Only friend.

 

Someone yelled,”Hey Charles!” as I was closing the door to my locker. Having just finished, maneuvering my books around, and stuffing my bag with the books I would need for the 3 classes after lunch. My hand was clutching the green tea can with the false bottom. I was pawing it, almost like a religious relic. To afraid to let go of it, and with the unease from having it at school, faltering only when I was touching it. My buddy Tim yelling to grab my attention so we could walk to lunch together. As we did every day. Brought me from my fear induced stupor.

“Hey Tim whats up?”

“Not much, why you nervous gaylord?” He said slamming my locker door.

“Fuck off man I’m fine. I drank too much coffee this morning.”

“Oh ok, you seen what Darlene was wearing today?” He said, with a goofy grin tearing at the edges of his face.

“No.”

“Oh man, she had white pants on, and you could see her underwear underneath them dude. Holy shit!”

“Oh cool, maybe we’ll see her at lunch.” I said unbothered.

“Yeah sure. Whatever fag!” He said just before punching me and running off.

The crowded lunch room, packed with kids my age who have no idea what life is like to live in the real world. The dark, straining, oppressive real world. Reality; where nothing is equitable and no one is equal. Unless you make it so. A place, where no matter your financial or social back ground. Your current lot in life. What your goals or ambitions are. What accomplishments or headway you’ve made towards completing them. A place where the only thing you can count on, is the boundless ways in which humans are capable of cruelty.

The roar of the lunchroom, coupled with my already rising anxiety. Made my stomach turn.

These people don’t know what it’s like to live like me. They don’t understand what it’s like to have to fight for food, for shelter; for safety. To have to survive every single day, and then be forced to go to a school you hate. To be looked down upon by teachers every day. And other students who have no form of empathy towards anyone for anything. Only arrogance and malice. It made me sick.

I sat my bag down at the table in the back corner of the cafeteria. Where Tim and I would sit. Sometimes the weird kid we had 3^rd hour with would sit with us. Other times, by himself. He had a haircut, the perfect shape of a bowl. He would wear cargo pants, with hiking boots everyday. And sometimes, shirts with weird emblems on them.

I tried to get along with him as best I could, so did Tim. The kid, didn’t take to him the way he did with me. He would tolerate him as much as he could, when he was trying to socialize with me in his own weird rigid way. Sometimes, he would be reading a book. And he would run to me glowing, only to show me, some nonsensical line in a graphic novel about samurais. Other times, he would make little jokes, and direct them towards me. Hoping I would laugh, and recognize his humor. Most times I did, other times I found it hard to go along. But I felt as if I had a duty. As his only friend.

Those thoughts were racing through my head as I was on the toilet. I liked the guy, I felt sorry for him. Almost as if I wished people would feel sorry for me in the same way. I got done on the toilet, and was closing the stall when I heard.

Thump

Thump

Thump

Thump.

And then the screams started, a fever pitch of fear induced screaming I have never heard in real life. I watched a nature documentary about rabbits when I was a kid, and that was the closest thing I could think of.

Thump

Thump

Thump

screaming.

Thump

Crack, crack, crack. And more screaming.

I stood frozen in front of the mirror not knowing what to do, or what was happening.

Although when he came into the bathroom holding a shotgun, it was almost as if I did know.

Somewhere deep in my subconscious. I knew what those thumps were. I knew why people were screaming, but I refused to believe it. The first day, I get my lucky break. There was no way, I was going to get shot at school. I was almost red with fury when he came into the bathroom.

“Hi Charles.”

“Hey Eli.”

“You were my only friend Charles, you know that?”

“I don’t even know why I’m doing this.” He said looking at his feet solemnly.

“You can stop now.”

“No I can’t. Don’t fool yourself.” He said.

“If I were you, I’d run out of this bathroom right now, and not stop until you get home.” He said waving the shotgun towards the bathroom exit.

“Ok, see you man.”

“Bye.”

I ran through corridor after corridor, with the shotgun blasts being reduced to something akin to a car stereo turned up loud. I made it to the last door before I made it outside, I ran and I ran. Without stopping until I got to the projects I lived in.

I hated living there, I hated how my mom had to work at a factory. I hated how, they called this place the poor kid stop on the buses. I’d show them however, I’d be the only survivor of that shooting. I’d always be the guy who lived through that. I’d also be the guy with fat stacks. Which is what Carlos told me this morning, when he gave me that bag. He said, I’d be rich beyond my wildest dreams, all I had to do was sell this stuff for him. Speaking of stuff, where was it? I was frantically patting my pockets trying to find it.

“Oh man, I left it in my bag at school. FUCK.” I thought. Carlos was going to kill me.