Why? Why did he have to call me by my whole name?
That sentiment breaks my heart a little. The last time he called me that, we were in the work shed, finally finding a friendship in each other, finding love; everything was perfect. Why would he choose to call me that now, when we are lost to each other and everything is complete chaos in our lives?
“I’llpick you up for school,” he says.
I stand there, watching him walk away, the air around me muggy. The more I breathe in, the less air there is to fill my lungs. When I enter the house, Mom is waiting front and center in the living room asking me if everything is okay. The air is still thin and I can’t get enough air. I give her the general,“Yeah, everything's fine. I’m going to bed.”
As I walk up the stairs, I feel my chest tighten.
I’m panicking. I should take a Xanax. See, that is what you get when you take yourself off of your meds.
I hear Mom’s voice at the bottom of the stairs.“Okay, good night.”
“Night.”
Shutting my door, I feel the shortness of breath and my emotional overload from Brody’s and my vague conversation pull me down further. I sit at my desk, lean my head back in my chair, and close my eyes to try and find peace.
Calm down and breathe.
Closing my eyes should help, but all it does is give my mind a window into my memory. Images of students around me cheering and clapping in the auditorium as the stage fills with jerseyed football players and uniformed cheerleaders. The recurring image is one my mind goes back to again and again now when things get stressful.
Feeling the room closing in, I bite the bullet, open my medicine cabinet, and take one white pill. Popping it in my mouth and drinking down tap water from the sink, I flip the light off, cross my bedroom floor, and lay on my bed, waiting for the drug to take over, take control since I am so out of it.
You are so weak.
School in a couple of days, the article running, Brody and my encounter out front, all would qualify as stress on top of the obvious stress we all have been sinking in for the past few weeks.
As soon as I close my eyes, the images come again. Not wanting to see the scene by scene flashes again, I open my eyes, get up, and sit at my desk. I notice Gavin’s journal pushed off to the side. I place my hand on the cover and pull it to me. My finger tracing the writing:
“Not all who wander are lost”
The tracing motion, or thinking of the true meaning of those words Gavin chose to use, seems to calm me enough so it doesn’t feel like I am breathing through a straw anymore; or maybe it is the medicine kicking in.
Out front, Brody had said that he was lost and trying to find himself, but I don’t think he is lost. Brody isn’t lost, none of us are. We are in a constant state of wonder, a tailspin of wonder actually. What happened to us, what happened to Gavin, set us in motion and now we have to figure out how to stop and find our own lives again and invent them from here. I spin in my chair and think about how the tailspin is like a merry-go-round, sans the“merry,” and it is completely out of control and has the potential of throwing us off unless we reach out, pull each other in, and hold on.
I stop spinning and stare at the words on Gavin’s journal; they could mean that or something totally different.
God, I wish I could see Gavin right now and ask him what he meant.
I reach for a pen in my repurposed relish jar/pen cup, one of Mom’s weekend projects, and tap it on the edge of my desk as I stare at Gavin’s journal. I open it to the pictures neatly stacked in center of the diary. Brody’s picture is at the top of the stack, followed by Nikki, Asher, and Lia’s. The rest of the images, those of Celine, Spencer, Chad, and the two guys who were the ultimate catalyst to Gavin’s dismantlement are face down in the stack so I don’t have to look at them. I had studied all of the images closely as I wrote the article, fuel for my tribute to Gavin. I would throw them away, but I am saving all of this for Gavin.
I take out my journal, the one I have started since Gavin has been gone. I tap the tip of my pen on my lips before I begin to write.
~January
I suppose my life really began when I saw Gavin standing in our driveway and Brody coming to his rescue. Would it sound weird if I said that the Ferguson brothers kind of came to my rescue that day too?
That seems so long ago now, even though it has only been five months since that day. Five months. Not in a million years would I have guessed that my life would change so much in five months. I made friends, which I had never had, from the moment I stepped out of the car and onto my driveway. I made enemies, the type I was too familiar with from back home in San Fran. I learned to stand up for myself ... never would have happened in San Fran. And, I stood up for my friends, whatever it took, I was there for them and they were for me. Again, a first for me. I fell in love for the first time with Brody Ferguson, the boy next door. Then, everything dismantled with Gavin and the shooting and it's like we are a broken mirror, the shards are usand we are shattered, scattered, and detached from the whole piece of glass we once were. Brody and I ... I don’t know what is going on and that makes me frustrated, sad, scared, and heartbroken all at once in one bundle in the pit of my stomach. Now, we are returning to school tomorrow without Gavin. The article about the shooting and Gavin’s story will run in the paper and be passed out to every person on campus. The article, it is the first time Nikki, Asher, Lia, Brody, and I are coming together after the tragedy. We are going to deliver the papers to everyone on campus in a couple of days, but are we really together? Tonight, on Nikki’s front lawn, the tension between Brody and I, how it brought the others into the swirl of tension, it didn’t feel like we were coming together. I know it isn’t going to just come easy. I should know hard by now. Maybe I just need to fall back a little. I don’t know. I refuse to admit I am lost. I may be a lot of things, but not lost. Just wandering, like Gavin believes.
Brody, he thinks he is lost and God I wish he would let me help him. He won’t let me help, won’t let anyone in, not even his mother; too damn stubborn. I shouldn’t say anything, I am too.
I just wish we could slow down the merry-go-round called life; it is spinning too fast. Nikki, Ash, Lia, Brody, and I are holding on. I know Gavin is holding on, even though every time I think of him in that center I picture him scared, crying, and alone. We just need to hold on to each other until the tailspin finally slows. I don’t want to lose any of them in the spin.
Miss you Gav.
~Evan
Chapter 4:
Tailspin
The article’s straightforward and emotional content catches attention and some flack with the student body. Some say that we were glorifying what Gavin had done, while others take the article for what it is: the truth about a boy who was bullied, pushed to the edge, and was looking for a way to make it all stop, make the tailspin stop. He couldn’t though and that is why we did it. To make everyone aware of what could happen to any of us anywhere. Within days, the article spreads from our community to the greater Austin area, to other cities, then other states. The cyber tendrils the article grows has it reaching across the nation. It reaches national news status for a day or two, until fresh rating-monger breaking news replaces it; that is what Nikki calls it.
Nikki hears the rumors of Spencer, Celine, Chad, and the two peon assholes who cornered Lia and Gavin in the hall. She says they were suspended and being investigated, now that the article had released and made waves in our community once again. The administration isn’t happy with the waves. Nikki and I are called into Mr. Kipley’s office two days after it releases, the day Nikki hears the rumors about Spencer, Celine, Chad, and the assholes.
“This article is getting quite a bit of attention,” he says as he sits back in his chair, hands folded over each other on his desk.
Nikki and I say nothing. We made a pact to hold our ground and not cave to anything if we were called in. We had a feeling it was coming after the buzz started around campus.
All of a sudden, the door opens and Mrs. Warren comes in and sits down next to Nikki. She has a stack of files in her hands and her presence is definitely making me nervous. She looks over at us,“Ladies,” then back at Mr. Kipley.“I brought the files to discuss once we finish here.”
Finish here? What is this? I hesitate asking and glance at Nikki, who appears as strong and steadfast as ever. She gives me the look that says,“Hold tight. Don’t cave, Evan.”
Mr. Kipleynods, then looks between Nikki and me.“I know there are rumors about Mr. Morietti, Miss O’Keefe, and the other boys that were involved in ... in the events that transpired last semester.”
“They were a little more than events, Mr. Kipley.”
I receive a swift kick in the shin from Nikki.
“Yes, they were,” Mr. Kipleyresponds with a cold stare,“and that is why they were being investigated.”
“Were?” Nikki asks.
“Do you realize that Celine, Spencer, Chad, and Erin and Justin have been questioned since the day of the shooting?” Ms. Warren breaks her silence, even though her sideways glances as Nikki and I spoke volumes; she wasn’t happy with our influence on the student body for the last two weeks. I’m sure her office was fielding parent phone calls as well as students’ questions on both sides of the issue; the glorification of Gavin being a victim turned suspect with the elitist, popular population of the high school being to blame. The other side being the uprising of those who are bullied and taking a stand against this seemingly domesticated act of terrorism.
“That is over a month of interrogation. They have been questioned. Their parents have been questioned. Witnesses have been questioned. Even each of you havebeen questioned,” Ms. Warren states list-like.
We had been questioned after the shooting. I was questioned in the hospital with Dad and Mom in the room.“Did you notice anything unusual about Mr. Ferguson before the shooting? Did he leave any clues about this? What could have led him to do this?” was the basic line of questioning. I didn’t tell them about the journal, which was a huge clue for us to go to the school that day to stop him from doing whatever he was planning to do. I did tell them that Gavin had some challenges when it came to his mental health and all of his friends tried to keep an eye on him. I kind of went off on the last question,“What could have led him to do this?” What can I say, it was a trigger for me. After that, Mom jumped in and told them if they had any other questions that they would need to contact our lawyer.
Mr. Kipleyclears his throat and cuts her off from pressing the issue,“Ms. Phillips, Ms. Bell, we did not call you in to discuss this in length. We wanted to make you aware that next week, Celine, Spencer, Chad, Erin, and Justin will be returning to school.”
“So, nothing is going to come of the investigation?” I ask.
“Not enough evidence of their direct influence on Gavin’s behavior,” Mr. Kipley states simply.
“Mr. Ferguson’s mental state was never ... normal,” Ms. Warren adds carefully.
“No charges pressed then?” I can hear the anger boiling in Nikki’s voice.
“No,” they both say the same time.
After that, Ms. Warren and Mr. Kipley both complimented us on the article and how they have been receiving calls for interviews from local and national news stations.
“We aren’t interested,” I say as flatly as I can.
“That wasn’t the reason for writing it,” Nikki adds.
“It may not have been, but your article has pinpointed the tempo of a typical American high school,” Ms. Warren says with gusto. I’m kind of surprised since moments ago she seemed to be vying for the enemy.
“Look, I’m not choosing sides, but I know what you and your friends, Gavin, have endured.” She looks at Mr. Kipley, then back at us.“You may not think we see things the way you do, but we do. We just have our hands tied at times.”
Hands tied. Translation, the upper crust, the elite, have tied their hands.
“I can see that,” I say cuttingly then rise to leave the room. I am done here and want to leave before I say something I might regret.
Nikki rises too as she says,“When will they be back? I’m sure you are telling us this to avoid any‘events transpiring’ on campus.”
“Ms. Bell, that isn’t what we were insinuating and I would watch my attitude if I were you,” Mr. Kipleysays, vocalizing his power.“They will return in two days. Ms. Warren is going to take a look at your schedules, make some changes to alleviate any unnecessary interaction.”
Basically, damage control to segregate them from us, or us from them.
“Your new schedule will be ready at the end of the day, so please come to my office to get it,” Ms. Warren adds.
Nikki and I say nothing else until we are out of the office and walking through the courtyard.
“The influential play dirty, Evan, and the dirt tendsto stick to those that are less influential in town,” Nikki mutters.
“Us.”
“Yes, us.I’m going to tell Ash and Brody.”
“I’ll tell Lia,” I say before parting ways.
***
After school, we happened to meet in the counselor’s office at the same time, except Brody. The receptionist says he is already in with Ms. Warren, which I think is strange since we are just picking up our schedules.
The wait isn’t long as Brody opens Ms. Warren’s door, brushes past us, and leaves without a word or even a glance in our direction. Did he even see us standing here?
Ms. Warren comes out with slips of paper in her hands. She hands them to each of us.“These are your new schedules.”
“What happened with Brody?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“He was in your office. Did something happen?”
She hands Liaher schedule last.“Oh, he got here early and he said he wanted to be a part of the work-study program we offer to seniors here at Braxton.”
Lia, Nikki, Ash, and I look at each other curiously. I wonder if she said something to set him off and make him decide something like that.“Did you tell him about Celine, Spencer, and Chad coming back?”
She nods.“Yes, I did.”
That has to be why he made the decision.
She steps away from us.“Well, if there isn’t anything else, I have to return a few phone calls.”
She looks at each of us, waiting for any questions. She focuses on me last.“Evan, all in all it is probably best for Brody to be here as little as possible. It usually is a process to get the application approved for work-study, but with...”
“Recent events.” I nearly spit the words out, disgusted that Brody, yet again, has been put in a position to sacrifice himself to avoid those who get away with murder.
She raises her chin and folds her arms across her chest, obviously not happy by my snide comment.
“It probably is best. I will give you a ride, Evan,” Asher says as he comes around to me and places his hand on my shoulder.“Thank you, Ms. Warren,” he adds as we all leave the office.
“Thank you, Ms. Warren?” I question Asher’s sweeter-than-honey attitude as we walk to the parking lot.
“Hey, he was saving our asses back there,” Nikki defends him.
“Wedon’t need any more trouble this year, all right. I was just diffusing the situation,” Asher says just before he gets into the Jeep.
“If I had a chance to do a work-study thing, I would totally do it just to get out of this place. I’m happy for Brody,” Lia says, pulling at her over-stretched, long-sleeved sweater.
“He shouldn’t have to settle and sacrifice because of them. None of us should.”
“Maybe it isn’t a sacrifice Evan. Maybe it is what he wants,” Nikki says as we ride through the neighborhood.
I wonder if he talked to her about this earlier, or maybe Asher.“Did he say something to either of you about it?” I ask them after we drop off Lia.
Nikki looks over her shoulder at me in the backseat.“He doesn’t talk to a
nyone, Ev. You know that.”
She turns back to face forward and leans her head against the headrest.
I did know that. I guess I just hoped he might have turned to them to talk about something like this.
“It’s what he wants, Ev. I mean he obviously went in there with the intent to get away from this place. We all want out of this place.”
Ash takes his eyes off the road, long enough to look at me, then Nikki,“I mean, am I right?”
I nod.“Yeah, you are.”
Chapter 5:
Degrees of Separation
With our schedules changed, I only see Nikki at lunch and Brody in passing across the courtyard some days. I make a point not to miss it since that is the only time I see him lately, for the past couple of weeks actually. He has been working late too, so I only see the silhouette of him in the dark as he sits on his back porch and I hide in watching behind my curtains.
Jeez you are such a stalker, Evan.
It is another degree of separation in the quickly disappearing friendship Brody and I have ... or had.
The arrangement helps make campus life tolerable, sans the whispers I overhear and the sideways glances I notice.
When Celine, Spencer, Chad, and the asshats, Justin and Erin, return the second week back, they are not greeted by the student body with open arms. They are shunned, avoided, like everyone feared getting dirty if they got too close to them. Yeah, I took some pleasure in seeing the roles reversed.
Maybe dirt can stick to the upper crust after all.
Even though they are being avoided by all of their friends, they hold their heads up high. I wonder how they can have such courage, or maybe it is just ignorance.
Unfortunately, I see Celine more than I want with my new schedule. Spencer too.
One day I was walking down the hall and I heard his voice carry over the others as he leaned against the lockers with some guy I didn’t recognize. The words were familiar– he was reading from the article.“Gavin Ferguson’s brilliant mind suffered by the hands of those that felt they were elite and above everyone else on campus. Shit, that bitch doesn’t know what the hell she is talking about. He was nuts.”
Reviving Evan (A Dismantling Evan Companion Novella) Page 3