our team. Ray is there; so are the others. Normally they don’t all pay attention, but right now they are.

  I always feel stupid before races because I don’t have some ritual. The guys next to me, two big guys from Hendersonville High, are stretching and jogging fast and looking up at the sky and doing whatever else they need to. One is a white guy with not an ounce of body fat on him. The other is a black guy who looks like he could bench-press me.

  It’s great that I’m stuck in between these two.

  There’s another school here, but everybody knows that the race is ultimately among the three of us.

  The starter prompts us to get ready. I’m getting bet
ter coming out of the blocks, but that’s the beauty of the 300-meter hurdles. You don’t have to shoot out of them like you do with the 100 high hurdles. This race is part sprint, part endurance, part timing.

  And in your case, part luck.

  “Runners, take your mark.”

  I can feel my heart beating.

  But it’s a good kind of beating. It’s not the kind that you get when someone is laughing at you in the mysterious passage below your house. It’s not the kind you get from seeing some undead grandpa in some weird tunnel in the middle of nowhere. It’s not the kind you get when pimply bully-boy pulls out a knife.

  And it’s not the kind you get when you’re running to save someone who is already dead.

  “Get set.”

  I know one thing.

  If I could have run faster, I would have. If I could have hurdled more logs and bushes, I would have. If I could have been stronger and tougher, then maybe.

  Just maybe.

  The shot rings out, and I’m no longer thinking about the guys from Hendersonville. I’m not thinking about the coach who calls me Chicago or about Mr. Popular who thinks I can win this one.

  I’m not thinking about this school or this place or my place in this school.

  I’m running to Jocelyn.

  I’m running for her.

  I catch the first hurdle fine, with all the right strides.

  But the right strides don’t mean anything in this life. It’s all random, all meaningless, all complete luck.

  The big guys are ahead of me, but I don’t care.

  I take the second hurdle fine.

  There are eight hurdles, and I’m making my way around the corner, running fine.

  Then something happens.

  I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s just my stupid stubbornness.

  But I see big guy one and big guy two start pulling away, and it makes me angry. Really angry.

  Like the kind of anger that’s been inside, deep inside, like a giant river flowing into an ocean, ever since leaving Libertyville.

  I never wanted to move to this hellhole.

  Next hurdle.

  I never wanted to see your stupid marriage implode and then explode.

  Next hurdle.

  I never wanted to meet someone new and fall in whatever version of love I could fall into only to get slapped and beaten and thrown out of the car and left for dead myself.

  Next hurdle.

  I never wanted to know that evil is real and darkness is thorough and that the weird, spooky stuff of life might really be out there.

  Next hurdle.

  I might be sucking in air, but I can’t tell. Someone somewhere might be cheering for me, but I can’t hear anything. I’m just running faster now than I was at the start of the race.

  I’ve never had this much energy while closing in on the final hurdles.

  In some movies or stories I might reach the final hurdle and trip over it. But I already did that the last time I was running this fast and this steady and this hectic. I tripped over something big and discovered that she was already long gone.

  Not this time not this time you soul-sucking town.

  And even though I’m beginning to see little dots of stars in my vision and my lungs have been tossed over some mountain ledge like a grenade as I pass the finish line, I don’t slow down. Not until I’m all the way around the track and see Coach Brinks and the others rushing toward me.

  I can’t breathe or even really see when Coach Brinks puts his arms around me.

  “You ran like someone was chasing you there, Chicago! That was incredible.”

  They tell me the results, but I don’t really care.

  All I know is that, for a moment, I wasn’t in some prison, running around in circles.

  I was free and running away. I was running toward something. I was running for a reason and a purpose.

  They keep telling me over and over about the results, but I just nod and try to catch my breath.

  As I do, I look up in the stands, which are mostly empty.

  But I see a figure in black.

  I guess Poe saw me win the race.

  86. Black Leopard

  “Good thing I didn’t know you were watching.” I sit down next to Poe.

  “You won the race. You were awesome.”

  “Yeah, but I would’ve probably tripped if I’d seen you.”

  “Shocked that I’m at a sporting event?”

  “Shocked that you’re at mine.”

  She smiles. “You beat those guys pretty bad.”

  “Coach says I set a new school record.”

  Poe looks up at me and beams. “That’s amazing. Congratulations.”

  I shrug as if this is the sort of thing I do every day.

  “You don’t seem happy.”

  “I was happy running. Now I’m just exhausted.”

  The track meet is still going on down below the stands.

  “A record. Now you’re a jock, huh? And I obviously don’t hang around with jocks.”

  I laugh. “Why’d you bolt this afternoon when I saw you?”

  She glances out to the football field below with those eyes so heavy and so full. Poe is sorta like a beautiful animal, like a bobcat or a leopard.

  A black leopard, so sleek with those eyes, but also always ready to snap or bite back.

  “It’s no big deal,” Poe says.

  “Nobody was around, so I don’t know why you had to—”

  “Chris?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Just shut up, okay? I’m watching the meet.”

  I give her a look that says you gotta be kidding me, but she doesn’t look back. I take a sip of bottled water and then look down below too. I’m too tired for any kind of drama this afternoon.

  The sky is beautiful with pockets of clouds and an endless blue that I wish I could sail away on.

  “Guys are pretty stupid,” Poe says, surprising me.

  “What?”

  “Just hush, okay?”

  “I thought that’s what I was doing.”

  Then the black leopard moves over and kisses me on the cheek.

  87. She’s a Girl

  The cafeteria behind us is quiet, the lights off and the chairs and tables sleeping in the shadows. We sit on the end of a table that faces the front doors to the high school. The sun is just beginning to dive beneath the mountaintops far in the distance.

  “If I had a phone—or maybe a life—I’d call my mom and tell her not to pick me up,” I say to Poe.

  “It’s fine.”

  “You really don’t have to stay.”

  She’s sitting on the table while I’m standing, watching for the lights to come up the drive of the school.

  “I’m not going to bite,” she says.

  I nod, then realize she means I can sit by her. Or maybe it means I should sit by her.

  I’m still a little surprised at that kiss. Not freaked out or bewildered but … curious, I guess.

  Not long ago I would never have guessed that a kiss like that would come from Poe.

  We’re sitting side by side, and I’m quiet because I don’t know what to say. Poe clears her throat and turns and faces me.

  “Okay. I’m just going to get this out since I still stand by what I said earlier, that guys are stupid. You always have to be shown something. You can’t just—you can’t come up with it yourself.”

  She’s talking in another language. Girl language.

  Interpreter, please?

  “Can’t come up with what?”

  “So that’s why—if I don’t do this, I know I’ll forever probably regret it. The same way I regretted it when—when I should have at the very beginning.”

  “I’m lost,” I say.

  “You always are.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Do you remember the first time we came up to you at school? When you were wearing a Smiths T-shirt?”

  “Yeah.”

  I think about that all the
time. It was the first time I ever had a chance to talk to Jocelyn. Or talk around her.

  “All you probably remember is Jocelyn, and that’s fine. That’s all anybody remembers, when it comes to the three of us. Which was always fine until—until you showed up.”

  I’m still lost.

  “I wanted to come up to you, Chris. You probably don’t remember it, but I called you cute.”

  I shake my head. Poe thought I was cute? When was that?

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Of course you don’t. And then you got swooped up into the hurricane that was Jocelyn. And I knew it. I knew you would, but I always—I just thought … hoped, I guess. I thought that there might be something there. I figured we had things in common, and I knew that the last thing Jocelyn wanted was a relationship. But of course, she fell in love with you.”

  I look away from her glance, down at the floor.

  “And who wouldn’t?” she says.

  I can’t quite believe her words, so I look back up at her.

  “Why do you think I was so irritable with you and Jocelyn?”

  “I just thought it was because—because everybody else didn’t want me with her,” I say.

  “Yeah. But my reasons were different.”

  It clicks.

  And yeah, I guess I’m pretty clueless.

  “The only reason I’m telling you this—I’m not trying to bring up the past or make you feel bad or anything. It’s just—today, I’d heard about the fight and was waiting to see what happened, and then I saw you and that girl. And I just—everything came back, Chris. Everything. Those conversations I had with Jocelyn where she said she wasn’t interested and that we’d make a good fit.”

  “She said that?”

  “Early on. And then everything—who knew? I still can’t believe she’s gone. I still can’t believe that she really knew. I think she just wanted to escape. Or leave. Or ignore it. But you came along and changed all that.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Poe looks up at me with an expression that’s as soft and comforting as any I’ve seen in my life.

  “You did everything you could, and you did even more than that. I know what you did for Jocelyn. I just—I was angry that you chose her, even though I always knew you would.”

  “Poe, I just—”

  “Please, no. I only bring it up because today I saw it happening again. I don’t know what you think and feel toward Kelsey, but I want you to know that there’s another girl here. And you’ve been kind enough to allow her back into your life. And that girl still—still hopes.”