Trigger

by Susan Vaught

  The other kids from the bus banged past me. I felt hot down in my stomach, like the volcano was trying to grow again, or swell, or get bigger, or whatever volcanoes did. But I didn’t even know why. Ears. The Wench hadn’t moved. She wiggled her fingers at me one more time. Maybe if I waved back, she’d go away.

  As I got to the top step, I tucked my memory book under my bad arm and sort of nodded to her. Not a wave, but better than nothing. She smiled and came toward me.

  Ears.

  All the other kids got inside before the Wench cut me off in front of the doors.

  “Jersey,” she said, all serious with that funeral face. “Your father called this morning. I’m sorry about your mother.”

  Tell her to drop dead.

  Tell her to go away.

  Tell her to go to a funeral or go inside or leave you alone or you don’t want to talk. Tell her anything. Tell her to go away!

  “You don’t have any shoelaces,” I said.

  The Wench stared at me. “Okay, well, we wanted to see how you were doing.”

  We. We who? Teachers? Other kids? Ears? Did they have another assembly? Oh, look, the geek-freak’s mom left. He’ll probably put a bullet in the other side of his head. Ears. He’ll probably screw everything up all over again. Hide all the live chickens. Don’t say chickens. Don’t say ears. Don’t say devil. Don’t tell this woman to jump off the highest football stadium bleacher and fly to Alaska or fall down some volcano. Don’t blow up. Don’t pull the trigger.

  “Mom didn’t die.” I tried to shrug, but I felt too stiff to do it right. “Trigger. She’s just at the beach. But, thanks. Ears. I need class. To get to class, I mean.”

  “We thought maybe I should stay with you today and—”

  I walked around the Wench, went through the doors, and left her talking to herself.

  She probably followed me. I didn’t care. If the Wench followed me all day, I might hurt her. I thought about finding some paint to draw happy faces on her stupid black dress. My teeth hurt because I had them shut so hard. Scary red spots dotted the outside of everything I could see. Lava. Volcano. If I kept listening to the Wench, I’d get red spots and start talking back and I’d be a total Big Larry ruiner volcano and nobody would like what I said. Fast. Too fast. Slow down. Slower. Slower.

  When I got to Civics, the teacher, one of our baseball coaches, looked up from his desk like he might ask me for a note. He saw it was me, and he didn’t. Great. Did Dad call everybody? Thanks, Dad. Or maybe the Wench talked to everybody. Maybe everybody at school was “we.” Whatever. Thanks, Wench.

  The coach jerked his head toward an empty desk and put his finger on his lips. Everybody was writing like crazy.

  A test.

  It was all about presidents and electoral colleges and Supreme Courts and stuff. Definitions. True and false. Matching. Fill-in-the-blank. Short answer and an essay.

  Define republic. And democracy, monarchy, oligarchy, dictatorship …

  The words got all blurry when I looked at them. Fast. Reading too fast. Needed to slow down. Red spots showed up on some of the paper. I was clenching my teeth again. Red spots, like lava and blood and red, white, and blue. Was the Wench in the hall? I should have told the coach I couldn’t take the test. Now if I said I couldn’t do it, he’d get mad and I’d have to go to the office and the Wench would stick to me for sure. Red, red spots.

  When does a new president get inaugurated?

  How many electoral votes does California have?

  Match the following Constitutional Amendments to their proper number.

  Explain the difference between a federation and a republic.

  Is an oligarchy better than a dictatorship? Support your position.

  Support my position. Red spots. Ears. Could I even say inaugurated with my dumb half-a-mouth? I could barely write the answer even with my working five fingers. A president gets inaugurated every four years. Or did he mean the month? I scratched out the word ears I wrote by mistake and started to put down January, then tried to remember if it was January or February. Ears. When did a president get inaugurated? Maybe it was December. I knew this stuff Before. If Mom could see me taking the test, she’d cry, because I was all stupid and different and I had scars on the outside, and I couldn’t say inaugurated even if I tried. January. February. I didn’t know. Ears. Spots. Slow down. Stop the red. Stop the volcano.

  I took a deep breath, and another, and one more. The red spots turned black, then gray. My eyes squinted. Test words got narrow and blurry. The inside of my head felt too big and stuffed all full, like my eyes might pop out, but I kept breathing, kept staring at the paper, and I didn’t blow up even when I tried to explain two reasons for the separation of church and state.

  When the bell rang, I was still trying to answer a question about true or false, the American flag is always higher than other flags. It looked true, but it might have been false. Most of the questions on my test were still blank. True or false, Jersey got a big fat “F” on this test. True or false, Jersey Hatch is a freak-geek moron with stupid-marks. Inauguration. Ears. January, February, and I didn’t know the definition of federation or oligarchy, either. American flags. I needed to go to Earth Science. I needed to hide from the Wench in case she was waiting in the hall.

  When I turned in my paper, the coach didn’t look up from the book he was reading. Something about bulls and bears and the history of Wall Street. It looked boring but lots more interesting than oligarchies and red spots. Ears.

  I followed two basketball players out, trying to keep right behind them so the Wench wouldn’t catch me. Out of the corner of my good eye, I saw her hovering by the bathrooms, so I couldn’t go there. Ears, ears, ears! I could hold it for one class. Just one more, to do without the Wench. I tried to get to Earth Science with the basketball players, only they turned down a different hall, so I tried not to limp too much with my bad leg and to walk fast like everybody else. The Wench was still looking at the Civics classroom door.

  So far, so good.

  I turned the corner to Earth Science and Todd’s girlfriend almost opened her locker right into my face.

  “Oh! Jersey. Sorry.” She took a book out of her locker, slammed it, and gave me a twitchy smile. “You got here fast. Usually, I’m gone before you come by.”

  No Wench. I glanced back toward the corner. Still no Wench. Good. But … Maylynn knew where I walked? When I walked? Her smile kept twitching. Don’t say “ears.”

  “Sorry I was fast,” I said. “It’s the Wench. After me.”

  “Ms. Wenchel?” Maylynn looked over my shoulder toward the corner. “Is she supposed to be your aide again today? Leza said that was over.”

  “It was, but I missed three days. Ears. Mom. Ears. I mean, the Wench and the school—Mom—it’s okay.” My smile probably twitched, too, at least the half that worked. Maylynn had really big dark eyes. She was pretty. Not as pretty as Leza, no, still not, but pretty enough.

  People elbowed past us. Almost time for the bell. Mom was at the beach. Red spots and beaches and ears. There weren’t any bells at the beach. Ears. Maylynn started to walk away, but I asked her to wait.

  “Can you help me talk to Todd?” I took a step toward her, staring at the blue book in her hands. Red spots on blue. “I need ears. I mean, to know. Stuff. And I can’t get him to talk. Neither can Leza. Will you help?”

  Her mouth came open. “I—don’t know. I need to go or I’ll be late for class.”

  “Please? I see spots.” I reached for her book, for the spots on her book.

  She backed up fast, bumped into somebody, and let out a little shriek.

  “What the—” The shout came out of nowhere.

  Todd came out of nowhere.

  When he grabbed my shoulder, I tried to turn around, but he pushed hard. I slammed against the lockers. Pain shot through my bad shoulder. When I bounced back, Todd caught me. All around, people fell all over the place getting out of the way.

  “You stay out o
f her face,” Todd growled. His black eyes burned as he glared at me and clenched his jaw. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He had me by the collar with one hand. The other hand made a big fist. “Man, don’t you know when to leave anything alone?”

  Lights out for Jersey. Big fat “F” for Jersey. Ears. Too fast, too fast. Spots and ears. My shoulder hurt. Ears. If he hit me I’d hit him back. If I could. Volcanoes. Hot inside. Way, way down inside, flying up, trying to get out. I’d hit him back. Hit him. Why didn’t he hit me? People watching. So many kids in a big circle. See the geek? He’ll get his head bitten clean off. Volcanoes. The biggest volcano ever.

  “Spots,” I muttered, then bit my lip. Stop the volcano. Stop it. But it’s coming. It’s blowing.

  “It’s my fault.” Maylynn grabbed Todd’s elbow. “Let’s just go.”

  “Hit me,” I said, quiet even though I felt so loud inside. “Don’t care. My mother’s at the beach.” More hot, flying up, about to blow out, about to cover everything in red.

  Todd’s eyes got so narrow I couldn’t see anything but lids. He pulled me closer, held me tighter. He could punch me even with his girlfriend hanging off his fist-arm.

  “Todd,” she said, louder this time.

  “Hit me!” The words slammed up, up, and out, out. “Break my head more. Hit me. Hit me. Hit me, Todd. Ears. Hit me!”

  From behind Todd, I heard someone start yelling. Leza.

  Todd lurched forward and dropped me.

  I stumbled back and banged into the lockers again, this time with my head. More spots. Black with red. Blue with red.

  “… Get suspended, you total idiots!” Leza was shouting. Todd yelled back but I barely heard him. Arms and legs brushed against me as everybody scattered.

  The Wench was coming. I could hear her whining, “Ohdearohdearohdear …”

  Leza pushed Todd again, harder than ever, pushed him down the hall away from me and away from the Wench. Maylynn ran after them.

  I couldn’t move. I needed to move, but I just couldn’t. Too many spots. Too much hot. I turned around and kicked a locker. Almost fell down and had to grab at the lockers not to bust my face. Now my foot hurt, too. Spots. Why wouldn’t they go away? Red spots. Black spots. Blue spots. I turned back around.

  Time to go.

  But the Wench got to me about the same time Leza got back from pounding on Todd. Both of them cornered me against the lockers. Through my squint-eyes, the Wench had another weird smile on her face. When I turned my head, I could see Leza’s teeth, but she wasn’t smiling.

  “Jersey,” the Wench started, but Leza yelled like the woman hadn’t even talked.

  “What kind of moron are you? ‘Hit me, hit me, Todd. Hit me.’” She balled up her fist. “I’m gonna do it!”

  “Hit me.” The red spots faded. Black and blue, too, and the heat went away faster than fast. All drained out. Blowing up was done. Empty and cold inside now. Shivering cold. No more volcanoes. Just ice. Ice like Mom, out on her beach, trying to get warm again. “Hit, hit, hit, ears, beach. Mom.”

  The bell rang.

  Over that loud sound, the Wench made another try. “There won’t be any hitting here!”

  She sounded lots like the bell, all high and ear-hurting loud until it stopped. Only, I could still hear the bell and the Wench a little, ringing in the back of my brain.

  Leza punched my shoulder, but not hard. Then she started to cry. “Your mom left—your mom—God!” She sobbed. “Now you’re scaring girls you don’t even know and daring my brother to hit you? I swear, Jersey, somebody should hit you.” She wiped her eyes real fast with both hands. “Todd was this close to talking to you. If you’d just—oh, never mind. I’m done for now. I’m just done.”

  The Wench didn’t even try to talk. Her face froze up worse than Mom’s and she looked around a lot, like she hoped somebody else would show up and take me away.

  Leza ignored the Wench. She wiped her eyes again, and I had a sudden picture in my head of Leza with her braids and Rollerblades and skinned knee, crying and not letting anybody see. She was tough. She could handle anything. Leza with her braids, turning to clay and breaking all apart, just like everyone else.

  She looked down, then straight at me again. Tears. So many tears, slow, swelling up in her eyes, running down her cheeks. “I was glad you lived, you know? I felt so bad for what I did, and I always wanted to be your friend. I thought you’d be nicer now, but you’re still just a big, selfish moron idiot. God, I’m stupider than you are.”

  You’re so self-centered I bet you think I’m mad at you.

  Two voices in my head now. Mom’s and Leza’s. Maybe three. Maybe more. Faces. All those faces. Girls I didn’t know.

  You left me first …

  I felt so bad for what I did …

  But what did Leza do? What could she have done?

  Leza was still crying. I started crying, too. I wanted to hug her. I reached for her, but she just shook her head, turned around, and walked off down the hall.

  My insides banged around, then fell all the way to my toes. I hurt everywhere, like my heart was falling out. Why? What was wrong with me? I couldn’t stand her walking away. It was too fast, too big, too much.

  “Wait,” I called after Leza. Tried to go after her, but the Wench grabbed my arm.

  “Been there, did that,” Leza shot back over her shoulder. “And I don’t even know why.”

  “Let her go,” said the Wench. “She just needs a little time.”

  “Everybody needs time!” I jerked my arm away, banged a locker with my elbow, then sat down in the dirty hall. Leza turned the corner. Gone. All gone. I shut my eyes. Ears. Selfish, selfish ears. Maybe when I opened my eyes, I’d wake up, and I’d still be at home, and Mom wouldn’t be at the beach, and Dad would be there, and everything would be okay. I didn’t care if I had scars. I didn’t care if I was stupid, as long as this was the dream. Let it be a dream. Ears, ears, ears.

  I opened my eyes.

  Dirty halls. Lockers. The Wench.

  Fast like a finger-snap, everything went away. Snap. Poof. No insides, no outsides. No hurts or happy or tears or anything. Just nothing. Empty and cold and ice and nothing.

  No wonder Mom went to the beach. Anything was better than ice and nothing. Anything was better than here.

  “Wench. Halls. Ears.” I banged my head on the locker behind me. The hurt helped a little, but it went away too fast. Back to ice and nothing. I banged my head again, harder. More hurt. I could think some when I hurt. “I want to go home, okay? Mom’s at the beach and we haven’t been to the police station, and I want to go home. Ears. Police station. Mom’s at the beach. I’m not. I’m cold. I’m ice. Take me home.”

  chapter 21

  Home. Nobody. Nobody but me. Nobody home. Quiet, cold empty, inside and out. The Wench brought me here herself. I think she was glad I wanted to leave school.

  I’ll make sure to get your assignments….

  I’ve left a message for your father….

  You get some rest….

  She even tried to buy me a snack first, but I wouldn’t let her. Plenty of food at my house. At my empty house, with nobody home. Nobody, nobody.

  I walked into the kitchen carrying my memory book. Walked straight to the trash can, to the oatmeal paper towels and crumpled up bread wrapper, and I threw the memory book away. Sick of carrying it, looking at it with its white cover and smeared letters and pen on a dirty string. Sick of writing in it, reading it. I didn’t want to remember anything, anyway. Good-bye. Go away. Nobody.

  Now it was me, just me with no memory book, and I sat down at the kitchen table alone. The kitchen table was good. The kitchen table was safe. Sitting to stay away from upstairs. I needed to stay at the table. We hadn’t been to the police station. Upstairs, the gun was waiting. The police kept the bullets, but I knew my dad. He kept everything. He forgot lots of stuff. Somewhere in some box or corner or drawer, there were bullets. I just had to look. But I didn’t really want to look,
only I did want to look. I wanted the gun and the bullets, but I didn’t want to hurt myself, only I did want to hurt myself. Bullets. But not really. I really wanted to be able to stop. Just … stop. Quit worrying and trying and screwing things up. Quit everything. Be still in my head.

  I wanted to think right. I wanted to feel right and walk right and talk right and smile right, only I ruined all that. I blew it all away. I blew me away. Bullets. I could blow it all away better. Do it right. Not mess it up this time and really die and I wouldn’t be a geek-freak anymore, and I would be still, and people could live without me lots easier than with me. Bullets. Nobody, nobody. I was nobody. Nobody home.

  Mom gone. Leza. And Todd, and I didn’t even know where Dad was. Mama Rush—she didn’t want to talk to me anymore. Nobody. Nobody home. My stomach twisted up. For one second, I felt something more than cold empty. Then it was gone. I put my head down. The table felt hard and cold empty under my cheek. It was still, quiet, so quiet. Inside and outside. Cold empty. Quiet. Bullets. Maybe I could sleep. But if I slept, I’d have to wake up. If I woke up, everything would start all over again.

  Was it like this?

  I blinked.

  Maybe I wasn’t mad and upset when I shot myself.

  Maybe I was tired and quiet, tired of the quiet, tired of the cold empty. Maybe I just felt tired when I pulled that trigger. Bullets. Maybe I didn’t feel anything at all. God, I was sick of thinking about the gun, about shooting myself, and Before and now and everything, everything, everything. Elana was the last thing on my list. I’d messed up with her last. And messing up with her messed me up with Todd and Leza and the Wench and school. Messing up. Up and forward. All the rehab didn’t help much, did it? So I could walk and talk and be stupid even bigger and better. Bullets. Bullets were upstairs. Bullets and the gun and I could do it right this time.

  I covered up my head with my good arm. Tried to think about other stuff. When I thought about school I thought about Todd and Leza. When I thought about home, there was J.B., Dad, and Mom. No Mom. When I thought about Mama Rush, there was The Palace, Romeo man, taxis, broken presents, and she didn’t want to see me much anymore. When I thought about Before—no. Then I stopped. No Before. Before made me think about now. Now made me tired.