64 Degrees And Cloudy

I Didn't Know Him

After school that day, Paul told me he was gonna walk home. I shrugged and hopped in my car, and rolled myself home. I flipped through radio stations, settling on one playing Ted Nugent, and drove until I reached the white picket fence streets of my neighborhood. Since a lot of kids stayed at the school to study, fuck around, and whatnot, I was surprised to see a student walking home. Or walking somewhere. I slowed my car to get a look. It was one of the seniors, a guy named Michael Hainsworth. Tall, blonde, some jock kinda guy that all the girls fell for.

Michael and I had never talked, he seemed like a shitbag and to him I was most likely the equivalent of that weird kid with the trench coat and food allergies. Today, he walked alone. Something a kid that popular never seemed to do. I slowed the car and drove next to him.

"Hey dude, need a ride?" I called through the window

He glanced up, his pale blue eyes staring into me.

"Uh..okay sure man," he replied quickly. I opened the door for him and Michael climbed in. "I don't normally see you walking alone dude, everything okay?" I said once I began driving again. Mike stared out the window.

"This whole suicide shit. It's gotten under my skin real bad," Michael said, "Like I ain't affected by much but dude, some kid blows his brains out and no one wants to talk about what could've happened. If anyone else is gonna do it...ya know?"

I nodded.

"Honestly man, I'm kinda thinking about it too. Like, I'll be just doing something average and suddenly it'll be in my head," I told him. Michael looked down. I could tell this had fucked him up real good.

"Did you know him..?" I asked after an uncomfortable silence.

Michael shook his head quickly, "Nah, in fact I don't think any of the seniors knew him too well. Heard he was an odd kid I suppose. I don't think anyone knows why he did it. Turn left here."

I turned down Michael's street and he got out quickly. Without looking at me he muttered thanks and walked off. I sighed. Maybe I was sick in the head for thinking about Jeremy. But it pulled at me. Like a little doll, beggin' me to play with it. I wanted to write about this. Talk about this. Read more about this. I smacked myself for thinking about it.

I didn't even know the kid. Why was I obsessed? Why was I scared and worried? I drove myself home and sat in the driveway for hours. Smoking. Thinking. I don't remember how my times I heard my mom yelling at me to come inside, or how many times I heard the phone ring. It must've been Paul. Or maybe it wasn't.

I didn't fucking know Jeremy, and somehow now his dead body seemed to be my mind's best friend and worst enemy.