We Now Return to Regular Life

by Martin Wilson

  Tomorrow is the homecoming parade, so we have to finish the float tonight. Since I’m class vice president, I’ll get to ride on it through the streets of downtown Tuscaloosa, with people on the sidewalks waving and hollering. Then there’s the football game tomorrow night, followed by the dance right after. We were supposed to be working on the float each night, but we were really just talking about it and goofing off, so now we’re in a last-minute rush. I know I should be enjoying all of this. Normally I would. And I’m trying to. But it’s been hard.

  Right now everyone is focused on the other parts of the float—the falcon (our mascot), which will be perched on top of a bobcat (the mascot of our rivals), and a giant football and then a goalpost. These constructions are spread out all over the gym, surrounded by small groups of my classmates trying to make it all come together. The float’s base—a long flat wooden structure, also surrounded with chicken wire—is the easy part, and for most of the night I’ve been the only one working on it. But I see Becca, our class president, walking over, bringing Hunter and Declan with her. I step away, like I’m trying to get a better look at it from afar.

  Nick is around here somewhere. We haven’t talked much today, which is kind of weird. Even at tennis practice he was quiet. I do see Madison Jones—my date for the game and the dance tomorrow—working on the bobcat. Everyone calls her Madison Jones or Madison J., because there are about seven Madisons in our class. She’s pretty, I guess, and nice, though she kind of talks too much. She’s on the track team. I think she likes me as more than a friend. She glances over at me and smiles while she holds a stack of yellow tissue paper, and I quickly look back at the base of the float.

  “Hey,” Becca calls out. “We need to spell out ‘Freshman’ on both sides of the base, don’t you think?” She’s really the one who’s handled all of this, rounding up people in the class to help, pushing the ideas through, giving us constant pep talks. Her boyfriend, Hunter, is on the football team, and he’s here mainly just to lend his football-star presence, wearing his stupid jersey to remind us that he’s more special than everyone else. And there’s Declan, too, who’s not on the football team but who hangs out with a lot of the players, and so he thinks he’s supercool.

  “What do you think, Josh?” Becca asks. She’s got her dark hair up in a ponytail.

  I walk over to them. “Yeah,” I say. “That makes sense.”

  “I think the lettering should be white,” she says, “on a red background.” She’s always so decisive, which is why she’s a good president.

  I grab a stack of white tissue. “I’ll start with the F. Freshman or freshmen?”

  “Freshmen,” Becca says.

  Hunter and Declan edge closer, watching us.

  “Did you guys see that kid on TV?” Declan asks.

  I start to work, ruffling the tissue, hoping to make noise to drown out the conversation. All day, people have been talking about the interview with Sam and his family, which aired last night.

  “What kid?” Becca asks.

  “That interview. That kid Sam Walsh.”

  “Oh, that kid. The whole story is so insane,” Becca says. She’s squatting near me, marking out where the other letters should go.

  I don’t chime in. I focus on making the F fat and even. But yeah, of course I watched the interview. We all did. At first Dad didn’t want to let me. But Mom said, “Honey, we can’t shield him from this.” Besides, anything I wanted to know about the case was all over the Internet.

  Sam was only on for a little while, and he didn’t say much. He looked preppy in khakis and a button-down shirt. His scraggly hair, his piercings—all that was gone. I stared and tried to remember the Sam I knew. But it was like I was watching someone different altogether.

  “My dad says that man probably raped him, like, all the time,” Declan says.

  “Gross,” Hunter says.

  “And he stayed there with him,” Declan continues. “He stayed all those years. He’s got to be a fag.”

  “Declan,” Becca says, in a scolding tone.

  I feel my face flush, and I turn away so they can’t see me.

  “Just saying,” Declan says. “There’s something fucked up about him. You could tell just by the way he looked.”

  “Well, wouldn’t you be messed up after going through something like that?” Becca says, sounding annoyed.

  “No. I’d have kicked that sicko’s ass,” Declan says. “I’d have kicked his ass and gotten out of there.”

  “Damn right,” Hunter says.

  “Let’s not talk about it,” Becca says. I can’t tell if she finds it distasteful, or if she just wants to focus on the work at hand, but I’m glad she’s trying to change the subject.

  “But think about it. He was, like, settled in there. Why would he have stayed unless he was enjoying it? He didn’t—”

  “Shut up,” I say, louder than I mean to. I continue shoving the tissue paper into the slots, not missing a beat. “Just shut up,” I say again.

  “Chill out, man,” Declan says.

  “Yeah, what’s your problem?” Hunter asks.

  I don’t respond. A few moments pass in silence. But I know it can’t last.

  “His sister’s on the soccer team with me. Beth Walsh?” Becca says.

  I almost chime in that I know her. That we were neighbors. That I was there when it all happened. But I don’t.

  “She never talked about it—about her brother,” Becca says. “I only found out from some of the other girls. She’s pretty quiet.”

  “I just hope that freak brother of hers doesn’t come to our school,” Declan says.

  “He’ll probably be homeschooled,” Becca says. “After all he’s been through.”

  “Besides being abused and stuff, I bet it was cool to just sit at home and watch TV and play video games all day,” Declan says, laughing.

  “Stop,” Becca says.

  “Dude, not funny,” Hunter says, probably just trying to please Becca.

  “What? I’m just saying.”

  I drop the tissue and sit there for a minute.

  “You okay?” Becca asks. That question I’m sick of being asked.

  I stand up and look over at Declan. “He was my friend,” I say.

  Declan just gives me a confused look and says, “What?”

  He’s dumb as a box of rocks. Not worth it. I just start walking toward the exit. I can hear Becca call out to me, but I don’t stop.

  Outside, there’s a side parking lot, separated from the church’s main lot, but it’s mostly empty since no one here can drive. We’re all stuck until our parents or older siblings show up to get us. It’s dark out, but because of the nearby streetlights I see Nick at the edge of the lot, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, talking to this girl Sarah. Sarah is his homecoming date. She’s new to town and is on the tennis team. I guess I knew he kind of liked her, but he’d always been shy about talking to her until recently. I hesitate for a moment, but then I walk toward them.

  “Oh hey,” Nick says, seeing me approach. “How’s the float going?”

  “Fine,” I say.

  “Hi,” Sarah says. She’s petite, with glossy shoulder-length blond hair. Nick calls her California, because she moved here from San Diego.

  “Can I talk to you?” I say, looking at Nick.

  “Okay,” he says, sounding hesitant.

  “I’ll see you inside,” Sarah says, walking off.

  “What’s up?” he asks. I can tell he’s miffed that I broke up this great romantic chat they were having. He flips his hood down and pushes his hair out of his eyes. He needs a haircut. I see him watching Sarah walk away.

  “They were talking about him. About Sam.”

  He looks back at me, like he’s aware of me for the first time. “So?”

  “Declan called him a freak. He call
ed him a fag.”

  “So? Declan’s a tool. Just ignore him.”

  “It’s not true.”

  “What’s not true?” He looks toward the gym again, then back at me.

  “What they’re saying about him.” I want Nick to agree, to say something, but he’s just quiet. “Nick?” I ask.

  “Why do you want to bring up all that?” Nick looks down at his sneakers, kicks a piece of broken glass away, then looks back at me, fiddling with his hair again.

  “I don’t know. Because we were friends with him? I mean—”

  “I don’t want to talk about him, okay? He’s back and I’m happy for his family. But that’s the end of it.”

  That’s the end of it.

  For Nick maybe. But he didn’t see the man in the truck. He didn’t keep that from the police. He’s not the one who biked away, leaving Sam all by himself.

  A breeze starts up, and leaves blow across the parking lot, making a papery scraping sound along the concrete.

  “You’re gonna stay till we finish the float aren’t you?” Nick says.

  “Yeah, I’ll stay.” I’m sure Nick wants to be here so he can flirt with Sarah. He hasn’t done any actual work all night.

  From the direction of the gym, I hear a few people laughing, everyone excited and delirious from the long week. For a brief moment I try to picture Sam with us. In a flash, I think of a different world where Sam never went away, where nothing happened to him, and he’s with us now, he’s in there, helping build the falcon. He’s laughing, maybe even flirting with the girl who’s his homecoming date. Yeah, I can almost see him. But I don’t see myself. Where would I be?

  “Let’s go,” Nick says.

  As we walk toward the gym, the image of Sam fades away. When we enter the chaos inside, I head back to the float and grab some tissue paper and carry on.

  ===

  The next night, Mom drives me to pick up Madison for the homecoming game. She only lives a few streets over. Sometimes I see her run by our house on one of her jogs. She always looks up at my window.

  “You look so handsome,” Mom says.

  I hate when she does that—tells me I’m handsome or smart or special, like she thinks I need a boost of confidence. I’m dressed up in a blazer and a tie. I hold a corsage for Madison in a plastic case on my lap.

  I want this night to be over with. Two weeks ago it seemed like the biggest event in my life. Now, I just think it’s dumb.

  Madison’s parents answer the door and greet me, and then Madison steps outside and hugs me. She’s in a sleeveless baby blue dress, and she has a pink shawl. Her parents come out, too, waving to Mom in the car. She gets out to join the festivities.

  I hand the corsage to Madison.

  “How sweet,” she says, hugging me again. Thank God Mrs. Jones takes the corsage and helps me pin it on.

  Mom and Mr. and Mrs. Jones all smile and make small talk while Madison forces us to pose for a few selfies. “Don’t we look cute?” she says, showing me one, and I’m so glad she didn’t throw the word couple in there. And no, we don’t look cute. Or I don’t. I actually look kind of tired. I haven’t really been sleeping all that well, to be honest.

  Mom drives us to the stadium, both of us sitting in the backseat, like we’re being chauffeured. Madison talks and talks and I sit there and try and pay attention, but for some reason I feel—well, anxious.

  “Josh?” Mom says from the front seat.

  “Huh?”

  “Madison asked you a question.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  She smiles at me, though I can tell she feels sort of deflated. Most guys would be hanging on every word she said. “I asked if you thought we’d win the game? The Bobcats are undefeated. Aren’t we supposed to play bad teams at homecoming? It’s so annoying.”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I’m sure we’ll win.” I smile at her, trying to make an effort.

  Traffic is heavy near the stadium, but Mom insists on getting us as close as possible. I get out and walk around the car and open the door for Madison, like a gentleman. Mom unrolls her window. “You guys have fun. I’ll pick you up at eleven thirty.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Keller!”

  Up ahead, I see Nick and Sarah. They’re holding hands, so as we walk toward them I grab Madison’s, even if my heart’s not in it.

  We all bunch up at the side of the entrance, the crowds swirling around us. A few more guys show up with their dates—Max and Hilary, Raj and Madison Hinkle, Ty and Aisha—and then we all go in together, heading toward the stands. The bright green of the football field seems to shine under the heavy lights. The band members are all gathered in the end zone for now, before they take their spot in the stands. Blaring horns and trumpets and drums, loud and sort of obnoxious, trying to get the crowd jazzed up. But the crowd doesn’t seem to need the band to get excited—there’s already a charge in the air. I try to let the energy boost me. But I still feel weird. Not myself.

  I follow along, Madison clutching my sweaty hand. We have to sit in the upper rows, the unofficial designated spot for freshmen, and when we start to climb the stands to our seats, I look to my right. In the very first row I see them—Mr. and Mrs. Manderson, and in between the two of them, Sam.

  I almost don’t recognize him. He could be any of my classmates. He should be my classmate. He’s just sitting there, wearing jeans and a red jacket that seems too small on him, hands at his side, watching the cheerleaders, or staring at something on the field. What is he doing here?

  Madison keeps walking and my hand slips from hers. She looks back and I say, “Hold on.” Then I step toward Mr. Manderson, sitting at the aisle seat. “Hello,” I say.

  It’s Mrs. Manderson who recognizes me. “Oh, Josh. Hello!” She stands and moves in to hug me. “Look at you, all grown up and handsome.” She sounds so happy and excited and it’s weird because I remember she always seemed grumpy. “Say hi to Sam,” she says, stepping aside and motioning to him.

  “Hi,” I say. My heart pounds. It’s like the noisy crowd around me has gone silent and they’re all watching this reunion unfold.

  “Hey, Josh,” Sam says after what seems like minutes but was really just a second or two. He smiles at me in a weird way—like he’s truly happy to see me. Fuck you—the last two words I spoke to him. I feel shy all of a sudden and have to look away. But I force myself to look back and he’s still smiling at me, almost eagerly now. “It’s good to see you,” I say, knowing that sounds stupid.

  He nods quickly, nervously. “You too.”

  Right then there is a burst of applause as the football players storm the field, crashing through one of those paper banners that the cheerleaders have decorated. We all look to the field and start clapping and cheering, grateful for the interruption.

  I can sense Madison waiting impatiently a few steps up. Above all the yells, I say, “Well, I better go find my seat.”

  “Okay, sweetie. Enjoy the game,” Mrs. Manderson says.

  I look at Sam. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.

  Madison grabs my hand and practically yanks me up the stairs, where we squeeze our way down an upper row, to sit by Nick and Sarah. Max and Hilary are farther down, and Raj and Madison H. and Ty and Aisha are one row up, right behind us. It’s packed and everyone’s standing and hollering.

  Nick says, “What are they doing here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What did you say to him?” Nick says. I see him gaze toward where Sam sits.

  “Just hi.”

  “Remember what a jerk he was to you in school?” Nick says.

  Right then there’s a big play and the crowd goes crazy, and so I don’t bother responding to Nick.

  I’m careful not to look down there, where Sam sits. But when Central scores a touchdown, and everyone goes nut
s, I sneak a glimpse, thinking it’s safe. I mean, they’re far down, and Sam probably doesn’t know where I’m sitting. I see Sam clapping along with everyone else.

  Raj leans down to me and whispers, “It’s so funny we’re both dating Madisons,” and I don’t correct him because he’s smiling, and in such a good mood.

  I peek back at where Sam’s sitting, and right then I see him glance up my way, as if he could sense me looking at him. He knows where I’m sitting. He must have watched me walk up the steps.

  I snap my eyes away, back to the field, trying to look like I’m focused only on the game. But I’m glad Sam saw me, surrounded by friends, with a date. I bet that’s a surprise to him. I’m not that Josh he could push around. I feel a flash of pride, but it doesn’t last long. Soon a kind of shame prickles my skin. Sam’s down there with just his parents, and I’m up here with everyone else in the freshman class, with all these friends, and I know that’s not the way it should be.

  At some point, Madison clutches my hand and says, “You okay?” But just then the Bobcats fumble and I scream and cheer along with everyone else. I look at Nick, and we give each other a high five, and everything feels normal again.

  ===

  A few weeks after Sam had vanished, after days of being shut up in the air-conditioned house, Mom came to my room.

  “Okay, no more of this sitting around. I’ve enrolled you in tennis camp.”

  “Tennis camp?” I envisioned a campfire and tents and wondered how in the world tennis fit into that.

  “It’s for two weeks, at the University courts. It’ll get you out of the house.”

  “But I’ve never played. I don’t even have a racket.”

  “We’ll go buy one today. Some physical activity will be good for you.”

  “But I won’t know anyone there.”

  “Mrs. Lanzano said Nick signed up.”