by John Goode
That afternoon, after my dad had gone to work, someone woke me up pounding on the small window that looked out onto the street. Not having a door or a real window was the only drawback to having a room in the basement, but I didn’t mind since no one really came to see me anyways. I could see Sammy’s face glaring in at me from the other side of the glass. When she saw me look at her, she pointed toward the front door and vanished.
I took my time getting dressed before walking up the steps to the door. I took a deep breath before opening it.
“What in the fuck did you do?” she roared, pushing past me.
“Please, come in.” I said dryly as I closed the door.
She held up her phone. “What did you do?”
I looked at her blankly, making sure I kept any hint of a smile off my face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sammy.”
“You posted that shit on my account,” she raged. “Why would you do that?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, sounding bored as I sat down in my dad’s chair. “But if I did, I’d hazard a guess that this is the day all family business is dealt with.” She gave me a confused look, and I knew she had never seen The Godfather. “You turned on me, Sammy, and this is the price. Learn to deal with it.”
Her face turned four shades of red as my words sank in. Her hand holding the phone trembled, and I assumed she was fighting the urge to throw it at me. “We’re supposed to be friends,” she more pleaded than said.
“Life isn’t what’s supposed to be.” I was sneering at her, but only because of the openly weak stance she was taking. Someone always has to play the victim. “You think I’m supposed to be stuck in this nowhere town while Kyle Stilleno lives my life?”
“People will kill you when they find out,” she said, turning around, ready to flee my living room.
“People will kill us,” I clarified. That stopped her dead in her tracks. “I mean, who’s going to believe you had nothing to do with it? It’s been almost four days. You had to have found out before now. You think you aren’t going down in the same ship I am if you tell? Trust me here, Rose, we’re both hanging on to the same iceberg this time, and I will kick your fat ass off before I go down first.”
She looked at me like I was holding a severed head in my hand. Some people have to make everything a thousand times more dramatic than it really is. It really makes me sick. Her mouth opened like she wanted to say something, but nothing came out.
“Let me help your brain figure it out. You tell people about what I did, I will tell them you helped me, and they will believe me. Period. So if you’re feeling superior, then you march right on out there and tell them what I did. With all due respect to Benjamin Franklin, we are going to stand together, or we will hang together.”
She gaped at me openmouthed like I was a supervillain petting a fluffy white cat or something. It was so ridiculous to see the naïveté on her face. How I ever thought she was a peer was beyond me. No one in this town was on my level, and it was obvious the only way I was going to make it out alive was to force events into motion.
“So you rush on over to your precious Kyle and tell him what we did and see how long he is your friend, because I assure you, he won’t care either. You asked me once what it was like to be hated for just being me. Well, congratulations, because you’re about to find out what it feels like. No matter what you say or how hard you deny it, no one will believe you, and that will be the end of you in this town.” I gave her a patronizing smile. “So you show me what a morally superior person does and go slit your throat socially. I’ll be waiting for that.”
Her astonishment turned to cold fury as she seethed at me. “You know what, Jeremy? I know why your dad beats the shit out of you. It’s not ’cause you’re gay. It’s because you don’t have a fucking soul, and if I had given birth to something like you, I would have smothered it in the crib to save the world.”
I sprang to my feet, but she didn’t back up an inch. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I warned her.
“Thank God your mother died when she did, because if she saw you like this, she’d kill herself.”
“Get out.” The words pushed their way out of my mouth before I could say anything rational in response. My heart was racing, and I took another step toward her. “Get out, and don’t come back.”
She took a half step back, more likely to keep space between us than in actual fear from the look on her face. “Don’t worry, I won’t,” she said, opening the door. “You’re going to die alone, Jeremy, alone and miserable, and you will have no one to blame but you.”
“If I’m dying, bitch, it won’t be alone.”
Again the words just bullied their way out of my mouth, quietly shocking me as much as it did her. She just stared at me like I was a complete and utter stranger and then slammed the door as she left, leaving me shaking, furious at the world.
SUSAN GREYMARK
THERE IS very little in my life I have done right.
I dated the wrong boy in high school, I had unprotected sex because he said it didn’t feel as good, I got pregnant and was unable to walk across the stage to get my diploma because my parents didn’t want me to embarrass myself, I listened to my father and married that same wrong boy when he got kicked out of college, and then I made my son suffer what it felt like to grow up in a house constantly at war. I hid behind a smorgasbord of prescription drugs that didn’t so much make me happy as they made me unaware I was miserable, and I used my son as a bargaining chip against my husband in the cold war our marriage had become. I could go on, but there’s no point, because no matter how long my list of sins got, they would never equal the way I warped my son into someone who was unable to see what an incredible young man he was.
Brad always blamed himself for Nathan’s and my troubles, even though the two of us had fought just as bad in high school. I tried to shield him as much as possible, but it honestly became impossible after a point, because I was just as guilty as his father was in making him feel that way. I’m not asking for sympathy; I’m just outlining my thought process so when I say what I’m going to say next, you’ll understand I am serious.
Brad is the only thing in this world I did that was truly good.
I tried to tell him that, but he’s a boy, and boys both gay and straight seem to shy away from open affection from their mothers. I did my best, but I know it wasn’t enough. All I wanted in life was for him to be happy, and when he met Kyle, I finally saw what that looked like. From that moment on, I swore to myself I would change my ways to make the rest of Brad’s high school life be better than what came before.
Which is, of course, why I was racing to the school, not sure if my son had been shot or not.
It was just a matter of time before something like this happened in Foster. We had been bucking fate for years by thinking we were better than the rest of the country somehow. That intolerance, shame, and inbred hatred was a small price to pay for not having to watch our kids die in front of us. Of course, that’s only true if your kid wasn’t judged by the town and then quietly executed on the outskirts. Everyone my age knew about the Mathisons’ boy and how he was run down years ago in the middle of nowhere. Everyone knew, but no one talked about it, because what was there to say? Riley was just a sacrificial lamb, and all of us silently gave thanks to God above that our child wasn’t the one who’d had to pay.
But now there was a maniac at the high school with a gun, and all bets were off on who was going to pay this time. As I pulled up in front of the police barricade, I fancied just running through it completely and driving my car into the side of the school. As if a couple of tons of plastic and steel could save Brad and vanquish whatever demon had taken the town hostage.
Stephen Rogers was there in his sheriff’s uniform, barking out orders to his people, who were in turn barking out orders to the onlookers. A crowd was gathering, and not everyone had kids who went here. Pushing through them, I got to the
edge of the police barrier and locked eyes with Deputy Justin Mayer, age twenty-two. I had known Justin since he was old enough to pick his nose, and the years had not done anything to divorce me of my image that he was just a boy playing dress-up.
“Mrs. Greymark.” He gulped, looking around for backup. “You can’t come in here.”
Note, I hadn’t actually tried to come in yet. That was how afraid of me he was.
“Get out of my way, Justin,” I said in the same voice that could make Brad clean his room and Nathan retreat into his den. “I need to talk to Sheriff Rogers. Now.”
He looked over his shoulder toward Stephen, and I took the moment to duck under the tape barrier and move past him.
“Hey,” he called out to me. “You can’t be in here.”
I ignored him as I walked to a foldup table they had set up in front of the school. Stephen saw me, and I saw the deputy next to him take a step toward me. This one didn’t know who I was, but it was okay; I had made contact. “It’s okay, Phil,” Stephen assured him. “Get someone over there with Mayer before he starts giving guided tours of the crime scene.”
Deputy Phil gave me a wary glance as he walked over to ream out poor Justin for my presence. I wish I could say I cared more. As soon as we were alone, I asked, barely above a whisper, “Are they okay?”
Stephen and I hadn’t talked much since Jennifer and Brad broke up, since there wasn’t much to say. One day our kids looked like they were going to get married someday, and the next they were of different sexualities. I’m pretty sure Hallmark doesn’t make a card for that. But over Christmas break I knew Jennifer had become friends with Brad and Kyle, and I had been happy to hear their generation seemed to get past this crap better than ours did.
He nodded and looked around to see if anyone was close enough to hear us. “She sent me a text—three shots from the west side of campus. She and Brad are in the east portables.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding in as I leaned against the table. “Oh God, I was so worried….”
He put a hand on my shoulder. “They are safe from the shooter, but Jennifer had to Tase Brad.” I looked up at him to see if there had been an infinitesimal chance he had picked the worst time ever to make a joke. “He tried to force his way out of the classroom—he was worried for Kyle.”
I put a hand to my mouth, not trusting myself to say anything.
“He’s okay, just stunned, but we need to figure out where the shooter is before I can get anyone out of there. Now you know everything I know.” He sounded as tired as I felt, and this was just starting.
“They’re going to be okay, right?” I asked, fearful for the answer.
Before he could reply, the sound of a car coming to a screeching halt tore through the assembled crowd. People parted as the black Mustang came to a rest inches from the barricade. Nathan almost jumped out of the door and pushed past both Phil and Justin, the whole time screaming, “Where is my son? Get off of me. Where is my goddamned son?”
I saw Stephen’s face harden as he gritted his teeth in anger. I put a hand on his chest. “I’ll get him out of here. Just get the kids. Please.” Before he could answer, I turned back and walked directly in front of Nathan’s path. Each deputy had one of his arms in a grip and seemed to be wondering if they should take him down or not.
“Get out of my way, Susan,” he bellowed, ignoring the fact that he had a police officer on either side of him. “Brad is in trouble. I’ll help him.”
“Nathan,” I said as calmly as I could, “they are doing everything they can do.”
He wasn’t talking to me anymore. “He’s my son. Let me go. My son is in danger.”
I reached out and touched the side of his face. “Nate, he’s going to be okay.”
His eyes were wide with emotion as he looked down at me. He was still struggling against the two police officers, but he had stopped moving forward. He reminded me of a spooked horse who was ready to rear back and attack at any second.
“Brad is okay right now. You need to let them do their job.” I kept my voice as still as possible. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t my words but my tone of voice that was keeping his attention. “He’s okay right now. Calm down.”
He stopped moving, much to the deputies’ surprise. They let his arms go and watched him warily. A kaleidoscope of emotions danced over my husband’s face as he tried to talk. Rage, terror, manic paranoia. I watched and waited to see where his roulette wheel of reaction was going to land.
Out of nowhere he sank to his knees, his hands covering his face as he began to sob. It was so un-Nathan-like that I just stared at him, not understanding for a few seconds. With tears falling down his face, he looked up at me and asked, “What if he dies and I never get to tell him how proud I am of him? What if I lose our little boy?”
And for the first time since I could remember, I saw the face of the man I fell in love with.
I fell to the pavement with him and cradled him in my arms, oblivious to how many people were watching us. “We aren’t going to lose him, Nathan. It’s not too late.”
As I rocked him, I said a silent prayer to God not to make me a liar.
JEREMY
THE MONDAY after winter break, I was ready to enjoy the fruits of my labor.
I felt like a master chef who had painstakingly added each ingredient to the pot, stirring slowly to let everything get good and mixed up. The rest had been just watching my creation come to a boil under the heat. Now it was time to feast on his despair. I wore the same Ramones shirt I had been thrown into the trash with earlier in the year. I knew there was no way Kelly would remember it, but I would, and after all, this was all about me.
I wandered around the quad, my iPhone blaring “Karma Police” by Panic! at the Disco.
This is what you get, this is what you get
This is what you get, when you mess with us.
This is what you get, Kelly. This is what you get when you mess with me.
I was sitting by the library, just waiting for the show to begin, when Kyle came charging across the quad, making a beeline right at the Round Table. I pulled my earbuds out as Kyle pushed Tony Wright back with both hands. He was screaming at Tony about Kelly. I moved closer to hear the specifics.
As soon as I got in earshot, Brad said to Tony, “I’m his boyfriend, and Kelly killed himself, you douche.”
I could feel the blood in my veins turn to ice water as I knew he wasn’t lying. My feet wouldn’t work as I staggered away from the table as more people moved toward it. Of course no one noticed me as I turned around and ran toward the bathroom. I barely got into one of the stalls as I began to vomit violently. My shame and horror spilled out of my mouth as I tried not to think that Kelly was dead. My hands gripped the edges of the toilet, because I felt like I could fall into that whirlpool of water that led to nowhere and be lost forever. I just sat there on the bathroom floor, wishing my guilt would come out of my mouth as easy as my bile.
There was an announcement over the loudspeakers telling everyone that school was canceled for the week, and that we should go home. I waited almost an hour before leaving the bathroom. I was certain Kyle was going to be standing there in the hallway, waiting for me with those accusing eyes. I ran home, half crying the entire time as it really began to sink in. He was dead. Kelly Aimes killed himself, and….
No, I will not say that.
I slammed the door behind me and slid down to the floor, blocking the door with my body as I began to shake uncontrollably. Kelly was dead because he’d killed himself. That was a fact. I wasn’t in the room with him. I hadn’t been whispering in his ear. It was his choice, and that was what I kept telling myself until I ended up passing out right there on the floor.
I didn’t wake up until my dad got home and tried to push his way into the house. At first I had visions of the police crashing into the house, trying to grab me and lock me away for killing Kelly. In a blind panic, I pushed against the door, slamming it shut, wh
ich brought a series of cursing from my dad on the other side. He kicked the door open, which knocked me back into the living room.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he roared, tossing his lunch pail to the side. “Why can’t you just be normal?” I kicked back away from him, but it was too late, I had messed up his daily ritual of coming home from work, changing, and drinking a beer in his chair while watching ESPN. And like an overgrown, muscle-bound baby, he was cranky and going to take it out on me.
The ironic part was that as he hit me, I thought this was as bad as my day was going to get.
After a while he got tired, and I retreated to my room, knowing that after a full day’s work and beating me, my dad would be too tired to bug me anymore for the night. I had no idea if he had heard about Kelly or not, but I honestly didn’t care. I put my headphones on and tried to just focus on my music. For a few moments, it pushed the dark thoughts away….
And then a photo of Kelly’s corpse was put on my computer.
I jerked back and tried to look away, but it was too late. Like an image of the sun, it was burned into my eyes for the rest of time. The lifeless eyes as they stared up, the pale complexion that no matter how hard Hollywood tries to replicate, it can never get right, and the blood… how much blood did he have?
I didn’t get far because when I moved to get up, a hand grabbed my neck and pushed me back toward the photo. I looked over, and out of the corner of my eye saw Kyle. I ripped the headphones off and asked. “Kyle? What the fuck?” My mouth was working faster than my brain again, because I knew exactly why he was here. He knew, he knew what I had done…. He knew what had happened and was blaming me.
He moved my face down toward the photos that now littered my desk. “I wanted to show you the results of your efforts.” He sounded angrier than anyone I had ever heard speak before. “Look at them, Jeremy. This is what you wanted, right?”
I tried to get free of him, but he was holding me there with a death grip. “I don’t know what Sammy told you, but she—” I began, hoping anything would get him off me.
