by all but one

one

ethan. january 28, 2016:

it'd been a week. a mere week and, as it seemed, everyone in the school had completely forgotten the events of january 21st. there hadn't been daily announcements honoring jonas' death, as there was for the child who'd died of illness the previous year. there never was for suicides. at this nightmare school, he, as well as every other kid who'd killed themselves, was seen as a coward. sure, the teachers would pretend to be in lament. they'd shed a fake tear, say meaningless crap about how ephemeral his life was, and wear black, but they wouldn't do anything in jonas' memory, other than my science teacher, ms. l. she was the only sensitive and understanding teacher at the school. we all knew the school only cared about its own appearance. they did the bare minimum. a singular announcement the day after. a note in the school newspaper having his name. they wouldn't have prevention programs that would actually work. they wouldn't do anything in his honor. they wouldn't get actual therapists to come to the school rather than half-assed nominal counselors who just told you that your problems weren't that bad and that'd it'd "all get better soon."

i knew for a fact that jonas had seen a counselor. he'd gone twice this- well, last- month alone, maybe more than that. from what i heard from him, he had even made nuances to suicide and told her that he was performing self-harm. mrs. dornelles just told him, and i quote from what he told me, "stop cutting." that's it. no reasons to stop, no new coping mechanisms, just "stop." look at that and then tell me again that the staff at neverjade, our specious school, gave a crap about him, about any of us. meanwhile, his friends, micah, ellie, and i, did all we could to stop him from hurting himself. he would tell us he had stopped, and, for a time, we were gullible enough to believe it. by the time we realized that he was sparing us from his own pain, it was too late. i couldn't believe it. i couldn't believe it. it couldn't have happened. i kept telling myself that until-

i woke from my half-trance being glowered at by none other than mr. escor, my history teacher. i noticed the dampness of my eyes and the tears leaking out too late. he saw and scoffed.

quickly, i sat up and tried to play it off as just resting my eyes. it would be better for the class to think i'd been sleeping than to know that i'd been... crying. i was so lost in thought and anger that i hadn't even noticed the pang in my heart and a headache starting.

"ethan, would you like to explain your blight to my class?"

"uh, no, no sir, i-" i choked on my words, hesitant to apologize. "i'm sorry." if i were any braver, any more rebellious, i would stand my ground and tell him that my friend died last week and i couldn't give a damn about his stupid history class. but... then it'd look like i was trying to cause sedition, which, i would have, if i weren't so stupid and socially anxious. so, i abdicated my anger and finished my apology. i guess you could say i'm irascible. for my shy appearance, i think if anyone found out about how i actually feel, they'd be very surprised. well, no. not everyone. jonas knew. jonas guessed himself. i didn't even need to tell him. that's how close we are. were.

"then stop being an ignominy and listen to this video."

"of... of course."