Burning at the Stake

10. Burning at the Stake

Big ups to Dad for keeping the old Halloween costumes in the basement. If I hadn’t spotted the much needed zombie accessories in the costume box, I would’ve been screwed.
Bobby snickered as he tossed a mullet wig on my head and started singing lyrics to a Bon Jovi song. I shook my head at him as he butchered the words and went behind a dusty bookshelf to try on some shredded clothes.
“Dude, you got some crazy old shit in here. Look I think I found your Cookie Monster outfit from third grade!”
“Bobby, don’t even go there Mr. Raggedy Ann.”
“RAGGEDY ANDY, HIS NAME IS RAGGEDY ANDY!” retorted Bobby as I struggled to squeeze on some old pants.
“Whatever. You were still a doll. At least I was a monster.”
I heard Bobby scoff and the next thing I knew, the whole box of costumes was hurled at me. After having an all out brawl, throwing costumes at each other for about ten minutes, Bobby looked at me up and down with an expression of approval plastered on his face.
Before we headed off to Bobby’s house, I grabbed some old make up hidden in the pile of costumes, and a pair of worn leather boots I kept in my closet to put on when we got there. When my masterpiece was finally complete, we were off to Bobby’s house, leaving a surprise mess in the basement for my mom. I knew I was going to get a lecture when I came home about doing my part to clean up around the house and not leaving my mom with more stress. But I didn’t care. I was going to a Halloween party. And not just any Halloween party: Bobby’s Halloween party, the biggest party of the year. I had to admit, I was actually pretty excited.

My excitement dissolved when Bobby and I finished decorating his house. It wasn’t the decorations that bothered me. In fact the house looked like the inside of a genuine haunted house when we were through with it. Nevertheless, I became anxious when Bobby reminded me that we had to go pick up our dates for the dance.
I was not looking forward to this. Not in the least bit.
After one last look around the house, and a modest thumb’s up, Bobby ran over to the key holder by the front door and motioned that it was time to get the girls. However, I did not move a muscle as I began to sweat like I did when I got a pop quiz or nearly got caught smoking in the boy’s bathroom or something.
Bobby just about slipped inside his car when he realized I wasn’t following him. He eventually came back inside and shut the door behind him, giving me a puzzled look.
“Come on, Sammy, let’s go!”
I had to come up with an excuse. I had to think of something. Anything. I just had to stall.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I asked. I actually did not know if this was going to work but when Bobby looked at me in my ridiculous attire and then looked down at him self, we both became aware of the missing link. Bobby forgot to put on his costume.
“Smart move, Raggedy Andy.” I sniggered.
“Shut up,” he said as he handed me his car keys.
“Start up the Jeep and I’ll be right there.”
I looked down at the keys in disappointment, realizing that there was no way out. I had to take Val to the dance.
“Right-o” I sighed, as I made my way out the door.

I sat in the passenger seat of the ivy colored Jeep, and stared at my reflection through the rear-view mirror. The bruise on my nose seemed bluer and my eyes sat on large pillowy bags caused by my recent lack of sleep.
I grew restless and began to search Bobby’s dashboard for a cigarette. I needed something to calm my nerves. I found a Marlboro pack wedged between his registration forms and quickly picked it out. When I opened this box of opportunity, I found four cigarettes and a Spider-man lighter. Just enough for me and Bobby. Perfect.
I smiled and held a cigarette between my shaking fingers and pursed my lips to the sweet butt of the nicotine haven. I pressed the switch on top of Spider-man’s head and I could feel the smoke circle in my mouth and flow through me.
I exhaled and a cloud of smoke protruded. I suddenly felt a piercing sense of regret. I wished I had never said yes to Val.
I shuddered and shivered from the frigid air that seeped through the cracks in the door. I took the keys to the Jeep out of my pocket and stuck them in the ignition. I twisted the metal and once the car started to purr, I dove for the heat switch and turned it on full blast.
As soon as I did so, Bobby walked out of the house in all his glory, practically gleaming in his outfit. Yet he had the most stupid grin on his face.
He was a fireman. Of course he was a fireman. The fireman is the essence of Bobby, clearly encompassing all of his best qualities. He was a rescuer of people in distress. He was a person you could count on in dire times. He was a hero. But, like a fireman, these qualities had their disadvantages and perilous consequences.
I was always afraid Bobby would get so caught up in being the hero that he would be ignorant of the impeding flames that would inevitably consume him. I was always afraid that being so selfless would eventually destroy Bobby, would crucify him like the martyr he was. The stakes were too high. Of course, this was coming from the person who’s always in distress.
Bobby opened the door and hopped into the driver’s seat, still smiling.
“You like?” he asked, as he set the car in reverse and pulled out of the narrow driveway.
“You would be a fireman.” I sneered.
“I figured Lauren would enjoy it,” he said. I detected a pinch of giddiness in his voice that almost made me choke on my cigarette. I definitely did not look forward to the red head joining our company and ogling over Bobby.
Bobby noticed the disgusted look on my face.
“I don’t know why you don’t like her. She’s really nice,” he responded somberly.
Sure, she was nice, but she had a disheveled air about her that made me feel awkward and maybe kind of sad for her. You could tell by the almost worn down expression on her face that she had had too much. It’s kind of like being able to tell how far or how much someone had jogged just from their tattered shoes. You could tell that she was only an empress, a high class socialite, because she was forced to be. Sometimes, I thought Lauren was just a large-breasted air head, but when I actually took the time to notice her…she was just damaged. Damaged by all the alcohol, parties, and boys, she was simply worn out. As I thought about it, I realized that I didn’t really hate Lauren McCann. I just hated the idea of what she was supposed to live up to.
I took the cigarette out of my mouth and coughed again.
“She’s…not so bad.”
The cough subsided and I took a long drag, as if the cigarette would take me to an alternate dimension where this wasn’t happening.
“Light me one, would you?” Bobby pleaded.
Spider-man accomplished his duty once more and the flame that protruded from his fingers licked the end of a cigarette I pulled out for Bobby.
I handed it to him and he just let it hang from his lips as opposed to savoring long drags like I did. He was calm. I was more like the accused criminal having one last cigarette before he was to be hanged.
“Sammy, I can’t wait! I’m so excited to charm my fiery-red headed mistress!” exclaimed the overjoyed Bobby through his cigarette as he sped down the road of some residential area.
I rolled my eyes at him. “You’re like a kid in a candy shop.”
Bobby let out a scratchy laugh, and all of the sudden, the cigarette that caressed his lips fell from its domain. It landed in one of the frayed holes in his tattered jeans, searing his skin.
“Fuck!” he cried, as he abruptly pressed on the brakes.
I was flung onto the dashboard, as Bobby quickly unfastened his crimson red belt with a buckle in the shape of a fireman’s hat. He reached into his pants, still yelping in agony as the cigarette proceeded to burn his flesh. I watched, still plastered to the dashboard, his desperate and tormenting search for the smoldering burden trapped between his thigh and his tight jeans. A torrent of profanities escaped from his quavering lips until he finally picked the cigarette out of his pants and simply let it drop to the floor of the car.
He bit his lip while groaning in pain. I slowly readjusted myself, noticing that I still had my cigarette between my cracked, dehydrated lips.
“Jesus Christ, Bobby,” I grunted.
“Are you okay?” he asked, contritely.
I adjusted my chair to be able to lean back and massage the area near my shoulder that made brutal contact with the dashboard. Note to self: listen to those “Buckle Your Seat Belt” commercials.
Bobby ripped the hole in his pants until he could easily reach a finger in and feel the sweltering burn. He flinched.
“I’m fine,” I answered as I noticed Bobby was in considerably worse condition than me. Why was he asking if I was fine? Why wasn’t he more worried about himself?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine Bobby, really. It’s not your fault. Is your leg ok?”
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’m more surprised than in pain.”
I watched as the burn on his thigh grew red and his face developed more signs of agitation accordingly. Bobby bent down and picked up the cigarette from the near the gas pedal. He rolled down the window and slowly dropped it out as if to say “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault.” As he did so, I noticed that the carpet mat on the floor of the car was burnt too.
Since the car was at a halt, I figured it would be safe to throw out my cigarette as well. I rolled down the window and flicked it out as if to say “Goodbye and good riddance.”

Numb

9. Numb

“…And we walked to the pizza place after school. And then when we were leaving, I, being the irresponsible goof that I am, did not hold the door for Sam, and it hit him square in the face…”
Mom’s face was filled with doubt and skepticism as she listened to Bobby try to explain. She put her hand on her waist and observed me, slumped on the living room couch. I didn’t say a word as I bent my head backwards and clogged the flow from my nose with another cluster of cotton balls from the first aid kit Mom had brought.
“I find that hard to believe, Bobby.”
She knew. It was obvious that she knew. I could tell by the squint in her eyes and the slight dip in her lips. Mom was a hawk. She could read through lies like a pop-up book. But she also knew that if I didn’t tell her something, it was for a reason. If I was enduring a “boy issue” and didn’t tell her, she knew that it was probably because I could resolve it by my self; otherwise, her meddling would only make it worse. That’s why they call it a “boy issue”. Mom trusted that I would only lie to her on these grounds and these grounds only. It was sort of like a scout’s honor. I could never violate this silent code of principle.
Nevertheless, she was worried, as all mothers are.
“It was really no big deal. It just—”
“Bobby, will you go and get some ice from the freezer?” she interrupted, not taking her eyes off me.
Bobby glanced at me, in my pathetic position, and nodded solemnly. Without a word, he made his way behind the couch and towards the kitchen.
Mom shook her head at me.
“Trouble at school?” she inquired.
I chuckled coldly. She had no idea.
“Sam, you’d tell me if something serious was going on at school, wouldn’t you?”
I peeled my eyes off the ceiling and lay them on her. She bit her lip and her brows furrowed. She was terribly apprehensive.
“Everything’s fine, Mom. Like Bobby said, it’s no big deal.”
Her tense face loosened as Bobby entered the room with a dripping bag of ice. She sighed. It was a type of sigh I couldn’t decipher. She clutched the bag from Bobby’s hand and placed it on my nose.
“Tell me when it feels numb,” she said.
I didn’t understand that. How could you feel numb if numbness is defined as not feeling anything at all? Nevertheless, soon enough, the aching pain I had felt began to dissipate as the ice began to dull the stinging.
“Ok, it’s numb,” I said, as I removed the frigid bag from my face.
Mom grabbed some tissues and blotted under my nose.
“Sweetheart, you are so lucky your damned nose ring didn’t add more damage than cutting you, or else you would’ve been with me at the hospital!”
I was somewhat relaxed, not realizing that she was trying to keep me from wondering what she would do next. Suddenly, without even bracing my self or drawing in a deep breath, she pinched my nose and quickly shifted it back into its proper position so that it was no longer crooked.
I yelped and started screaming profanities while holding my face in my hands. A couple of tears welled in my eyes, but I could still see Bobby staring back at me with his eyes growing wide and his jaw practically touching the floor.
“Oh my God, Mrs. P! That was so awesome!” he exclaimed.
Mom giggled lightly. I wasn’t so amused. After all, my whole face was throbbing, and my nose was still leaking red.
“God Mom, you think you could give me a heads up next time you’re about to have me endure severe pain?!” I barked. She playfully hit me on the shoulder.
“Oh hush. It wasn’t that bad,” she chuckled.
“Mom, for Christ’s sake, you readjusted my freakin face!”
At this point I was just being melodramatic. My nose actually wasn’t aching as horribly anymore. I rose from the couch and gazed at the small mirror hanging above the russet mantel place in front of me. My face actually did not look as awful as it felt. Even though it was bruised, my nose was back in place and not a crooked, sharp hook wedged between my eyes anymore. I watched through the reflection in the antique as Bobby moved towards me and placed a hand on my shoulder.
“At least you won’t need any fake blood for tonight,” he snorted.
I turned to face him, rolling my eyes. His jokes healed.
“Sam, make sure to wash up before you and Bobby go anywhere. And take a jacket with you, I heard it’s going to rain tonight.”
“Ok Mom.”
“And be careful of opening doors.” She winked.
I smiled and made my way towards the basement door with Bobby tailing behind me.

Regretting Nothing

8. Regretting Nothing

I sat on the toilet in my bathroom, still watching the blood drip from my nose. Not even trying to stop the never ending flow of crimson that began to form a pattern on the pearl bathroom tile. The blood began to swirl and circle into strange forms in the crevices between each tile. It looked like it was dancing.
My nose ached and I felt my bones crackle every time I moved it. I tried to twist and turn it back into its usual place but every time I tried I let out a pathetic moan of pain.
Bobby stood outside the door, trying to reach my mom or dad at work, asking how I was every few minutes. I just kept answering with a groan.
I knew Dad was probably at some big meeting trying to kiss ass and get his former job back. Mom was a nurse so Bobby tried harder to reach her than my father. But Mom just started her night shift at the free clinic so I doubted that she was going to answer a call from her bothersome son. She was probably too busy seeing fifteen patients at the same time.
As my blood danced, I wondered how it came to this. I wondered how I let my guard down at the pizza place and didn’t fight back, like any normal person would’ve. I wondered why Bobby just offered to pay for the pizzas and not even give Freddie a glare. And for a small moment, I wondered if I really wasn’t Bobby’s best friend.
“Sam, your mom answered! She said she’s on her way home!”
I nodded, not realizing that Bobby couldn’t see through walls.
“Sam? Are you ok?”
“I’m fine,” I sighed. We sat in silence for a few minutes until I heard some shuffling behind the door and finally a sound.
“Sam…”
“I said I’m fine.”
He paused and I heard his back sliding down the door.
“I’m sorry.”
I started to get sick of the dancing blood. It wasn’t so entertaining anymore. I drew some toilet paper from the roll next to the sink and simply tossed it all on top of the scarlet mess. I moved the paper from side to side with my foot until I realized I was making an even bigger mess. It was a pink cloud of regret.
“Sam? I said I’m sorry.” Bobby said ominously.
“I heard you.”
I heard Bobby let out a sigh. At first, I wasn’t sure if it was that of anguish or relief. But I came to realize that it was probably the latter. And then he completely changed the subject.
“Where’s May?”
“At a sleepover party.”
“Ah.” Another minute of silence. Then:
“I get that you’re mad.” For a moment, I stopped breathing and just stared at the door aimlessly.
“Oh?” I said with theatrical sarcasm, “Really?”
“I’m sorry I got you into this whole mess. I know you and Freddie don’t get along well because of Angie. But I was thinking that, you know, just because Angie’s a whore doesn’t mean you and Freddie have to hate each other. I guess I just wanted you guys to get over it. But that’s never going to happen…” He paused for a while and then laughed halfheartedly. “…As proven by the blood coming out of your face.”
I felt my brain get attacked by adrenaline again. Bobby’s frankness made me too angry to reply. My fists were shaking. It was like I was a boxer on steroids, anxiously waiting to destroy someone’s pretty face. That’s just what I wanted to do. I wanted to open the door and punch him in the face, incredibly dramatic, like in the movies. I’d open the door and just let him have it. Then I’d pick up all those bloody tissues and just throw them at him while screaming obscenities….
Then I’d stop. I’d look at his remorseful expression, and then I’d forgive him.
I stared at my pink cloud of regret and watched as the blood still rained from my nose onto the cotton heap. I couldn’t do it. How could I? It was Bobby.
“It’s ok.” I said, still focused on the cloud. “I deserved it. You were just trying to help, right?” I said, trying not to sound sarcastic.
“I try,” he sighed.
My thoughts began to get lost in overwhelming anguish and confusion. Ultimately, they all went back to animal behavior. I understood that Bobby was the untouchable alpha male, the followers were behind him, and Angie and Dan were the outcasts. And I was nothing.
But then I wondered why, with all the underlying circumstances—Bobby being my best friend, Angie my ex, Freddie my mortal enemy—I was assigned to sit on the sidelines? I knew I was nothing…but why was I nothing? Why was I nothing and Freddie—brother to Mary Magdalene, enemy to me—why was he still something?
I shook my head, blood dribbling on my upper lip. I knew why. It was because everyone was intimidated by Freddie. Bobby couldn’t deny someone that everyone heeded to, so Freddie was something. Naturally, no one but the brother of my ex really thought anything of me. So, I was nothing but Bobby’s quaint childhood friend. After all, Bobby was all about the people, right?
My eyes grew wide as an eerie thought struck me. I desperately hoped that no one would follow Freddie in his hate towards me, like they did with “San Fran Dan”. It was hard enough watching them torture Daniel, let alone my self.
I stared at the door, listening to Bobby’s nervous humming. And it was then that I realized why Bobby tried to get Freddie and me to play nice. He didn’t want me to be more than nothing because of Freddie. He didn’t want me to be an outcast…
“I get it. It’s hard trying to help everyone at once.” I said sincerely.
Bobby chuckled. “Everyone except Angie and Dan Thomas.”

After a few minutes, I heard the front door of the house fly open and a pair of anxious feet stomp up the stairs.
I knew at once, just from the piercing concern in her shrill voice that it was my mother. I heard Bobby rise and tell her that I’d been in there for about forty five minutes. She started to knock repeatedly on the bathroom door, like I was dying or something.
“Sammy, baby? Sam, honey, open up.”
I sighed. And it was definitely a sigh of anguish, not relief.
I stood up, stepped over my cloud, and turned the brass knob to the door of a once spotless bathroom.
Mom’s face was priceless. I didn’t know if it was my crooked, blood ridden face, or the disastrous scene in the bathroom, but something made her face turn red. Almost as red as my face. Almost.
“Sam! How did this happen?!”

False Freedom

7. False Freedom

TAP
I lifted my head after hearing it for the second time. I looked to my side only to see Bobby sleeping through detention, just as I had. Our proctor, my cranky Chem teacher, sat at the desk at the front of the room reading the newspaper. I glanced at the clock on the wall and realized that detention was almost over.
Just as I was going to wake Bobby, there was another tap. That one woke Bobby.
“What the hell...Sam what are you doing?”
“Nothing, that wasn’t me.” Bobby’s dazed expression evaporated once he faced the window.
“Holy shit! It’s Freddie!”
Mr. Harris glared at Bobby and shushed him. Bobby rolled his eyes and sat up, taking a quick glance back at Freddie. I lay my head back on the table, wanting to dissolve into it. Ten minutes. I just had to wait ten more minutes.
“Ten minutes until Freddie sets us free,” sighed Bobby.
Suddenly, I felt the way a man would before being hanged; except I couldn’t squeeze out any last words because I was pathetic.
After exactly ten minutes Mr. Harris sighed and stood up.
“Go home,” he said.
Mr. Harris didn’t seem like he wanted to go home, as he looked at his newspaper mournfully. And then I wondered if he volunteered to be the proctor that afternoon, because Mrs. Becker usually proctors everything. It was weird. Mrs. Becker was obligated to proctor. She was only an old, single, ethics teacher and had no other redeemable qualities. What was so weird was that Mr. Harris had a life. Mr. Harris was married with children. He was a Chem teacher, a Health teacher, and a Homeroom teacher. He had other things to do and places to be. So why the hell was he proctoring a detention on a Friday afternoon? A detention with Bobby and me, no less.
I realized then that this disgruntled man was the only thing that could keep me in that room, away from Freddie. I glanced at him helplessly. He stared back, puzzled.
“Well? Go on, get out.”
I sighed, just as he had. Bobby rolled his eyes again.
“Ungrateful kids,” grunted Mr. Harris. Then he left.
I almost ran after him. Almost.
Instead, Bobby ran to the window. Sure enough, Freddie Teresio was standing outside with three of his goons.
“You still up for pizza, Geiger?”
Bobby laughed and opened the window, letting in the cool fall air. “Come on Sam, let’s get out of here.”
I felt my throat go soar. I was afraid. “Bobby—”
He laughed and pointed at the clock that so cruelly determined my fate.
“Sammy, detention is over. Let’s go!”
Bobby grabbed my arm and dragged me over to the window. Before I knew it, he had straddled the window sill and leaped to his freedom.
“Come on Sam, we don’t have all day.”
I felt my legs turn to jell-o as I reluctantly reached for the window.
To me, detention actually sounded more appealing than hanging out with the group of asses the stood in front of me. But it didn’t matter what I thought. After all, I was only Sam Peterson.

As we walked towards the entrance of the school, I noticed Freddie jingling car keys between his fingers. My mind was still worrying over my potential death by Freddie, so I didn’t really think about what the jingling entailed until we reached a green Camry in the school parking lot.
Everyone waited behind while I kept walking. I didn’t realize what was going on until Bobby called my name.
“Sam! Where are you going?”
I was squeezed into a small car with five other guys who were blasting heavy metal music that really wasn’t all too appealing. Not to mention, they were screaming the words in my ears.
I wished that I had a video camera. I wished that one of these idiots would later on become a public figure. I smiled with the vivid image playing in my mind: the image of horror on President Freddie Teresio’s face when he discovered this video appearing all over the internet of the future. The whole world would know that he was an idiot. I was happy with my day dream until I was elbowed in the chest.
“Sorry man, didn’t mean to.”
Chris Geller, one of Bobby’s followers who joined us for lunch daily, was head banging to the noise that was playing on the radio. It’s called head banging. Why were his arms flailing around everywhere? He almost knocked the wind out of me.
“No problem,” I mumbled.
Chris Geller actually wasn’t such a bad guy. He wasn’t a bully. He was tolerable, and kind of a funny kid. Sure he was a huge prick with girls, but he was tight with his brethren. So I guess that meant he was somewhat trustworthy. If I wasn’t so awkward we probably could’ve hung out.
Next to Geller was Hank Ruth. I figured he had self-esteem problems because all he did was terrorize the freshmen as much as possible.
Matt Sanders sat in the front between Bobby and Freddie. He was sloppy and inconsistent when it came to his marauding. This didn’t surprise me though, since he was addicted to three known substances. I closed my eyes, wishing I had never left the institution.
We eventually ended up at some old pizza place with chipped paint and no heat. Teresio had walked us to the corner table with rusty chairs. I took the seat next to the window so that if I wanted to let my mind wander from stupid conversations, I could just count how many red cars drove past my window to keep me amused.
The followers really didn’t have much to talk about. It was just the typical stuff that teenage boys discussed. I could almost feel my IQ dropping.
“What about you, Geiger? Who was the best chick you’ve hooked up with?”
Bobby had the floor now. I counted off the twelfth car and turned to face him. I was curious to hear his answer. Teresio nudged him as he asked some waitress to get us a large cheese pizza.
Bobby didn’t answer the question right away. At first he just watched me, as if he was waiting for me to say something. Then he listed the girls he actually did hook up with. But after the pizza came and the fourteenth car sped by, I still had nothing to say and Bobby had no more time to stall.
“So, which one was the best?” Matt questioned, clearly irritated.
Bobby shifted uneasily and bit his lip ring, obviously not wanting to answer the question. This confused me. Why wouldn’t Bobby want to show off? Bobby loved to show off. I inched closer to the table and spoke for him as he began to stammer.
“It really depends on what you mean by ‘best’.” Bobby smiled in relief as the waitress came and slid the pan of pizza onto the table.
“The one that turns you on the most is usually my pick,” stated Hank, as if I was mentally insane.
“I disagree”. I had no idea where I was going with this, but it seemed to make them forget about Bobby for a while. They all froze and just stared at me degradingly, including Bobby. I must’ve said something wrong.
“I heard you were chatting it up with San Fran Dan. Did he give you any ideas, Peterson?” Freddie chuckled as he picked some cheese off of his slice of pizza.
Everyone laughed including Bobby, but only after looking at the ground for a while. I don’t know what came over me then. I just felt anger surge through my body. Freddie insulting Dan just felt like he was crossing some sort of line. I didn’t know why. It’s not like I was actually friends with “San Fran Dan”.
“You lied about him groping your ass, Teresio.”
It suddenly got very silent. Hank, Matt, and Chris looked anxiously at Freddie. Bobby looked at me, horrified. My eyes glared hard at Freddie’s. Freddie clenched hard at his pizza.
“You think I’m a fag, Sam?” he seethed between his teeth.
“Well, it doesn’t matter what I think, does it?”
I felt everyone’s eyes on me. The adrenaline that flooded my brain began to wear off and I suddenly wanted to run away. I stood up and was about to walk away when in one swift movement, Teresio had punched me square in the face. I fell back, hitting my back against the wall. Freddie stood over me as I pathetically held my bleeding nose. Bobby stood up and tried to pull him off me, but Freddie just pushed him to the side.
“Come on Freddie,” moaned Bobby. “He doesn’t mean it.”
Freddie ignored Bobby. Instead, he grabbed a fistful of my bloodstained shirt and brought my face up to his. He scowled and roared, “If I ever get a glimpse of your face again, it better be on a death certificate, or else I will kill you.” He then shoved me back to my pathetic position by the wall. “And stay away from my sister” he said, taking a few steps back.
The waitress just watched in shock from behind the counter with a hand up to her mouth. What else could she do? Come in between a rouge animal and his prey?
I held my free hand up in defeat. Freddie turned and signaled that it was time to leave. Matt, Hank, and Chris walked towards him but Bobby stood his ground.
“You coming, Geiger?” Freddie said as he opened the door.
Bobby shook his head. “I’ll help him up and pay for the pizzas. You guys go on without me.”
Freddie looked at me and then shrugged. “Suit yourself. See you at the dance.” And they left. Bobby gave his hand to me and lifted me up.
“You ok?”
I wiped the blood on my face, only making it smear, and ruffled my hair so that it wasn’t in my eyes.
“Does it look like I’m ok?” I muttered.
He sighed. “Come on, we’ll take a cab to your place.”

Drive

6. Drive

“You’re late. That’s the third time this week, Sam.” Mr. Harris, my Chem teacher, so kindly pointed out.
“Yes, I know, I just…”
“No but’s, that’s a detention.”
Funny thing is, I never said ‘but’. However, I didn’t correct him. After all, I was already in deep shit. I didn’t really want to go deeper.
I looked over the room in search for a seat. The only one left was up front next to Angie Teresio.
I sat and she stared. And I wanted to die.
Mr. Harris spent forever lecturing on about atoms and electrons and gases and blah blah blah blah. I was about to eat my own arm just to get out of there when…
“So, I need you to pick a partner for the lab and sit at a table together.”
Before my mind could register what was going on, everyone stood up and ran towards their friends. After a mere thirty seconds, Angie and I were the last ones left. It was pathetic. For the first time, I actually wished that Bobby didn’t ignore her because then everyone else wouldn’t ignore her and her science partner capabilities. But life is not that convenient. So Angie was my partner.
We were supposed to read a couple of pages in the text book together then talk about how we were going to set up our lab. My supposed partner and I read the pages on our own. After that we just sat silently facing the board that was scattered with images of atoms and electrons and God I hated Chemistry.
“Have you two discussed your lab?”
I lifted my head only to see Mr. Harris looking at the two of us with a disappointed expression carved into his wrinkled face. Angie began to highlight random sentences out of the book.
“We were just thinking, Mr. Harris.”
“I expect you two to do your best.” The old man then glared at me. “You better get to work.”
I wondered if Mr. Harris had a bitchy wife at home and felt unmanly. I wondered if he took all his anger out on his students so he could feel dominant. I wondered why I had to have a partner.
“I have straight A’s in this class so you better get your lazy ass to work. I’m not getting a bad grade because of you.”
I couldn’t fathom why she thought I cared about her grades—her attempt at perfection. Like it mattered anyway. It was over. She was over. Why couldn’t she get that through her head? She wasn’t the Virgin Mary anymore. She was tainted.
After noticing that I wasn’t going to move from my slouched position, she sighed and pushed the thick text book away from her. She turned to face me directly and sat Indian style in her chair.
“You and Bobby have made my life a living hell since the beginning of the year.”
I couldn’t believe what she was saying. She was bringing it up in the middle of Chem class? Was she out of her mind?!
“Not here, Angie.” She didn’t take her eyes off of me.
“I already told you I was sorry. Why can’t you just put it behind you? You know, forgive and forget?” I was enraged. I felt my head go hot and my eyes burn into hers.
“I did nothing to you and I want nothing to do with you.”
Her legs loosened and dangled. Her arms crossed over her chest and she faced the board again.
“So, the scene you made in English the other day, that was nothing to you?” she whispered, her voice breaking on the last word.
“It’s nothing…but Hamlet.” I mumbled.
She was about to say something when the bell called for the last period of the day. I guess the bell didn’t like her either. I got out of my chair, grabbed my back pack, and got the hell out of there. I left Angela sitting in her chair, dumbfounded.
Mr. Harris didn’t even have the chance to announce the night’s homework before everyone followed me out. Too bad. So sad.

"Shhhh! Mr. Peterson and Mr. Geiger I am warning you for the last time. One more word and I'll send you two to the Principal's office."
Mrs. Becker's face turned red as she shook her knobby finger at us. Bobby cackled under his breath and I tried so hard not to snort.
Study hall was such a joke. Nobody ever worked in there. I couldn’t understand why they didn’t just release us from the institution earlier and save us from enduring such a tortuous waste of time. There were only two things to do in study hall:
1. Sleep.
2. Piss off the proctor.
Bobby thought the latter would be more fun. He decided to count how many warnings we could get before Mrs. Becker would crack. After seven warnings, she was finally reaching the breaking point and it was actually quite exciting.
Mrs. Becker went back to grading tests while Bobby sniggered. He started to scribble something onto some notebook paper. He then crumpled it up and chucked it at the side of my head. I covered my mouth to keep myself from laughing and picked up the paper from off the dust ridden floor.
On the count of three, let’s turn our seats around and just scream.
Before I could even answer, let alone object to this idea, Bobby had already counted to three. He rose and turned his desk so that his back was facing Mrs. Becker. I eventually did the same. After all, I wasn’t really going to deny Bobby.
The followers just stared and giggled, waiting to see what we were going to do. I looked to Bobby in the same way. He smiled and then…
“JESUS CHRIST SAM, I AM SO TIRED, AREN’T YOU?!” he yelled.
Bobby waited for an answer but all I did was stare at him until he nudged me.
“I AM SO BORED, BOBBY! THERE’S GOT TO BE SOMETHING TO DO BESIDES WAIT FOR THIS TO END!”
“I DUNNO, BUT THIS BITCH IS GETTING ON MY NERVES!” Bobby pointed to Mrs. Becker and grinned.
Mrs. Becker rose from her seat.
“THAT IS IT! YOU TWO ARE OUT OF HERE!” Bobby’s head turned. He had a smile on that almost took up his whole face.
“OH, MRS. BECKER! GLAD YOU COULD JOIN US!”

Bobby laughed all the way to the principal’s office. I was so silent I could her my pulse thrumming behind my ear. The principal’s office wasn’t such a hoot to me as it was to Bobby. We reached the cold grey room and sat in the cold grey chairs until the cold hearted old man we called Principal Wilkinson arrived.
“Well if it isn’t Bobby Geiger and friend.” And friend? God, even the principal thought I was a satellite.
“He has a name, you know.” Bobby declared. The principal frowned at Bobby, but I grinned.
Principal Wilkinson sat at his big black leather chair and folded his big arms over his big grey desk.
“Robert Geiger. I have had you in here so many times I’ve lost count.”
“I prefer Bobby, thanks. However, Mr. Wilkinson, I would like to infer that there is a reason or…fault, I should say, as to why I’m in here all the time. And maybe the fault isn’t all mine.”
Mr. Wilkinson’s brows rose to the top of his dome of a head. Bobby was praised by the followers, and he was there for them. He didn’t give two shits about the administration.
“Bobby, your disdain of authority is what brings you in here. And I believe you should be disciplined for not obeying guidelines set by these authorities. Guidelines which protect and help sustain respect for other people.” Principal Wilkinson’s disdain seemed to outshine Bobby’s as he scorned him. His right eye began to twitch ever so slightly. His hands seemed as though they were yearning to wrap around Bobby’s throat. And his mouth, which was set in a permanent frown, dove deeper into his pale, wrinkled skin. If anything should make someone want to abide by guidelines, it certainly wasn’t Principal Wilkinson and his modes of interrogation.
When it came to the politics of Westwood High, Bobby was king. Bobby always felt as though he had to protect us from anything, including the administration.
I remember Bobby explaining his motives to me over the summer.
“They just don’t care about us.” he said, violently swinging his Xbox controller left and right. We were racing of course. And he was winning…of course. “They’re old and controlling. They’ve forgotten what it’s like to be what we are.”
“What? Adolescent?” I muttered as my pixilated car ran over a construction sign.
Bobby laughed. “No. Vulnerable and longing to be free. But what do they do? They take advantage of that.”
And then Bobby rose to his feet and cheered as his car sped across the finish line.
I looked at Bobby recalling this memory. His jaw was clenched and he was sitting at the edge of the chair; but he answered Principal Wilkinson calmly.
“How does that phrase go? Treat people the way you want to be treated?” Bobby said, mockingly.
It was clear that Principal Wilkinson had had enough as he firmly pulled out detention slips from his grey desk. I felt a shiver run down my spine.
“Well congratulations, Bobby. You have won three detentions.” Bobby rose from his seat.
“What?! Mr. W.—”
“Care to make it four?” he said sternly.
Bobby opened his mouth but said nothing. He huffed his hair from his face and sat back down.
“And you Mr. Peterson. You’ll make up your detention on Monday since you already have one today.” he mumbled, flipping through the detention schedule that sat in front of him.
Bobby squeezed the arm rests of the chair. I knew it wasn’t fair that we got separate punishments, although I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

Instincts

5. Instincts

I don’t even know why Bobby made me sit at that lunch table with his followers. They were six teenage boys that couldn’t have a conversation without cursing or throwing something at each other’s empty heads. Figures.
Bobby just sat there, between Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dumber, laughing his ass off as they rambled on about Dana Sanders’ breasts and how her leather costume would accentuate them. I grew bored of their redundant, seemingly instinctive conversations.
I stood up and went towards the vending machines. Sugar helped me survive the stupidity. The machine stood by the glass entrance of the cafeteria, and as a couple seniors bumped into me, I saw something in the halls.
Valerie was pulling onto a freshman's hair and whispering something into her ear as she cried. Any normal person would've run out and helped her. Any normal person would've told Val off. I wasn't normal.
I walked away from the glass doors. I walked away from the sugar distributor. I walked past the tables and made my way outside. And I sat in the courtyard. I smacked the brick steps with my fist, wishing it was the face of a follower.
I wasn’t surprised to find Bobby sitting next to me in only a matter of minutes. That’s what he did.
"You haven't been acting yourself lately."
I wanted to open up to him and tell him everything. But something held me back, and all I could do was wait for him to understand. That’s what he did. He healed.
"I'm just…annoyed.” He didn't even change the expression on his face. He just stared at his battered shoes.
"What's going on man?"
"Nothing. It's nothing." I hated Valerie. I hated Freddie. I hated Angie. I hated the followers. I hated it all. All of that was going on and I called it nothing? No, it was everything. I hated everything and I did nothing. I was nothing.
"I saw it all. I want to help." Bobby said with a comforting smile.
"What?" I was blatantly surprised. It was like he could read my mind.
"Listen, I saw Val beating on that freshman. I’ll tell her to keep a safe distance from Val. It’s a jungle out there. The freshmen should be careful.”
He wasn’t reading my mind.
“Right.”
"Don't worry about it man. The best thing about high school is that we're all ADD and whatever the problem, it'll blow over like that." Bobby snapped his fingers. If only my sentence at the institution was that long.
He smirked and I chuckled.
The thing about teenage boys is that they're not very good at "being there". But for some reason, Bobby was. And that’s why everybody loved him. Bobby healed...if only for a moment.
"You know what, a bunch of us are going to that pizza place around the corner after school since the mystery meat they served today was a total bust. You should come. Some nonsensical humor should take off the edge a little bit."
"What about the dance? And our costumes?"
"We can stop by your place and grab yours, then jet it to my crib."
Bobby planned it all out. He had me trapped. I hoped to God that my dad still kept Halloween gear in the basement, because my costume was far from situated.
"Sure, I guess."
If I had known what I was getting myself into, I would've stayed in my bed for the whole weekend.


After lunch was Photography, which was probably the only class that I actually thrived in. Bobby didn't take photography as his creative credit. Bobby took guitar lessons. I didn't really mind though. Bobby couldn't take pictures to save his life. He should stick to guitar.
However, even though he didn't have the skill, I wished Bobby was in that class instead of Valerie Anderson. I was really getting sick of her.
I walked into the dark room and opened the locker containing my work. It had a piece of tape stuck to it that read "Sam Peterson". I hated my name. I don't know why. Maybe it was because I was the person associated to it.
I took out my camera and picked up the project I was working on out of my portfolio. It was a collage of dozens of flowers I was going to make into one big flower. Not very unique, but it was going to look cool. I shuffled into the class room, sat in my regular seat in the corner, and played with the photographs, trying to form them all into something perfect.
I was surprised to see that Val took the seat next to me. She beamed and laid her project on the table as well. She had taken pictures of certain environments and was trying to put the photographs together and make it look like one scene. It was kind of pretty, so I smiled. I shouldn't have smiled.
"I just got back from Class Assembly," she said, grinning proudly.
Class Assembly was when our class presidents, secretaries, treasurers, and vice presidents met during Friday lunch and had a civilized talk about recent issues. I found it kind of ridiculous. It was not like we really needed a class president or a class whatever. Despite popular belief, they didn't really have any power. Not even the senior class president had anything up against the school board.
"Yeah?"
"We have the coolest decorations for the dance. I'm so excited!"
"Yeah."
She stared at me, like she was waiting for me to say more. I had no idea why this girl liked me. I was beginning to think it was beyond her wanting to be with Bobby. If she wanted Bobby, she would’ve just asked him out. After all, Bobby would never have turned down Valerie Anderson.
She probably wanted more of a dramatic reaction out of me, seeing as I hadn’t reacted with any sort of excitement to anything she’d said or done. She probably wasn’t used to that at all. I was something she had to work for. She wanted me because I didn’t want her.
She glanced at my project and gasped. Was it really that shocking?
"That is so gorgeous! You're really good!"
I stared at my creation. Somehow, I felt like it wasn't so pretty anymore. Like all the blood and sweat I put into it just disappeared and all I could see was ugly. Just because of what she said. Was it possible that she had made my project ugly?
I stared at her blankly and secretly wished she would disappear. And then my mouth moved without me knowing.
"Thanks, I think yours is better though."
She gleamed like I had just deemed her to be the love of my life or something. This was ridiculous. Nevertheless, her face soon turned into a frown when she saw who sat in front of her. Daniel Thomas: the deemed scapegoat from California. Everyone thought he was queer because of how he dressed and how he spoke. He was from Anaheim but everyone called him San Fran Dan. I know, really mature right? But Daniel Thomas’ fate wasn’t determined by geography or fashion. The one mistake he made in his social life was patting Freddie Teresio’s butt in Gym. He was supposed to stay away from Freddie’s group, and the group would stay away from him, and that's how it went. But he crossed the line of piss into private territory, and when Freddie openly hated someone, everyone openly hated them. Poor Daniel.
"San Fran Dan." scoffed Val.
Someone heard her and giggled. Daniel just ignored it and fiddled with his camera. That's when I saw his project. It was probably one of the most gorgeous things I had ever seen. He had taken pictures of different bodies of water, whether it was a lake or a puddle, and he was turning them into a pupil. My project just became uglier.
Daniel turned back to glance at the clock and then laid his eyes on me, gawking like an idiot. He turned around, looked at his project, and then looked back at me. He smiled.
"You like it?"
"Where'd you get that idea?" I whispered.
He scratched his perfectly gelled head and shrugged. "Dunno, it just popped into my head."
I wished I could do that. I wished something would pop into my head and I could make it beautiful. Val stared at me, probably wondering what the hell I was doing talking to “San Fran Dan”.
"You could do this for a living," I murmured.
Val laughed, “Yeah, right.”
Daniel gave Val a cold stare then looked at me, his eyes urging me to do something. I froze up. I couldn't even mouth an "I'm sorry". He sighed and went back to work. I hated Val for that. I hated her so much. But I did nothing. I just kept moving around the pictures on the table as Val babbled on about her costume. It felt wrong, but what could I do? I was just Sam.
When the bell rang, all I could think about was that the day was almost over, and the weekend was almost there. I left the classroom and saw Val catching up to Freddie and whispering something in his ear.
I looked for Daniel. He was at the water fountain. I looked back at Val and watched as they pointed at him and began to snicker.
They were laughing at Daniel.
"Daniel."
He lifted his head up and just glared at me. I shuffled towards him and took a deep breath.
"Don’t pay attention to what Val said." I muttered.
"Very funny,” he laughed coldly. “The whole grade knows you two are together. You know, I don’t care so much about what she said. Valerie is just a stupid, conniving bitch. But you just did nothing. What the hell was that?”
He stared at me, probably searching for a sign of sincerity. I blinked, my hand twitching a little.
“I guess you two deserve each other." He spat.
I was taken aback. Even though I knew of this information, it still didn't sound right. Me and Valerie? Together? At that point I was throwing up a little in my mouth.
"I'm just…taking her out."
I knew that there was no point to saying this. I began to wonder if hanging ones self was as quick as it seemed. Daniel started to walk away from me but I followed.
"Just watch out for…just be careful."
Daniel stopped walking.
"Why do you care?"
The bell yelled once more, signifying the beginning of Chemistry and Daniel hauled ass. I hated the God damn bell.

Zombie

4. Zombie

When I got home that afternoon, I heard my mom and dad roaring at each other again. What else was new? Ever since my father was demoted the year before, it was like the yelling and the cursing was a necessity at home. Naturally, the quarrels were about money and how my father pissed it away. At some point during each squabble, my mother would mention how hard she slaved away, how long her hours were, just to make up for his stupid mistake. Apparently, because of an accounting error he made, the branch of the automotive company he worked for lost around eighty thousand dollars. But because he’d been working there for ten years, they decided not to fire him.
This all would’ve been good news if his salary wasn’t considerably lower. It was low enough to make mom double her hours and make me baby-sit my seven year old sister instead of hiring a nanny.
Now you know what I meant when I said that family was harder to deal with.
However, before he was demoted, my dad was a reserved man, who, from just the way he stood, exuded pride and discipline. On a first impression, one would’ve presumed that he was cold or snobbish. But he’d make up for it in his endearments. His congratulatory nudge on the shoulder when I got an A on a test, or high five when I got a job freshman year at the bowling alley was more than enough to satisfy me. He used to come home every night with a pleased look on his face and peck my mom on the cheek, asking if her day wasn’t too hectic. Then he’d listen intently to my sister’s childish jokes at the dinner table or ask me if I wanted to join him on his nightly, quiet jog.
I tiptoed across the faux Persian rug that adorned the hallway and positioned myself behind the stairway. I listened to what were now my father’s nightly rounds. Shame was what clouded his face when I looked at him. He was no longer a symbol of success, but rather, a pathetic unshaven loser who slouched in front of my mother as she yelled at him. She inquired why he didn’t buy the gallon of milk that he clenched in his hands from the mini mart around the corner instead of the superstore next to his office.
“It’s two dollars cheaper”, she said, “I’ve told you time and time again that the superstore likes to rip people off. We can’t afford to double the price on all our groceries just because you’re too lazy to drive a few miles to the mini mart. If you had just gone there, like I asked, we wouldn’t have this problem. But it’s like you insist on defying me, Chris!”
He sighed and tossed the milk onto the counter. “Well, I’m sorry I’m too busy to drive all the way across town for a gallon of fucking milk, Hannah! I don’t have time for that bullshit. You’re the one with two breaks, why didn’t you get it?”
She poked her finger into his chest. “I had too much shit to do today to take any of my breaks. I asked you this morning for a reason. God damn it! I told you to go to the mini mart and you said ok!”
He slapped her finger away from him and told her he was used to just nodding and saying “ok” nowadays. Her nagging was easily ignorable, he said.
I slumped on one of the carpeted steps, bored of their incessant need to make things worse and not just comply. Why didn't they just get divorced already? I mean, I really didn't care; anything to make the yelling stop.
I grew restless and made my way up the stairs, slamming the door behind me. I sat on the floor and turned on the Xbox, hoping that stealing a virtual car and running over a pixilated pedestrian would give me some solace.
My mom came up to my room later when she realized I was home. Her face was wrinkled. Not from age, but from frustration. Her eyes looked weak and dazed. Her dirty blonde hair was tied up into a frizzy bun. I tried to ignore it all, but she was just a mess.
"There's dinner in the fridge."
"I'm not hungry."
She sighed and turned. She reached for the handle but I grabbed her arm. I wanted to yell at her, accuse her of worsening my day. Use all the typical teen angst phrases. But I couldn’t let a word out. I just held her gaze until she came back inside and closed the door behind her so as my little sister across the hall wouldn't hear. It really didn't matter if she did though. She probably already heard the screaming anyway.
"Look, hun, your father and I are just facing a rough patch."
"Yeah, whatever."
She stared at the floor. For a nurse, my mom was not very good at making me feel better.
"We'll get through it, ok?” She laid a hand on my shoulder. “It's no big deal. Don't worry about it."
And with that, she left. Her empty condolences had no effect on me, as I had grown numb of all the excuses and attempts to try and raise my spirit.
I watched my dad's Ford Taurus pull out of the garage through my bedroom window. And then, I watched my little sister, May, open my door and run into my room, and cry heavily into my shoulder.
I didn't really care for little children but May was my sister. She shared the same blood, the same long, frustrating nights at the Peterson household. If I didn’t comfort her, who would? I motioned for her to sit beside me. Her large blue eyes stared at me until they began to drown in her tears once more. I lay my hand on her sleek blonde hair, tied nicely into a braid, like always, and gave her a reassuring smile.
“It’s alright May, don’t cry.”
“Why are they so mad?” she sniffled.
“People just get angry sometimes. It’s normal.” I lied, while caressing her back.
She buried her head in my chest. "Don't worry, May."

I probably said that twenty times over the past year. And as I lay on the floor of May's bedroom that night to keep the boogie man from devouring her, I decided that I had to call Bobby.
I lifted my head from the floor and looked over May's sleeping body. I pulled her comforter closer to her chin and tucked it in between her small frame. After leaving her room my stomach growled and I realized that I had to delay that call to Bobby.
I snuck quietly beyond my mom’s room (about two months before, she decided that she and my father would have separate rooms because they couldn’t tolerate each other even when they were seemingly lifeless). I made it down the stairs and when I reached the fridge I drooled with thoughts of sandwiches and ice cream. Or an ice cream sandwich.
I stuffed my face with cold leftover pizza, and eventually picked up the phone from its base on the counter. My fingers numbly ran over some numbers on the phone as I wondered about what homework I didn't do that night that I could've done. I wondered if Mom cried herself to sleep. I wondered if Val actually liked me. I wondered if there was a boogie man. I wondered what Bobby was doing.
Suddenly, there was a crackling on the other end of the line. He picked up.
"Hey."
"Hey Sam, what's up?"
"Nothing, just bored out of my mind."
"Well you're coming over tomorrow, right? That should cure you."
"Yeah, what time do you want me over to decorate?"
"Ummm...five would be good. I figure it would take about an hour to set up and then we can get ready for the dance, pick up the girls, and head off. And then, at 10:30, the real party starts…at my place!"
"Cool."
"So what are you gonna be for the dance tomorrow?"
I paused and searched my head for something, anything that would prove I put some thought into the costume. But, of course, there was nothing. I didn’t have any idea of what I wanted to be.
“I knew you didn’t have a costume” he laughed.
“What do you think I should be?”
“I don’t know. Do something easy. Be an animal or something.”
I didn’t want to laugh manically, so I said nothing.
“Ok, no to the animal then.” he snickered.
I stared at my reflection in the stainless refrigerator. What else could I be?
“I think… I think I’ll be a zombie.”

Bobby laughed again. “A zombie. Perfect.”