The Suicide Club

by Rhys Thomas

  We said nothing for a while.

  ‘I love you,’ I said. I had to say it. At last I wanted her to know. I looked at her.

  Her face changed, like she had never been told it by somebody before. Or maybe she had never been told it by somebody who was genuinely close to her, not like the guys who she used to have sex with. When I saw her face like that, I caught shattered glimpses of a vulnerability that I hadn’t seen before. She was just a girl. Everything that had happened since last October had crumpled our relationship into an unrecognizable shape. In that instant I think a bond burned up between us, but it was sad and remote. A melancholy and infinite sadness separated our bodies now, just like the Smashing Pumpkins album that housed her most favourite song in the whole world. After I told her that I loved her, she didn’t say anything. The moisture on the surface of her eyes said enough.

  I detached the heart part of my brain. I had to. I had had practice doing it before and I was glad for it. I don’t think I could have done it without my experience, without my ability to make myself cold.

  ‘But I don’t want to speak to you any more,’ I said.

  We stared at each other. The teacher came into the room and shut the door behind him, ending the conversation before it had really begun.

  The tear broke in Clare’s eye and she turned away from me. She picked up her bag from the floor, got to her feet, and ran out of the classroom.

  For all the world I wish that it didn’t have to be like this, but I didn’t own all the world and so my wish did not come true. It was like this. It was cold and hard, but I felt better. All I knew, all I cared about, was that I felt better. Deep, deep, deep down, right in amongst it all, I felt better.

  25

  AFTER SCHOOL THAT night, I knew that there was something I had to do. Rather than take my usual route home, I called by Craig Bartlett-Taylor’s house.

  His mother answered and gasped when she saw me. She went to slam the door, but I held up my hand.

  ‘Wait,’ I said. ‘Please wait.’

  God bless that woman, she did wait.

  ‘Please let me see Craig. I have to speak to him.’

  The way she looked at me made me feel ashamed.

  I spoke like a child would speak.

  ‘Mrs Bartlett-Taylor, I didn’t do anything to the peregrine falcon. None of us did. It was Freddy who killed him, and we covered him because we were his friends. But not any more. I’m trying to put things right. Please let me speak to Craig.’

  The edges of her lips moved but I couldn’t tell if they moved up or down. Whatever, she opened the door and let me in.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said as kindly as I could. I wasn’t trying to be like an adult, I was trying to be like a child because that was what I was. I didn’t want to appear as a precocious youngster, because that wasn’t me. I knew my place. I didn’t want to pretend to be more grown-up than I was.

  The stairway suddenly didn’t look as depressing as I remembered it. I bounded up there like a rabbit and headed for Craig’s room. I knocked but there was no answer so I went in anyway.

  I automatically looked at his bed, expecting to see him lying there, staring at the ceiling. But he wasn’t. Looking up, I saw him leaning on the back two legs of his desk chair, his feet up on his desk, a copy of National Geographic in his hands.

  ‘Hi, Rich,’ he said warmly. ‘How’s it going?’

  There was a bizarre pause because his reaction was straight out of left field. I suddenly started to think that maybe Craig could recover and lead a normal life.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘Were you in school today?’

  ‘No. I don’t go to that school any more.’

  This nearly knocked me off my feet.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve changed to the local comprehensive.’

  I had to blink and shake my head.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I know. I really like it there.’

  ‘Did you tell Freddy this last night?’ I asked.

  ‘Why would I tell him? He’s one of the reasons I left.’

  I smiled. I think Craig knew a lot more than I had realized. I was speechless.

  ‘I didn’t like the old school because you all think you’re special,’ he said. ‘You think that you’re better than everyone else. Well, now I’m the one who’s in the best classes.’ He wasn’t ranting, he was speaking truthfully and it made me feel great. ‘You guys don’t understand what the rest of the world is like.’

  ‘I know,’ I said quickly. ‘Craig, that’s amazing. I feel the exact same way as you. I’ve been a prick, but now I think I can see where I’ve been going wrong. This Suicide Club idea, and hating everybody? It’s bad for you.’

  Craig smiled and lobbed his magazine on to his desk.

  ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want to speak to any of you any more.’

  You see, I should have been offended by that. I should have screamed at him and cursed at him because we had been the ones who had been nice to him after he tried to kill himself. But I wasn’t angry at all because I realized that he and I were the same. We had both realized the truth and we needed to stay apart.

  ‘You’re right, Craig.’ I got up and walked over to him. We shook hands and I went to leave. Just as I got to the door, I turned round.

  ‘Just promise me one thing,’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘If Freddy tries to speak to you, if you see him anywhere around town and he tries to say something to you? Promise me that you won’t listen to what he says.’

  Craig chuckled.

  ‘I’ve never listened to anything he’s said.’

  And with that I walked out of Craig Bartlett-Taylor’s life. The sneaky little monkey might not have been so stupid after all. I couldn’t believe that he knew the truth all along. My respect for him shot through the roof and I smiled all the way home. Yes, he was gone, but at least he was safe from us.

  When I got home I decided to run the vacuum cleaner over the living-room carpet to try and please my mother. She told me that it wouldn’t be so easy, that I couldn’t buy her forgiveness, but I didn’t mind too much – I could wait for her to come round.

  Jenny came back from America on the Thursday. I found it difficult to comprehend how she and Matthew had fallen under Freddy’s spell as much as I had. I had my bad side and Freddy had preyed on that, but they were so normal. It wasn’t until the Friday that I spoke to Jenny.

  ‘Rich,’ she called. She had in her hand a notebook with a metallic spiralled spine and was smiling massively. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’ She skipped over to me and started to open the book. Inside were a series of photographs. ‘I had the film developed that you saw me taking before Christmas, remember? When we were in town together? The photos for Freddy.’

  ‘I remember.’

  She showed me the photos, and I was startled by what I saw. The people in the pictures were blurred and out of focus whilst the backgrounds, the shops and lights, were crisp, focused and bright.

  ‘This is because of a long shutter-speed?’

  ‘Yup. It’s cool, right?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  It was more than cool. The photographs were superb. They just sucked your eyes into them as though they had magnetic powers. The photographs she had up outside the art room were of bowls of fruit and horses, not cool stuff like this. She was really opening up her talent.

  ‘Rich, I heard about what happened to you at the Christmas party.’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ I said.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘How was California?’

  ‘A lot warmer than this.’ She lifted her arm up slightly to the sky.

  ‘Did you miss Matt?’

  She smiled and nodded her head like a little girl.

  I felt a tingle.

  ‘So. Are you going to the Egg and Train tomorrow night to see Atticus?’

  ‘What, are you kidding? You try and stop me. Matt, Freddy and Clare are co
ming to my place beforehand. If you want to come, you’re more than welcome.’ Her American accent was quite sexy when she said things like ‘more than welcome’.

  ‘I’m OK,’ I said.

  She seemed taken aback by this.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yeah. I don’t really want to do this Suicide Club thing any more.’

  Her face was now just bewildered.

  ‘You don’t want to do it?’

  I moved my head left and right.

  ‘I need to take a break from it. It’s just . . . a bit too intense for me at the moment.’ I was really trying not to hurt her feelings.

  Her face shifted ever so slightly, just a few muscle movements, and everything changed. Her features now told of being torn between offended and disgusted.

  ‘Whatever,’ she said. ‘Well . . .’ She slammed her book shut. Actually, she didn’t slam it, she closed it harder than normal. ‘I’d better go.’ And she walked off.

  ‘Jenny, wait,’ I said. She stopped, her back to me. ‘Don’t you see?’

  Her head turned and she looked at me over her shoulder.

  ‘See what? That you don’t want to spend time with your friends?’

  ‘No,’ I laughed lamely. ‘Freddy . . . he . . .’

  She came back over to me, her notebook under her arm.

  ‘Don’t you realize what we’ve done for you, Rich?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  She pinched her lips together.

  ‘I just don’t get you sometimes. I’ve gotta go.’ And she walked away.

  I watched her cross the yard, her blonde head bobbing up and down. I kicked a stone and sighed. Of course I felt bad, but I really did have to make a clean break. I knew that one day she would understand. As I watched her disappear behind a group of schoolchildren I thought, She’ll see it in the end.

  I could feel myself moving out of the doldrums and as I got ready that night I felt an energy in my bones that I had thought was long since gone. There was a party at Johnny’s band-mate’s house – he lived on his own – which I had agreed to attend.

  I filled a bag with a sleeping bag, towel, spare clothes, toothpaste and stuff so that I could sleep over there.

  I listened to The Shins to get myself into a happy, fun mood and by the time I bounded out of the house I was the good child Richie Harper, ready for anything. I was on the up and up!

  I got to the house at around seven. I could hear the band thrashing away from outside. They were getting some final practice in for the gig tomorrow night. The front door was open so I walked in. There was a long hallway with a bicycle leaning against a wall and a massive Canadian flag hanging off it. There was noise coming from every direction. The band were upstairs, but a stereo was blaring out of the living room. That’s where I went, just to see who was there.

  I wasn’t quite expecting to see what I did. The room was stuffed full of girls of all shapes and sizes, the type of girls that go to art college, you know? The room was thick with smoke. I could hardly see but it was awesome. I was particularly impressed because they were listening to a singer called Willy Mason. He’s got this song called ‘Oxygen’ that you have to hear when you’re down in the dumps. It’s so up it’s unreal; all about how if we stick together we can make it through and save the world.

  When they realized that I had entered the room, I got a few smiles rather than childish giggles.

  ‘Hi,’ said one of the girls, who had brown hair in one of those cool bobs.

  ‘Hello,’ I said. ‘Is Johnny here?’

  ‘He’s upstairs.’

  I smiled at her as best I could and she smiled back. She tilted her head a little bit and her hair caught the light. It was then that I realized that her hair wasn’t brown at all. It was that blondey sort of colour that was a little bit brown but I don’t know what you call it. Mousy, maybe. I got a small tingle in my belly.

  ‘OK.’ I turned to leave and totally embarrassed myself. The door had swung shut because it was one of those fire doors and I almost walked straight into it. They all saw it. I stopped where I was and smiled inwardly. It was OK.

  I jumped up the stairs, still happy. I slammed through the door to where the band were practising and grinned like a canoe at Johnny. He saw me and motioned with his head to the table, where there were four crates of lager. I pointed at the cans and raised my eyebrows questioningly. He nodded his head. I went over and took a can. Apart from the band, I was the only one in there. There was a beanbag against the far wall so I slumped into it and admired the band past my Converses.

  I didn’t need Freddy and the others any more. This was great.

  The band were good, but I hate it in books when people talk at length about music just to show off so I won’t say any more about Atticus.

  When they stopped playing I said,’ Do you realize that the downstairs of this house is full of beautiful women?’

  It was late and we were all in the living room listening to music. Johnny’s friend didn’t have any light bulbs in the overhead sockets so all of the light came from lamps in the room and they smoothed out any hard edges.

  The scent of marijuana was all-conquering.

  ‘This is great,’ I heard somebody whisper in my ear.

  I turned around. It was that girl I had spoken to when I had come in. In the dark, I could hardly see her face apart from two bright specs of light in her eyes.

  You may think that what happens from here on in to the end of this chapter didn’t happen. For those of a more cynical persuasion, you may say that my story comes off the rails here because nothing so amazing could possibly happen. But if you’re a dreamer, a real romantic who’s willing to go out on a limb and embrace beautiful ideas, then you will know that it did happen. And I say to you now that the way I recount these events to the end of the chapter is completely accurate.

  ‘I’ve never been to a party like this,’ I said to her. ‘It’s amazing, isn’t it?’

  She came and sat next to me.

  ‘So you’re having a good time?’

  ‘What, are you kidding me?’ I said Americanly, because I sometimes slip into that frame of mind when I’m drunk. ‘I love it here. I just wish I had gone to your school.’

  She smiled. ‘We’re OK.’

  ‘So what’s your name?’ I said quietly.

  I missed her reply.

  ‘What?’ I said.

  She moved her mouth up to my ear and cupped her hand over it.

  ‘Sam,’ came her voice.

  I nodded.

  ‘Hi, Sam.’

  ‘So you’re Johnny’s friend?’

  ‘Yeah. I went to primary school with him but then I went to Atlantic High and he went to the comp.’

  ‘He talks about you a lot.’

  My heart suddenly leapt. Was that true? I don’t think I had ever received such a massive compliment.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Of course. He loves you.’

  I started feeling nervous because I had some idea of what was going to happen, and I always get nervous when things are about to happen with a girl. I think everybody should; it’s part of the buzz.

  ‘Do you want to burn one?’ she said.

  ‘Burn one?’ It was obviously a saying of theirs, but I didn’t know what it meant.

  ‘Burn one,’ she said. ‘A joint.’

  ‘Ohhh,’ I said. ‘Riiiight.’

  ‘I thought that’s what the American kids called it.’

  I made a confused face.

  ‘I don’t really hang around with the Americans.’

  ‘What?’ she almost shouted. She became suddenly animated. ‘If I went to your school, I’d love to hang around with them. They’re hilarious.’

  ‘Really?’ I said. I didn’t mind the Americans, but I would hardly call them hilarious.

  ‘They’re so stupid,’ she laughed.

  ‘Yeah,’ I laughed back, even though I didn’t mean it. Americans aren’t stupid, they just wear their hearts on their sleev
es and cynical people don’t like that. I hoped that Sam wasn’t a cynic.

  She reached over to the coffee table and picked up her bag. From it she took a Marlboro Light cigarette packet and from that she took a joint of cannabis. She lit the spliff and took a few deep breaths from its end. She opened her mouth and, even in the dim light, I saw the smoke swirl inside like a vortex. Eventually she closed her mouth and, when she next breathed out, there was hardly any smoke left. She took another drag and passed it on to me, before flopping back into the chair and looking at the ceiling.

  Just as I moved the joint to my own mouth, I saw a boy placing a CD into the player. He waited for a second, pressed play, and you wouldn’t believe the sound that came out.

  As I breathed in the smoke from the joint, a xylophone started singing into the room. The tune was so simple, like a little child had written it. All of a sudden a guitar and a bass and soft drums kicked in and the room fell into absolute silence save for the music. I sucked the smoke into my chest and felt the effects right away. I passed the joint on after about four tokes and sat back.

  The music washed right into me like my skin was a dry beach as the tide moved in and saturated the sand totally and inevitably from below. I turned to Sam. My mouth was dry and my head was purring.

  ‘What’s this song?’ I said so quietly that it was almost a whisper.

  She had closed her eyes. I thought she was asleep. Her face looked so pretty. Clare didn’t even cross my mind.

  ‘Velvet Underground,’ she said from her state. ‘It’s called “Sunday Morning”.’

  I touched her hand with my little finger.

  ‘It’s amazing.’

  She suddenly opened her eyes and lifted her neck up from the chair.

  ‘It’s my all-time favourite song,’ she said, staring me right in the eyes.

  The spliff had made its way about halfway round the room and I could feel something amazing in the air, like an electric storm. Everybody was just sat there, listening to the music, glad to be alive. I kissed Sam lightly on the lips.

  After about five minutes, she got up from her seat and turned to me, held out her hand. Can you remember at the start of the book when I said that I had never experienced life in slow motion? Well, right then, in that room, I did. Her hand moved towards me whilst the other one picked up her bag. I took her hand in mine and we walked out of the door. The music swelled inside my head as if it was suddenly being piped right into my brain. My heart was thundering because I knew what I was doing. I was crashing through barriers. I was nervous, but I knew that I had to do this.