CHAPTER 6
15 days from the present day
Things only got worse after that day. Whatever relation I had with my father evaporated in the moments in which he had shaken me on the top of that mountain cliff. Now we were two strangers living in the same house with no idea how to even interact with the other. Words were filled with an underlying tension, as if I might try another suicide, or daredevil attempt, on hearing a wrong word or if he might shake me, yell at me, hit me or worse, cry at being defeated by the situation. I wasn’t so weak that I might resort to those things he expected me to do but I knew he might do those things I expected him to do because he had done them before. It didn’t matter what we were discussing, ultimately our conversation attempts always came to a single question: Was I subconsciously trying to kill myself all these times? I had no answer to that.
That first day, the air was so thick with suppressed emotions that I felt like choking on them. Dad was pacing in the living room, receiving calls to assure others that his ‘suicidal’ son was really safe. The news had spread into the entire city like forest fire. Despite, Officer Garrows instructions, everyone showed up for a visit, as if hoping that if I heard some rebuke from them, I will be magically ‘cured’ from whatever this ‘teenager’ phase I was going on. But Dad, the one person I really wanted to talk to, never came up. I came up with the excuse that he was scared of failing as well and so he didn’t want to try to convince myself that it wasn’t something else. Kevin was grounded as well, as he too was believed to have been helping me, as per Cam’s tweet.
Thankfully, Kylie convinced a few of her friends, who were at the party, to vouch for her presence when the first tweet had gone off. There was nothing that could be done to lie about her location at the time of second tweet so, thankfully, she went along with my story. People didn’t like her, as they still disbelieved her, but at least she was sympathized with as well. Me? Every visitor hesitated before speaking every word as if it might set me off again. Mom was hysterical and only because she had urgent job the next day that she agreed not to come running. Yet. That night I barely slept as I heard, not enough muffled, sobs of my father. I didn’t believe things could go any worse. I was wrong.
The very next day, Kevin told me, sneaking in by climbing the wall outside my room that things had just gotten from bad to worse. Cam had just tweeted my real reason for that stunt. Kev reasoned that Luke must have told him the truth to make him confess that the previous tweets were fake. Instead, it gave Cam to give the people the real version. As soon as I heard that, I knew everything was ruined with no chance to salvage anything. Once I returned to reality, I realized Kev must leave. He was still hanging by the windowsill when Dad burst into the room. And for the first time in my life, I cowered from him as I saw the anger in his eyes. It was accompanied with rage and hurt. “Is it true?” Three words that had taken all his strength to come out in control. My expression spoke faster than anything else because before I could realize anything, he slapped me. Then he slapped me again. “I knew you went through our divorce too easily. Madeline didn’t want to believe me but I knew those cuts and bruises weren’t from simple accidents and so I stayed quiet. I suspected things when you were depressed while you had been grounded but this?” He kept muttering and then, he slapped me with each sentence, “And you kept lying. Risking yourself over petty things. Caring for nothing but the addiction.” I would have responded if he had let me or if I had a comforting response for his accusations. But the truth was I had known for a long time that this was wrong. By the time he regained control, I was barely standing with my head bowed. It wasn’t because of pain, to be honest, I didn’t even feel them really, but because of shock that he hit me and lost control. He was shocked as well and, showing clear expressions of guilt, he had left me alone for the rest of the day. Officer Garrows came two hours later, and while last time he had pity, this time he only had disgust. If I hadn’t heard his car pulling up, I wouldn’t even have known he came. My house-arrest was no longer effective and from what I could hear, he barely controlled himself from insulting me further. Though he did suggest that I should go into therapy. A suggestion that stuck to both me and my father. At least Kev and Luke were spared from being arrested for abetting me in suicide.
My house-arrest may have been over but I still didn’t leave the house. Mr Johnson visited that afternoon as I was making a sandwich in the kitchen and when our eyes met unexpectedly, I saw the clear disgust in his eyes. It made me feel filthy and I hated both of us for it at that moment. I knew I was no longer the ‘nice Peters kid’ anymore, I was a freak now. A bad seed. I had immediately left from his line of sight but stayed in hearing range. ‘Alone’ now, he muttered words like ‘such a disappointment’, ‘unbelievable’ and ‘bad influence’ before Dad entered the kitchen. He began the chat with a “Donald, we need to talk.”
What followed it in the chat would be something I heard a lot in the next few days in different wordings. Claiming how my behaviour was so unexpected and disappointing. How I had shamed his name. How they hoped that my Dad wouldn’t mind if they had their children away from me. How they were all taking guard now to ensure something like this didn’t happen with their children, though their haughty tone clearly expressed how improbable they thought this idea was. Even the church’s reverend, Mr Samson, Simon’s father, had said similar things.
They didn’t know how much my dad reacted to all this. To them, he was the shamed parent who was regretful of his child’s behaviour and talked to others with politeness. No one knew that every evening he went into the woods with an axe for hours or that how much he let his emotions out along with his thoughts as he attacked the trees mercilessly. But he kept quiet because ultimately, they were right. I was a bad seed. This time I didn’t hope that the next day wouldn’t be worse but instead I prayed for it. Like that of Ed’s so many years ago, mine failed as well.
Next morning, I woke up to the sound of glass crashing. I ran to the source, only to see a newspaper had been thrown through the window. I froze as I saw it, clearly seeing the hate behind it. Dad didn’t though, and ran out to yell at the twelve year old paper boy. It is only when he came back inside and saw my horrified look that he finally realized that something was wrong. Attached with the paper was a note with only one word. A word I was now beginning to think as synonymous to me: Freak.
“Go upstairs Jonah.” Dad had said quietly and I had left with the paper, too shocked to do anything else at all. It had been in the front page headlines. “Local thrill seeker attempts suicidal acts.” The entire issue was full of accounts of how shocked everyone was at my behaviour and some articles by shrinks who tried to explain what could be my motivation, slandering my entire family’s reputation in their theories. There wasn’t much news not related to me but I tried to focus on only them. And then, I spent the rest of the day staring outside the window, doing nothing else as I kept trying to forget that kid’s look.
Later that day, he told me that he had complained to the kid’s parents and hoped that things would be resolved now. That entire day I stayed in my room with the door open, ignoring Kevin’s pleas who, now free but still banned from talking with me, kept trying to get in to talk. I prayed once again that things improved. And once again it failed.
The hate message next day was longer than one word. Filled with crude words and curses, it basically demanded that I just kill myself for real this time. This time it was I who ran out and shouted the kid, “What do you think you are doing?” I was angry but even I froze when I heard his response.
“Doing the town a favour and telling a freak to do what he really wants.” His words were laced with an extra heavy dose of hatred and I couldn’t do anything as he just cycled away, screaming nasty words to me. Feeling numb, I turned and saw Dad standing in front of me. His face was drained of blood, probably horrified as well, and then he took a step towards me, his entire posture trying to protect me. Accepting the numbness, I just walked from beside him, ignoring his calls to me.
He didn’t leave the house that day to protect me. We were still unable to communicate but now he had finally realized that things weren’t easy for me and he had to step up as the role of his father, despite how hard things seemed. But those hateful words had also brought the seed of doubt that haunted us both. Did I really want to die? At least no one from news channels showed up for interviews or stuff. That would have made things even worse.
Trying to make me settle back into normal life, Dad sent me grocery shopping next day. I walked to the shops, preferring not to take the car. I don’t think Dad would have let me take it anyway. Everyone who saw me in the town froze and stared at me. I kept my face neutral, trying to ignore their gawking at the ‘freak’. I had to really struggle when I saw a mother pull her two eight year olds closer to her to protect them from the ‘freak’.
The scene when I entered the grocery shop was also similar. Absolute silence as I got all that we needed while other sent hateful and disgusted looks at me, which I faked ignoring while feeling every one of them hit me like a dagger into the heart. I greeted everyone as usual but only icy silence was my response. When it was my turn to be billed, the cashier went on an unscheduled break for half an hour. Since I was the last in line, he showed no interest in hurrying. And then when he did bill me, he added the costs of a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of liquor as well. I protested but he only replied with a “Who do you think others would believe, Andrew? A nice employee or a suicidal freak?” I refused to pay the extra costs, not willing to let him bully me, and not backing down, he called the manager and then the cops. Officer Barrons showed up and chose the cashier’s side immediately when he saw that I was involved. I didn’t only have to pay for them, I also had to pay a fine for disturbing peace and quiet. I didn’t miss the hatred in their eyes.
Upon returning home, I told Dad about the entire incident. He believed I was right but I didn’t miss the look of suspicion and confusion in his eyes and I realized that the cashier was right. Now I was not only a suicidal freak, I was also the least reliable person in the town. Still, he consoled me, hoping that my friends would understand and behave well. I left him as soon as I finished dinner after telling him to ask Kevin directly to not talk to me at school tomorrow.
As I laid down that night to sleep, I felt down. I couldn’t find anything to be happy for. Nothing to look forward to. I felt sad and empty as I laid down on my bed. Having lived through this already, I knew what was happening. My high was fading quickly this time, probably because of the recent events, and depression was trying to settle in. As I laid down on the bed, I mentally panicked, wondering how I will deal with the depression this time. I fell asleep that night with no answers.
And the next day when I woke up, yesterday actually, I knew without a doubt that the high really was almost gone. That coupled with the fear of people’s reaction to me made me want to skip school but Dad, probably feeling my nervousness or guessing it correctly, drove me to the pizza place just a block before the school. Fourteen days ago, I was glad to be here but now, I would rather volunteer for human testing of some suspicious biochemical than be here. Because from the few looks I had gotten while coming to the school, I had realized that my fears were nothing in comparison. The day was going to be far worse. And it was.
One of things Kev once told me when he had snuck in to console me was “People are scared of different because they don’t know what to do with it. They are scared of this inability. Give them time. Once they realize there isn’t anything to be scared of, everyone will go back to normal. Well, not exactly normal, but almost normal.” It was a lie but I mentally repeated it as a mantra as I walked in the school premises. I saw people loitering around before the bell rung, each busy in their own world. Luke, Kevin and Kylie were talking among themselves while Simon, Cam and Nik were forming a different group, and the hostilities between the two groups was obvious. I kept walking, hoping to go by unnoticed when I crashed into some guy. And caught everyone’s attention as the person yelled, “Watch it.”
Instant absolute silence. I controlled my expression, something I was getting skilled at nowadays, as I looked at Jacob, now realizing that I had missed him. Being the football quarterback, no ‘insignificant’ messed with him and with my new reputation, I had no doubt I was one now. I held my breath for two seconds, hoping he didn’t judge me. Because what the football team quarterback did, everyone copied. “Look who we have here.” He sneered and I knew he had judged me guilty. “Our own thrill seeker, suicidal freak. Andrew Jonah Peters.” His voice was filled with ridicule and some people around us laughed.
“Enlighten us, Jonah. What new thrill did you do in these days? Wasn’t two week your usual delay between these two ‘secret stuffs’?” He is right. I took at most two weeks before doing one. But that doesn’t mean I am not embarrassed.
I am almost completely red as I response in a low voice, “Nothing, Jacob. I have stopped.” It is a lie but I know this is my only chance to try to salvage this. Everyone waits, at least those who heard me do, for Jacob’s reaction. He takes only a moment.
“Liar. Addictions are hard to kick. You should have thought harder Andy. I can practically smell your need for it, freak.” He responds and the last word settles into my mind. I keep going through my thoughts that I don’t even realize he has been speaking to others, “…depression right? Well, let’s see how long you last until your next thrill. I bet if we push you hard enough, you would let us see one of your ‘thrills’.” A laugh that is completely insulting comes from him as he gives me a push before leaving away with an “It’s a game on, freak.”
And then I feel the disgusted looks, hear the mocking whispers and see how some try to avoid my gaze as if to avoid catching my addiction like a disease while others glare at me with completely visible hatred. High school just got a whole lot complicated.
I walk a little faster to get inside and away from all this hatred when Kev calls out to me, “Andy.” In the time it takes him to come to me, with Luke and Kylie in tow, somehow I have managed to convert all of the down feelings into anger for those three. Until then, I held no resentment against them but now, I could only think of how they had started it all this I am facing. Some of the spectators are still watching, curious for what happens with the freak now. Even though I don’t want to, I feel like they are going to get a show.
“Andy, ignore them. They are just uncomfortable. I told you. They will need time to adjust properly.” Kev consoles me as Kylie puts her hand on my shoulder in a comforting manner. Luke, thankfully, doesn’t say anything and just stands to the side watching me with an apologetic face. His hair colour is now back to its natural blonde. I take few silent deep breaths to try to control my anger and avoid a scene, for which I will undoubtedly get blamed for.
Then, as I take Kylie’s hand on my shoulder, to which Kylie gives a little hopeful smile. At least she smiles until I begin to lower her hand away from me and speak to all three of them with words laced with as much anger as I can add, “And until they do, stay away from me.”
Misreading my intentions, how I don’t know, Kev says, “Stop this, Andy. You may be trying to protect us but we are not the ones who need protection. We need to be with you, Andy, so that this doesn’t get to you. You’ll see how much we can help.” Kylie, at least, understands the impact his words have on me as she starts trying to calm him before he finishes and make him back off. But it is already too late.
“You don’t need protection. You helped me? Let me thank you for that.” Kev gives a relieved smile. One that I do not hesitate in wiping out with a punch and I definitely hear his nose break. “All this happened because of your help. So sorry if I don’t want your help anymore.” With this, I walk away from them to my locker, thankful that we avoided a fight because Kylie stepped in and stopped those two from reacting. Once I enter the building and feel those stares again, though, I feel guilt form from my action and words. But pride steps in and I refuse to back down, reasoning that they deserved i
t.
With a lot of strength, I ignore how people are now rudely bumping into me or how my locker has been decorated with a ‘Freak’ sprayed on it and continue on to my classes. Everyone reacts cold to me, even the teachers, and I know they all are following the crowd. Ms Aubrey even insults me in class for taking a moment before starting to answer her question, much to the others’ joy. As I leave her class finally, with her giving me a load of ‘special’ work to submit the next day, I hope that other classes are better.
Every class follows the trend and even Coach, who wanted me to join the basketball team two weeks ago, now coldly awards me five extra rounds of the entire school campus because I didn’t tie my shoelaces properly, ignoring some who came in fancy shoes for running. Although I didn’t want to talk to Kev, I kept repeating his consoling words to myself as I ran, hoping that they did come true.
The worst, though, came once the school was over. Dad was going to come to the same pizza hangout he had dropped me by in the morning and so I left the building quickly, not noticing who was around me. Well, I didn’t until a hand grabbed my T-shirt collar and yanked and I almost fell.
“You know what your silly addiction cost me, Peters?” Simon’s hateful voice filled my ears. “Three years I have lived in the fear of water. I could not swim, I could not bathe and hell, in the first few days, I was so scared that I even refused to drink water. You remember that, don’t you? I covered for you, thinking it was just a mistake I made by trying out something you discovered. But you hadn’t discovered it, had you? You were trying to change me. To make another copy of you. But it all back-fired. And in my foolishness, while I suffered, you walked away unscathed.” I didn’t like where this was going but I knew that I had to hear it because although I hated others for judging, I couldn’t hate Simon. I was guilty for him, after all.
“I tried to warn you. About the need of shoes.” I protest meekly as I notice Jacob and Cam looking at me with new hatred. I also feel the tightening of Simon’s grasp and so I quiet myself to stop angering him. But it is too late.
“You didn’t warn me enough!” He bellows as he pushes me to the ground and kicks me in the ribs. “You ruined my life, Peters and I hate you for it. And now, I will ruin yours.” He keeps hitting me in the ribs, and then on my hands, as I feel more legs join in.
“What is happening here?” Another voice yells and I freeze, partly in relief for myself and partly in terror for them, as I, through my filled eyes, look at Principal Mrs Johnson come into view. She looks at my attackers, Jacob, Cam and Simon, as they look at her unsurely. “Fighting is not Witchbury High. You three are suspended for a week, effective immediately.” The response is immediate and they walk away with half-hearted apologies to her. Simon, though, does give me another hateful glare before leaving and I do not doubt that he will follow through his threat.
“And you, Mr Peters.” Her voice, like the rest of adults, is also cold to me. “You have already lost your reputation because of your actions. I, and the rest of the town, would most likely appreciate it if you don’t ruin others’ as well.” With that, she walks off as I keep looking at her in shock.
Remembering that Dad would be waiting, I quickly stand up and groaning in pain, I begin to gather my stuff and start walking to where he waits, undoubtedly angry for being late and probably suspicious of whether I am off doing another stunt somewhere. I cover up as much of my injuries as I can, knowing that the day isn’t over yet. Even though the school is over, my problems aren’t.
But even though I try to ignore her words, the meaning behind her words keep coming back to me.
The school is over and so is our responsibility of yours. Take your fights outside of school premises. Whether you live or your die is no longer our concern. Just don’t ruin our reputation further.