DY: Did you ask Walker if he was a terrorist lover?
WB: Uh … I might have.
DY: Were you aware that Walker is a US Marine Corps veteran who served two tours in Afghanistan?
WB: Didn’t stop him from breaking my nose, did it? I tell you, sir, that guy is insane. He should be locked up before he hurts someone else. He’s got some serious anger issues.
DO: This is Detective Brendan Overmann speaking. It is Wednesday, September 7th at 9:00 p.m. I am interviewing Robert Walker R-O-B-E-R-T W-A-L-K-E-R, age 21, date of birth 7/10.
DO: Mr. Walker, I’m going to read you your Miranda Rights. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?
RW: Yes.
DO: With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?
RW: Yes.
DO: When did you arrive at the Lone Pine Mall?
RW: I didn’t even want to go to the mall in the first place. It’s hard enough to go to the mini-mart or the grocery store. Have you ever served in a war zone, Detective?
DO: I have not.
RW: Maybe you won’t get it. Most people don’t. One day you’re in a completely different world where the rules were one way, and then you get on a plane—or maybe two, because we had to transfer from military plane to civilian flight in Germany. Then, in what seems like no time, you’re back home. You go from a place where every piece of debris on the side of the road could be an IED or every obstruction a trap, from a place where stopping for any reason could be death, to here, where you’re stuck in traffic behind some old geezer who is driving five miles below the speed limit because he can’t see as well as he used to and people act like you’re the crazy one because you’re leaning on the horn and getting road rage.
DO: So you came to the mall at what time?
RW: I get it. Just the facts. Okay, sir. We got here right before the 16:30 show.
DO: 16:30. So that’s 4:30 p.m., right?
RW: Yeah.
DO: What did you see?
RW: Alien. I always give my sister a hard time because she likes old movies, especially the black-and-white ones. She’s not a big fan of sci-fi, even if it’s old, but she thought—
[silence]
DO: What did she think, Mr. Walker?
RW: She thought it would be some harmless fun. [laughs] You know how that turned out.
DO: That’s what I’m trying to establish. So you went to the movie. What happened next?
RW: Stella, that’s my sister, suggested getting an ice cream. Actually, she said froyo, but I wanted ice cream. So we walked to the food court. We were sitting there eating when I noticed these two kids harassing the kid who was cleaning tables. They’re calling him a terrorist and telling him to go back to his own country. Here’s this kid trying to do his after-school job and these ignorant punks who think they’re so tough are treating him like he’s less than they are. They don’t even realize that he’s Sikh and not Muslim, that’s how much these kids know about the real world. But they think they know everything. And still, they think it’s okay to call someone a terrorist, just because of his religion.
DO: Is that when you decided to intervene?
RW: I think I stood up at that point. But what really made me decide to step in was when one of the kids spat on the floor and threw pepperoni and then told the guy to pick it up. It was so offensive that I couldn’t let it pass.
DO: So that’s when you walked over?
RW: Yeah. Look, we worked with Afghan translators who were risking their lives to help us. But these kids think everyone they see who doesn’t look like them and speaks with an accent is a terrorist? Yeah, I went over there to set them straight.
DO: Tell me how you “set them straight”?
RW: I walked over and told the kid who dropped the thing on the floor to pick it up himself and to apologize to the kid. He responded by cursing at me and saying, “Haven’t you ever heard of the First Amendment?”
Look, I get it. I shouldn’t have touched him. But you gotta understand. When I was in Afghanistan, I was making decisions that could literally mean life or death. And now this snot-nosed little punk who doesn’t even know the difference between Muslim and Sikh is disobeying a direct order?
DO: So how did you “touch him”?
RW: I grabbed the kid by his shirt and told him again to pick it up and apologize. He said, “What are you, some kind of terrorist lover?” and that’s when I punched him.
DO: How many times did you punch him?
RW: I don’t know. I went into the zone.
DO: The zone?
RW: Like in—where you get extreme focus and time acts in strange ways and you’re hyperaware of some senses but not the others. So I can describe exactly the sound it made when my fist hit that kid’s face and how the blood spattered on my arm and the floor and for one or two seconds I felt bad that I was making a mess that the kid was going to have to clean up but—
DO: But?
RW: But that passed through my mind as fast as a bullet train and all I could feel was my blood pumping. He was the enemy and I was teaching him a lesson, so I punched him again and I heard the crack. I think I might have broken his nose.
DO: You did.
RW: What have I done … ?
DO: It looks to me like you’ve done a Class B felony, young man.
RW: Oh no. [silence] No … My parents … my sister …
[silence]
RW: Jason was right.
DO: Who is Jason?
RW: [crying]
DO: Mr. Walker, who is Jason?
RW: [crying]
DY: This is Detective Alan Yerwood speaking on Wednesday September 7th at 9:00 p.m. I’m interviewing Stella (S-T-E-L-L-A) Walker (W-A-L-K-E-R), age 16. DOB 4/17. Subject is currently a junior at Argleton High School
DY: What time did you arrive at the Lone Pine Mall?
SW: I think it was about 4:20 p.m. We got there in time to buy popcorn and drinks and catch the previews at the 4:30 showing of Alien.
DY: You stayed for the entire movie.
SW: Yeah. It was awesome. Way better than I thought it would be. I’m not really that into sci-fi. It’s more Rob’s thing, which is why I suggested we go. He’s been pretty down since he got back from his last deployment and it’s one of his favorite movies, so I thought it might cheer him up. He seemed like he was in a better mood when it was over, and I suggested we go get some frozen yogurt. He wanted ice cream, so we went to Dreamiscle Creamsicles.
DY: What time was this?
SW: I think it was around 6:30?
DY: Tell me about the encounter that led to the fight.
SW: I saw Wade Boles and Jed Landon when we got to the food court and purposely tried to avoid them.
DY: And why was it you wanted to avoid them?
SW: They aren’t exactly my favorite people at school. They have some, well, narrow-minded views about things. To be honest, that’s what led to the fight. They were harassing the guy who was cleaning tables.
DY: Harassing how, exactly?
SW: I feel bad even saying it because it’s so offensive, but Jed called him a “raghead” and a “terrorist.” That’s when Rob got up and started walking toward them.
DY: How did the kid who was cleaning tables respond?
SW: He said, “Piss off,” or something like that. But they didn’t back off. Then Wade spit on the floor and threw a piece of pepperoni on top of the spit and told the guy to clean it up. That’s when Rob intervened. He told Wade to clean it up himself and apologize. I started walking over because I had a feeling it wasn’t going to end well.
DY: How did Wade respond?
SW: He swore at Rob.
DY: How did your brother take that?
SW: Not well. He grabbed Wade by the collar and told him again that he should apologize
and clean up the mess himself. And then Wade said, “What are you, some kind of terrorist lover?” That was what did it.
DY: Did what?
SW: Made Rob lose it. He punched Wade, and then he kept on punching him until we were able to pull him off.
You have to understand, Detective, Rob’s a marine. He did two tours in Afghanistan. Defending people is what he does.
[silence]
Do you see what I mean? You just don’t go around calling someone like my brother a terrorist lover. Especially when you don’t even know the difference between Sikh and Muslim, and don’t even care because you think they’re all terrorists anyway.
DY: Was that when security arrived?
SW: Yeah. Someone called 911 and one of the employees at the food court called mall security. Security came first, and they took Rob into their office until the police came.
DY: Detective Overmann entered the room at 9:45 p.m.
DO: Miss Walker, do you have any idea who Jason is?
SW: Is Rob okay?
DO: Miss Walker, who is Jason?
SW: He was my brother’s friend. They served together in Afghanistan. Jason shot himself two weeks ago. Seriously, Detective, is my brother okay?
HALEY: OMG did you guys hear what happened?
FARIDA: No, what?
HALEY: Stella’s brother Rob got arrested!! And according to Jed Landon, Stella was at the police station, too.
KEN: WHAT? WHY?!!
FARIDA: Oh no! What happened?
HALEY: Rob went totally out of control at the mall and punched Wade Boles. He broke Wade’s nose.
FARIDA: OMG. Poor Stella.
HALEY: What about poor Wade? Rob broke his nose!
KEN: Knowing Wade, he probably did something to deserve it.
HALEY: Why are you victim blaming? That’s so wrong!
FARIDA: Uh … maybe because Wade is a jerk to me, like 100% of the time?
HALEY: Okay, that’s wrong, but he doesn’t deserve to have some crazy guy break his nose.
KEN: Stella’s brother isn’t crazy.
FARIDA: Yeah. I know Rob. So do you, Haley. How can you say that about him?
HALEY: You weren’t at the convenience store when he hit the deck for no reason. It wasn’t normal.
KEN: I’m sure there’s got to be more to this story. We can’t just, like, jump to conclusions.
HALEY: Like you haven’t already jumped to conclusions about Wade?
FARIDA: Like you haven’t already jumped to conclusions about Rob?
HALEY MORANI HAS LEFT THE CONVERSATION.
KEN: I wonder what really happened.
FARIDA: I’m going to text Stella.
KEN: Tell me what happens.
KEN: This isn’t going to do the campaign any good.
FARIDA: KEN!
KEN: I’m just stating the obvious.
KEN: I mean Haley’s a friend and she believes Wade’s story.
FARIDA: Maybe she wasn’t really a true friend.
KEN: But we can’t just count on true friends to win an election.
KEN: We need other people.
FARIDA: I know. I guess right now I’m more worried about Stella than the election. But it’s not going to do us any good, that’s for sure.
KEN: And it was an uphill battle to begin with.
FARIDA: Don’t give her the gloom and doom. She doesn’t need that from us right now. Promise?!
KEN: Yeah. Okay. I’ll try.
FARIDA: There is no try.
KEN: I’ve turned you into Yoda. My job here is done.
FARIDA: STELLLLLLAAAAA! What happened?! Is it true that Rob got arrested for breaking Wade’s nose at the mall?
ME: What?! How do people know already? We only just got back from the police station!!
FARIDA: I heard from Haley. Then I saw that Wade posted a picture of himself in the ER on Insta.
ME: Why would he do that? He looked awful!
FARIDA: You’re asking ME to explain how Wade’s mind works?
ME: Fair point.
FARIDA: How are you?
ME: Not so good.
FARIDA: So what really happened?
ME: Rob and I went to see Alien at the movies. He’s been really down because one of his battle buddies died—suicide—two weeks ago.
FARIDA: What?! You never told me that.
ME: Yeah. There’s a lot I haven’t told you, TBH. Things have been hard at home since Rob came back.
FARIDA: What do you mean?
ME: I’m really tired and I don’t want to talk about it RN. It’s been a long day.
FARIDA: Okay. Get some sleep. But I’m here for you. So is Ken. I’ll drive tomorrow.
ME: Thanks. See you then.
I curl up on my bed, wishing that there were some way I could have a do-over. That I could come home and leave Rob alone sitting in front of the TV, playing video games. That I could go up to my room and read a book or listen to music or watch videos of cute puppies trying to climb stairs. That I could do anything except convince my brother it’s a good idea for us to go see a movie and then get ice cream afterward.
One decision leads to another and another. Decisions you think are good, but end up leading the person you love—and think you’re helping—to disaster instead. I keep replaying the afternoon over in my head, looking for the clues that should have showed me that it was heading in the wrong direction. The little signs I didn’t see, or ignored, that could have prevented the catastrophe from happening.
Meanwhile, what I didn’t tell Farida was that I think I have to quit the election now.
I just couldn’t face telling her the whole story tonight, even though she’s my best friend. Because I know I was born wearing white girl goggles, and inevitably I’m going to say something wrong, and normally I don’t mind when she calls me on it. But everything is a mess right now and it’s my fault, and I just can’t face messing up in one more way.
So it feels easier not to say anything. To just add it to the growing list of things I’m not telling her.
Except that leaves me alone in my room with my racing thoughts and squirming insides, feeling like even more of a coward than ever.
My phone buzzes.
ADAM: You okay? Sounds like you had an intense afternoon.
ME: Intense doesn’t even begin to describe it.
ADAM: Did you really end up at the police station?
ME: Yes.
My fingers hover over the screen.
ME: Would you hate me if I quit?
ADAM: Quit what?
ME: The election.
ADAM: What?!! Why? Let’s talk first. Do you want me to come over?
I check the time. It’s almost midnight.
Cons: 1. It’s late. Way too late to expect Adam to drive across town to talk to me. 2. My parents would freak if he showed up here. 3. I’d have to sneak out of the house. 4. I’m so tired it feels like someone harnessed a boulder to my chest and I have to drag it around with me everywhere I go.
But on the other hand, the Pros: 1. Adam just offered to drive across town to see me. 2. I wouldn’t feel like I’m so alone. 3. I’m not going to be able to sleep anyway. 4. I want to see Adam.
ME: Are you sure it’s not too late? What about your dad?
ADAM: Don’t worry about me. What about you? Will your parents freak out?
ME: Park at the end of the street and text me. I’ll sneak out.
ADAM: Okay. Heading out now. Hang in there!
And he sends a GIF of a cute sloth hanging from a branch.
A few minutes ago, I was curled up on my bed, drained of energy. Now I feel a flutter of excitement in my stomach. It’s because of the cute sloth GIF, I tell myself as I jump up and throw on one of Rob’s old marines hoodies and swap my pajama bottoms for jeans.
Then I check the hallway situation. My parents’ door is shut, but light shines under it, meaning at least one of them is still awake. Rob’s light is off. Peggy has been sleeping with him, so as long as I’m
quiet, she won’t bark. I creep down the hallway and tread softly downstairs. I go through the kitchen and sneak out the back door, making sure it’s unlocked so I can get back in.
There’s enough of a glow from the crescent moon for me to see my way around the side of the house without having to use the light on my phone. I breathe in the cool, crisp night air and snuggle into the oversized hoodie. Despite the light on the horizon from town, I can see a few stars in the dark sky. Closing my eyes, I wish for everything to turn out okay. I can’t undo what happened today, but I can wish for it to end well. If wishes on stars work, which I know they don’t. But I’m sort of desperate here.
I sit on the front step and wait to hear from Adam. In the meantime, I check what’s happening on social media. Sure enough, Wade Boles has posted a picture of his broken nose on Instagram—both before and after it’s bandaged. Not a pretty sight either way. He’s made sure to say that it’s my brother who broke it in both posts, each of which have hundreds of reactions and comments.
People are already linking it to my class president slogan. Stella Walker isn’t the smart solution, she’s the violent solution is one of the nicer things that’s written.
How can I stay in the race after what happened?
Now that I have a good excuse for dropping out, it’s strange that I don’t want to. I was just starting to feel more confident about the whole thing, like maybe I could make a difference. But it looks like I’m going to have to take myself out of the running, because of Rob.
Not just because of him. Because of me. I persuaded him to go to the movies. He didn’t want to go. If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have been at the mall. This never would have happened.
I wrap my arms around my knees and shiver, inhaling the autumnal smell of decomposing leaves. I never thought of it as sad before, but as I sit here waiting for Adam, contemplating the end of a political career that never even started, I think from now on I’ll always associate this smell with a feeling of “what if?”
An incoming text pulls me out of my depressing reverie. It’s Adam, telling me he’s at the end of the street.
Anything But Okay Page 8