HEROES

This story contains adult material. If this is illegal where you reside or if you are underage where you reside, begone.

HEROES

by Frank Downey

Part Four
--EIGHTEEN--

We were both crying. "Oh, God, Oh, God," I kept wailing.

Sam. Not sweet, scared Sam. I just couldn’t believe it.

I thought he was getting better. I thought he was happier. I thought Zoe....oh SHIT!!

"ZOE!" I said to Shannon. "Does Zoe know?"

"I don’t know. I don’t see her until tomorrow. I just found out. I knew you were coming in but I was going to call the rest of the group."

"You need to call Zoe now, before she finds out some other way. And you need to get her in here. Don’t tell her over the phone--or we’re going to lose her as well." Shannon just looked at me. "Shannon, Zoe and Sam went out Saturday. On a date. Zoe even gave him his first kiss. She called me Sunday and told me it was wonderful. She really liked him."

"Oh, God," Shannon said, and quickly reached for the phone. She got Zoe on the phone, and then her mother. They were on their way.

"Ginny, can you stay for this? I think Zoe might need a friend."

"OK," I said, dreading it but not willing to duck out. "This is just--I’m in shock."

"I know you are. Ginny, the statistics aren’t pretty."

"What do you mean?"

"Between forty and fifty percent of kids who try suicide will try it again. That’s the grim reality," Shannon said. "When I sat down with the five of you in group, I knew the odds are high that two of you will try again. And the odds of succeeding are far higher for boys. Did you know that ten times as many girls attempt suicide as boys? It’s true--but boys are have twice the fatalities." She sighed. "And Sam, unfortuately, is a good example of why. Boys are far far more likely to use a gun."

"That must be depressing as hell, for you I mean."

"Therapy helps the odds," she said. "But Sam is not the first patient I’ve lost, nor will he be the last. That doesn’t make it any easier, mind you. It’s like any doctor--you don’t want to lose any patients. But you do."

Just then, Zoe walked in. "Hey, Shannon. Hi, Ginny. What’s up?"

"Sit down," Shannon said. Zoe did, planting herself next to me, in the second chair facing Shannon’s desk. "Zoe, there’s no easy way to say this," Shannon said gently. "Sam killed himself this morning."

I have never seen a person’s face look the way Zoe’s did at that moment--and I hope I never ever have to see it again. Heartbreaking doesn’t even start to cover it. I can’t describe it. It was horrific.

She just crumpled. Her mouth was moving but no sound was coming out. Her eyes looked like they’d seen a ghost. It was just---God. God damn.

Shannon and I got her out of the chair and over to the couch. We practically had to carry her. When we got over there I just pulled her into my arms and hung on for dear life. That’s when the wails came--deep, pitiful wails. I could barely stand it. Shannon was bawling her eyes out and making sure Zoe didn’t see. It didn’t matter--Zoe wasn’t in the room, really, not mentally. She was off in hell somewhere.

God damn it. A fifteen-year-old kid shouldn’t have to go through this. None of us should--Sam most of all.

I guess her mother heard the wails and peeked her head in the door. The poor lady, seeing Zoe completely fall apart like that. Shannon pulled her back out into the hall, apparently explaining what had happened.

Her Mom came back in, crying as well. Zoe had told me her mom had been a real trouper, putting up with Zoe’s scattered mental state and doing her best to get Zoe the help she needed. The poor woman--just when Zoe’d gotten the right meds and was making progress, now this.

Zoe calmed down a bit after a while. She sat on the couch, me on one side of her, her mother on the other, holding her hands. "I thought I helped him. I thought it helped," she half-whispered.

"The date?" Shannon asked.

"No. Well, I know that helped. We both had a good time. I talked to him Sunday and he was happy. We both were. We were planning the next date." She sniffled. "I’m talking about yesterday, when he called me. I thought I helped."

"What happened yesterday?" Shannon asked.

"He called me last night. He went into school yesterday morning. He told me it was the best mood he’d been in going to school in forever." Her voice got laced with bitterness. "Evidently, some asshole didn’t like seeing Sam happy, because he got the shit kicked out of him. Again."

"Oh, shit," I hissed.

"Black eye, bloody nose, the whole bit. He didn’t even go to the nurse--just went home. Hid the damage from his parents. But he called me."

Zoe took a breath. "I told him. I told him to report these assholes, but he was scared to. But I told him it was OK. I told him I’d help him." Her voice dropped again, and the tears started back up. "I told him they didn’t know what they were missing. I told him how cool he was. I told him how much I liked him."

"I thought he was OK. Oh, God, I thought he was OK......" The wailing started up again.

Shannon looked at her, then came over to me and asked me to wait out in the waiting area for a bit. I did so, feeling lost and upset.

And pissed. Those bastards. They ruined a smart, sensitive, sweet kid. They did it. The ones that tormented him. Bastards.

After a while, Zoe and her mom came back out. Zoe could barely walk. Shannon called me back in.

"I’m having Zoe admitted to the hospital. For observation, at the very least," she told me.

"Not a bad idea," I agreed.

"Unfortunately, this isn’t atypical," Shannon said. "What happened to Sam. The problem with happy moments when you’re recovering from a suicide attempt is that it magnifies the low moments so much more."

"In other words, you have further to fall," I said.

"Exactly. I didn’t say that to Zoe, because if I did she’d start blaming herself. And she’s not to blame."

"I know. Damn. I’m worried about Zoe."

"Yes. But how are you?"

"Depressed. Sad. Very pissed off."

"At the people tormenting him," she said.

"Yes."

"That’s not a bad thing, Ginny, if you use it the right way."

"Right now it feels like it’s going to eat me up inside," I admitted.

"Don’t do anything destructive, Ginny. Should I admit you as well?"

"No," I said. I managed to get off a bit of a sad grin. "I think I’m just going to go find my boyfriend and get a cuddle."

"That’s a damn good idea," she said.

That’s what I did. I called Mom from my cell phone. She was upset of course, and told me she’d be heading right home to meet me there. "Well, actually, Mom, I think I’m going to go find Craig first," I said sheepishly.

"Of course you are," she laughed. "I’ll be here anyway."

"Thanks, Mom."

I got to Craig’s house. His mother answered the door.

"Hello, Ginny. You look awful!" Then she gulped. "I’m sorry, that sounded horrible. You look upset, though."

"It’s been a bad day. Is Craig here?"

"Yes, he is. Come on in and I’ll go get him."

He came downstairs. "Ginny! I didn’t expect to see you this afternoon." Then he saw my face. "Honey, what’s wrong?"

"Come sit with me," I said. He sat next to me on the couch, and immediately wrapped his arm around me. His mother was there, as was his sister. "I don’t know if Laurie needs to hear this," I said.

"It’s OK. I’ll listen. Even if it’s bad. You look awful," she said. In other words, in her awkward 13-year-old way, she was offering to help--which touched me like you wouldn’t believe.

"OK. It’s about Sam. He’s a kid in my group therapy. He was the one that went to the same school as Craig and I, though he was a sophomore." I took a breath. "This morning he found a gun and blew his brains out."

"Oh, God," Mrs. Tolland gasped. Laurie turned as white as a sheet. Dear sweet Craig just pulled me closer into him. God, I needed that.

"The worst part is it never should have happened," I said. I told them the whole story, about Zoe, the date, the beating, all of it.

"My God," Mrs. Tolland said. "It still amazes me that kids can be that cruel."

"They can be, believe me," I said.

"How’s Zoe?" Craig asked.

"A complete mess," I said. "Shannon had her admitted to the hospital for observation. At least there she’ll be watched over."

"Yeah," Craig said sadly. "I’ll make sure I check in on her when I do my food rounds tomorrow."

"That’d make me feel better," I admitted. "Zoe Watchell is her name. Just say you’re Ginny’s Craig, I talk about you enough, she’ll know."

"That must have really scared you," Laurie said. I just looked at her. "I mean, Sam, he had a...what do you call it? I mean if someone goes backwards?"

"A relapse?" I surmised.

"Yeah. He had a relapse. That must’ve really scared you."

Damn, this kid was smart! And sympathetic, too. Little eighth grader--unbelievable. "It did a little," I told Laurie. "But I’m in a better place than Sam was and I know it."

"That’s good," she said, standing up out of her chair. "My brother really loves you, you know." And if her saying that wasn’t enough of a shock, she came over to the couch and hugged me. "I’m sorry about your friend," she said--and then walked out of the room.

Everybody watched her go. Then I pointed in the direction she’d gone and said, "That is one of the coolest people in the universe." Craig turned and looked at me. "You are really lucky to have a little sister that awesome. I hope you tell her that."

He blinked, and said, "Not enough. Not nearly enough." And then he scrambled off the couch and headed in the same direction Laurie had.

"Right, there’s my good deed for the day," I told Mrs. Tolland--I even managed a bit of a grin with it.

"Yes it was," she agreed. "They actually get along very well for siblings, but they can use a push now and again."

After Craig came back in the room, he offered to go to my house with me. We drove over in my car. "I went and told Laurie how cool she was, and that that was from you and me, and she almost started blubbering."

"Good," I said. "That kid should think about becoming a shrink when she grows up, you know."

"Hm. You might be right about that."

"She’s got good insight. I just hope she wasn’t too shaken up."

"She’s a pretty cool cucumber about stuff. She’s worried about you, though, I know that much."

"All these people worried about me. I’m really not used to it."

"Is that good or bad?"

"It’s good," I said. "I guess I like being worried over. At least at this point in my life."

"I try not to be overbearing," he said.

"You’re not at all," I assured him.

I guess that little conversation stuck with me, though. I don’t know if I got suspicious, but it did seem like a whole lot of people were worried about me, and awfully suddenly.

Like Mom, waiting there for me when I got home. I even got another big hug. After I’d told her the whole story, and Craig got up to use the facilities, I said something.

"I’m glad you’re here, Mom. Surprised, but glad." She laughed a little. "You’ve been surprising me for a couple months now. Don’t think I’m looking a gift horse in the mouth, mind you, but it’s like living with a different person. Sometimes I don’t know how to take it."

"Well, it’s what I told you. You scared the shit out of me." She took a breath. "Call it a wake up call. Call it a slap in the face. Whatever--that’s what it was. You got a drastic turnaround because I didn’t feel I had a choice. I didn’t tell you this but after that first meeting in the hospital with Shannon--well, I came here. After court, and my court appearance was thankfully brief. I came here. And I cried for an hour straight."

"Oh, Mom," I said.

"Something in my head said, ‘Change or lose your daughter. It’s that simple.’ I chose not to lose my daughter."

"It’s not all you, though. It was never all you. I mean, Sam never talked about having any problems with his parents--and he did it."

"I know it wasn’t all me, Ginny, but I also know I wasn’t helping. Are you OK?"

"As OK as I’m gonna get, today, anyhow," I said with a wan smile. "Dammit, I’m going to miss him," I said. "I liked him."

"In a lot of ways, he was kind of a kindred spirit, wasn’t he?"

"Yeah."

--NINETEEN--

Craig stayed with me for a good while that night. I really appreciated it.

Shannon called. The wake was Thursday, the funeral Friday. The wake would be right after group Thursday, so she proposed we all go together after group. I agreed. Of course, ‘all’ was just three of us now, plus Shannon. Zoe would probably still be in the hospital. And Sam was gone.

I slept, although fitfully. Got up the next morning and trudged to school.

And found myself in the middle of a zoo.

The media was there. The freakin’ media! Of course, I should’ve expected it. Why on earth would a kid in a wealthy town like ours attending a ‘great’ school like ours ever want to kill himself? Just that there made it a ‘story’. Fucking vultures.

What was worse was all the kids wailing and crying. Jesus Christ, did they want to get on fucking TV that badly? It made me sick. And, of course, the vultures with the microphones ate it up with a spoon. The Six O’Clock News would be filled with all kinds of reactions from Sam’s distraught ‘friends’. Of course, that ignores the little fact that Sam had no friends. The closest thing he had to a friend in this school was me. And the one time I had a microphone thrust in my face, I threatened to shove it up the guy’s ass.

When I got in the school building, it got worse.

Instead of class, they had us all attend an assembly. To ‘discuss’ the tragedy. Counselors were available to help any distraught ‘friends’ of Sam, of course.

It all pissed me off like you wouldn’t believe.

When we got into the auditorium and were getting seated, I found Eggy. "Mr. Egermont," I called him deliberately, "I’d like to get up and speak at this thing."

"Did you know Sam?"

"Yes, I did. We were in group therapy together."

"Is that what you want to talk about?"

"Sort of."

"What does sort of mean?"

I took a breath and told him the truth. "Mr. Egermont, I think there are some people in this room that need to hear a few hard truths."

He thought about it, and said, "No singling out."

"In a lot of cases, I wouldn’t even know who to single out--not by name, anyhow."

He looked at me. "How are you, by the way?"

"OK. All things considered." I took a breath. "Sam had a date this weekend, his very first, with another girl that’s in our group. And she is in the hospital, under observation. I was there when she was told--I think ‘nervous breakdown’ would be accurate."

"Oh, God," he hissed. "OK, Ginny, say what you have to say."

"Thank you."

He talked, and they had one of the shrinks talk, and there was all kind of sniffling and whimpering from Sam’s poor heartbroken classmates. It disgusted me.

Craig sat next to me. I told him what I was going to do. Told Angela, too, who was on the other side. Craig hugged me and Angela squeezed my hand.

Finally, Eggy called me up there.

"My name is Virginia Klusse," I started. "I’m a junior here. And I wanted to talk to you about Sam, because, two months ago, I attempted to do what Sam did yesterday." And I showed my wrists.

"When you try to kill yourself, naturally they put you in therapy. In my case, I’m in one-one therapy and a group session, with other suicide survivors. That’s where I met Sam, in group. He’d tried suicide before as well, a few weeks before I did.

"So, I got to know Sam pretty well. He was very shy, even in group, but I got a good idea of him.

"There are many reasons for attempting suicide as there are people who try it. There are different people in my group and we all had different reasons. I’ve heard stories that would curl your hair. Though I surely can relate to the impulse, the reasons were different.

"That wasn’t quite true with Sam.

"We had quite a bit in common. We both went to school here. Anyone in the junior class knows I’m the quote class-brain unquote--Sam was the same for the sophomore class. We both had trouble making friends.

"We weren’t exactly alike of course--not even here. Sam got beat up, which I never did." I think I heard Eggy give a little gasp at that. Sometimes principals and the like are completely clueless.

I went on. "And Sam was a lot shyer than I’ll ever be. But there were similarities. And though there were different reasons we both wanted to kill ourselves, there were some that were the same.

"And the biggest one that was the same for both of us? Well, that was you," I said, and pointed my finger straight out and swung it across the room. "You people in this room, in this school. Students and teachers."

Well, I surely had their attention. I don’t think anyone expected this, not after all the happy sympathetic talk from the shrinks. I saw a few smirks directed up on stage--but mostly it was rapt attention. I softened the blow a wee bit. "Not all of you, of course. Not all of you. But enough. A significant number of people in this room had a big part in making my life so unbearable I wanted to end it. And in making Sam succeed at ending his.

"I don’t know. Do some of you people think I’m deaf? Do you think I didn’t hear the comment about it being too bad I was found in time? Or other similar comments? Or do you think because I’m smart I don’t have feelings? Nothing could be further from the truth, let me assure you."

I took a breath. The auditorium was utterly still.

"I want to tell you about Sam. Sam was smart, yes, and very very shy. But he was also sweet and kind.

"Sam was scared. Of just about everything. There’s a girl in my group named Zoe. Zoe’s brash and bold and says what she thinks--and at first, Sam was scared of Zoe, too.

"But Zoe convinced him not to be scared. And this past Saturday, they had their first date. It was, I understand, Sam’s first ever. Afterwards, on Sunday, Zoe called me. She was flying on air. She’d had a great time and evidently Sam felt the same way.

"And then, from what Zoe told me later, Sam came into this fucking school on Monday and one of you bastards beat the crap out of him. Again." That time I know I heard a gasp from Eggy--and he wasn’t alone.

"Realize what I just told you. He was happy. Then he got beat up. Less than twenty-four hours later, he was dead.

"I hope whoever beat him up on Monday can live with themselves.

"It wasn’t the first time. They were endless. What you people have to get through your heads is this shit adds up. All the slights. All the comments. All the being singled out in class by teachers that have nothing better to do--which creates more slights and comments. All the days you eat by yourself. All the parties you don’t get invited to. In Sam’s case, all the beatings. It’s cumulative.

"And for what? Why is my friend dead? Why is my other friend Zoe in the hospital on suicide watch? Why?

"Are you all really that jealous? Come on. It really makes a difference to you if I ace a test, or if Sam did? Enough to torment the shit out of us?

"I’m smart, very smart. So fucking what? I was born this way. Why is it the smart kids? Look around you. Find the guy in your class that can throw a football 40 feet on a line--do you give him shit? The girl who can hit a contested jump shot automatic from 18 feet--do you give her shit?

"One of the people who’s befriended me since my suicide attempt--and I’m forever grateful to her for it--is Johanna Sullivan. All the juniors know who Johanna is--she’s the class artist. She’s very good. She blows away all of you in art class the way I do in physics. Me, too-she’s practically a genius with a drawing pencil where I can barely manage a straight line. Does anyone give Johanna shit? No way. Not only does everyone ooh and aah over her drawing and painting, she’s just in general one of the best-liked kids in this school. And she should be. She’s an excellent person.

"But, you know what? So am I. And very few of you have ever even bothered to try to figure that out, because you’re too hung up on the fact that I got a higher grade than you on some test or other.

"And because brains are somehow treated with a stigma around here--when no other talent is--another excellent person that I was happy to know put a bullet through his yesterday morning.

"So, you need to think about this. You need to think about what you’re doing to other people. You might think it’s harmless. You’re going to tell me ‘but I didn’t want for him to kill himself or anything!’ But he did. And I tried.

"One of the counselors brought in talked before I did, and she talked about all of us ‘coming together’. You know what? I’m not sure I want to do that. I’m not sure at all I want to ‘come together’ with a bunch of people who tormented a poor kid into digging his own grave.

"Because you have to understand. It’s not just me. It’s not just Sam. And who it is besides me and Sam...you don’t know. You might never know. Until someone else does it.

"I have another friend, I won’t mention who. This friend has been on edge. Hasn’t tried it yet, but has had thoughts. It seems like they are doing better. We got this person some help. This person is adapting better, making friends, in therapy--even has a significant other.

"But there’s still a danger zone. And I do not want to do this again."

That’s where the tears started, and I couldn’t stop them.

"I don’t want to sit in another one of these fucking assemblies and discuss another dead friend, dead by his or her own hand! I can’t!" I got out between sobs.

"You think about it. You think about what you’re doing to your classmates."

That was it. That was all I had in me. The tears were coming non-stop. I put down the microphone and got the hell out of there. Off the stage, out the side door, into a deserted corridor where I slumped up against a row of lockers, and just cried and cried.

I heard the auditorium door slam, but I didn’t look up. However, before I knew it, Craig was sitting beside me, holding me while I cried.

The rest of them soon followed--Johanna, Alex, Cap, Angela. They were all hugging and touching me. "That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen," Johanna said.

"Hope you don’t mind me bringing you up," I sniffled at her.

"Why would I? You said I was a great artist and an excellent person. Very accurate." She was trying to get me to smile. She succeeded--at least a little.

After we’d huddled there for a while, the door opened again. It was Eggy.

"Ginny," he said. "I have to tell you, I don’t know if you just made things easier or worse for yourself."

"I know," I said. "At least I got it all off my chest."

"Do you have any idea who beat Sam up Monday?"

"No. I don’t even think Zoe knows. She doesn’t go to school here so it would just be a name to her anyway."

"OK," he said. "You guys better get to class."

--TWENTY--

So, we headed to class. My class right now was Physics. Unfortunately, none of my friends were in that class. I would’ve liked to have one of them there. Because I was getting stares as the halls filled up, and I wasn’t sure what kind of stares they were.

It happened all morning--the stares, I mean. Though nobody said anything to me, positive or negative.

I got to lunch with the usual crowd--and then something happened that surprised the hell out of me.

We were eating, and all of a sudden there was a guy standing there. I knew who he was--his name was Joe Adair. I could’ve been talking about him when talking about all the school heroes who had something other than brains--if I had talked about hockey. Joe was our star hockey player. That’s a big deal in Michigan. Joe was a BMOC, no doubt about it. So, I knew who he was, but don’t remember ever having a conversation with him, good or bad.

He nodded and said hi to Craig, then turned to me. "Hey, Ginny, I was wondering if I could talk to you."

"Sure, Joe," I shrugged. Craig was there to back me up if Joe was going to be a jerk, so I didn’t mind. I was curious as to what he wanted. And he didn’t seem like he was going to be a jerk anyhow.

He pulled up a chair, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "Look," he said, "after what you said in assembly, I have absolutely no idea how you’re going to react to this. But I have nowhere else to turn. I’m desparate. When you got up there talking about being the class brain, it reminded me. But if what I’m going to ask you pisses you off, just tell me and I’ll go away."

"OK," I said, really curious as to where he was going with all this.

"You’re a math whiz," he said--but not in scorn.

"Pretty much," I grinned.

"I know you took trigonometry last year, but I’m guessing you still remember all of it." I nodded. "This is the deal. I’m in trig this year, and I am not getting it. I’m not a dumb jock, but math ain’t my thing, and trig is really throwing me. We have another exam on Friday--and if I flunk another one, it’s going to really put my grade in a hole. Possibly bad enough to get suspended from the hockey team.

"So, I was wondering, if you would, you know, possibly think about helping me out?"

I was flabbergasted.

This might be hard to believe, but I’d never been asked. Never. You’d think some people would’ve at least come up with the idea to use the class brain for help--but nobody ever had.

Which might explain my reaction. Yeah, I was sick of having Class Brain stuck to my forehead--but being asked for help? That wasn’t being scorned. That was different. Yeah, there was a bit of using involved--I understood that--but he asked nicely, and the whole thing was just different.

I liked it. A lot.

That must’ve not shown on my face right away, though--since I was so surprised--because Joe started backing the chair away, saying, "Damn. I’m sorry, Ginny, I really didn’t mean to piss you off."

"You didn’t," I laughed. "You just surprised me. I’d be glad to help you out."

"You would? That’s great!"

"Sure. But a test on Friday, huh? Two days from now? You don’t give a girl much time."

"I know," he laughed. "I didn’t know what the hell to do. But when you were speaking at assembly, I remembered how good you were at math. So I had to take a shot."

"Well, we’ll do what we can. You free after school?"

"Yeah. We practiced early this morning, before school." He smirked. "You know, take the ice time whenever we can get it. And we don’t have a game until Saturday."

"Good." I tore out a piece of notepaper from my notebook, and wrote my address on it. "Come on over about three."

"Thanks, Ginny. You’re the best."

"Don’t thank me until we figure out if I can help you," I laughed.

"There’s no possible way it can hurt, so thanks anyway," he laughed back. He got up and left the table.

I looked at Craig. He’d watched this whole exchange with interest. "I’m very proud of you," he said, making me beam. "And more than a little surprised."

"Hey, nobody’s ever asked," I explained. "For some reason, I liked it."

"And Joe’s one of the good guys," Johanna butt in. "I’ve known him since grammar school, and he’s not one of those types whose ego is bigger than his slapshot!"

So, Joe came over. I got us a couple Cokes and we went into the living room. We’d just spread out the trig all over the coffee table when Mom came home.

She walked in. "Hi, honey," she said--then looked over at Joe, clearly surprised to see me sitting there with a boy that wasn’t Craig. "Hello," she said.

"Mom, Joe Adair. Joe, my mother." She came over and shook his hand. "Joe’s our star hockey player, and he asked me for some study help."

Joe laughed. "Your daughter’s going to try to save my butt in trigonometry so I can continue to be the star hockey player."

"That’s good," Mom laughed. She left us alone, and we got to it.

He was right--he wasn’t any kind of dumb jock. Rather smart, actually. My problem was, I knew I was going to have to dumb myself down for anyone--as I’ve said, math to me is like breathing. I pick it up on an almost instinctive level that I can have a hard time explaining. So, I made a conscious effort to, you know, slow myself down. Apparently, though I worried about being able to explain it--I was a hell of a lot better than whatever teacher it was Joe had for trig. Because he was getting it.

I hammered cosigns and tangents into his head for about an hour or so. He was doing fine, but after that hour, he groaned and said, "My brain hurts."

"Study break, then," I grinned.

He grinned back. "I can’t thank you enough. It’s already helped."

"My pleasure," I said sincerely. "I’m really happy to do it. Besides which, I like hockey. If we’re gonna contend for the state championship, we need Joltin’ Joe Adair." That was his nickname--courtesy of his thundering bodychecks and his wicked slapshot. Yeah, it was a ripoff from DiMaggio, but it fit!

"Damn right," he grinned. He leaned back on the couch. "You’re the talk of the school, you know."

"Figured as much," I said, resigned.

"Look, Ginny. You know there are some people that are going to be assholes no matter what."

"No doubt," I snorted.

"But there’s people that aren’t. And you made them think."

"Really?"

"No doubt," he said. "Look, my sister’s a year behind me, so she was in Sam’s grade. And, I have to tell you, she is really shook up. She thought Sam was sweet--but never told him. And she’s not feeling great right now."

"We can’t bring Sam back. I know that. But if it makes your sister just say ‘hi’ to the potential next Sam--well, then, I made my point."

"Yeah. And she realizes it. So. You’re going out with Craig Tolland?"

"Yeah," I said, smiling at the thought.

"Good. Craig’s a nice guy. He keeping you from doing anything else stupid?" he said, pointing to my wrist.

"Uh, he helps," I said, stunned.

"Good. Hey, I got a better idea of why you did it today at assembly. But, Ginny, it’s still stupid."

Nobody’d ever been that blunt about it to me before. And, again, I suprisingly liked it. Don’t ask me why. I appreciate bluntness, I guess. And Joe was clearly being blunt out of concern, not scorn.

I couldn’t let that one go by unanswered, however. "Funny, I figured stupid best applied to people who were flunking trigonometry," I said with a huge grin.

He grinned back, and said, "And Klusse ties the score at one with a wicked wrister from the left circle." I cracked up.

He laughed with me, and then got serious again. "I thought it was stupid when I was going through it, though I didn’t quite put it that way to her." I looked at him, wondering what the hell he was talking about. He took a deep breath and told me. "I had to talk Toni out of it last year."

"What?!?" Toni was Antonia Caldwell. She and Joe had been an item since eighth grade. Which was kind of sweet when you think about it. But Toni was one of those Perfectly Put-Together Princess types. Toni Caldwell had a moment of angst? Unbelievable. "Really? Toni?" I said.

"Yeah. It’s like you said at assembly, there’s lots of reasons, and sometimes people don’t know," he sighed. "Toni’s parents’ divorce last year was rough. I mean, real rough. They were downright brutal to one another, and poor Toni was caught smack in the middle. I remember spending four solid hours on the phone with her, talking her out of swallowing the bottle of sleeping pills she was staring at. And I wanted to hang up the phone and go over there, but I was scared to death she’d do something if I hung up. And I didn’t have a cell phone at the time, so trying to talk her down while going over there was out." He sighed. "And I understand a lot of what you said today, because while I was trying to get my girlfriend to not kill herself, I wanted to kill them. Her parents. Either or both."

"Yeah. Well, I thought my parents were part of the problem. Well, they were. But it wasn’t intentional. It was missed communications and signs not being received."

"Not the case with Toni. I was there." He sighed. "I guess their marriage had been one of clipped tones and invisible scorn for some time. But her mom caught her dad shtupping the secretary. That’s when all hell broke loose. They fought over everything--house, money, posessions--Toni. They treated her like the damn big-screen TV. Since she was sixteen, the judge figured she was old enough to voice her opinion. So, right there in court, he asked her who, if given the choice, she’d choose to live with. And she said ‘neither of them’. And she meant it."

"Did that wake them up?"

"Not hardly." He sighed again. "And what makes it worse is both her parents hate my guts. Because I went over there one day and found them going at it in the kitchen, full fury--with poor Toni curled up in a ball crying her eyes out. And I ripped both of them a new one."

"Yay for Joe," I smiled.

"Toni told me later, that’s when she realized that I was the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with," Joe said in almost a tone of awe. It really was sweet. "But we’ve had a problem or two. Her mother really hates me. Besides the whole me ripping her a new one--she hates me more because, well, I’m male. Since she caught her husband, who she hated anyway, shtupping the secretary--well, that means all men are evil."

"God. Maddening displays of illogic that bad give me a headache," I said.

"Yeah, they would, wouldn’t they?" he grinned. "Anyhow, even though Toni can’t stand her mother, that is who she lives with. And her mother hates me so much--well, that kind of conditioning can sink in. It’s not too bad, but there’s been a moment or two. She really does trust me, deep down, but....well, I know I’ll have to spend a few minutes on the phone tonight making sure she knows that you and I were only studying trig today."

"Oy. Too bad she couldn’t get away from both of them."

"Well, it’s a little better. One of Daddy Caldwell’s gambits in the never-ending Battle For Toni was to buy her a car this past summer. Figuring, of course, that she’d use it to sneak off and see him more often. Nope, she uses it to escape to my place. She stays at my place as much as she can get away with. And my parents are great, and love her to pieces, so that helps."

"That’s good." I grinned. "And if you need cover for your studying alibi, have Toni see me. I’ll back you up."

"Thanks," he grinned back. "Anyhow, that’s why I got what you were saying today. Would you ever guess that Toni had been suicidal?"

"Not for a second."

"Right. That’s because nobody but me knows the whole story." He grinned sheepishly. "Well, now, you do."

"Don’t worry, my lip is zipped."

"Never doubted it. Damn, Ginny, you’re a good listener."

"Thanks," I said, almost blushing. "Anyhow--we’d better get back to this."

"I suppose."

After Joe had left, I told my mother about the whole day. She was amazed--but proud--about my little speech in assembly. And she liked the whole Joe story.

"You’ve learned some very important things about yourself, you know," she said.

"I have?"

"You sure have. First of all, you like to help people. Second of all, you’re easy to talk to--and you know what to do when people talk to you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when Angela talked to you a couple of weeks ago, she needed advice and you knew it. You knew it so well that you shoved your advice down her throat when she ignored it. But Joe, today, didn’t need advice--he just needed to get some stuff off his chest. So you just let him, and listened."

"Wow. You’re right."

I talked to Craig after supper. He’d seen Zoe in the hospital and introduced himself. She was very glad to meet him. "She doesn’t seem bad, all things considering," he told me. "We had a nice chat."

"That’s good news," I said. I told him some of the talk Joe and I had. He was glad that Mister Hockey looked like he might pass trig. But after some of the things he’d said about Toni, I guess I had to make sure. "You weren’t upset, or jealous, were you?"

"God, no," he laughed. "I’m not generally that way. I didn’t have a reason to be, did I?"

"Not in a million years, Lyubovnik," I laughed.

TWENTY-ONE

The next day, Thursday. I wasn’t looking forward to this day. Group had been my solace since I’d gotten into it. It wasn’t going to be the same. And afterwards was the wake. Craig, bless his heart, told me he’d meet me at the wake.

And the day didn’t look like it was starting out too good. No sooner had I pulled into the parking lot when Toni Caldwell came barrelling over at me, looking none too pleased.

"Joe said he told you everything?" she moaned without preamble.

"Yes."

"God. Why would he do that?"

"Toni, I think he needed to get it off his chest, that’s all." I gave her a wry grin. "And I guess he figured he could tell me, because I’m obviously in no position to judge anyone about something like that."

"Oh," she said, slightly mollified.

"Toni?" I said. Then I looked right in her eyes, and made the ‘button my lips’ motion.

"Oh. OK. Thanks," she said, smiling slightly. "I’d rather the whole world not know. That can be embarrassing."

"Tell me about it," I sighed.

"Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way!"

"That’s OK," I laughed.

She smiled a little back. "I knew what you were talking about yesterday, though. People don’t know. I was lucky in that I don’t get harrassed here. If I did, piled upon what my parents were doing to me--well, Joe might not have been able to stop me. But it’s funny--people get an image of you, and they just don’t know."

"Absolutely. I have to confess, when Joe told me, I was shocked. Because he told me that he’d had to talk you down before he explained why. I was like, ‘Toni? Really?’"

"Yeah. Well, it was the same when I found out about you. Ginny ‘Most Likely To Own The Universe’ Klusse slit her wrists? No way! I understand better now, though."

"Oh, you should’ve seen Craig. Stumbling in on me in the hospital with bandages covering my wrists. What made it worse is the next day, when he pressed me on why, I used him as a stand-in. For everybody." Remembering what Joe had told me yesterday, I dropped my voice a bit, and said, "I think it was when he came back to talk the next day, and then kept coming back, even though I’d blasted him--I think that’s when I realized he was something special."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." We shared a smile. Then hers dropped. "I really gave Joe an earful on the phone last night when he told me what he’d told you. Now I feel really bad about that."

"Well?" I grinned. "Don’t tell me! Go find the hockey puck and tell him! Git!"

She smiled, big and wide. "Good advice, Ginny. Thanks." And she was off.

Damn. Just then Seth popped into my head--Seth as I’d seen him at the club. And I thought, Jesus, when the hell did I turn into a people person?

Maybe I should chuck the whole physics-and-math thing and go be a shrink myself. I could open an office with Craig’s insightful little sister! Then I thought, no. I could never deal with what happened to Sam as well as Shannon did. Never, ever, ever. Not that she was dispassionate--she wasn’t--but she had a place she could put it and still move on. If I were her, I’d never be able to do that. Nope, the cold logic of calculus was much more up my alley.

It was nice to be able to say the right thing to someone every once in a while, though.

I got through school. And I guess Joe was right. Because I had a few people, people that had never acknowledged my existance, say, "Hi, Ginny." Just a few. But it was still stunning.

Anyhow, I got through the day, then made my way to group.

I smiled at Karen and Seth and said hello, but it wasn’t all that cheerful. For any of us. There was no ignoring the big hole in the room. Two, actually, though one was, hopefully, only temporary.

Shannon came in, not looking much better than any of the rest of us. After she sat down, I asked, "How’s Zoe?"

"Zoe’s OK," I heard from behind me. I turned around, and there she was, walking into the room. She looked...OK. I was glad to see her.

"I didn’t expect to see you here," Shannon said.

"They were going to kick me out tomorrow anyway," she said, disgusted. "Stupid insurance. They wouldn’t let me stay for more than three days unless I actually attempted it again. Morons. Anyway, since they were going to boot me tomorrow, I said I wanted to leave now. I wanted to be here. You guys are my salvation. Even without....." She just sighed, thinking no doubt of Sam. "Plus, I’d rather go to the wake with you guys."

"I’m glad of that," Shannon said. "Let’s talk about it. I understand Ginny gave quite a performance in front of her school assembly yesterday morning."

"Heard about that, did you?" I said.

"Yup."

"So did I," Zoe said. She turned to the rest of them. "I met her boyfriend yesterday. He works at the hospital and introduced himself." She turned back to me. "Craig gave me a rundown of what you’d said." Then she blinked rapidly and her voice broke. "Thanks," she croaked. "From Sam, too."

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just smiled sadly.

Ginny had me give a brief rundown of what I’d done. She’d heard about it but not exactly what I’d said. Karen and Seth didn’t know at all. So I told them. Seth loved it--of course he did. I’m sure he’d wanted to say similar things to the bigots in his own school.

Karen wasn’t so sure. "Is all that anger healthy?"

"Depends on what you do with it," Shannon said. "Ginny used the anger productively."

"How do you do something like that when the anger is directed at your own brother and mother?" Karen asked plaintively.

"Write a letter," Shannon said. "To each of them. It’s not necessary to send them. You can decide afterwards whether to send it, or rip it up, or frame it to remind yourself, or whatever. It’s the writing that’s the therapuetic part. And it’s a good idea for you, Karen, because that’s the one thing you haven’t dealt with at all--your anger."

"I know," she said. "It’s bottled up. I think it’s affecting things. I think it’s affecting things with Aaron, especially."

"Oh, stop worrying about Aaron," I said. Everybody looked at me in surprise. "I met Aaron, at Seth’s club, the other week," I said. "I saw them together. Karen, if you could step outside your body and see what Aaron and you look like together, you’d never worry again."

Karen just stared at me. "What do they look like together?" Shannon asked.

"Like the love story of the century," I laughed. Karen blushed. "You should see it. We’re in a crowded room and it’s like they’re the only two people there. Karen, that boy adores you."

"You know, when she puts it that way, she’s right," Seth agreed.

"And you should see her," I said, pointing at Karen. "When she’s with him, her whole body language changes. That whole stiff-as-a-board thing she’s showing us right now completely goes away."

"It does?" Karen said, surprised.

"Yep. And Aaron completely dotes on her."

"He does," she agreed, finally smiling. "He really does."

"Good. So stop worrying about Aaron!" I repeated.

"Maybe I should," Karen smiled. Then she took a breath. "And I’m going to write those letters. I might even send them."

"Good," Shannon said.

Group was OK. Even Zoe loosened up a little.

The wake wasn’t OK. It was devastating. Because of the way he died, the casket was, of course, closed. All there was to ‘see’ of my friend was a picture sitting on top of his casket. It was tough to say goodbye that way. It was tough to say goodbye in the first place. And if it was tough for me? Poor Zoe. Damn it all to hell.

Thank God for Craig. I don’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t been there, his arm around mine, the whole time.

The only good thing was when we went outside. Zoe pulled Craig and I out of there, and we stood outside waiting for the rest of them. "I wanted company," she said to us, "and I need a ciggie. I’m trying to quit, but not today." We nodded.

"Hey, you were right," she said to me. "Karen and Aaron." Aaron had also met us at the wake. "They’re like two peas in a pod."

"Yep," I agreed.

The old Zoe peeked out a bit just then. "She really ought to just give it up and sleep with him," she cracked. "Might do her some good. Like you told her, sex isn’t rape. I know she wants to, but she’s scared." I nodded agreement to the last bit.

Then something hit me.

She wasn’t the only one who wanted to sleep with her boyfriend.

And I wasn’t scared. What the hell did I have to be scared about? With Craig? No way.

What was I waiting for? Oh, the ‘proper’ time. Hell with that.

It had been a brutal week. It needed some good in it. We’d been together two months--it was time enough. I needed to show him exactly how much I loved him. And, of course, vice-versa!

The Brain kicked into gear and I mentally made some plans.

--to be continued--

Sorry, I lied. I got halfway through what was supposed to be part four and it’s over 8K words, so I split it. There will be a part five, coming hopefully soon.

--Frank