Novellas

1: That Guy

     No one was sorry to hear that he died. No one except me.

     His head hung low, his shoulders were hunched, and his eyes zeroed in on the novices around him. There he sat, perched on a rickety plastic school chair in the back of the classroom.  

     He never spoke, not even to the teachers. Never spoke a word. I don't think anyone even knew his name. But he was always there, watching from his seat. With your back facing him, you'd always feel vulnerable. An eerie feeling would arise in your throat as if you knew some gimmick was stirring in his head. It was like watching a timer countdown to your death. Tick-tick-tick.

     Maybe that was why he was the ground zero of every coercer in the school. 

     "It was just self-defense," they would contend to the teachers. "He freaks me out." "I heard he was planning on blowing the school up or somethin'." The typical aegis. Of course, as routine, there would be a forced investigation, so it was the perfect alibi. Damn those harriers and their awareness of the school system. Maybe if they hadn't pursued him, he'd still be here.

     April peered around the corner, peeking interest in the hearts of young girls who wanted the perfect date, dress, and well, everything. Chatter arose among the upperclassmen. Besides prom and graduation, the kids in the school had something else on their mind. 

     "Noon. Wednesday. Be in the commons area," circulated among the student body. Nobody knew why. All they knew was to be in the commons at the said time. 

     Maybe it's a meeting about the senior prank or something, I thought.  The news buzzed in every class.

      Except one.

     I was in only one class with that kid. AP Bio. Coincidentally, that was the "buzz-free" room of the period, but there was one every period. That was when I started to suspect the reasoning behind the mysterious message. Perhaps it had something to do with the boy. But did I do anything? Nah.

     Wednesday morning rolled in. Nothing unusual had happened so far. What's the worse they could do, anyways? Just a harmless prank. That's it. 

     My phone read 11:50AM. Standing off to the side of the hallway, I shoved it back into its rightful place in my jacket pocket. It'll be fine. 

     My legs began to move down the hallway towards the commons area. Halfway there, something walloped into my shoulder, followed by loud whoops from what I presumed to be teenage boys. Sure enough, a crowd of them pushed down the hall. My backpack, being the piece of shit it is, spewed it's components onto the slick floor. 

     "Fucking jerks," I muttered, dropping on my knees to collect my books. A minute later, a pair of hands joined me. "Thanks--"

     There he was. That kid. Frozen in place, I stared at him. 

     "T-this i-is y-you-your's," he stammered uncontrollably. My body didn't move. He placed the book into my frozen hands. 

     Regaining the ability to maneuver myself, my fingers clamped onto the binding of my Calculus textbook. Without waiting for a response, he picked up another book. 

     "Um, thanks," I mustered. 

     "N-no pr-problem." Standing up, the hooded boy turned towards the commons. Shit, I should say something.

     "U-uh." He turned to face me, his long hair flopping. An eyebrow cocked. Say it. "Um." SAY IT! "Thanks for the help."

     With a quick nod of the head, he left. I should have said something. I should've said something.

     But I didn't.

     Noon arrived in a snap. With my friend Marley apace with me, I waited. It won't be bad. It won't be bad. It won't be bad.

     It was bad. Apparently those junkies that pushed me down in the hall also had a taste in literature. The events that followed were like something out of a Stephen King novel. 

     All I can say is: pig blood. 

     It painted his oily hair maroon. His hoodie was beyond a simple wash in the washing machine. Then the laughter inaugurated. Marley was thrown into a fit of giggles. Jefferson Andy, the star football player, was leaning on the school mathlete Jack Harrison's shoulder, because he was overcome by howling shrieks of joy. 

     That's when I realized how corrupted the minds of the seniors were at my school. 

     Why? 

     Why did they do this? Sure, he was quiet. Sure, he was an introvert, but didn't they think this was all a bit cruel? So what if it felt like there was a timer about to go off when you were around the guy? All you had to do was hit snooze, and there would be peace. All you had to do was let it be.

     And to think I had the chance to hit the snooze button back in the hallway. I could've abridged his humiliation. I could have.

     But I didn't.

     Friday arrived. Whispers and notes were still murmuring Wednesday's events, but besides that, everything seemed to be back in order. The only discrepancy was that the boy wasn't there. He hadn't been since he went home early on Wednesday. 

     The intercom speaker blared.  Hands shot up to cover ears. 

     "Ladies and gentlemen, I have some terrible news."

     No one was sorry to hear that he died. No one except me. 

     Suicide. He jumped off the city building in Town Square. I guess his timer ran out. 

     If only I had had the motivation to stop it.