CALVIN

eleven: the one that got away

"I can't fucking believe it."

"I don't understand why it's so hard for you to believe these simple things," said Patrick. "You believe that flies are going to take over the world."

"Their short life spans and powerful reproductive systems gi- okay, you know what, I'm not getting into this now."

"Everyone knew Roman was going to win the election. People subconsciously vote for shitty men."

"Men? Patrick, Roman is a child. He's a little boy who mistakes the lip of a beer bottle for his mother's milk-bearing nipple."

"I thought you were supposed to have a hand in his demise. You know, write some awful things about him in the newspaper. Get people to turn against him. Compared to the articles you wrote about Talea and Aylin, you were almost encouraging people to vote for Roman."

"I thought that if I went easy on Talea and Aylin people would think I'm being sexist."

"Well you went hard on them and people still think you're being sexist, so why not just do things out of personal gain?"

"I can't go back in time. He's our school speaker."

"Unfortunately." Patrick opened his laptop. "How is it, being in newspaper with Calvin?"

"It's amazing, actually," I said. "We just suck each other off the whole time."

Suddenly the door to our room opened and Schneider poked his head in. "Do you guys have a thing?" he asked. 

"I feel like there's an opportunity here for you to be a little more specific." I said. 

"A thing. A... a... flashlight."

"Why the fuck do you need a flashlight?"

"Jesus went missing."

"Jesus went...?" I paused to think. "Have you checked his bed?"

"Of course I checked his bed, Elias."

"I have a flashlight," Patrick said, opening his desk drawer and taking it out. Schneider came in to retrieve it.

"How could Jesus have gone missing?" I asked, as Schneider walked out. "He never leaves his bedroom."

Schneider walked back in. "Are you guys going to help me find him or not?"

"It's past wing time," Patrick argued. "Can't we tell Mr Hayes?"

"That's pretty much snitching on our friend."

Patrick and I shared a look. He stood up first, and then I smushed my teddy into my bed and got to my feet, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm telling you," I said, walking out, "he's in his bed. Playing Fortnight."

Jesus wasn't in his bed playing Fortnight. In fact, he wasn't even on campus. The three of us had walked all over in the dark without one sign of him. 

"Did you text everyone about it?" Patrick whispered into Schneider's shoulder, as we tiptoed through the grass fields behind the school.  "He could just be in someone else's house. Talea's, or something."

"Do you not read the year 1 group chat?" Schneider responded, breathing heavily.

"Nah, he didn't," I said. "There's like eighty-nine unread messages on his phone."

Patrick looked at me and snatched his phone out of my hand. "What did I say about taking my fucking phone?"

"Look, guys, I can't imagine him going off-campus. Not on a Thursday night. I mean, his favourite football team is playing tonight."