by Vox Day
“All right!” he said, raising a fist. “Please tell me you’ve got Schumacher in there too.”
“Go down to the cafeteria,” his friend instructed him. “There’s a kitchen crawling with them. This is your mission should you choose to accept it. Show no mercy!”
Brien nodded, hit the escape key, and at the same time, held down the left mouse button. Amidst the cacophony of battle exploding from the speakers, there was a whirring burst of high tech gunfire punctuated by a howling scream. Brien glanced up at his friend and nodded with satisfaction as on the screen in front of him, the image of Kent Peterson was blown to pixels in a magnificent eruption of simulated blood and gore.
It was two hours, three beers, and several re-packings of the large water pipe that had been christened Big Ben, when Derek, staring at the ceiling with an unlit joint in his hand, announced his intentions.
“This is all bullshit. I tell you what. You know how they say all morals are relative? Well, I think there is still one moral imperative, and that’s to kill yourself as soon as you wake up to reality.”
“Totally,” Brien agreed absently. He was too stoned, and too mired in his pain and self-pity to pay much attention to Derek’s philosophic babbling.
“No, I’m serious. Once you realize that there isn’t any point to things, then what is the purpose in putting up with any more crap? Only an idiot keeps banging his head against a wall once he discovers there’s a wall in front of him. I mean, even a lab rat is smarter than that!”
“So go around the stupid wall.”
“Oh, okay,” Derek said sarcastically. “You do that. And have you ever made it around the wall in four years of high school? No, because it’s never going to happen. Four years, and all you get for your trouble is knowing that Jim Schumacher is going to bang Tessa?”
Brien was quiet for a moment.
“That was low,” he said finally.
“No, it’s fucking reality!” insisted Derek. “That’s what I’m saying. Now you know the wall is there, so you’ve got no excuse anymore. You either keep banging your head on it, or you just say, fuck it, I quit!”
“I suppose there is some truth to that,” Brien admitted. “It’s kind of a death before dishonor thing, just giving ‘em all the finger, once and for all.”
“Right. It’s not like anyone gives a shit about us anyhow.”
Brien laughed shortly. That was sure true.
With the back of his hand, Derek felt blindly around the floor for a lighter. Brien spotted one on the desk next to the keyboard, flicked it, and leaned back in the chair. Derek lit the joint, inhaled deeply, and handed it over to Brien.
“You ever think about how you’d control-alt-delete?” he asked, pretending to hit three imaginary keys in the air.
“Sure,” Brien admitted. “I always thought that the best way to do it would be to go down to the river right before sunset, with a bag of really good weed, a liter of vodka, and some downers. I’d smoke the whole bag, then, right when the sun has dropped just below the horizon, you know, when the whole sky has that deep purple thing going on and there’s just a crack of gold at the very bottom edge, I’d pop the pills and drain the whole bottle in one smooth chug. It’d just be a sweet, smooth ride into sleep….”
Brien made a sliding gesture with his left hand, and closed his eyes.
“No, that’s too selfish,” Derek judged. “Me, I say those two guys at Columbine did it right. That was fucking heroic, what they did. Remember how all the jocks were being really nice to everybody for about a week? That was because they were terrified that somebody was going to go apeshit and do the same thing to them here! They got over it, of course, but the thing is, if all the losers and rejects could just get organized and pull a Columbine, like, every two weeks for a year, this world would be a much better place. For everybody, I mean, even the assholes might start learning to behave like human beings for a change!”
“The ones who weren’t dead, you mean,” said Brien dryly.
“Well, yeah.”
Brien sat there, the stoned languor making his arms and legs feel three times heavier than normal, thinking about the unthinkable. Derek did have a good point. If you were going to die anyhow, why not do it in a way that would leave the world a better place after you were gone? There certainly wasn’t any question that there were certain people whose absence would significantly improve the planet.
“You’re not really serious about this, are you?”
Brien found that, somehow, the ghastly idea filled him with excitement, for a reason that he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, understand. He could easily picture the two of them stalking through the familiar, cursed halls like a pair of motherfucking Grim Reapers, mercilessly blowing away every single person who’d ever laughed at him, made fun of him, or messed with him in any way. The thought of his tormentors’ panicked faces, screaming in fear and horror, was delicious, and he found himself trembling with a tingling anticipation. It would be like that Quake mod, only in true 3D, brought to life with a real 360 degrees of freedom. Was it possible that they might actually do this? Could they actually do it?
“I’m stone cold fucking serious,” Derek said coolly.
Beneath his bruises, Brien saw that his friend’s face was a iron mask of pitiless determination. He wore an expression purified by hatred that might have been familiar on an Aztec priest, or a medieval noble crying havoc over a conquered city. Brien shivered, but whether it was in anticipation or in awe, he couldn’t say.
Chapter 25
Confrontation
But the wicked will perish
The lord's enemies will be like the beauty of the fields
They will vanish—vanish like smoke.
—Psalms 37:20
Jami shared an uneasy look with Holli as they sat quietly together at the breakfast table. Her plate was empty, but she sipped slowly at her half-empty glass of orange juice as Holli toyed with the remnants of her scrambled eggs. The moment of truth was upon them, and they were waiting for Christopher to appear in order to present a united front against Mom and Dad. The three of them had organized their strategy last night, and although Jami was pretty sure her parents would cave before their unified lobby, there was just no way to be certain of that.
“Hey,” yawned Christopher, as he shambled down the stairs. “Any coffee left, Dad?”
Dad glanced up from his twice-folded newspaper and arched his eyebrows.
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise. It’s not often we get the whole clan assembled this early in the morning.”
Jami saw Holli glance at her, and nodded her approval. Might as well get it over with.
“Actually, Daddy, there was something we wanted to talk to you and Mom about.”
“Uh-oh,” Dad said, with mock suspicion. But he was smiling, and he laid his newspaper on the floor next to his chair. “What is it, sunshine?”
“Well…” Jami started to say, but Christopher broke in on her.
“Eric and Jason asked them to the prom, that’s what.”
“The prom?” Mom quickly joined them. “Jami, someone asked you too?”
“Yeah, can you believe it?” Christopher said quickly, stifling Jami’s instinctive protest with a warning glare.
“Of course I can believe it,” said Dad, who reached out to squeeze Jami’s hand. “Who wouldn’t want to take a beautiful girl like her?”
“Mom, please, we really want to go,” begged Holli. “This will be my only chance to go with Eric, he’s graduating this year, you know that."
“I don’t know,” Mom shook her head disapprovingly. “Eric is a very nice young man, of course. But who is this other boy? Is he a senior as well?”
“Mom, it’s the prom,” Jami said, unable to contain her exasperation. “Of course Jason’s older than me. Only juniors and seniors can go, underclassmen can’t unless somebody who’s older takes them.”
“So he is a senior?” Mom didn’t look pleased.
“It’s
just a school dance, really, Elaine. Senior, junior, who can tell these days?”
Jami shot Daddy a grateful look, but Mom was frowning. She was still wearing her red bathrobe, and Jami wondered if dropping this particular bomb on her first thing in the morning had been such a good idea.
“It’s very different now than when we were in high school, Ronald. Don’t you remember that article in the Pioneer Press last year? There’s an awful lot of drinking that goes on, and apparently some of the parents are even renting hotel rooms for their children! Now, you can’t tell me that there’s nothing going in those rooms that shouldn’t be, and maybe I sound like an old fuddy-duddy to say this, but that’s just wrong!”
She looked surprised when Holli agreed with her.
“You’re totally right, Mom, which is why we’re not asking if we can stay out all night or anything like that. We’re not asking to go to any of the parties or whatever, we just want to go to the prom, and then have the guys bring us back here. We can be back by, like two, if you want.”
“That’s three hours past your curfew,” Dad pointed out. “That seems pretty late to me.”
“But Daddy!” Holli joined Jami in a chorus of protest.
“I think the dance runs from nine until midnight, Dad,” Christopher said. “I don’t think it’s fair to make them run out before it ends, do you?”
“We haven’t even decided if they’re going at all!” Mom interjected. “Everybody just hold their horses. Holli, Jami, you haven’t even told us when it is, or where it’s being held!”
“It’s at the Landmark Center,” Jami told them. “On May first.”
“How very appropos,” Daddy said, chuckling to himself. “Some things never change. I don’t suppose there will be a May pole?”
“What’s that, Ronald?” Mom asked, looking suspiciously at Daddy.
“Oh, never mind, never mind. It’s just that one can hardly ignore the fertility rite aspects of … seriously, though, I don’t see any reason why the girls shouldn’t go. We decided that they could start dating once they were in high school, and as far as I’m concerned, this is just another date. It’s probably safer than most, actually, since it will be chaperoned.”
“That is true,” Mom nodded. “Perhaps we could even volunteer to—”
“Mom!”
“No!” Holli’s protest wasn’t as quite as quick as Jami’s, but it was louder. “You wouldn’t do that to us, would you?”
Christopher was laughing.
“I don’t think that’s the best idea, Mom. Did you want your parents at your prom?”
Daddy chuckled.
“No, I don’t believe she did, did you, Elaine?”
“Things were different then,” Mom insisted, but there was a faint smile on her face and Jami could tell she was weakening. “All right, since no one else seems to have any objections, I have to admit that I don’t see why you shouldn’t go either. But I want to meet this Jason character first, Jami, and both of you are to be back here by twelve thirty sharp.”
“One thirty,” Jami countered immediately. “Come on, Mom….”
“One o’clock, then,” Daddy said, and there was the ring of finality in his voice.
Jami knew better than to argue any further, although she was wondering how she was supposed to tell Jason that he had to make such an early night of it.
“Thanks, Mom, thanks Daddy,” Holli was saying. “We won’t get in any trouble, I promise.”
“And we’ll be back on time too,” Jami added. “We really appreciate it.”
But both of them were apprehensive when Mom unexpectedly raised a warning finger.
“There’s just one more thing,” she said, raising an eyebrow in a way that usually entailed an incoming lecture.
“Yeah?” asked Jami, uneasily. Shoot! And everything was going so well too….
“When are we going shopping? For your dresses?”
Mom’s eyes sparkled mischievously. She obviously knew they’d been thinking down entirely different lines. Well, Jami thought, you could say a lot of things about Mom, but you couldn’t say she was a bad loser.
“Hurray!” Jami cheered happily as Holli got up from the table and gave Mom an enthusiastic hug.
“Hey, what about me?” Daddy said, and Jami was quick to get up and hug him too. “That’s better.”
Christopher got up too, and checked his watch.
“Sorry to put the kye-bosh on this very touching display of family unity, but unless you guys want to be late, we’ve got to get a move on. We're supposed to meet the gang in ten minutes.”
The gang was just the Bible study, or more precisely, that portion of the Bible study who attended Mounds Park and were able to get to school fifteen minutes before the first bell. They met at the flagpole every other week, where they would join hands to form a prayer circle and pray briefly for the school, its students, and sometimes even the faculty. Mr. Maples had suggested the idea to the group not long after the night Christopher stormed out of the Bible study; although Jami had never heard of it before, he'd informed them that Meet You At The Flagpole was a national movement of some kind for young Christians.
She'd felt a little funny the first time they'd gotten together, and a little embarrassed, but once they'd met a few times, she got used to it. Now she even felt good about what they were doing. Everybody needed prayer, and maybe it wasn't doing much but at least it was doing something. Some of the other kids made fun of them from time to time, but it wasn't a big deal and one or two kids she didn't know had even come up to her and asked her if the group would pray for them.
And why not? Even if you didn't believe in God or in the lordship of His Son, how could it possibly hurt? School was brutal enough and most kids could use all the help they could get.
Holli had some last minute homework to finish before first hour, so she ran off to the library once they arrived while Jami and Christopher went to meet the others.
“Hey!” Asako waved to them as they approached the little gathering. “Glad you could make it. Where's Holli?”
“Didn't finish her math last night.” Jami smiled as the Japanese girl smiled at Christopher and gave him a welcome hug. Asako had never been the sort to hold a grudge, and she and Christopher had gotten to be pals over the last few weeks.
“Good morning,” Blaine, the big linebacker said as he put an arm around her shoulder. “How you doing?”
“I'm doing good.” She grinned up at him. “Our parents said we could go to prom!”
“Awesome!” Blaine nodded approvingly. “Jason finally got up the nerve to ask you, huh? He's a good guy. I don't know him as well as Eric, but we had a history class together last year.”
“All right, everybody!” Scott, the other senior guy, was kind of the unofficial leader. He grabbed the hands of the two kids closest to him and raised them in the air. “Let's get started. Does anybody have any specific prayer requests?”
No one did, apparently, so Scott led them in a simple prayer, asking God to bless Mounds Park, to give them all a productive day of learning, and to help them behave as good Christian role-models for the non-believers they would encounter over the course of the day. He was just about to close when a nearby voice intruded on their devotions.
“Why do you waste your time, losers? Your fucking god is dead. He's gone and he's never coming back!”
Startled, Jami raised her head and looked for the source of the profane interruption. It was a tall boy, wearing a black T-shirt decorated with an ugly cartoon figure, and although his eyes were concealed behind sunglasses, his face was twisted with rage. Jami found herself inadvertently curling her lip, both at the vulgar image on the shirt as well as the hatred radiating from the boy. She felt threatened somehow, even though he was as skinny as a scarecrow and Blaine's muscular bulk stood between him and her.
“Amen,” Scott said firmly, as if he hadn't heard anything, before turning deliberately toward the intruder. “Can I help you?” he asked politely.
>
The boy responded by hurling obscenity after obscenity at Scott, some of which were surprisingly inventive. “God, I hate you fucking Jesus freaks!” he concluded unnecessarily, as if concerned that they somehow might have managed to miss the point.
Blaine was squeezing her hand a little hard, but he remained silent. Christopher, following the senior's lead, also kept his mouth shut, although he quietly placed an arm in front of Jami and pushed her behind him. Scott's face was pale, but his voice was calm as he replied to the boy.
“I'm sorry to hear that.” He didn't blink as the tall boy spit at him, but stepped aside just in time for it to pass over his shoulder instead of hitting him in the face.
“Losers! You're all losers!” the boy shouted again. He made two devil signs with his hands and stuck out his tongue, practically frothing at the mouth. “Satan rules, motherfuckers!”
That was too much for Blaine, and he pulled his hand away from Jami as he started to step forward. Fortunately, at that moment, the first bell rang and psycho boy abruptly whirled around and ran off towards the safety of the school.
“Let him go, Blaine,” Scott ordered. Reluctantly, the football player nodded.
“I will. I will. But man, was he asking for one or what?”
“Totally!” Jami exclaimed. But when she glanced over at her brother, expecting agreement, she was surprised to see that he was sitting on the concrete base of the flagpole, staring in the direction of the tall boy's retreating figure with a thoughtful look on his face.
“Christopher? Are you all right?”
He looked up at her as if she'd surprised him.
“Yeah, of course. I'm fine.” He scratched at his knee. “I just thought that was a little unusual, don't you think?”
Jami nodded. Sure, it was weird, and she sort of wish Blaine had punched out the scrawny creep. But that would be wrong, and so she told herself that she was glad he hadn't. She shrugged and gave Christopher a hand as he rose from the flagpole base. Maybe the boy had just forgotten to take his Ritalin or something. She had more important things to think about now. For instance, was Jason going to be at his locker before second hour? She hoped so. Lunchtime was a long time away, and she didn't want to wait until then to see him again.
