Did it hurt? That’s what everyone’s been asking me. What a question. Yes, it hurt.
Guillermo treated my stomach like a steak. He ripped a hole in me. Flesh is not supposed to slice like that. Blood is not supposed to empty from my body like that. I don’t know if I cried or screamed or what. Whatever I did, I wasn’t supposed to do it.
I can’t believe I used to wish that I could feel what it would be like to get kicked in the balls. After getting carved down to my guts, I never want to feel more than a paper cut ever again.
Luckily, I did only feel this pain for a few seconds. I passed out from shock almost right away, and it’s pretty difficult to remember much of anything after that.
I guess Danny stepped up and defended me. Only about nine months too late. Then apparently Dorothy came back to the scene after not too long, and with her she had school officials and cops and EMTs and all kinds of people. She saved me too.
I was doing okay there in the ambulance until I looked down and noticed that the knife was still sticking out of me. Then I saw that about half of my body was completely drenched in red. I fainted again.
I had one of those long, long completely dreamless sleeps, like when it’s the first night back in your bed after a month of camp. For all I know, I really was dead during this period. For all I know, I hung out in the afterlife for a while and kicked it with God, and he told me, “Good bar mitzvah speech, man, but go easy on me next time.” Then maybe I chilled with some saints, or whatever it is that Jews have instead. Hilarious old rabbi ghosts? And then maybe I spent time in a train station with Dumbledore and a slimy Voldemort fetus? This all happened when I was dead.
But then I guess my body decided to live. Maybe it wanted to grow some peach fuzz before it died.
When I woke up in the hospital bed, the first thing I saw was, well, my dad’s strong chin. There are more pleasant sights. But the look on my dad’s face when he saw that I was apparently not dead…it’s a look I don’t think he puts on display in Hollywood too often. Maybe on Oscar night.
My mom freaked out. I’m not sure what there was more of, my blood or her tears. She told me over and over again how proud of me she is, how much she loves me, how smart I am, how funny I am, how handsome I am, how brave I am, how she wasn’t ready to let me go. She’s not gonna let me go, I know that much. She’s a Jewish mother. After this, I may never be allowed outside again. At least not without a helmet.
It was just funny to me, seeing everyone like this. Funny in one of those ways where you’ve got a dumb smile on your face the whole time because everything feels so good, because you’ve gotten about as close as you can get to losing everything forever. That sounds cliché, but hey, I just got stabbed.
Hannah could barely talk when she came up to me. Her eyes were dripping wet and puffed up like the éclairs the caterers serve at Dad’s parties. She’s never looked worse, but in a way, I thought she looked even better than she did at graduation. She just stood there looking down at me, just looking, then she came in for a big hug and she rested her head against my chest. Didn’t say a word.
“What is this,” I said, “the silent treatment again? Haven’t we been down this road before?”
She laughed at that, but with her right on top of me, her laughter made my stomach wound hurt, so I had to tell her to stop. She told me to stop being such a little wiener.
I love my sister.
I had to spend the night in the hospital, obviously, but it wasn’t so bad. I got a bunch of ice cream, and the nurses said they liked my hair, and a couple of dad’s movies were on TNT. I watched Class Dismissed, the one about a famous rapper who has to teach in an inner-city high school as part of his community service. It’s based on a true story. Oh man. I hope my dad doesn’t make my story into a movie. He totally would. Reminder to self: that can’t happen.
This morning was the best. Dorothy came to visit. She had a dress on for some reason, and her hair was all smooth and sheen-y, as if she had actually showered and straightened it and everything. Impressive.
She gave me a stack of like, a thousand papers. She told me that there was once a time when me reading these papers was her worst, deepest fear, but that now I needed to see them.
I asked her what The Club Chronicles: A Saga in 57 Phantasmagoric Parts was all about. She said, “Do you really want to know?” I said sure. “Really, do you want to know?” she asked. Yes, I said. Really? Yes. Really? Yes. REEEEEEALLY? YESSSSSS.
Then she threw her arms wide open, shouted, “Whatever you say!” and came in for a gigantic hug.
Only it wasn’t a hug. It was a kiss. And I was not ready for it.
I drooled, like, all over myself. Copious amounts of drool. An ocean of drool. I had no control over it. So embarrassing.
Dorothy started laughing. “First tears, then blood, now drool. Jacob Schwartz, what is it with you and your bodily fluids?”
I stopped to consider that statement, but one nanosecond into my thought process, there she was kissing me again.
And I didn’t drool this time. I kissed back. And now I know what it feels like.
It feels great! It feels just like the guys in my cabin at camp described it. Warm and slimy, but good slimy, like candy that has flavored goo inside. But it was like interactive candy—candy that tastes you while you taste it. It was the best candy in the world. It was candy that I will most definitely be trying again.
Normally when D. Wu and I hang out, we’re just talking and laughing the whole time. This was, um, well, a different experience. But in my opinion, it was equally frabjous.
She had to leave before lunch because she only got a B-plus on her math final, so her dad’s only letting her out of the house for three hours a day for the first month of summer. But it’s going to be a pretty nice three hours each day.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Dorothy after she left. Her shimmery black hair, her witch’s cackle of a laugh, her totally loony facial expressions when she thinks no one’s watching.… I guess I’m just glad to have such a fun and unique person for a friend. No, scratch that—best friend. Or, well, I guess—girlfriend.
All through lunch and the afternoon, I thought about Dorothy. I fell asleep thinking about all the cool places I’m gonna show her this summer, all the adventures we’re gonna go on.
Then I woke up from my nap, and there was Danny.
Danny was there to tell me some stuff. He told me that Guillermo’s going to juvie and then maybe prison, and that by the time he gets out, I’ll probably be in college, if not older. So that’s good. Then Danny said that he might actually have to end up going to juvie for some Raider stuff, but probably not for very long. That’s good too.
But Danny wasn’t saying this stuff like it was good news. He was all quiet, all sad, like he was delivering some eulogy. I asked him, “Come on man, what’s up?”
Danny said that honestly, he felt weird for ratting Guillermo out. He said he told the cops everything he knew about Angel Calderon’s death, and that he knew it was the right thing to do, but at the same time he didn’t know, you know?
I said I didn’t know.
There was a pretty long pause, him just standing there, me just lying there. It was one of those awkward silences that can only happen between two people who know each other really well.
And it was on Danny to break the silence. I mean, come on, I was in a hospital bed. And he could have done something to prevent that, but he didn’t.
There were a couple times where it looked like he wanted to say something to me. He didn’t have to say much. All I really wanted was something along the lines of sorry. I miss you, maybe. But I didn’t need some grand gesture or speech or whatever. I didn’t need some big sign of best friendship. Just something. Maybe he could’ve asked to see my scar. I could’ve shown him that. It’s cool-looking. Maybe he’d want to talk about my bar mitzvah speech, or the slide show. Maybe we could just catch up. Talk about basketball, video games, elementary school. I don’t know.
>
Danny leaned over a little, and I thought it was going to be for a hug. He’s not a big hugger or anything, but in the past he’s done it sometimes. He’s done it when he felt good. When we felt good together.
But he just held his fist out. He wasn’t holding anything in it. It was just his fist.
I bumped it with my fist and he walked out the door.
I guess he’s back at the house right now. I have no idea what he’s up to. I’m not sure I care.
Local Gangs Come Together for Day of Peace
By Aaron Marcuse, San Paulo Spectator
Tuesday, January 15th
On Monday, several members of local youth gangs put their “beefs” on hold and chose instead to grill beef in a community-wide BBQ for Peace. The event, which was held at Bella Vista Park, saw over two hundred people attend.
Gang representatives say that while the event was organized in the wake of last Friday’s stabbing, such an event has been a long time coming.
“This is something we should have done after Angel,” said Arturo Fausto, a member of the Westside Destroyers, in reference to last year’s gang-related murder of 13-year-old Angel Calderon.
Although members of gangs such as the Destroyers and the Raiders did not go so far as to declare a permanent truce, several gang representatives and community members stated that in light of recent events, a break from violence is necessary.
“I don’t think there should be fighting for a while, maybe ever. It doesn’t seem like there’s a reason for it,” said Martín “Gordo” Padilla, a member of the Eastside Raiders.
Still, despite this outpouring of good will, not all in attendance at the barbecue were completely sold on the reality of permanent peace between the gangs.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” said Lt. Craig Shaw, one of several San Paulo police officers who were on hand to prevent any violence from breaking out.
Added Shaw, “I’ve been to a few of these things before.”
getsome_danny24: hey
lilbeachbabe777: hi danny
getsome_danny24: sup?
lilbeachbabe777: wait
lilbeachbabe777: are u srsly asking me whats up?
getsome_danny24: o well like
getsome_danny24: i dont have to if u dont want
getsome_danny24: like i can just sign off
lilbeachbabe777: no dont do that
lilbeachbabe777: u dont have to do that
lilbeachbabe777: its just u dont have to start the convo w/ “sup”
lilbeachbabe777: we kno each other way too well
lilbeachbabe777: we have way too many things to say
getsome_danny24: o
getsome_danny24: ya
getsome_danny24: um…soooo
getsome_danny24: sup?
lilbeachbabe777: lol
lilbeachbabe777: nm u?
getsome_danny24: nm
getsome_danny24: well like
getsome_danny24: i guess
getsome_danny24: ok like
getsome_danny24: i want to say sorry
getsome_danny24: for how ive been
getsome_danny24: all the raider stuff
getsome_danny24: and like what happened to jake
lilbeachbabe777: oh danny
lilbeachbabe777: i accept your apology
lilbeachbabe777: yes. you made mistakes.
lilbeachbabe777: big mistakes
lilbeachbabe777: but we all did
lilbeachbabe777: and i can tell that you feel bad
getsome_danny24: i deserve to feel bad
getsome_danny24: i messed everythin up
lilbeachbabe777: look
lilbeachbabe777: jakes okay
lilbeachbabe777: and the reason he’s ok is b/c u saved him
lilbeachbabe777: and dont forget u stepped in front of me too
getsome_danny24: no i kno
getsome_danny24: but like i feel bad
lilbeachbabe777: danny
lilbeachbabe777: i forgive u
getsome_danny24: ok
getsome_danny24: so
lilbeachbabe777: so
getsome_danny24: soooo
getsome_danny24: u want to maybe hang out sometime?
lilbeachbabe777: oh
lilbeachbabe777: danny
lilbeachbabe777: like what do u mean by hang out
getsome_danny24: idk
getsome_danny24: like old times
lilbeachbabe777: like which old times?
getsome_danny24: idk
getsome_danny24: i guess like umm
getsome_danny24: idk
lilbeachbabe777: like jakes room?
getsome_danny24: umm
getsome_danny24: ya
lilbeachbabe777: so ur asking
lilbeachbabe777: do i want to make out with u on jakes bed?
lilbeachbabe777: no, danny
lilbeachbabe777: i do not
getsome_danny24: no thats not how i meant it
lilbeachbabe777: really?
getsome_danny24: ya
lilbeachbabe777: so u have no interest in dating me?
getsome_danny24: no
lilbeachbabe777: not even a little?
getsome_danny24: well like
lilbeachbabe777: ?
getsome_danny24: i guess maybe like a little
getsome_danny24: yeah
lilbeachbabe777: ohhhhhhh boys
lilbeachbabe777: boys, boys, boys
getsome_danny24: wat?
getsome_danny24: wat does that mean?
lilbeachbabe777: it means
lilbeachbabe777: sorry danny
lilbeachbabe777: i dont want a bf until at least 10th grade
getsome_danny24: o
getsome_danny24: no no thats cool
getsome_danny24: like i want to be friends
getsome_danny24: i want to chill and talk and stuff
lilbeachbabe777: awesome
lilbeachbabe777: thats exactly what i want
lilbeachbabe777: and danny?
getsome_danny24: ya
lilbeachbabe777: good night
lilbeachbabe777 has signed off at 11:08 p.m.
getsome_danny24 has signed off at 11:42 p.m.
The Club Chronicles
THE FINAL EPILOGUE: Serendipity’s Spit
By Dorothy Wu
He lay crumpled in a heap, the katana protruding from his chest. His former friend had figuratively backstabbed him, his archenemy had literally chest-stabbed him, and then the two of them had run off with their cruel crew, the Pillagers, leaving Prince Jacobim all by himself in a puddle of blood-red blood. Though just a young man, he had been left on Death’s doorstep.
And Death had just been ding-dong ditched.
Princess Dorothy feared she was too late. She ran desperately to the top of the hill where Jacobim’s body lay. She held the sword wound antidote in her hand, but she knew that the bottle of silver fluid would be of no use if Jacobim was already dead.
And he was already dead. She could see it before she even crouched down next to him. The brightness was gone from his maple eyes, the spring was gone from his curls. Her life mate, her lover, her kindred soul had already breathed his final breath, and she had not been there to feel its warm waft against her face.
She threw herself onto his body and began to sob such sobs. It was a violent kind of crying. Each tear subtracted large amounts of energy points from her overall total.
Dorothy cried and cried for minutes and hours and through the night and into the next morning. During the early part of this crying marathon, she maintained the naive hope that perhaps her tears could somehow bring Jacobim back to life, like in a children’s movie. Yet all her crying did was make his face wet. His beautiful face.
She looked down at the face, and though it was now the face of a carcass, she longed to kiss it once more.
And then—an idea! A kiss! A kiss could rejuvenate him! After all, kisses from princes saved the lives of Snow White and Sleeping Beaut
y and that frog girl. Surely a smooch from a princess could rescue Jacobim.
Dorothy grabbed his face with eager hands. She closed her eyes, she took in the deepest of breaths, and she plunged her head downward. Her lips met his.
And nothing happened.
Dorothy sat back up. She did not cry. Rather, she sat in shocked silence. Her mouth hung open like a dumbfounded cow’s.
So Jake was really gone. After all this, dead. She tried to contemplate her future without him. She could not. She had always imagined herself with him, ever since the day of the dolphins, and even through the dark times. Even when he did not love her, and even when she became distracted by lesser things, she still knew that their destiny was each other. And now that dream was never to be.
She was not sad like before, just stupefied. She was so stunned that she did not even notice when an excess amount of saliva built up in her hanging-open mouth. She did not feel the spit slide off her tongue and she did not see as it fell through the air and splashed against Jake’s dead face.
And she had no way of knowing that spit of all things was the thing to bring him back to life.
Jake blinked his eyes open. They were very tired, but not too tired to smile. Dorothy gasped and smiled back and cried again. She leaned over and pressed her body tightly against his. Their chests were one. What a glorious feeling it was for Dorothy to embrace her beloved once more. What a miracle of a gift of a wish of a dream to have Jake back in her life. What a beautiful moment.
They made out furiously.
September 1st
Dear Jake,
Hi, it’s Jake. You’re writing this letter to yourself on the first day of seventh grade and you’re not going to read it for a whole year. Here goes.
Here are some facts about yourself in case you forget: you’re twelve years old. You’re five feet if you say you are. You weigh a hundred and ten pounds.
All right, fine. You weigh ninety-eight pounds. But you do weigh a hundred and ten pounds on Neptune, which is your favorite planet. Hmm, Neptune sounds pretty good right about now. They don’t have seventh grade on Neptune, do they?
You have two parents, an older sister, and no pets besides koi fish. Your parents are allergic to real pets. You have a normal group of friends including a best friend.
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