Chop, Chop (Chop, Chop Series - Book 1)

by L. N. Cronk

  “I decided exactly what I wanted to have happen and then I made a list of things that would help me get there. Then I made myself do those things.”

  “So why don’t you do that again?” he asked.

  I looked at him uncertainly, but finally answered. “I guess I could try.”

  I hardly ever used my desk in the summer and it was cluttered with stuff. That night I removed everything and threw it onto my bed and I took out a clean sheet of paper and a pencil. I sat there for a long time trying to remember my Life Skills teacher’s instructions about writing goals in a positive way and putting them in the present tense.

  I finally gave up and just wrote her name at the top of my paper in large, capital letters.

  LACI.

  I traced the letters over and over again with my pencil until they were dark. Then I wrote a number one underneath it and beside that I wrote:

  Talk to Laci.

  I sighed. There really wasn’t anything left to do. I picked up my phone and called her.

  “Hi, David!” she answered.

  “Hi,” I replied. “What are you doing?”

  “Babysitting Charlotte,” she said. “Greg’s working and Mr. and Mrs. White went out to see a movie.”

  That would have been a good segue . . . I could have just asked her if she wanted to go see a movie sometime, but instead I asked her if she’d driven or walked to Greg’s house.

  “I walked,” she said.

  “What time will they be home?”

  “About nine-thirty.”

  “Is it okay if I meet you there and walk you home?”

  There was a slight pause and then she answered, “Sure, that’d be good.”

  “See you then.”

  “Bye,” she replied.

  I looked at my watch . . . it was seven-thirty.

  Two more hours.

  I put my head on my desk and sighed, wondering what I’d just done.

  I got there at nine o’clock and sat on the front steps. I had started to ring the bell but couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead I studied the thick hedges by the door that I had hidden behind when Greg and I’d had snowball fights and the white doorbell that I had helped Charlotte ring when she was little and the concrete planter that I’d chipped with a baseball when I was thirteen. I tried to forget why I was there.

  Greg’s parents showed up just after nine-thirty, surprised to see me.

  “Hi, David,” Mr. White said. “Are you waiting for Greg? I don’t think he gets off work until ten.”

  “Um, no,” I said, “I was just waiting for Laci. I’m going to walk her home.”

  “Oh,” he said. He looked puzzled, but I saw the faintest smile cross Mrs. White’s lips.

  They went past me and a few minutes later Laci came out. I stood up.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi.”

  “Are you ready?”

  She nodded.

  We walked the three blocks between her house and Greg’s in silence. The entire time I scolded myself for not having planned what I was going to do next and I wondered if I was a complete idiot.

  We arrived at her house and stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Well,” she said. “Thanks for walking me home.” I nodded and she started to turn to head up the stairs.

  “Laci, wait!” I said, grabbing at her sleeve.

  She turned around and looked at me expectantly.

  “I, um . . . I wanted to talk to you about something,” I said, letting go of her sleeve.

  “Okay.”

  My heart was pounding so loudly that I was sure she could hear it. I stood there looking at her until finally she asked, “What do you want to talk about?”

  “I like your hair,” I blurted, removing any doubt in my mind as to whether or not I was a complete idiot.

  She must have been drawing the same conclusion because she looked at me quizzically.

  “You . . . you like my hair?”

  I tried to explain.

  “Yeah, you know. I like your hair when it’s at stage two – it’s my favorite stage.”

  I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t think it was possible, but I was actually making things worse.

  “Stage two?”

  “Um, yeah. You know, stage one is right after you’ve cut it off, and stage two is like it is right now and uh . . .” I couldn’t stop babbling, “stage three is right before you get it cut off again and–”

  She tilted her face toward me and pressed her mouth against mine and I was glad to hear the sound of my own voice stop. I kissed her back and wrapped one hand around her waist and gathered up her hair with the other. When we finally pulled away from each other I kept my hand on her hair.

  “Anyway,” I said softly, stroking her hair, “this is my favorite stage.”

  She smiled at me and nodded. “Me too.”

  ~ ~ ~

  OUR SENIOR YEAR started a few weeks later and I was content in every way possible. Greg and I had first lunch together and usually worked on AP Physics while we ate. Laci and Tanner and Mike all had second lunch together and probably enjoyed laughing at how absurd I had been over the summer, but I didn’t care.

  Like the fall before, Greg and Laci and I went to every football game to cheer Tanner and Mike on, but Greg wouldn’t sit with us unless we made him (which we usually did). When the weather turned cold and he saw Laci wearing the leather jacket he’d bought me, he just smiled.

  “What are you going to get Laci for Christmas?” Greg asked over lunch one day after we’d closed our physics books. Christmas was only three weeks away.

  “I don’t know . . .” I said. I wanted to get her something special, but I had no idea just what that should be.

  “More importantly,” he asked, “what are you going to get me for Christmas?”

  “I don’t know,” I said again, “but there’s a ten-dollar limit this year . . . understand? I’m not gonna spend all next year feeling guilty about how much money you spent on me.”

  “I’ve really enjoyed my magazine . . .” he said honestly.

  “I know, but I mean it. Don’t you dare spend a lot of money on me this year . . . promise?”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t,” he said.

  “You’ve already got me something?”

  “Yup. Didn’t go a penny over six dollars!”

  “Good,” I said. “Keep it that way.”

  The truth was that I’d already gotten him something too. It was the best graphing calculator that I could find. It had a backlit color screen and the same computer software applications that engineers used. It probably didn’t cost as much as the jacket had, but it was close and I couldn’t wait to surprise him.

  He loaded up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, looking at my watch. There were still over five minutes left in lunch.

  “I forgot to give Dad something,” he said. “I’ll see you after school.”

  I waved my hand at him and he turned around to go. He’d cut his hair over the summer again and it had not yet reached stage two – he couldn’t quite get it into a ponytail.

  “See ya later,” I said as he started to walk away.

  It was the last time I ever saw him.

  ~ ~ ~

  I WAS TRYING to get out of the lunch room before the bell rang to avoid the crowded halls. I walked up the stairs leading out of the cafeteria and started to reach for the door handle when one of the vice-principals, holding a walkie-talkie, stepped in front of me and shooed me away.

  “Get down there,” he ordered in a quiet voice and pointed beyond the cash registers.

  I turned around, puzzled, and looked to where he was pointing. The teachers who were on lunch duty were scurrying around, herding students into the kitchen area where the food was prepared. Suddenly I realized what was going on. We were on lock-down.

  I followed the teachers’ orders and sat down between a huge stainless-steel refrigerator
and a small group of freshmen girls who were almost hysterical. I’d been sitting there for about two minutes when my phone vibrated. It was Laci.

  “Hi,” I said, keeping my voice quiet. I didn’t want to get my phone taken away.

  “Are you okay?” she whispered. She sounded terrified.

  “I’m fine . . . .are you?”

  “I’m so scared . . .” she said.

  “Relax,” I told her. “It’s probably nothing. Remember last year?” A nearby bank had been robbed and the gunman had fled ‘in the direction of our school’. We’d been on lock-down for almost three hours until he was apprehended – ten miles away.

  “Ashlyn heard gunshots,” she whispered, and the hair on my arms stood up.

  “Where?”

  “Upstairs,” she answered.

  Second floor. Math and science.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “World Lit.”

  English Department. First floor.

  I told her I’d call her back in a little bit.

  I sent a text to my mom: Im ok r u?

  Then I called Greg, but I didn’t get any answer. I called Tanner and he told me that he and Mike were in the locker room off of the gym. I tried Greg again.

  All around me students were texting and calling each other. They whispered to each other any new piece of information they learned from fellow classmates. We heard sirens outside the building. After about fifteen minutes I heard someone say the word physics and I sent a text to Greg: call me! I saw figures rushing past the cafeteria windows and I saw white letters on their black uniforms: SWAT.

  After another fifteen minutes Mom answered my text: Im ok. I luv u.

  Thirty minutes later Dad called.

  “Are you okay, Son?”

  “I’m fine, Dad. Mom said she’s okay . . . did she call you?”

  “No . . . I called her. I saw the news reports on TV.”

  “It’s on TV? What are they saying?”

  “They don’t know much yet . . . a lone gunman, shots fired.” His voice broke. “I love you, David.”

  “I love you too,” I said. “Dad?”

  “What?”

  “I can’t get in touch with Greg . . . he must have his phone turned off . . . can you try to call his dad?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  Another hour went by and when I didn’t hear anything I called Dad.

  “Did you get in touch with Mr. White?”

  “He’s not answering . . .”

  “I’m scared, Dad . . .”

  “I know, David, I am too.”

  “Dad? Do you think maybe you should call Mrs. White? I don’t want to get her worried or anything, but maybe she’s heard something . . .”

  “I’m with her right now,” he said. “She hasn’t heard anything.”

  “She’s at your office?” I asked, very confused.

  “No,” Dad said. “We’re outside . . . at your school.”

  My call waiting beeped and I told Dad I had to go. I answered the other call.

  “Greg?”

  “David?” It was Jessica.

  “Oh . . . hi . . .” I said.

  “Are you okay, David? Are you okay?” She was crying.

  “It’s okay, Jessica. I’m fine . . . Mom’s fine . . .”

  “I love you, David . . .”

  “I love you too, Jess. I gotta go, though. I’m waiting for Greg to call.”

  “Okay,” she said, and I hung up.

  I had never used God as if He were a genie in a bottle, but I know some people do – only talking to Him when they need something, asking for favors, promising Him anything if He would only answer their prayers. It says in the Bible to thank God for everything and I’d always tried to do that. I tried to thank Him for what was happening now, but I couldn’t. I begged Him to please let Greg and Mr. White be alright. I prayed for Him to take care of Laci and my mom and Tanner and Mike.

  And I waited for Greg to call, but he never did.

  ~ ~ ~

  IT WAS DARK by the time they finally let us out of the cafeteria. Just like I’d seen on TV, they had us put our hands on the back of our heads and rush out the door – police and SWAT team members directing an endless line of students to their waiting parents. A helicopter hovered noisily overhead and I searched the crowd for several minutes before finally spotting Mom.

  “Dad’s here somewhere,” I said after we’d hugged.

  “I know,” she said. “Over here . . .” and she led me toward the entrance to the football field.

  I slowed when I saw Dad because he was holding Charlotte. She was asleep in his arms and I could tell he’d been crying. I stopped walking, but Mom kept going and when she reached him they hugged. He said something to her and they both looked toward the ticket booth. I followed their gaze and saw a police officer trying to comfort a woman who was sobbing uncontrollably. I stepped closer to her, trying to make out who it was under the news camera lights. I thought I already knew, but I had to find out for sure. I spoke her name, hoping she wouldn’t look up, but she did.

  It was Mrs. White.

  ~ ~ ~

  THE GUNMAN’S NAME was Kyle Dunn. He had been a year ahead of me in school and had dropped out when he was a junior. I vaguely recognized him from the yearbook picture and the mug shots that were flashed up on the TV screen during every news report.

  After being holed up in Mr. White’s room for hours, he had surrendered peacefully. Only two other people had been in the room with him and he had killed them both.

  Their funerals were on Saturday.

  ~ ~ ~

  MRS. WHITE SENT word through Mom, asking if I wanted to give a eulogy.

  No, I didn’t think I was going to be able to do that.

  Did I want to be a pall bearer?

  Maybe I could handle that.

  Mom made me try on the suit I’d bought for the wedding last year and I was grateful that it still fit because I didn’t want to go shopping for a new one.

  Through it all, I didn’t cry a single tear.

  Mom said that Mrs. White had invited me to go to the visitation early . . . during the time when only family would be there. I took the calculator I had bought for Greg and slipped it into my pocket before I headed out the door.

  When I got to the funeral home I found Mrs. White and Greg’s grandmother and Charlotte near the door of the chapel and I hugged them all, but still I didn’t cry. I looked past them to the front of the chapel and saw two identical white caskets. They were closed, with cascades of flowers flowing over the tops of both of them. Concerned, I touched my jacket and felt the calculator that I’d brought with me – I’d been planning on slipping it into Greg’s casket.

  I didn’t want to upset Mrs. White by asking so I went out front and found a man wearing a badge from the funeral home.

  “Why are the caskets closed?”

  “One of the deceased is not suitable for viewing,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When someone is,” he hesitated, “disfigured . . . it’s sometimes impossible to make them presentable for viewing. An open casket would be too upsetting for the loved ones.”

  I understood. One of them had been shot in the face.

  “Which one?” I asked.

  He hesitated again before answering.

  “The young man.”

  “Thank you,” I said, and I continued down the sidewalk to my car.

  I drove to Greg’s house and pulled alongside the curb. My new plan was to get the key they kept hidden in the garage, go into their house, and place the calculator under their Christmas tree. As soon as I got there, however, I knew I was never going to be able to go into their house, ever again, so I made a third plan.

  The calculator was wrapped in Christmas paper and I had changed the tag so that it said: “To – Charlotte”. I wasn’t sure what to put after the word “From �
�”, so I’d left it blank. I opened up their mailbox and stuck it inside. It was going to be five or six years before she was really going to need a graphing calculator at school, but – in the meantime – she could use it to pass notes to her friends.

  At the funerals the next day, Tanner and Mike both gave eulogies. My dad was one of the pall bearers for Mr. White’s casket. Laci and Ashlyn and Natalie and Tanner and Mike and I were pall bearers for Greg’s. I hadn’t known that girls could be pall bearers. Everyone was invited to a gathering with the family after the funerals and then I found out that it was going to be at Greg’s house.

  I didn’t go.

  I remembered mom telling me how she hadn’t cried after her father’s funeral . . . how she had finally just collapsed on the stairs and lost it. I knew that Mom was waiting for me to collapse on the stairs . . . break down and lose it . . . but I didn’t think it was going to happen. I mostly felt numb and nauseous. I was rarely hungry, but whenever I was Mom always ran down to Hunter’s and picked me up a giant sub, hoping I would eat.

  I got a letter from State telling me that my room assignment had been finalized. It said that I was assigned to 307 Doughton Hall and that my roommate was Gregory P. White.

  The weeks went by and still I didn’t cry and I didn’t react and I quit doing almost everything. I didn’t watch TV because I never knew when a news story might pop up about the shooting or about Kyle Dunn and his trial and I really didn’t want to hear it. Mike and Tanner and Laci called me a lot after the funeral, but I never answered the phone and whenever Mom told me someone was on the line, I would say that I was busy. After a while, even Laci stopped calling.

  I arrived at school each day just in time to slide into my seat when the last bell rang. I sat by myself at lunch and kept busy by immersing myself in schoolwork . . . especially studying for the AP Physics exam. Other kids in the class were studying hard too – dedicating their efforts to the memory of Mr. White – but I did it because it seemed that the only time I didn’t think about Greg was when I was totally wrapped up in a physics problem.