Just






Lauren said she’d kill herself if I didn’t come over right away. I went over, like I always did when she called me crying. I told her that she needed to find help. She said she had help and that I shouldn’t worry; she got overwhelmed for a little. But everything was better after I got there. I told her that she shouldn’t joke about this and that the next time I would have to call the police because I wouldn’t take it anymore. I had said that once before and she called my bluff.

She said “no really, this is the last time I’m talking to someone about my issues and I’m getting better.” I nodded, hugged her, and kissed her hard. I told her I had to leave; my mom would worry if I stayed out too late. She said she understood and told me I was the best boyfriend ever. I smiled and walked out.

I stumbled into school the next day. I hadn’t slept much. My bones ached. Football practice was going to suck. I liked to show up early to school since Lauren slept in a lot. She always had a doctor’s note from a family friend. The school was mostly empty. I said hi to Tim, the janitor. He grunted back, which meant his wife wasn’t doing well that day. The hallways smelled musty. Tim tried to get rid of the smell, but the school building was old. A few other students wandered around. Many parents worked early shifts and had to drop their kids off early. Most parents wanted to get rid of their hassle as soon as possible. They walked about in a silent daze. Tim huffed as he mopped the floor. He spilled his bucket and I helped him clean it up. We soaked up the dirty water and when we finished, he nodded and shook my hand.

I went to my locker, picked up my beat-up books, and went to homeroom. My friend sat in the back and read a book she didn’t have to read. Her back was hunched over the book and she gripped the sides hard; I could tell since her knuckles were white. The air felt soggy: a heat wave in the first month of school. Emily wore a baby blue cardigan; I think that’s what they’re called, she told me before. It was buttoned up to the top. She developed early. The other girls resented her for that. My girlfriend never grew past an A cup. Emily and I used to be neighbors but my family moved to a better neighborhood. I couldn’t recall the last time I hung out with her outside of school. Her hair looked different that day. She had it brushed to the right side and had her bangs clipped back with a bobby pin. Her hair shined like fresh ink. It smelled rosy, and I could tell she changed her shampoo. Her skin was pale; I knew she didn’t go out much over the summer. Some people call her Casper. My secret nickname for her was ‘dumpling,” cause of her fluffy cupid cheeks. She said she’d kill me if I ever told anyone. I used to poke them when I was a kid. She’d puff up her cheeks and I’d poke the air out. I don’t know why that memory came up but I smiled. I sat down next to her. Her shoulders tensed. She sniffled. She closed the book.

“Another sad story?” I asked her. She said yes. I asked her why she reads stories like those since she always got so affected by them. She said she felt more human when she read those stories. I didn’t reply. She said “It’s the only way I know how to feel anymore.” I told her I understood, but I didn’t. She told me the story was about a young boy who ran away from home because his parents beat him. It was winter and he was too young, too lost, and he froze to death. I said, “That must be a terrible way to die, completely numb and alone.” Emily said she thought it would be very peaceful.

She looked at me and her eyes shimmered. She told me I had huge bags under my eyes. I felt my skin and it felt soft and loose. She said, “It’s Lauren again, isn’t it?”

I exhaled. I looked worse than I did last week when Lauren called me in the middle of the night. She said, “Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do. But, I’ve said this before, you should break up with her.” I said I loved her and couldn’t break up with her because it wouldn’t be right. Emily asked me if I knew what love was. I told her it’s when you care about someone more than you care about yourself. I read that somewhere I couldn’t recall. I had dated Lauren for a year and isn’t that what you are supposed to say after a while? “That’s not what love is.” Emily, you haven’t had a boyfriend how would you know. She said she knew.

She asked me if I was still drawing. I said, “I doodle from time to time.” She told me I should draw more. I didn’t have enough time, but I know I’m making excuses. She placed a pen in my hand. It was lacquered and looked custom-made. A friend had made it for her, but she said I should keep it. She knew that I hid my passion. I wanted to talk about something else. With a smirk, she said “the truth hurts.” She put her hand on my hand. I didn’t realize I had pushed my chair so close to her. I squeezed her hand. It was cold and I wanted to warm her. I didn’t know what to say. Emily always knew what to say. She talked about more stories from writer around the world, about people she never met but felt as though they were lifelong friends. Her words washed over me like a cleansing shower. I listened and her voice calmed me. My hand was shaking but it stopped.   

The bell rang. I looked around and people were staring. I jerked my hand back and sped away. My classroom was split down the middle. The geeks sat on the left side while the jocks and cheerleaders sat on the right. The football team sat by the door. Bobby waved me over. Sam sat fuming. Ben leaned against the wall. Everyone calls them “The Three Amigos.” I don’t really call them anything.
“What the hell are you doing with her, my sister's gonna be pissed,” Sam said. He was right, but I felt Emily’s heat linger on my hand and smiled. Sam said what are you smiling for? He was the biggest one, did most of the blocking while I took the glory. I told him, “You know that Emily and I grew up next to each other. I just needed some help with last night’s homework.” Sam said, “Yeahsuuure.” I don’t think they saw Emily and I holding hands. Bobby told Sam to leave me alone. Bobby’s arms were bare again. He liked how defined his muscles got after weight training. Bobby recently made the varsity squad while Sam and I started since middle school. Bobby said it’s too early to be fighting. Sam backed off. Bobby said “You know Lauren would be furious if she saw you.” I said, “You know Lauren never shows up for homeroom.” Sam said, “She gets away with everything, it’s not fair.” Ben said, “If you ladies are done talking, we should sit down or Mr. Henry will give us detention.” We did.
I pulled my headphone wire through my sleeve and put the earplug in. Leaned on my arm to cover it up. Mr. Henry came and taught a lesson about stuff I already knew. I did the homework, and the next night’s homework, actually the next week’s because it was interesting. I dozed off. Mr. Henry left me alone because I always aced the tests and I was probably tired from the big football game. The bell rang and I opened my eyes. I looked at the back of the room. Emily was gone.

I walked toward the door and Mr. Henry stopped me. He shook my hand and wished me luck. You’re only a hundred yards from breaking the school’s rushing record. I shrugged my shoulders and left. The rest of the morning block was the same. Every teacher wished me luck even though I fell asleep in the class or doodled the whole time.

I hated lunch because the food tasted like compost. I saw the cheerleaders: Lauren, with Sarah and Jane, her best friends. I joked that a flashlight would shine through their ears. Sam and Bobby sat at the table by the door. Emily came late. She walked past their table. Sam tripped her. She fell forward and caught herself with her hands. Her plate crashed onto the ground. Her grape juice splashed up and stained her cardigan. I knew she couldn’t afford another plate. Sam laughed. The girls laughed louder. Bobby gave a crooked smile, saw me and waved me over. I looked up at the clock. Forty minutes left in the lunch period.

I ran over and helped Emily up. I picked up her tray and gave her my food. Our eyes met and she was about to say something. I said not to worry about it but that she should get out of here. She hurried to the corner table without looking back. I told Sam he was a dick. “Emily is cool and you know her family’s not doing well right now”, I said. He said, “Ok, ok, ok,” but didn’t understand. Bobby said, “Leave him alone, he was just messing around.” Lauren smiled blankly. Sarah looked down at her food. Jane sat on her hands. Bobby and I flashed a glance of concern. Sam shifted in his seat. Lauren said, “It’s ok, my brother’s just an idiot. How are you, honey?” I said, “I’m tired.” She averted her eyes. Lauren was a bit tired too. Sam was about to speak but I glared at him and he knew not to talk about our business. The other two girls turned to each other and talked rapid fire: how gross the nerds were. How they need to shower. How they should grow up and stop playing children’s games. How much they hated it when they looked at them. How they feel like they undress every cute girl with their eyes. How the girls at the corner table are the worst. Especially that girl with the big tits. She looks like a cow. She walks all proud like she’s better than us. Lauren joined in. She said she hated that girl. She looked at me and said, “Sorry, honey, I know you used to be friends with her, but I just thought I should be honest. I just want you to stay away from her.” The other girls agreed. I kept my mouth firmly shut, lips pressed. One of the girls said, “Let’s talk about something nicer. What are you doing this weekend?” They spoke even faster.

Bobby leaned in and whispered, “Don’t worry, it’s just girls being girls.” Sam nodded. “Why do they keep saying ‘just?’” I got up and wasn’t feeling well. Lauren said, “Honey, it’s because you didn’t eat; you shouldn’t have given your food away to that slut.” I really did feel sick.

I went to the nurse’s office and got out of the rest of classes for the day. Asked the nurse if I could rest in her office, she said “of course” and pointed to a mat in the back. She closed the curtain around me. I tried sleeping, but I kept tossing and turning. The mat was too thin and my back hurt and my mind jittered in my skull. I massaged my temples and I could smell a remnant of Emily’s hand; she used good soap. My head stopped hurting and my chest tightened. I felt nauseous but not in an unpleasant way. It felt like my stomach was being tickled. I lay there with my hand held on my nose. I drifted to sleep and I woke up when the nurse told me school was over.

“You should be one hundred percent by game time,” the nurse said. I thanked her, took some candy off of her desk, and hurried to the field to tell coach that I would be missing practice.

I showed up without my football gear and he was furious. I told him I wasn’t feeling well and that the nurse said I was exempt from practice for today. He snatched the note from my hand and said, “You are practicing today.” I responded, “The nurse thought you would say that and told me to tell you that legally the note exempts me from practice.” He was screaming at me and I responded with a blank stare. Once he was out of breath, his face purple and his voice raspy, he tried to say, “Leave.” but it sounded more like a cough. I said, “I’m going home now,” but I knew I wouldn’t, I knew where I wanted to go.

The hallways were empty except for Tim who was scraping gum off of a flipped desk. A kid must have thought it would be funny to see how many pieces he could stick to it in one class period. I walked up to him and started saying, “I’m sorry, that’s horrible,” but he cut me off. “Why are you saying sorry? You didn’t do this.” I asked him if he needed help while tapping my foot and glancing down the hall. He said, “Don’t worry about it, you look like you are in a rush. I know when a man has a woman on his mind.” I blushed. Tim laughed a deep throaty laugh. I asked him if he knew where the gaming club met since they’re always here the latest. “Third door down on the right side.” I turned and ran, forgetting to say thanks. His laughs turned to bellows that echoed down the hall.

I cracked the door open and peered inside. No one noticed. The club members sat across from each other in three pairs. They looked like they were playing poker. They stared daggers at their opponents. On the table, there were six play mats decorated with different dragons, angels, and demons. On the play mats, each player had a stack of cards in colored protective sleeves. One of the club members had Star Wars sleeves. In front of each person, there were about a dozen face up cards organized in a grid. The cards also had the same style fantasy artwork. They spoke strange jargon, like moving to “draw phase” or “do you declare blockers or counter target spell” or “I have priority in this game action.” I had no idea what they were talking about. They moved the cards around like chess pieces. I leaned on the door, and Emily wrenched it open.

I fell forward and landed flat on my face. Emily held out her hand and pulled me up. The club members stared wide-eyed at me. “Always the graceful one,” she said. I said, “You’re a jerk.”
“I was waiting for you to lean on the door.”
“How did you know it was me?”                       
“You walk like a dinosaur.” She said she could recognize my thumping from a mile away. I laughed and called her a punk. None of the club members said anything, but their mouths hung open. Some wouldn’t look me in the eye. Emily asked, “What’s up?” I told her, “I’m skipping football practice because I wanted to hang out with you.” Her cheeks turned rosy red. Closing the door, I said, “I’m sorry about what happened earlier with Sam,” noticing the blotchy purple stain on her cardigan. “Don’t worry about it. Not your fault.” “It was still a shitty thing to do.” “You must be starving,” she noted, as my stomach grumbled. Shoving me her dinner, she said “Shut up and eat or I will make you eat.” The food tasted sweet. She asked if I wanted to play with them. I sat down and said, “Teach me.”

Their names were Harry, James, Will, Ryan, Colin and George. Harry had a bony, frail, elongated body. His elbows stuck out at weird angles. But I found out he was a writer. He liked to write mostly short fiction. He told me some of his favorite authors, and he had good taste. I made him promise me to show me his stories. It took a while, but he eventually agreed. James was tiny and had a baby face. I found out he was my age, but he had a growth hormone deficiency. I told him that must be hard. He said no way, I get kid prices on everything and clothes and shoes are so much cheaper. Always look on the bright side of life. James loved fantasy football. He loved the mathematics behind the athletics. He showed me his statistical analyses and they were thorough to say the least. Will built things. His dad was a carpenter so he knew his way around a wood shop. I asked him what things he made. He listed things like handmade pens, benches, bird houses, a porch. I asked him what he was working on now, and he said he was making a wood sculpture of himself. I learned how many different kinds of saws there are. Lots. Ryan was quiet, he didn’t say a word to me. But I found out from the others that his mom was really sick and that he’d been up late every night for the past month taking care of her. He was the first person I played a real game with, and I borrowed Emily’s cards but he crushed me mercilessly. Colin was the first one to talk to me of the six. He had the worst jokes ever and talked a ridiculous amount of trash. He was loud, and his voice cracked a lot. But I couldn’t stop laughing hearing the wild things he said. And I will always respect someone who can quote Monty Python on command. George had a nervous twitch. He said it was from his Tourette syndrome. I asked if it was like the guy who can’t stop cursing. He sighed and said that was only one kind of Tourettes called coprolalia. I said copro as in the root for shit? He said wow how did you know that. Emily and I used to do a ton of pretend spelling bees. I think I’m up 21-20. Emily said you’re dreaming, it’s the reverse. I said let’s decide it here and now.

George and Harry pulled up a word bank from past national spelling bees and we breezed through them. When we hit the words from the final rounds, we both struggled, me more than her. At this point, Harry, James, Will, Colin, George and even Ryan were cheering and doing fist pumps. Colin was the one reading off the words. He looked at the screen and a devilish grin crossed his face. He said the word slowly, enunciating each deceitful syllable. Emily looked at me and I hadn’t seen her that frustrated since I beat her in Connect Four back in middle school. My mind was blank. All six saw our confusion and heckled us. I heard a rap at the door. Tim popped his head in and said what the hell is going on here. I said a battle for the ages is happening. Tim shook his head and said he had to kick us out. We didn’t notice the sun had set. I declared the battle shall continue another day. Emily punched me in the ribs. We packed up our stuff, and I put Emily’s cards in my bag. We left the building. Ryan walked next to me and said I never knew you were this smart. You’ve never shown it before. I thought you were just another dumb jock. I told him dumb is easier. Emily and I split off from the group toward our homes. I realized I had been holding her hand.

I felt her soft hand mold to fit mine, as if it always belonged there. I could feel my palm pulsate. My breaths were short and labored. My stomach churned but I wasn’t hungry. My ears burned and my cheeks hurt. Despite my attempts to hide my joy, a goofy smile emerged. I could hear her breathe and I could tell she was out of breath. I had to resist the urge to look at her because I thought if I looked down I wouldn’t be able to look away. But I gave in and glanced down. She looked straight ahead. Her cheeks were flushed. I never noticed she had a tiny dimple. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile so wide. Our hands trembled. We took the long way home.

I was lost. I forgot how to get to her house; she lived on a hidden dead end off the main road. She guided me through the darkness. We got to her house and I realized I hadn't been there in over a year. Dandelions covered the yard. I thought they were pretty as a kid, but I learned they are weeds and look bad to adults. Her dad's old muscle car sat on cinderblocks. Last time I was here, he said he would rebuild his baby, make her brand new. Rust dotted the frame. The grass driveway was overgrown, and the plants wrapped around the bricks. A vine crept up the side of her house. I remember when I helped her mother install the siding and I didn't know what I was doing but she let me help anyways. Looked crooked and a few nails jutted out. Her house had two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom jammed into one story. The front door was closed. The screen door was slightly off its hinges and the screen was ripped. The lights were off and I could see Emily's pained face in the moonlight.

Emily said thank god the lights are off. That means either my parents aren’t home or dad’s passed out. Let’s sit over by the old tree. I remembered the tire swing but it wasn’t there anymore. I asked what happened. “Dad,” and shook her head. The biggest root split in two, and made a perfect seat. I sat down and Emily nestled in my lap. She hunched her body together. Her head rested in the hollow of my shoulder. I held her tight. She leaned back. I brushed her hair. It was as smooth as I imagined. I wrapped my hands around her waist. She turned her head and looked at me and no one had ever looked at me that way before. She closed her eyes and leaned in.
I said no. What are we doing I have a girlfriend.
She said, “you are an idiot.” I said I know.
“No you don’t know.” I asked why.
She put her hand on my chest and asked what are you feeling right now. I said I feel like my heart is dancing. I feel lost. I don’t know how I feel. She put my hand on her neck. I felt her pulse race.
“Are you still confused what love is? I said nothing.

Emily told me she lied earlier when she said she didn’t know how to feel. Do you remember this morning when you asked me if I knew what love was and I said yes. I’ve always known. Too bad I’m in love with an idiot. I pulled her in closer. She wrapped her hands around my back. We touched foreheads and rubbed noses. She giggled. Eskimo kisses. I put my thumb on her chin and pushed her up toward my lips.

The patio light turned on. “Shit why now. My dad’s awake. You need to get out of here now before my dad sees you.” I heard her father yell EM GET IN HERE NOW. Emily told me to leave, and before I could debate, she said go now. Now. I said see you tomorrow dumpling. She blushed and said I told you not to call me that. See ya tomorrow. EM I’M COMING OUT THERE I HEAR YOU. Emily said weakly, I’m coming dad sorry sorry sorry.

When I got home, I called out for mom and dad. They must have gotten the night shift again. I went to the fridge. My stomach was in knots. I brought a few boxes of leftovers up to my room. I shoveled them in, taking the occasional breath. I should have left mom a message saying I got home ok. She must have gotten a call from school about my sick day. I looked at my phone and saw I missed thirteen calls and my inbox was full. I forgot I turned my phone on silent. I hit the first speed dial and took a deep breath.
I heard a three rings and then she picked up. Hello Lauren. I heard heavy breathing. Then my phone exploded.
She screamed, “why haven’t you been picking up the phone or answering my texts, you have a lot of answering to do.”
I told her I forgot and she said bullshit.
Sam told me he saw you and that whore holding hands.
I asked when?
When you left the school with that pack of losers.
They are not losers, they are really cool.
Shut the fuck up.
No you shut the fuck up.
Did you kiss her? Did you? Huh? Answer me.
I said no, of course not, we are just friends.
You are a fucking liar and you know it.
I said look Lauren, you are my girlfriend and you are the only one for me.
She said you are a liar and you are going to pay for this. She hung up the phone. What the hell have I gotten myself into.

As usual, I got to school an hour early. I saw Tim and he was mopping the floor. He said hello. That meant his wife was able to sleep through the night. He asked how’d it go. I beamed. He said that good? That good. He gave me a firm slap on the back. Attaboy. Tim, do you need help? No, but I know you have somewhere to be. Thanks.

Homeroom was empty. I went to school with Emily since we were kids and this was the first time she wasn’t at homeroom early. I sat down where she normally sat. I looked at the desk to see if she had carved my name, but I knew I wouldn’t find anything. I sat there alone and I couldn’t help but replay the events from last night in my head. Did I screw up? Did I scare her off? She’s right, I’m an idiot. I should have never mentioned Lauren. I should have just gone for it. I hope she’s ok. God I hope she’s ok. Her father. I forgot. Damn, why am I making this all about me. I hope he was sober but he didn’t sound like it. I hoped she was safe. I wanted to see her. I wanted to hold her and tell her everything is going to be ok and I’m here. I would break up with Lauren today. I don’t know why I lied last night over the phone. Emily, where are you?

It was five minutes before the bell and she wasn’t there. Harry, James, Will, Ryan, Colin and George sat in front of me and they reassured me that everything would be ok. I said thanks because what else was I supposed to say. About half the class had arrived. Sam and Bobby strutted in the room. Sam looked at me like I stabbed his dog. Bobby gave me a pleading look. He mouthed what the hell when he saw who I was sitting with. They sat on the opposite side of the room. Ben walked in right after. Sam and Bobby pushed a chair out but Ben ignored them and sat in the front. Right before the bell rang, Lauren strolled in the door. She was dolled up, and she knew how to do her make up. Sam looked down and rubbed his forehead. Bobby did a double take. The gaming club members gave me a look of concern. She smiled at me and I shrank away. She sat next to me and said good morning honey. I didn’t respond.

The bell rang and Mr. Henry showed up a couple minutes late. No one talked for those few minutes. He walked in and said is everything ok? Everyone seems on edge this morning. Lauren said nothing’s wrong, I think you’re just tired. He said yeah, I just need my coffee and I’ll be ok. He took attendance but paused when Emily didn’t answer. He repeated her name and scanned the room. He said wow, first time for everything. He taught for the next half hour, but everyone stared at me and Lauren. She sat up straight, got in perfect posture and turned the corners of her mouth up. Near the end of class, I heard the door open. Emily slumped into class, her bangs down. She wore a white sweater with a matching white skirt. Mr. Henry asked if she was ok and she sat down and said everything is fine. She let her hair flow down and cover her face. I counted the seconds until class ended. The bell rang and I shot up. Emily was already halfway out of the door. Lauren grabbed my arm. I shouted to Emily, please wait. She was gone.

Lauren hung on my arm as we walked to the next class. I fixed my eyes on the open door. The teacher waved her hand in front of my face. Said my name a couple times. Snapped her fingers. I saw Emily speed past the door, a white blur. I stood up and said I really need to go to the bathroom, it’s an emergency. Lauren reached for my arm but I swatted it away. My teacher said that’s why you were zoned out. Go ahead but hurry back. I left before she finished talking.

I saw Emily at the end of the hallway and I sprinted. I needed to get to her as fast as I could. She stopped and leaned on a locker and turned around. You run like a dinosaur too, she said. I sucked in air to reply but I couldn’t think a full thought. I moved her bangs behind her ear. Her right eye was purplish and swollen half-shut. The bruising spread out to her upper cheek and the bridge of her nose. I quaked with anger. I’m going to kill him. She laughed. He’s a combat trained vet. He’ll snap your neck and say it was self-defense. The cops are always on his side. I asked are you ok. She said I’m fine. I sneezed and my teacher saw the bruise. Told me to go to the nurse right away and that she needed to make a call. I touched her face and said does it hurt a lot? She said I’m used to it. I moved in to hug her, but she said no. I can’t. Why not? I just can’t. Why do people keep saying that word? She asked what word. I said everyone says just, like nothing’s a big deal. Please talk to me. She shook her head. The bell rang. A hall monitor poked me. She said go to class now, both of you. I said can’t you see I’m busy. I’m talking to my friend here. She said what friend are you talking about. Emily wasn’t there.
I went to my next class and noticed Lauren, her two friends and Sam weren’t there. Shit, Emily please be ok. I swear if any of you touch her, I will hurt you. I asked to leave class and I said I wasn’t feeling well. My teacher said ok, feel better for the big game. I paced up and down the hallways, but she wasn’t in any of the classrooms. I checked the nurse’s office but she said she hasn’t had anyone come in today. The hallways were empty. Tim was probably on his break. I realized I didn’t check the bathrooms. As I ran down, I heard a girl scream someone help me please. The screams came from the girls’ bathroom.

Sam shot out of the bathroom and slammed me against the wall. He wore a torn wife beater and loose athletic shorts and he had scratches on his arms. I screamed let me go, is that Emily in there? I swear to God, I’m going to kill you. What did you do to her? He said I saw everything. He said why’d you choose Emily. Her screams pierced my ears. Sam wept. Why Emily. Why, Why, Why. I’m sorry Emily, so sorry. The teachers heard the noise and saw Sam pinning me down. Mr. Henry pulled him off, and said what the hell is going on. Sam slunk to the office. I got up and I saw Lauren and her two friends strut out of the bathroom cackling with glee. I said what did you do. Lauren said you’ll see. The bitch got what she deserved. A small crowd had gathered. The teachers told them to go back to their classrooms but no one listened of course. Emily fell out of the bathroom. No one helped her up.
Emily wasn’t crying. She sat up and rocked back and forth. They lopped off her long hair and ripped her sweater off. Her shirt was down the middle and her bare bra hung loose. All the guys stared at her chest. I stared at her arms. From shoulder to wrist, there were precise, horizontal slashes. The scars looked old. Mr. Henry went and put his blazer over her shoulders. She shrieked when he touched her. I stepped backwards. Lauren and her friends laughed. The teachers shoved them down the hallway into the office. They cheered all the way down the hall.

People cleared out, there was nothing more to see. A teacher grabbed my wrist and said we should go. Emily hugged her knees and her knuckles were ghost white. Her jaw was slack. I couldn’t take my eyes off her scars. I felt afraid. I felt nauseous. I felt repulsed I felt like she was something alien, not the girl I grew up with. My perfect, innocent girl was broken. She stopped rocking and looked up at me. I sat next to her. I put my arm around her shoulders. She screamed and shook violently. I went back to class.

That night I got a text from Lauren. My life is over. They kicked me out of school. It was just a prank that got out of hand. Oh god, my life is over. I should just end it all.
I replied then go fucking do it.
Emily didn’t go to school for a week. I called, but her phone was off the hook. I never visited her house. Then one day, she was there in homeroom an hour early. Her hair was neatly tied into a short ponytail. She wore a red button-up sweater. She was sitting in her usual seat. No book. She had a serene smile. I couldn’t look at her. I should have tried harder to contact her. I should have stayed with her that day. I sat on the other side of the classroom. My mind felt heavy. I buried my head into my textbook. The kids filed in but no one sat next to me or Emily. Mr. Henry came in, saw Emily and opened his mouth to speak. She whispered don’t.

Lunch came, and I chose an empty table. Or the empty table chose me. I went up to Ben earlier and said I quit football. He didn’t protest. The jocks looked at me with disgust. Harry, James, Will, Ryan, Colin and George sat as far away as possible. I force fed myself. I heard a rustle. Emily sat down next to me. A hushed whisper ran through the cafeteria. I froze. I just couldn’t look at her. Lunch ended and I didn’t say a word to her. My lips opened and closed each time I wanted to say I’m sorry. Everyone hurried out of the room. We stayed. She calmly said everything is going to be ok. I said it’s not ok. I should have protected you, I should have been there for you. She said you can’t protect me from everything. I said I knew Lauren was going to do something to you. She said you could never have foreseen what happened. I said why, oh why, do you have to suffer so much. It’s wrong. She kissed me on the cheek. She said nothing’s just. I felt her place something in my hand. It was a small gold key. She said promise to keep it safe. And goodbye.

She hung herself a few hours later. Her mom found her body. They say she pulled the belt so tight that her skin turned purplish-blue. No open casket at the funeral.

The funeral was simple. Not many people showed up. A pastor said a series of memorized lines. The groundskeepers lowered her coffin into the grave. Filled the hole in. The dirt sounded like rain when it hit the coffin. The geeks were there, but left right when the service finished. I was the only guest who lingered. Emily’s father knelt at her grave. He wasn’t crying. He trembled and whispered to himself. I could hear him repeat over and over I’m sorry.

Emily’s mother took measured steps toward me. She stood at eye level, a step too close. She said I didn’t see you cry, not once during the whole service. I said I didn’t know why. Her eyes filled with tears. For the past year, you treated her like dirt. She dug her nails into her palm. You meant everything to her. I couldn’t make eye contact. She said look at me. I did. She pulled out a small book from her jacket pocket. This had a post it attached with your name. I assume she wanted you read her last words. I didn’t put my hand up to accept it. She slid the book into my front pocket. She said read it. You owe her that much.

I got home and went to bed. I was tired, so very tired. But Emily’s mother’s words echoed in my ears. I pulled the book out and placed it on my desk. I took her key out of my treasure box. Emily and I used to fill it with the silliest stuff. When we were in third grade, we put slugs in there and they bred. We forgot about the box and after a month the whole inside was goop. Took hours to clean. When I heard about Emily’s death, I trashed everything that reminded me of her. But I kept our box and her key. I took a deep breath and unlocked the diary’s latch.

On the first page, she saved the first drawing I gave her. It was two stick figures holding hands. It said forever and ever. I turned the page, and I saw a picture of us playing baseball. I had a soft face and she had short cut hair and dressed in a t-shirt and jeans every day and people thought we were brothers. Had her big blushing dumpling cheeks. I turned the page and read about the first time her father beat her. She sounded so confused. I turned the page and I found dried leaves taped to the paper. They were our fourth grade science project. I turned the page and found more memories, memories I had long forgotten. The time I went on one knee and slid a ring pop on her finger. I said I wanted to try it, I saw someone do it on tv. She said it was super cheesy. I neared the end and I turned the page. All it said was I’m in love. There was a blood splatter at the bottom of the page. The next seven pages were torn out. I stopped. I knew the final page held her last words and they were for me.

I’m sorry. There is nothing I can say that will make what I'm going to do ok, but I hope you can forgive me. You should know I’m not angry at you. You could never make me angry. And I’m not angry anymore. I’ve been angry about so many things in my life, but I'm going to make the pain stop. I know I’m selfish and I’m going to hurt you. But you’ll be ok, you are a strong man. You’ll forget about me, find a wonderful wife and live a happy life. Live a good life for both of us. Never stop drawing. Don’t lose yourself. You are an amazing person, and I love you. I will always love you.

Goodbye.
Emily

There was more writing at the bottom of the page.
Please tell me you felt something that night. Please tell me that I’m not making this all up. What’s the point of asking now. I’ll be gone by the time you read this. Forgive me.

I leaned back in my chair and let myself fall to the ground. I shimmied into the corner and buried my face into my hands. A wall of tears blocked my sight. It was as if I had forgotten how to cry, and my body was making up for lost time. When I felt as though no more tears were left, a new torrent would flood down my face. My mouth made screaming motions but nothing came out. I felt like a ball was stuck in my throat. I gasped for air, and I tried calling for help, to my parents, to God, to anyone who would answer. Yet I could not speak, and silence responded.
I stayed in that corner until dawn.

I saw the sun pierce through my blinds. I got up and went to school. The hallways were empty except for Tim. I waved to him. He shook his head. His eyes were watery. I got to homeroom and it was empty. I reached into my bag to find something to do and I found Emily’s cards.  Started playing a game against myself. I lost.

I pulled out my notebook and a pen. I realized it was the pen she gave me. I sketched the outline of a face. I filled in the skeletal structure, saving her dumpling cheeks for last. I added the finer details like her button nose, her hair just how I remembered it, her wispy eyelashes.
The tip of the pen broke. I was almost done.
Drops of ink blotted the page.

Summary of My Literary Interests



I study English Education because my parents believe  I will remain eternally poor, and I enjoy worrying them. I chose English as my primary focus because research papers are tortuous and I am a masochist. I chose to become a teacher because teaching is the closest profession to a drill sergeant without the required military service. I taught in China this summer, and I felt at home in the Communist Party. I chose to have you as a professor again because I knew I would be allowed to take risks. This is good practice for when I eventually drive my future PhD advisor to insanity.

I grew up reading because it gave me an excuse to hide from my sisters. I prefer Russian Literature. The Russians know how to write about misery in excruciating detail. Brothers Karamazov was my first introduction to the genre. The book was excellent as a projectile against my roommate. Also, Father Zosima loves candy and I can claim sainthood in my gluttony. I loved Tolstoy’s, Death of Ivan Illych, although the protagonist’s cathartic demise was disappointing.  Gogol’s short story, “The Overcoat”, was a wonderful summary of materialism, very relevant in today’s American society. Russian literature instills a sense of moral superiority. I can judge others with abandon and without guilt.

20th century South American literature is my other favorite literary genre. Borges’ magical realism resonates with my whimsical nature. Pablo Neruda is great to quote on a date, especially in the original language. The novellas such as By Night in Chile and Pedro Paramo suit my short attention span. I love to read foreign literature because I can pretend I am cultured, even though I am an American.

I look forward to the cooperative paper assignments. Hopefully, my classmates won’t want to expel me from the university by the end of the semester.  I do hope I have given enough of a negative impression to start the semester on an entertaining note. 

Hurricane


The coffee was cold and the world was coming to the end. Power’s out. I bought a flashlight, but forgot to get batteries. The news called it the Frankenstorm. Frankenstein was the scientist, not the monster. So they might as well call the storm Dr. Sandy. Yesterday, I heard someone proclaim the hurricane was caused by Obama. Fiction makes more sense than real life.

I could really use a wand. Call out, “Lumos!” I always pictured the spell to look like a firefly had landed on the wand. I just want to find that book I was reading. I fumble around the darkness. Hit my head on my bedpost. Mother always said I was graceful. Like a three legged ballerina.

Roommate pounds on my door.
“Come to the kitchen now!”
“What? Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Stop whatever you are doing, this is more important.”
“Alrighty, I’m coming.” I rubbed my forehead. Felt a bump. That’s going to look good in the morning.
Our hallways were narrow, so it was easy to feel our way through. See a light from the kitchen.
“So you bought candles?” She ignored me. Grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward.
“What?”
“Take a deep breath. Now look inside the room.”

And there was Daniel Radcliffe sitting at our mangled kitchen table.  He was sopping wet. His blazer hung on the doorknob. He had short sleeves. Skinny arms. Had my roommate’s hot pink towel wrapped around his neck. His hair was still wet, tussled and frizzed. He looked up, and flashed a bright, white smile.

“Why hello there.” His voice purred.
“Whaaat.”
He put his palm on the table. Pushed himself up. My roommate shouted “No, the leg is broken!” He didn’t hear her. The table collapsed. He slipped on the puddle under his pants. He fell firmly on his butt.
I gasped. Covered my mouth with my hands. My roommate’s face turned pale. He chuckled. It sounded like a tiny moment of magic.
“Are you alright?” my roommate whispered. I stood there motionless.
“I’m quite alright.”
I reflexively held my hand out for him. He grabbed it. Felt like lightning hit. His hand was ice cold. He pulled himself up. Grunted.
“I’m so sorry! I’ve made a mess of things. Let me help clean up.”
“No, no, we’ve got it,” my roommate insisted. My hand lingered in the air, slightly open. “Come help me!” she said. I leaned over to pick up part of a plate. He leaned in at the same time. We butted heads. “Sorry!” we both exclaimed. Noticed the candle was lying on its side. I went to pick it up. He noticed too, and bent to grab it. His forehead smashed into my nose. “Owww.” My roommate looked like she might die from her restrained laughter. She picked up the candle and put it on the counter.
We all stood up. He was shorter than expected. Held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Daniel, but I’m sure you already knew that.”

“My name’s Sarah,” I stammered. Shook his hand too firmly. No one said anything for what seemed like a lifetime. My roommate clapped her hands. “Let’s take this party into the living room.”
“Let’s,” he said. As we walked out, he slipped again. I caught him. He was light. He pulled himself up. Sheepishly hurried into the living room. We followed, silently giggling. Not sure how he found his way. It was pitch black. Heard him yell out. We hurried into the room.
He sat on our cat. The cat clawed his butt. Yelped. Our cat ran out of the room hissing. He eased himself into the chair. We sat on our lumpy sofa. I lit up a couple candles.
“I’m so sorry again. I seem to be breaking everything in your flat.”
“No worries,” I spoke. “Umm, might I ask why you are here?”
“It’s a silly story. I was visiting Emma over in Providence. I was going to fly out of Boston today, but my flight was canceled because of the storm. I booked a hotel, but my driver dropped me off at the wrong address. By the time I figured this out, the storm kicked up. Your roommate was so kind to offer me shelter.”
I thought to myself, “Thank goodness for this hurricane. Also, I need to give her the biggest thank you hug later.”

As I was thinking, Daniel crossed his legs. His foot swept over the table, knocking over the flower vase. It was my mother’s. My mouth fell. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry again!” My roommate knew the vase’s sentimental value. She went in to pick some pieces up. He leaned in and headbutted her too. She glared at him. He took a step back. Tripped over our ottoman. Did a backwards somersault and landed in the litter box. He shot up and he smacked into the overhead awning. He dusted himself off. We both stared at him.

He matter-of-factly stated, “Well, I should be off now.” He promptly walked into the wall. I heard him shuffle down the hall and unlatch the door. Heard the door click shut. Looked around the room. Disaster zone.

I say to my roommate, “Wow. Harry Potter has no game.”

Accidents


The date was miserable. He showed up late. I could tell he was nervous, but he stared at my chest the whole time. I cleared my throat but he never got the message. Told blasé stories in a monotone voice. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, nor did I care to. I knew he was a keeper when he scoffed at the waitress’s outfit too loudly. I can never respect a person who cannot respect a person in the service industry.
By dessert, he could tell the date had gone disastrously. He heard that I liked Neruda. Tried to quote some. Butchered the pronunciation. I cringed. Check came, I asked to split it. He offered to walk me home. I politely refused. I said I had errands to run. I did, but not for a few days. He understood, and left without protest.
            Got home, realized I left my purse at the restaurant. It had my keys, my cell phone, my wallet, a pen and notepad. Rang the buzzer for five minutes. No reply. Looked up, saw the out of service sign. No go. Hurried back to the restaurant.
            Three cop cars blocked the side street. I saw police tape surround the front of the restaurant. Out of morbid curiosity, I peered over. The waitress was talking to the police. Her hand was bandaged up. She had a smile on her face. A man lay on a stretcher. His nose looked broken. He was in handcuffs. His eyes were pressed closed. They peeped open and he accidently made eye contact with the waitress. She gave him a glare and a smirk and did the stereotypical male nod, exposing her imaginary Adam’s apple. He looked straight up and pretended not to notice.
            I knew I wouldn’t be able to get my purse tonight, so I walked back to my apartment. I wanted to text my roommate to tell her the funny story. I also wanted to go home and take a nap. Or go for a jog. Or finish one of the many books I’m halfway through. But mostly I wanted to get into some more comfortable clothes. Women’s fashion can be painful.
            And I walked into a pole. I heard a snicker behind me. Looked back, and the man could not hold his laughter in. He had a deep, rhythmic laugh. I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. He laughed for a while, and my laughs turned into gasps for air. We quieted down, but we couldn’t resist eking out a few last chuckles.

            “Pole came out of nowhere,” I said.
            “Because poles tend to do that,” he said.
            “I’ve had a strange day.”
            “Means you’ve had a good day.”
            “That’s one way of looking at things.
            "By the way, the name’s John.”
            “Nice to meet you. I’m Megan.”
            “Want to grab coffee and tell me about your strange day?”
            “I really should get home. It’s getting late.”
            “I should get home too. Doesn’t mean I want to.” He flashed a toothy, unabashed grin.
“Actually, I can’t exactly go home right now.”
“Why’s that?”
“Left my purse and keys at a crime scene.”
“Now you have to tell me the story.”
“Know a good place?”
“We’re in Boston. We are in a good place.”

Banjawarn

It's been 19 years since the "seismic event" at Banjawarn. Conspiracy theorists have different hypotheses. Some say a gas leak at a mining shaft blew up, but the crater is too big from something so localized. Some people point to the suspicious activity of the Aum Shinrikyo, a Japanese doomsday cult. But their access to uranium is questionable at best. Yet, no explanation can be offered for the sheer size of the explosion except for a nuclear bomb. Australia is the only place in the world an atomic bomb could explode and the residents wouldn't notice. The country is too big and all the animals there could kill you. It's been two years since I visited the epicenter of the Banjawarn explosion. I saw the crater. I saw the crystallized glass. Our team calculated the amount of energy required to create that amount of destruction. Our findings were disturbing.

 Australia's a funny place. All of the civilization is on the coast. The center is empty. In the Australian outback, all I remember hearing was the murmurs of the wind. When in isolation, Mother Nature likes to play tricks on the mind. When we were taking soil samples, I remember feeling the hairs on my neck stand up. The university made fun of us when we said we would go to Banjawarm to investigate. They said we were chasing a ghost. The Australian government wasn't so friendly. They said no good could come from there. They were right.

 It was a particularly chilly night in the desert. At night, there's no shelter. When the sun goes down, the temperature plummets and the wind cuts right through you. My colleagues were asleep. They weren't used to working outside. I wanted to get some fresh air. Can't get any from the city. Wind was feisty that night. Howled, hurt my ears. I looked out at the dunes and imagined sliding down them. Some wildlife wandered about. I could only see the glint of their eyes and hear the rustling of the sand. They moved calmly, ignoring our intrusion.

 I heard glass crack. Something had gone in the crater. I noticed the animals avoided it like the plague. I walked over. I didn't notice the animals had gone silent. The wind lets up and look around. All the shimmering eyes had disappeared, except for one pair. I heard the glass crunch again. I heard hard footfalls. The eyes rose from knee level to shoulder height. Whatever had been in the crater was coming out. I backed away slowly. Two more pairs of eyes show up behind the first pair. Then more. The steps fell in unison, creeping closer. I froze.

 My colleague comes out for a smoke. He sees me standing there shivering. He sees what I see. Wordlessly, he grabs my arm and drags me back into the tent. I let out a yelp. I didn't realize it was him. I hear hissing from the crater. I look into his eyes. They're wide and bloodshot. We hurry into the tent and pull out our hunting knives. My colleague wakes up the rest of our friends. They see the fear in our eyes and know to join us. The sand rustled all night as we huddled together. I don't pray, but I prayed that night.

When the sun rose, we radioed in an S.O.S. Our support staff said they'd be there in three hours. I saw shadows flicker on the tent's walls. We dared not speak further. Three hours pass, and I hear the familiar, but concerned voice of our guide. He had answered our S.O.S. He calls us out. I whisper to everyone else to stay. I go out and see a circle of steps around our tent. Our equipment tent is in shambles. Our guide is muttering to himself in Aborigine. He stutters out two words. "Bad people". Then two more. "Leave now". We do. I quit my job after that. Moved cities. But I'll always remember those eyes. They didn't blink. Not once.

Bus Stop


At the bus stop. Overnight trip. Eyes feel like open scabs. Terminal is empty. Bus is late.

Hear a rustling. A woman pops out from behind the bench. Her face is grimy, covered in flakes of dirt. Her clothes look like they’ve been rubbed against sandpaper. Threads stick out by the seams. She’s got three layers on, yet she’s still shaking from the cold. The woman asks for my phone. She says she hasn’t talked to her daughter in years. That she needs to talk to her. She wants to see her. Without thinking, I give it to her. I look down, because I don’t want to intrude upon her conversation. She ducks back behind the bench. I hear sobbing, pleading. Last time I heard someone cry was during my grandmother’s funeral last year. I hid back then too. I put my headphones on, but don’t play any music. I clasp my hands and wait for her wails to stop.

I look up, and she’s in front of me. Her eyes are red, like mine. But they’re a deeper crimson, as if her blood is thicker. She places the phone in my hand wordlessly. Her nails are black from wear. I grab my phone and the tips of her fingers for a fleeting moment. When our hands touch, my spine shivers and I inhale. She pulls her hand back, but leaves it floating inches from my hand. She locks her eyes on my hands. Glances up and whispers, “Thank you”.  I don’t respond.

I close my eyes. I hear her shuffle back behind the bench. Press play on my IPod. Wait until the song finishes. I lean over the bench to see if she’s sleeping. She’s gone. I sit back down and rub my fingertips. Check my phone’s outgoing calls. See the number that she called. I don’t recognize the area code. I press dial on the phone.

“This number is not in service…”

Twiddle


She twiddles her thumbs. Right thumb is winning the wrestling match. Usher sings through her speakers. She mostly listens to his older albums. He had soul back then. Now, he has David Guetta. Today’s Thursday, Friday’s shadow. It’s 9PM, time for the elderly and worn youth to sleep. But she can’t.

Her left thumb dodges a jab. It circles around, but the right thumb relentlessly attacks. One feint later, and the left has locked the other thumb in a vice-grip hold. 3,2,1 we have a pin! She thinks about the word hold. How it’s a half step from old. How it can mean grab, or to wait, or to want. Her hands lay flat, nestled together. She’s holding out hope for a handhold. Something to steady her and make her feel safe. She’s holding out hope for a letter from Hogwarts. Holding out hope for a call from an old friend.
She tussles her hair, trying to get out of this daze. A few hairs fall out. Used to shedding. Notices a white hair on her dark pajamas. Quick inhale. Remembers petting a white cat outside of the apartment. The hair is from the cat. It has to be. 

My Past

As a teenager, I specialized in high profile assassinations. Started off small, my parents introduced me to the "blood world". However, I made a name for myself for my reliability and secrecy. I worked my way up the totem pole and eventually I was entrusted with hits including high ranking political and business officials.

How does one go about hiring an assassin? Most commonly, people go through organized crime, usually through the Russian or Chinese mafia networks. The skill level of the assassin corresponds to your hypothetical payment. Most people can only afford a hired brute with a muzzled gun. For more delicate hits (i.e. someone within the crime network), a higher payment is necessary. You can expect someone called a cleaner, who specializes in false suicides and accidents. For higher profile targets, you would have to go through an independent contractor. Contractors are affiliated with certain banks in many major cities. You need to identify who has possible connections to crime, and pay your way for more information. Eventually, you will reach a consultant who will provide further instructions.

Here's what the consultant would tell you. You need to set up a TOR encryption network and access the darknet. Ensure there are several layers of proxy servers. The web browser shifts periodically overtime; it corresponds to a specific numerical pattern, which I cannot divulge. Once you access the website, you will see an screenshot of a commonly visited page, such as Google or Ebay. Your screen will freeze, and you will get a virus alert. Do not panic. Your cursor may be frozen, however you can still manipulate it. Check the source code of the website, and access the archives. Here, you can see the image file and its specifics. Your consultant will have provided another series of numbers. These numbers indicate which pixels on the image file to click on. This is how you get to the real website. Set up a down payment through an offshore bank account. Then upload the necessary information on your target. The contractor would take it from there. Because privacy is of upmost importance, never expect a face to face meeting.

As for how I actually performed my task, I specialized in poisonings. My handle was Viper, and I used synthetic neurotoxin compounds, undetectable through an autopsy. I hired an trustworthy research firm to manufacture my poisons, using a triple blind order system. (multiple aliases, false addresses, and hired couriers). Depending on the risk of the job, planning could last from a couple days to six months. You would be provided a vague timeline, no specifics in case you were working for the target as a scout for potential threats. From there, it was simple. The poisons were water-soluble, so a simple contamination of a bottle of water or a snack would do the job. I had various cover stories, but usually I would act as an escort who would chicken out last minute or a harmless maid. A young and innocent face can get a person pretty far. I retired from the business after my parents botched a job. That compromised my identity and I had to relocate.

I chose to join the work force, because it's easier. I have significant savings, but I would be bored if I rested on my laurels. But my story begs the question - why am I telling you all this? Because you should know that I inserted a skin absorbent, slow acting poison onto a surface in your office, and I have the only antidote. If you even think about telling anyone, I will disappear, and you will die within a week. Therefore, you should offer me the job and we will never discuss this again.