Now and for the Last Time

12 장

He would not. Stop. Touching. Everything.

It had started with the vents, which he spent the first 5 minutes of the drive - I was watching the dashboard clock - turning this and that to achieve what he referred to as "maximum cooling velocity." Then he moved on to his side of the thermostat dial, turning it to basically Arctic, followed by loosening and tightening his seat belt. Now it was the radio.

"Stop," I said, as he changed the station yet again. When he'd asked if he could, I'd said yes, thinking he'd do it once or twice. This was ur fourth round of my presets, and my headache was increasing with each push of a button. "Just leave it on one thing, would you please?"

"I can't listen to bad music," he explained. "It's like a thing with me."

"Fine." I hit the AM/FM button. "Talk radio it is."

I realized my mistake almost instantly. As it was the top of the hour, the national news was on.

"Authorities have released the names of the five victims of yesterday's shooting in Sangya." The reporter's voice, seemingly like everyone on public radio, was level and calm. "All were students at Sangya High School, as was the gun-man, a seventeen year-old male who was a junior. Classmates and teachers have stated that he was quiet, but showed no previous signs of violence."

I took in a breath, focusing on my hands on the wheel. Sehun was messing with his seat belt again.

"Fifteen year-old Sunny Lee was a neighbor of the shooter," the voice continued. Then that of a girl, speaking quickly, breathless. "He wasn't a bad kid, but he did pick on some. I never thought he'd do something like this, though. Never in a million years." The reporter again. "The shooter's name has not yet been released to the media. In China, government officials -"

I hit the button again, bringing us back to the music. Sehun looked over. "Now who's messing with the radio?"

I didn't answer, instead just focusing on breathing and driving. He reached out to turn the A/C down another notch. "Crazy about the shooting, huh? I watched some of coverage with Rose's mom this morning, when she made us pancakes. Heavy stuff."

A truck switched lanes in front of me, and I hit the brakes, giving it space. "Who's Rose?"

"Oh, just this girl from last night. I crashed on her couch." He tugged at his belt again. "They were saying that the kid had a fixation on other school shootings."

I realized I was gripping the steering wheel. Nine and three, I though, moving my hands on the wheel.

"Like, he'd done a report on that one in Haikou. Stood up in front of a current events class and talked all about it. How creepy is that?"

I swallowed, suddenly aware of the prickly feeling space between my ears. The truck switched back to the other lane. "I can't -"

"Seriously. Me neither. I mean, I didn't love high school either, but come on. No need to take it out on everyone else." A pause. "Hey, are you okay?"

I wasn't. But I was also behind the wheel, in heavy traffic, and knew to acknowledge this would be the worst thing I could do. "Why . . ." I began, then heard a crack in my voice. I swallowed. "Why didn't you like high school?"

He pushed the strand aside. "Well, it was really countless reasons. First, I don't do well in standardized learning environments. Also, I have problems with conventional forms of authority and a compromised attention span, and can be super annoying." As if to underline this, he changed the radio station again. "Those are direct quotes, by the way."

"From counselors?"

"And teachers. Psychiatrists. Peer evaluation."

"You peers said you were annoying, I assume?"