Your Friend, Jordan

Eight

  I noticed the cop car in the driveway of our house the moment I turned onto our street, after the long practice we had after school. I didn't know what to expect going into my house, I felt like I was being followed almost. It's bad enough they wanted to talk to me in school with my friends. But here, at my home, with my parents around? Why do they keep asking me all these questions? Are they asking the other guys as many questions as me? Are they going to show up at their houses as well? Or just mine?

I was happy enough to get out of that practice, it felt much longer than two hours. I wanted nothing more than to go to my room and lie down for a bit, have no one bother me. I was a bit unsettled I guess you could say after the practice, especially after the thing Neil had said to me in the locker room before hand.

"For all I care, he could end up dead or.....I don't know.....get hit by a train or something. This team is better off without him, and so am I."

  I was stunned when he said that, I didn't know how to react or what to say. How do you respond to that? I just kept quiet, got changed in a quick manner, and beat it out of there and towards the ice with the rest of the team. I remained unsettled for the entire practice, and every time I peered over at Neil. I don't know, I mean I guess I couldn't blame the guy for not wanting Jordan to come back, or wanting him gone for good. The kid got it the worst from him, every time Jordan saw Neil in school he said something, some snarky comment, and other times he had pushed him around in the halls. One time even, he gave him a few hard punches, knocking him out during a practice. Jordan, of course had to sit out for the rest of the time, on a penalty the coaches saw it, and Neil had taken a five minute break. It seemed Jordan just couldn't help himself when he saw Neil, it was like he couldn't not say something or do something. Did he really hate the kid that much? Or was it something else? How could he dislike him like that? He didn't do anything to him. Right?

  If I'm being honest, I wasn't sure if I agreed with Neil or not. Did I even want Jordan to come back? Or would everything just be better off if he stayed gone? Would I be better off if he disappeared from my life? Maybe it would become less complicated, and maybe I wouldn't be in so much pain when I saw him, or when he was around. But would the pain and the anger just disappear with him? Or would it stick around. Would it ever go away? Will it ever get better? Will there be a day when I don't feel these things anymore?

I suddenly didn't want to return home anymore. I contemplated whether or not I should just ditch, do a U-turn and get the hell away from my house and the cop car as I continued to drive slowly down our front street. But I was running out of time, if I wanted to leave I had to make a decision quickly. Letting my mind wander off, I tried to come up with other answers, trying to decide what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go. Should I just continue to drive around and hope they just leave? But aren't they expecting me? Don't they know when my practices end? Won't my parents be worried if I don't show up? I could always just say I went to hang out with my friends and forgot to tell them. That could work.

Although just as I was about to speed down the front street, hoping no one would notice, I saw the sheer curtains in front of the window move slightly, and my dad and I made direct eye contact immediately. Shit. I knew I was screwed now. There was no way of getting out of this. If I did speed off, they would only get angry at me, and that would only look suspicious on my part with the police. But what was there to look suspicious of? I didn't do anything.

But didn't you? Didn't you, the night of the game? After the game, but before the party? Aren't you guilty?

I swallowed hard as I pulled up to the driveway, parking beside the cop car, and slowly turned the car off. I took my time getting out, I didn't want to go in the house at all. Those nerves rising up again, I was anxious as to what the cops wanted to talk about this time. They saw me freak out this morning. After they asked me all those questions about Jordan. And that letter. The letters they found in his room. Multiple ones to me. How do I explain those?