Boy Shattered

by Eli Easton

  “I didn’t know you had to go to New York, though.” I was repeating myself. Then again, I had just woken up. Plus, anxiety and, yes, fear were starting to churn inside me, and that made it hard to think straight.

  “Sorry. I thought you knew,” Landon said with a worried frown. “My flight leaves this afternoon. I’m only gone one night. The show tapes tomorrow and I fly home tomorrow night. So I’ll be home for New Year’s Eve.”

  “But why do you have to do this?”

  He folded a pair of jeans and put them in the bag, as if taking a moment to consider. Then he turned to face me, leaning on the desk. “What’s the matter, Brian?”

  “The matter is why do you, Landon Hughes, have to be the one, always, to go off to make speeches? Or organize a protest? Or give an interview? Or be on the national news?” I was upset, and my voice was a little harsh.

  He blinked at me as if he didn’t get it. “Well… I have a story to tell, and it’s a compelling one. I guess that’s why they ask me, specifically.”

  I got out of bed, angrily yanking on a pair of jeans and T-shirt. “Yeah, I know the one. The story where you’re holding ‘some kid’s’ guts inside. Right.”

  My tone was bitter, and I could see Landon was shocked by it. His face paled, and his head drew back as he stared at me. But I was so angry now. I stood with my arms folded over my chest.

  “I…. Does it upset you that I tell that story? I’m sorry, Bri. I never thought…. But you’re right. That’s your story. Our story. It’s not just mine.” He had his oh-so-earnest expression on now. The one that said he was listening and cared deeply about what I thought. But I wasn’t in the mood.

  “Ya think?” I snapped.

  I saw him swallow. “I’m sorry if I’ve been insensitive by talking about that. I mean, I never say your name, but you’re right, people at the school know it was you. I never meant to hurt you or piss you off. I don’t have to tell that story. There’s other stuff I can talk about.”

  My hands flew up in exasperation. “Why do you have to tell any story? Why do you have to go at all? You’re like my dad! All these big causes and news stories, and meanwhile, those of us who actually live here, in your life, can fuck right off. Because Landon Hughes wants more Twitter followers.”

  I was so upset. All this dark stuff was rising inside me and coming out of my mouth. Part of me knew I was being a total asshole. But in that moment, I couldn’t stop myself.

  He gaped at me. “What? Is that seriously what you think? That I just want to be famous?”

  He was losing his temper now too and looking at me like I didn’t know him at all. This was going very bad very quickly, but I couldn’t seem to turn it around. “All I know is that I want a normal life, the two of us! And what you want is to be somewhere else. On camera.”

  I spun and started to leave the room.

  Landon grabbed my arm and yanked me around. His expression was angry, but his eyes were wet with emotion. “Brian. I watched two gunmen spray bullets into a cafeteria full of kids like it was a shooting range.” His voice shook. “I walked over the dead bodies of our classmates, some of whom were getting ready to graduate and start their lives and some who were barely teenagers. And I held… yes, I held your insides, Brian! I held your body together with my bare hands.” He let go of my arm to hold his hands up. They were shaking. “With my bare goddamn hands and a fucking T-shirt. And what if I hadn’t gone to my locker for cough drops that day? What if Isabelle Norton hadn’t had a cold? What if I’d made a different decision about checking for Josiah in the cafeteria? That shit haunts me!”

  I wiped my face in frustration. His words were so gut-wrenching, they sapped my anger. I’d never heard Landon be so emotional. But I wasn’t ready to back down. “I know that!”

  “No, you don’t know! I almost lost you that day. I almost lost every moment that we’ve had together since, and every moment we will have. So don’t you fucking tell me—” He paused and breathed hard through his nose. “Don’t tell me to forget about it!”

  “But why does it have to be you?” I shook my head and swallowed the hot ball in my throat.

  He frowned and shook his head too, like he didn’t understand. “I don’t expect you to go to protests and stuff with me. You don’t have to—”

  “But if I want to be with you, I do have to!” I shouted. “Because that’s all you want to do! And because you’re, like, this perfect saintly icon, and I feel like a total shit that I’m not like that. I know I’m a selfish, shallow, thoughtless person. But I just want to be safe and not draw all this attention and… and not have to worry about my boyfriend getting beat up or…. Fuck!”

  Landon stepped back from me. His expression was cold. I’d seen him angry before, but never at me, never like this. “Don’t you think I want to let someone else handle the problem? But I can’t wait for someone else to fix it. It has to be me because they’re asking. Major networks are giving me a platform. And as long as they are, I’m going to shout what I have to say as loud and often as I can. Sorry if you can’t handle that.”

  “Yeah,” I said quietly. “Well. Have a marvelous time in New York.”

  I stalked out.

  Chapter 27

  Brian

  I WAS so angry, I couldn’t stay in that house. Fortunately, my shoes and coat were by the front door. I left without saying goodbye to anyone.

  I felt like crap as I stalked around the neighborhood of newer homes where Landon lived. Where could I go? I couldn’t go back to my parents’ place. And I couldn’t go back to Landon’s. Way to go, Brian. Burn every bridge in your life, asshole. How to alienate your friends and family in ten easy lessons!

  I cut over to a strip mall not far from Landon’s house. I had a little cash in my coat pocket, so I went to a coffee shop and ordered toast and coffee. Even though the coffee shop was small and tucked away, I didn’t feel safe. My skin crawled, as if trying to warn me. The hair on my arms stood up. Anatomy was so ridiculous. At times it felt like my body was not connected to my conscious mind at all.

  There were maybe ten people in the place, including the people who worked there. So why would a shooter target this ordinary little dive? Only it didn’t have to be strategic, did it? It could be a psychotic person who just happened to wander by, or an ex-fry-cook with a grudge. You saw those kinds of stories in the news all the time.

  Why did I have to have those thoughts? How long would it take before I could go a whole day, or a whole week, doing normal stuff out in the world and never have a thought like that? The way I used to be. Before.

  There I sat, worrying about the most unlikely of unlikely scenarios. And meanwhile, Landon was going to fly on a plane to New York, ride in several taxis probably, and sit on a live panel about gun violence. And he wasn’t afraid.

  I was pathetic.

  Landon texted me to ask where I was and if I was all right. I texted him back that I was fine, and I’d see him later. I expected him to keep texting. Maybe an apology? Maybe to start the argument back up again. But he didn’t send me anything more.

  After I finished eating and browsing the internet on my phone, it was almost noon. Landon was leaving soon for the airport, and I couldn’t stand in his living room with his parents and fake a happy send-off. I didn’t want to see him go.

  In desperation, I called the only person I could think of.

  IT WAS a mile walk to Madison’s house. But the day wasn’t too awful—cold and windy, but not raining or snowing, so that was a bonus. The snow we’d gotten on Christmas Day had melted, leaving a bare winter landscape. Traffic was light on this quiet Saturday between Christmas and New Year’s. I figured Madison had probably heard from Landon, and maybe she wouldn’t be too thrilled to see me. But she seemed cool when she gave me a hug at the door.

  “Hey, Brian! This is the first time you’ve deigned to grace me with your presence without Landon. I’m so honored!”

  “What does ‘deigned’ mean, anyway?” I asked.

&n
bsp; “Hell if I know. Want something to drink? My parents took my little brother to a climbing wall today—it was one of his Christmas presents. Which means we can do whatever we want. Shy of naked cocaine parties, anyway.”

  “Damn. There go my plans to seduce you and get you stoned.”

  “Aw, don’t get a girl’s hopes up.”

  Madison’s house was warm and super cozy, with a couch and loveseat so overstuffed that they looked like clouds, and lots of books, magazines, and Legos lying around. I liked the clutter. It made it feel like a real home, like Madison’s family were probably laid-back people. We decided to freak her brother out by building a Lego tower, and Madison put on American Gods while we did it. She said she’d been meaning to rewatch it for a while, and I’d never seen it.

  All in all, it was a decent way to kill a few hours, which was just what I needed.

  Madison texted with someone a few times, and I had a feeling it was Landon. My own phone never made a peep. After the third episode of American Gods, Madison turned off the TV and crab-walked on her knees back to our Lego tower. She sat cross-legged opposite me, her chin in her hand.

  “Landon’s taking off for the airport now.”

  I nodded and snapped another piece on the turret I was building.

  “I asked if he had a message for you. He said to tell you he’ll see you tomorrow night and that he’ll miss you.”

  I licked my lips. “Cool. Thanks.”

  There was a Lego piece I couldn’t figure out how to attach. It was a little flag thing. I turned it over in my hand, studying it. Like me, the piece didn’t seem to fit anywhere.

  “So what’s up with you two?” Madison asked. “Don’t tell me you’re breaking up, because that would torpedo all my dreams. If you guys can’t make it, that proves love is a rabid dog, just as I always suspected.”

  I smiled. “Bit dramatic there, Maddy?”

  “I’m totes serious,” she said with enthusiasm.

  “I think we’re okay. I just don’t like it when he goes someplace like that.”

  “Someplace like….” She frowned in confusion. “You got something against New York? Is it a Taxi Driver thing? Because I watched that with my dad last year, and it was creepy as hell.”

  I huffed. “No, not New York. I hate it when he does public appearances. Or he’s on TV and shit.” I tossed the little red flag back into the box.

  Madison looked thoughtful. She drew up her knees. She was wearing grape-purple velvet sweats, which were probably a Christmas present and were, frankly, alarming. But probably comfortable. “Okaaaay. Why do you hate that?”

  “I feel like… he cares about this crusade more than he cares about anything else. And I worry that he’s going to be like my dad, constantly obsessed with politics.”

  “Hmmm.” Madison thought about it. “Landon’s a passionate person. He’s always stood up for what he thinks is right. He stood up for me, you know. And Josiah. And a lot of other people. Right now, he’s all about gun control. In a way, I think that’s him standing up for you.”

  I knew part of Landon’s passion for gun control was me, and part of it was all the other kids he saw in the cafeteria that day, and part of it was for reasons probably even he couldn’t figure out. I didn’t say anything.

  She sighed. “Look, I know Landon wasn’t wounded like you were. But he was traumatized too that day, Brian. He’s got to live with what he witnessed. And I think fighting for gun control helps him deal with it. I know it helps me deal with it, and I didn’t even really see that much. It’s fight or flight, right? So maybe you guys simply deal with it differently.”

  “I know. It’s just…. He’s making himself a target. And I can’t…. How can I deal with that? What if someone hurts him? Kills him? I can’t handle it. Not when I’m already so afraid of everything. And he doesn’t even care about the haters. I think he’d still go out and give a speech even if he knew he might die. Like some kind of martyr. It drives me insane.”

  Maddy looked solemn. “He doesn’t want to die, Brian. I promise you, he doesn’t. He has a great life, and he knows that. He loves you. That was obvious to Josiah and me way before you two figured it out. From the minute you came back to school, he was there for you. He never left your side. He cares about you so much.”

  Her words brought back so many memories of those first weeks back at school. I had to stop for a moment and breathe. “He was great. I don’t know what I’d have done without him.”

  “And you never left his side, either. The two of you are disgustingly bonded. And I know you don’t fundamentally disagree with Landon over gun rights. True?”

  “Of course not.” When it came down to it, I believed in all the changes he was fighting for. For that matter, I’d probably go even further.

  “Right. So I know you worry about him. And I know there are assholes out there who would hurt him if they could. I totally get why that would upset and trigger you. But maybe you guys could talk about it and find some kind of compromise? Because it’d be a shame if the two of you, who really love each other, and ultimately agree on the big stuff, can’t find a way to stick together.”

  “Ugh.” I covered my face with my hands. There was so much emotion churning inside me. Mostly there was one, though—one biochemical feedback loop that was making my life hell. And now it was even affecting my relationship with Landon.

  I dropped my hands. “I’m so tired of being afraid.”

  She shuffled around the Lego tower to me, deliberately being funny about it. She plopped down next to me and slung an arm over my shoulder. “Yeah. Fear is the little death. The mind killer.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You are such a nerd.”

  She smiled. “Great, isn’t it? Listen, he’s held you up, Brian. Maybe….” She bit her lip and looked at me warily. “Maybe you can find a way to do the same for him? I know he doesn’t show it. But Landon needs your support too.”

  I knew she was right. Somehow, I had to deal with my fear and be willing to support Landon’s cause. Because he was never going to change. And I wouldn’t want him to. His passion and his desire to fight for what was right was one of the things I loved and admired about him.

  I had to put that stupid Gollum in my head to rest one way or another.

  Chapter 28

  Brian

  THE NEXT day, Sandra and Rex went to a sporting goods store that was having a big after-Christmas sale. They invited me to go along, but I decided to stay at the house. There was something I wanted to do.

  I went up to Landon’s room—our room—and got on the computer. If Landon was going to indulge his obsession today, I might as well indulge mine. As Landon put it—Brian Marshall, boy detective. The memory made me smile.

  I sent off a text telling him I was sorry and to kick ass on the show.

  Then I got to work. I got out my notebook and scanned through my list of suspects. It was almost all black lines where I’d struck out names. The latest suspect to bite the dust had been Bull. After the blowup with my dad, I figured I was never going to be able to talk to him about it, so I called the Buick dealership. The secretary there, Miss Christy, assured me that Bull had been working all day on September 28th. The time clock records didn’t lie.

  Honestly, I was relieved to eliminate Bull, because things were bad enough with my dad already.

  Now I had very little left except for one thing that kept picking at my brain, no matter how many times I’d dismissed it as impossible or not fitting the facts. I flipped to the back of my notebook and rubbed my hand over Detective Mike’s card.

  What did I have to lose? It wasn’t like he could arrest me for asking questions.

  It was Sunday, December 30th. No way would he be working. I sent a text anyway.

  Brian: Hey, Detective Mike. This is Brian Marshall from The Wall. Hope you had a good Christmas.

  The answer came back right away.

  Mike: Hi, Brian. How are you feeling?

  Brian: Good. All healed.

>   Mike: Great news. What can I do for you?

  Brian: I’ve been thinking about what you said. About how I might know more than I realize? I’m certain the two shooters were from the school.

  There was a long pause. A couple of minutes. I chewed on my lip, my phone clutched in two hands as I stared at it, waiting. There was finally a reply.

  Mike: We haven’t crossed off that possibility, but it’s looking less likely.

  Brian: What about teachers? Because the shooters knew things. They knew which rooms had the most people in Lunch A and that the cameras were down. They knew about the door at the end of B-Wing not being alarmed. One of them might have been a teacher or admin or janitor.

  There was another pause, longer this time. I read over my text a few times and thought I sounded like a hysterical kid with nothing solid. Just another person bugging the police. Which is exactly why I hadn’t texted him before.

  I typed some more.

  Brian: For example, there’s a janitor named Freddy who was a Marine.

  Mike: I know all about Fred Martino. He’s a good man. And he was with five others during the shooting. Please leave him alone, Brian.

  Shit. Now he thought I was a bully. Hell, maybe I was. The frustration and anger clawed at my insides. Please fucking tell me you have something.

  Brian: Okay. Have you checked out Cameron Diggley and Gordo Stahler?

  I pressed Send. I chewed a thumbnail, feeling sick to my stomach. I’d given the names of two guys who were once my friends to the cops.

  It had been weighing on my mind. I hadn’t spoken to them for a couple of months, not since we’d had that big fight. But a few times I’d caught Cameron staring at me like he wanted to talk. I’d ignored him. As for Gordo, every time I saw him, he gave me this hateful look, like I was a dead man. I wasn’t afraid of Gordo, though. He’d never do anything unless Cameron started it. Gordo was a follower ’til the end.