Gravestone

by Travis Thrasher

“Who are you talking about? Tell me!”

  I think my voice might wake the dead, or at least the dead in the tunnels underneath our house.

  “Mom?”

  “A guy I met at work.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Why?”

  “Well, in case you pass out like you usually do every single night, and he knocks at the door. A name might be good. Or if he shows up at school like everybody does and pops out of my locker.”

  “Mike.”

  “What’d he do?”

  “Nothing,” Mom says.

  “Really?”

  She sees me glancing at the shotgun.

  “He’s a guy I met at work who I thought was one thing but was really something else. Just like every other guy I’ve ever met.”

  “Did he—?”

  “Just drop it.”

  “Is he coming over? Seriously?”

  Mom leans against the couch and looks like someone who’s just finished a marathon.

  “I don’t know.”

  That’s all she says. That’s all I get.

  Mike.

  Mike who might be coming over.

  Mike who was going to be welcomed with a nice shotgun blast.

  And here I’d thought we might have one of those nice scenes where a kid talks to his parent about prom, kinda like in those cute eighties flicks.

  But this isn’t one of those films. I’m not a girl, and I’m never going to be pretty in pink.

  Later that night, after Mom eventually falls into a coma on the couch with the television still on, I’m in my bed with my eyes wide open, waiting to hear anything.

  I really can’t remember what it’s like to go to bed without worrying or wondering or waiting. I remember that I used to go to bed wondering what my friends would say tomorrow about my Facebook comment. Now I go to bed wondering if some creepy face is going to pop up by my window.

  Eventually I turn the light back on and decide to read. That doesn’t work, so I put on some music at a decent volume that only the conscious can hear. I decide to skip the heavy, dark, sad stuff that fills most of the record collection. Instead I put on a Duran Duran album that is bouncy and peppy at first, yet soon turns sad and reflective. Of course.

  I find the leather band I no longer wear but still have. For a long time I hold it and think of Jocelyn.

  If heaven does exist, is she looking down at me?

  If heaven does exist, she’s surely doing far more important things.

  I want to cut this leather band up into a hundred little pieces.

  I put it back on my desk and then see the picture, that crazy picture I found sometime ago.

  It’s even more blurry and faded than I remember, like a snapshot accidentally taken pointing at the sun.

  I want to cut the picture up, too, yet for some reason I keep it.

  The same reason I keep listening to music like this.

  The same reason I keep waiting.

  As if eventually, it’ll all make sense.

  As if eventually, it’ll all be okay.

  92. A Change in Seasons

  Maybe ten or twenty years from now, I’ll look back on this with fond memories. Fond memories that I got out of this nightmare. Fond memories that I left this school and this town in the dust. But at the moment I’m just wondering how to make it to tomorrow.

  I really want to talk to Kelsey about the whole prom thing, but then one day at lunch I see her talking to an upperclassman.

  His name is Sam, I think. He’s not a jock, but he runs in the same circles as Ray Spencer. I think he might be competition for Ray, to be honest. Another good-looking, well-to-do guy who dates a lot of girls at this school.

  Kelsey is laughing at him and bringing her head close to her shoulder in a way a cat might as it’s purring.

  I bump into someone, who curses at me, and I stop staring and find my seat next to Newt.

  “That’s crazy,” I say, talking more to myself than anything else.

  “There are two times when people get really crazy around here. May and December.”

  I look at Newt and wonder how he knows what I’m even talking about, then realize I’m lucky to have a friend like him. Before I can start picking at my lunch, Georgia strolls by and stops in front of us.

  “You had your chance, but look who got her instead.”

  This girl really just needs a mop in her mouth.

  “What did I do wrong today?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Georgia says with contempt. “Nothing at all. The news about prom wasn’t hard on her at all. But she’s still going.”

  “With Sam over there?”

  Georgia nods.

  “So are you going with the man of your dreams? Dan? Planning on eloping?”

  “No. In fact, Ray asked me. Might’ve been a nice group if you had been smarter.”

  I thought Ray was going to ask someone else to prom. I’m going to say something, but she walks away. Newt is eating Cheetos and just staring at me.

  “What?”

  “Like I said,” he says, shaking his head. “May and December.”

  Things do feel different, but it’s the end of the school year and everyone is ready for summer. Poe still doesn’t talk much with me at school, yet she wants to go to prom with me. Kelsey acts like a stranger, not even painting by me in art any longer.

  Mom is a mess, drinking more than ever. She’s no longer hiding it, which is not good since I’m no longer hiding my growing contempt at having to watch her self-destruct. This is one of those cycles that can only end badly.

  I don’t hear from Jared, nor do I hear from Sheriff Wells.

  It’s nothing except a vibe I get. Things are different.

  All I know is that summer is coming, and maybe with it will come a change. Or at least a change of scenery.

  Maybe if I could look into the future, I’d feel a little more at ease.

  But something tells me otherwise. Something dark and oppressive is coming, something that’s going to change everything, something that is even worse than what happened with Jocelyn.

  Nothing could be worse than that.

  Nothing.

  93. Miss You

  The night before prom, and I’m not thinking about Poe.

  I’m thinking about you.

  I miss you. I miss your smile and your spirit and your sweet touch.

  I miss knowing there could have been more. Knowing there should have been more.

  I miss the days and weeks and months we could have spent together. I miss the future we could have looked forward to and the past we could have looked back on. I miss the memories we could have built.

  I miss feeling missed, feeling wanted, feeling anything.

  I miss everything that we had in that blink of time. Everything that got buried and blacked out and blown into the wind.

  I miss knowing there’s something to fight for. Something for us to fight for.

  I miss everything that could have been and should have been.

  I miss you, Jocelyn.

  No amount of time changes that. It only cements it even more.

  94. Save a Prayer

  Uncle Robert is deejaying the prom!

  That’s what I think as I enter the gymnasium. There’s nobody else to have a conversation with, so I’m talking to myself. The music sounds like something out of Uncle Robert’s record collection. It takes me a few minutes, but gradually I notice signs of the eighties everywhere, along with the way some of the students are dressed. I get it. A themed prom.

  Guess it shows how much I’ve been paying attention to the whole prom thing.

  I’m here by myself because of the last-minute call I received from my date. Thankfully Poe didn’t call and say it was all a big fat joke. No, the message was short and tense.

  “I have to meet you at the school and I can explain,” she told me.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “No.”

  It’s always a bad sign when someone s
ays no to that question, because even if things are bad, people usually say yes. Yes, everything’s okay even though my house just burned down and my dog died. But yes.

  Getting the no means things must be really, really bad.

  I start to ask Poe for details, but she cuts me off and says she’ll see me at the prom.

  So here I am, feeling like an idiot because I’m by myself and because I had no clue about this eighties theme, feeling uncomfortable in the tux that I rented that seems a bit too big, feeling just overall stupid.

  Meanwhile, the gym is packed.

  Our school prom back in Libertyville was held on a boat in Lake Michigan.

  Harrington High goes all out … in the gym.

  I scan the room, but don’t see Poe. I do, however, see Kelsey. And pretty much most of me wishes I hadn’t.

  She looks …

  Wow.

  She’s playing up the theme with her poofy hairstyle that seems like it’s holding a bottle of hairspray. She’s dressed in a wild black skirt and heels and looks about ten years older. Like Madonna when she first came out.

  Older. And hotter.

  And of course Sam has his arms around her.

  I recall the dance I came to with Jocelyn and how she ended up slow dancing with some other guy.

  This seems to be my place in life. To look from the sidelines at the pretty girl that I could and should be with.

  So where is Poe?

  The music begins to play Tears for Fears, and the kids seem okay with it.

  I should be dancing and having a fun time, but Poe is nowhere to be found.

  For a while I wait near the doorway. I even head outside to see if Poe might be waiting there.

  I manage to kill time by wandering around as if I have somewhere to go or something to do. I’ve had good training doing that in the hallways at school. But after an hour of this, I’m done.

  I’m five seconds away from walking out when the girl who kidnapped Kelsey’s body comes out of nowhere with a smile and a stare.

  “Are you on your own?”

  I chuckle and try to act all cool. “Yeah. I was just about to leave.”

  “Even your best buddy has a date tonight.”

  “Who’s that?” I ask.

  “Gus.”

  “Wonderful.”

  As if on cue, that song that they played at the end of Pretty in Pink starts to play. If there’s a God above, He has a sense of humor.

  “What happened?”

  “Not quite sure,” I say. “I didn’t know it was an eighties theme.”

  “I can tell.”

  “You look—great.”

  “Georgia had to force me into this.”

  “No, really. You look great.”

  She glances back into the mass of people. Corny lights are set up to try and make it look like a dance floor, but the whole thing is still pretty ridiculous. The sound of saxophones blasts through the speakers.

  “So, big party afterward?” I ask Kelsey.

  She nods and then looks away. She’s wearing more makeup and no glasses, but still—it’s Kelsey. She can’t hide who she is. Or what she’s thinking.

  “Good seeing you,” I tell her.

  This is my way of saying I probably should have asked you to prom.

  I don’t want her feeling like she has to come and babysit me.

  The DJ announces that it’s the last song of the evening. As he does, Kelsey looks at me.

  I suddenly get the feeling that she didn’t just happen to come over here at this particular time.

  Somewhere, her date is surely looking for her.

  The song begins to play.

  “I better go,” I tell her.

  “Do you want to dance?”

  I shouldn’t dance with her. It’s not right. Poe’s not here, but she still might show up. And then there’s Kelsey’s date. Some guy I don’t know and don’t really care to know, but still. He had the guts and the smarts to ask her. I know better and shouldn’t be messing with Kelsey anyway.

  “Sure,” I say.

  She walks out to the dance floor, and I realize that this is my fate. I know better, but I do things anyway.

  I want to dance with her.

  And yes, I really do. But sometimes you shouldn’t do things you want to do.

  It’s amazing that a girl as shy and reserved as Kelsey seems to have no problem locking her arms around me and looking up at me as we dance.

  For a moment, as the old eighties song I’ve heard a bunch of times begins to play, I find myself dancing alone with Kelsey.

  I’m no longer in this town and this state. I’m no longer a student in school and a teenager in life. I’m dancing alone with a beautiful lady. One who holds me close.

  I can’t help but get lost in the synthesizers and the strobe lights and the softness of Kelsey’s touch.

  You shouldn’t be encouraging this, Chris.

  And as it does so many times in life, in my life, the song seems to know what’s happening and it speaks to me. It speaks for me.

  “And you wanted to dance so I asked you to dance, but fear is in your soul,” the singer sings.

  Fear is in my soul, and this girl has no idea.

  No idea.

  But for a moment, I don’t care.

  For a moment, I want to be here.

  I want to be close.

  And I want to be wanted.

  When the song ends, Kelsey smiles as the lights get brighter.

  “Thanks,” I tell her.

  She doesn’t say anything back, but again, I can see it on her pretty and innocent face. It thanks me back. It thanks me back and also tells me not to let her go.

  As I leave Kelsey and leave the gym, the words of the last song follow me. I want to say them to Kelsey as I leave to look for Poe.

  I have a bad feeling about what I’m going to find.

  95. Rage

  Hope and happiness are beginning to look a lot like big bubbles blown by some kid. They drift by and then pop and disappear, leaving only sticky drops on the ground behind.

  I can still hear the song that played to my dance with Kelsey when I get out of my mom’s car and walk up to Poe’s door.

  It seems like every light in the house is on. I’ve never been here before, but it’s pretty much what I expected. A nice, traditional two-story home in a nice little subdivision about twenty minutes away from Solitary.

  I’m still in my tux and feel weird that I’m knocking on this door after the prom.

  Poe answers, and I instantly know things aren’t good. She looks behind her and then walks out, almost into me, as she shuts the door behind her.

  Then she grabs me and hugs me and starts to cry into my chest.

  “What’s wrong? What happened? Poe?”

  She sounds like she’s talking with a sock in her mouth. When she looks back at me, I can hear her say sorry.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, that I couldn’t go. I was going to, I really was. I was going to force them to have to send me home.”

  “What?”

  “I was going to do it, but then my parents—my dad—Chris, it’s awful.”

  “What?”

  “They got to him. I know that’s what happened.”

  “What are you talking about? Poe?”

  She clears her throat and looks up at me with sad eyes. “I got expelled from school.”

  I try to make sense of what she just said.

  “They found drugs in my locker. And this isn’t the first time. They’d found pot on me before.”

  “What?”

  “The first time was legit—it was my sophomore year and—yeah, long story. But this—they’re saying they found heroin in my locker. Heroin. I mean—really? Look at me. Come on. It’s such a joke.”

  “Who—when’d you find out?”

  “They told me Friday afternoon. That’s why you didn’t see me at the end of the day.”

  “I usually
don’t anyway.”

  “They got my stuff and I was escorted out by Sheriff Wells.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. So much for that, huh? So much for alliances.”

  “Did you tell them that it wasn’t—”

  “Of course. But no. Then today my father got fired from his job. Works as a marketing something-or-other for a company that—well, basically it’s Mr. Staunch. That’s what happened.”

  “Do your parents know?”

  “Know what? They don’t know anything.”

  Save a prayer, Kelsey. Save a prayer for the morning after. Or maybe don’t wait that long.

  “Poe …”

  She curses. “This is what they do, Chris. They make people disappear. They did it to Jocelyn and to Rachel. I was afraid this would happen.”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t. But I know too much.”

  “We have to tell your parents everything.”

  “No.” She looks around, since her voice echoed off the walls. “No, we can’t,” she says in a softer voice. “They don’t believe the drugs. They know that I didn’t do that.”

  “Then you can tell them what’s going on.”

  “No. Because I don’t want anything happening to them.”

  “And your expulsion? I mean—what does that mean?”

  “It means that they’ll be willing to go easy on me if I go to another school and am placed on probation.”

  “Another school?”

  She nods.

  “I’m—I don’t know what to say.”

  “We should never have come up to you in the first place,” Poe says. “Even if you were the new cute guy. Your life would’ve been a lot easier.”

  “Sometimes I think it’s the other way around. That this is all because of—that it’s all my fault.”

  “It’s not anybody’s fault except the monsters doing this.” Poe looks out to the street as a car passes. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Why?”

  “Just—it’s not good for you to be here. I don’t want—you need to give me some space, Chris. For now.”

  “I’ve been giving you space.”

  She finally notices the tuxedo I’m in. “You look handsome.”

  “I’m sorry you couldn’t come.”