Misdirected

by Ali Berman

  I just stand there with the door half open and look at the ground.

  “If you’re coming in, come in,” he says, between breaths.

  I let the door close, but I don’t move any closer.

  “You know only around four thousand soldiers have died in this war. Two million troops deployed in Iraq and Afghanistan since 9/11 and only four thousand deaths. That’s nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

  He looks at me, forcing me to raise my eyes up to his.

  “In World War Two,” he says, “over four hundred thousand Americans died. You don’t expect people to come home with numbers like those. It’s just a bonus if they do. But less than four thousand? Those are good odds.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, which is totally useless. His brother is dead and mine isn’t. He wipes his eyes with his sleeve, looks away from me, and says, “So you really don’t believe in God? Well, what the hell happens to people in your world if there is no God?”

  His face scrunches up and he looks completely deflated, like he’s lost everything that will ever matter to him.

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe,” I say, finally. “Who says I’m right about anything?”

  “Then no one says I’m right either.”

  I step toward him. “You believe in god. You believe your brother is in heaven. So that’s where he is.”

  “If your brother died,” he says, looking at me straight in the eye, “where do you think he’d go?”

  I think to myself, in the ground, but what worse thing could you possibly say to someone who just lost their brother. For the first time I see why it matters, why heaven is so damn important. No one ever really leaves you. Not forever. Death doesn’t rip a person from your life, it just means you have to wait to see them again. So I say, “All that matters is what you think. Your brother, he was saved, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then you know exactly where he is.”

  He breathes in deeply and turns on the tap to splash water on his face.

  “Does your brother have to go back?” he asks, drying his face.

  “Yeah.”

  “The odds are on his side,” he says, not even looking at me. Kenny throws the paper towel in the garbage and walks past me. As he opens the door to leave he stops, turns his head, and says, “I’m sorry I tripped you. That was messed up.” Then he’s gone.

  I splash some cold water on my face to stop the stinging in my eyes. For the rest of his life, Kenny will have to live with his brother being dead. I still have Pete, and suddenly I feel like the luckiest kid in the world.

  I walk back out to the main room where people are still standing around talking to each other. There are hundreds of people and they all look comforted. Like they know that Sean is still out there, that they’ll see him again.

  I can see why that would be something to hold on to and why Kenny needs that to be true. Everyone here knows that they will live forever, even if it’s not on earth.

  I feel like I understand why someone would want to believe in something bigger. How scary it must be to go from believing you live forever in heaven to believing you die and you’re gone.

  I don’t mind the idea of being gone forever. It makes life more important somehow. What I do right now matters because it’s all I have. But believing in something bigger helps people deal. I bet it even makes it easier to be willing to die for your country.

  I look at Pete and wonder if he’s ever believed, even just for a second when he’s scared. Or if he’s ever hoped that he’s wrong. That there is a god.

  I get now why my freak-out at school hurt everyone so badly. Jesus is the guy who takes care of them in situations like these. That’s a big freaking deal. And I completely disrespected their savior. I have to say sorry to everyone. Up until now it’s felt like Tess is the only person I hurt. Really, I’ve hurt the entire school, and I have to do something to fix it.

  Pete, James, and I get up to walk out to the parking lot. The aisle is so crowded I just try not to bump into other people. When we’re almost to the door I feel someone grab my hand, give it a fast squeeze, and then let go.

  Tess rushes by me with a quick look back over her shoulder.

  I don’t even have time to smile or nod or anything before she’s facing forward again and speed walking ahead to catch up with her family. I can feel her hand on mine still, that warm skin and pressure, even though it was for less than a second. I can feel her.

  After the funeral we drop James off and head back to the house.

  Pete is still quiet. He’s barely said a word since we got in the car to go to the funeral. Once James leaves and we’re alone, it kind of feels like Pete wants to say something. We get all the way home and pull into the driveway and still he hasn’t said a word. But he doesn’t get out of the car.

  So I sit there too, not speaking, just looking at my knees.

  After a few minutes Pete finally says, “That was my first one.”

  “First what?” I ask.

  “First army funeral.”

  I don’t say anything.

  “I’ve lost friends over there, and we have a drink in their name, but their body gets sent back here and we never get to go.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, not knowing what else I could say.

  “I don’t want to go back.”

  I nod.

  “One more tour. Then I’m out.”

  “Then you’ll start that shelter.”

  “Damn right.”

  “Maybe you could start raising money for it now,” I say.

  “I should do that,” Pete says.

  “There’s one near here. We could go and walk some dogs.”

  He looks at me for the first time.

  “That would be great,” he says.

  “I stopped eating meat over Thanksgiving break. I mean, what the hell is the difference between a dog and a pig anyway?”

  “Emily finally got to you?”

  “Her friend Ed. He made a good point. There is no difference. An animal is an animal.”

  “Death is death,” says Pete.

  I turn and face him. “I’m glad you’re home.”

  “You figure out a way to get Tess to the wedding on Saturday?” he asks.

  “I think I might have. It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On whether or not she’ll forgive me.”

  Chapter 39

  Taking Out Your Stopped Heart and Handing It to the People Who Hate You

  At school on Friday the teachers let anyone in the talent show out of second period to practice for tonight. A full dress rehearsal. Admission is ten bucks a person. We’re hoping that parents open up their wallets and give more.

  It’s my last day to make something happen and get back in the show. My tricks are solid. I might even get an ‘oooh’ or an ‘ahhhh’ if I can get onstage.

  The school assembly is at the end of the day today. I have one shot to ask for forgiveness and hope that gets me back into the show.

  I want to leave this school letting everyone know that atheists aren’t terrible people, that I’m sorry for saying what I said, and that if we all try really hard we can be nice to each other.

  Tess passes me in the hall without saying a word. Yesterday at the funeral was just a one-time thing I guess. Maybe she felt bad for me. Now it’s back to no eye contact.

  I keep thinking of that hand squeeze. Of her taking the time and risk to separate from her family and loop back around just to give me that small sign.

  I’m walking from English to lunch up in the library when I pass Kenny and he gives me a nod and says, “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I say back in surprise.

  That’s the entire conversation, but suddenly I feel like it can happen. Like I can do this.

  I spend lunchtim
e practicing my routine for James. I’m able to do it two and a half times through without a problem. At this point, it’s not even the show that I’m nervous about. It’s what I’m going to do during the assembly that has me freaked out. The thing I’ll do if I’m brave enough, if I don’t get so scared that I flake out.

  Everyone at this school has treated me like crap. The thing is, I haven’t treated them much better. They deserve something from me. Something other than the condescending attitude of a judgmental jerk.

  I think about what I want to say to everyone. It changes each time. Maybe a simple I didn’t mean to say what I said or I was really upset. Maybe just, I’m sorry but don’t worry, I’m leaving this hellhole soon so we don’t have to see each other anymore.

  I get through the rest of my classes, barely paying attention. James meets me at my locker to walk over to the assembly. Frank starts it off by talking again about god and being saved. It’s like watching one episode of the only show on TV on repeat.

  I started tuning it out after the third assembly. This week I’m listening closely. Waiting for Frank to ask the question ‘has anyone been saved?’

  Technically my answer is no. I’m still not saved and probably never will be, but I need the mic. We get past the end-of-year stuff, the plug for the talent show tonight, and then Frank says it.

  “Would anyone like to come up here to share their story? It’s December. The end of one year with a new one beginning. Wouldn’t it feel great to start by knowing that if the Lord took you tomorrow, you know where you’d be headed?”

  It takes me a second to get my legs to work. I’m trying to stand up. It’s just not happening. I look over at James, my eyes wide and freaked out, so he does what any good friend would do. He takes his pencil and he jabs it into my leg. Not hard enough to break skin Just hard enough so that my eyes water and I stand up.

  “Me. I have something to say.”

  Frank hesitates and looks a little concerned, but no kid is denied the stage. Not when it’s about the soul.

  I walk down to the stage rubbing my leg where James stabbed me. Each kid is staring at me, looking kind of pissed. A couple of them laugh nervously. One or two chimp noises come from the back. Frank puts his finger to his lips and everyone quiets down.

  Now it’s silent.

  Frank gives me a look as he hands me the microphone, like he’s trying to figure out if I’m going to start screaming at everyone from stage. I nod at him, trying to let him know he can trust me.

  Damn. I’m really going to do this. Hundreds of eyes bore into me and I clear my throat nervously.

  “I know people usually come up here to tell the story of how they got saved. I don’t have a story like that, but I do have something that I need to say.”

  I see Tess a few rows back. She’s looking at me like she’s waiting at the dentist for a root canal.

  “About a month ago, I said something at school that hurt a lot of people. I’m not a bad person,” I say. “But what I said, even though I was mad when I said it, wasn’t okay. It was a cheap shot. It was wrong of me. It was mean and disrespectful and I’m sorry.”

  I look at Tess as I say this. She’s staring at me with her mouth open.

  “I’m going to a public school starting in January so you won’t be seeing me in school anymore. Which is probably better for everyone. I’ve learned a lot by being here. I think I’ve learned how to be more respectful of people whose beliefs I don’t really understand. I know what it’s like to be made fun of for being different. I hope none of you ever have to feel that.

  “Anyway, you should all go to the talent show tonight. It’s to raise money for sick kids. Plus the acts are pretty great.”

  I hand the mic back to Frank. The auditorium is silent. Not that I thought I was going to get a standing ovation or anything. I had hoped for some acknowledgment. I turn to walk off stage when I hear clapping. I look over and it’s Tess and Beth, both putting their hands together like they were at a concert.

  For a solid five seconds it’s just them and they look like maniacs. Then the rest of the school jumps in. Not as enthusiastically but it’s not pathetic either. It’s a we forgive you sort of but we still don’t like you clap. Which is better than what I was working with before.

  I go backstage and wait for Frank. He wraps up the assembly, looking over at me a few times, then dismisses everyone and walks toward me.

  “That was a good thing you just did. Apologizing to everyone like that.”

  “They deserved an apology.”

  He looks at me without saying anything, just waiting.

  “I wanted to ask,” I say, stopping and feeling nervous. If he says no, I’m done. No show. All that hard work for nothing. “I want back in the talent show. I worked hard to put my act together and I want to be there to help raise money for those kids. I know what I did was wrong. And I was punished for it, in more ways than just getting suspended. So I’m asking. Please let me perform tonight. You can trust me.”

  Frank looks at me for a long time, like he’s trying to read my mind. I don’t look away. I don’t back down. I want this.

  “Okay,” he says finally. “You’re back in.”

  Chapter 40

  The Talent Show

  At six o’clock, when Pete drives me back to school I feel like a new man. The school year is over and I’m going to start fresh in a new place. Tess clapped, which means she doesn’t hate me. I’ve got my routine totally down for tonight. It’s one of those rare times that life as a teenager doesn’t totally blow.

  When we pull up in front of the school Tess is sitting on a bench outside. She sees our car and stands.

  “Um.”

  “What?” asks Pete, stopping the car.

  “That’s Tess.”

  “Then you should get out of the car and go talk to her.”

  “It’s daylight and in public.”

  “Stop being such an ass and go talk to her. She’s clearly waiting for you.”

  When I still don’t move, Pete undoes my seatbelt, reaches across me, opens the door, and pushes me out of the car. His military reflexes must be top-notch because he seemed to do all that in one motion.

  I stumble out of the car and Tess looks at me, not smiling or scowling. Just sort of staring and waiting. Before I even open my mouth to say “hey,” Pete is walking up to Tess with his hand out.

  “I’m Pete,” he says.

  “Ben told me a lot about you,” Tess says.

  “Dude,” I say, walking up to them.

  “Oh, sorry. I thought you were just going to keep standing there. Tess, it was nice to meet you. Ben, break a leg tonight.”

  Pete heads into the school with a magazine.

  “Hey,” I say to Tess.

  “Hi.”

  “Do you want to go inside?” I ask. “We’re kind of out in the open.”

  “Just sit,” she says, pointing to the bench behind her.

  We sit down. Not too close to each other.

  “I loved what you said today,” says Tess. “It was pretty brave going up there.”

  “I wanted to do it before I left, you know?”

  “Yeah. It was a weird way to find out that you’re transferring.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I think you’ll be happier someplace else. I’m kind of jealous, actually.”

  “You’d want to go to public school?”

  “I’d like to know what it’s like to be around people who aren’t all the same. I mean, I’ve never done much of anything outside of my family. One day I want to do things on my own, like go to Europe or Asia. Anywhere really. Maybe I’ll join the Peace Corps.”

  “It’s just public school. It’s not like it’s public school in Italy. Although that would be awesome.”

  “You know what I mean. I’ve really liked hanging out wit
h people who weren’t brought up the same way I was, who challenged me to learn new things.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I should get inside and check all the props.”

  “Tess?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry. I know I said it to everyone, and that included you, but I need to say it to you personally. It was stupid and wrong and I was a total jerk.”

  “Thanks, Ben.”

  She puts her hand over mine for just a second and then gets up to go inside.

  “I miss you too,” I say. “You know, just in case you were wondering.”

  She smiles and moves her hair out of her face and says, “Good luck tonight.”

  I follow Tess inside the auditorium and Trent sees me and says, “Welcome back. We’re all glad you’re here.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  Trent gets us all organized and gives a speech about how great we’re going to be and how all our hard work is going to pay off. He says we’re expecting four hundred people in the audience tonight.

  I feel like I should be nervous, but all I feel is happiness and relief. It’s not like Tess jumped back into my arms and said I can’t live without you or anything like that. She did talk to me. And she did it in public. Maybe she’ll even consider being my friend. I could use another one.

  It’s weird being backstage. This is where Tess and I were sneaking around when we got caught. It was so quiet when it was just us and now all the talent show kids are running around getting ready. One kid is puking in the bathroom.

  I get myself together and make sure all my stuff is ready to go before the first act goes onstage. Then, I sit and listen.

  We’ve got music. We’ve got drama. From backstage it sounds like everyone is doing a great job. Trent is kicking it as a host and reminding the crowd that they are all here to help the kids at the hospital, so give what you can.

  I’m the last act. For the first few performances I just kind of sat back and listened. Now we’re in the second half of the show and I’m feeling my gut start to move around. In a good way though, like right before my first kiss with Tess.