This story is in the first book created from this website, Mentally Incontinent. I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, please consider picking up the book. It's chock full of stuff just like this.
I'm Just Dying To Know You
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III |
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It was like a pack of rabid wolverines – teeth bared and claws sharpened – snuck into the cafeteria, made their way behind me, and then unceremoniously hit me on the head with a brick. The first thing I felt was the smoogey glob of pizza-flavored lunch smear into my face as my head lurched forward from the intense blow to the back of my skull. Following that was a cacophony of shrieks and curses as the wolverine commandos, under the name Team Amanda, proceeded to tear me into shreds.
“YOU SONUVABITCH!” She yelled from behind me as blows fell upon my person. “YOU ASSHOLE! YOU BASTARD! YOU…” Anyway. You get the idea.
The only responses I could muster were simple noises that sounded like the beginnings of the words “Stop” and “Wait” as I threw my arms over my head and rolled into a sitting fetal position, trying my best to armadillo-up and defend myself from this, the most severe beating I’d ever suffered. Well… the most severe I’d ever suffered at the hands of a diminutive psycho softball player, at least.
After a time (I’m not really sure if it was a short time or a long time. When you’re being humiliated in public, ALL time is a long time), I felt what seemed like the clouds parting on a stormy spring afternoon or a gigantic lead sheet being lifted off my back… any one of a dozen similes which would describe the end of my beatdown.
I cautiously lifted my torso and pulled my arms from around my head. I scanned the area and saw Amanda hoisted into the air, kicking and screaming, by two of the school’s administrators, Dr. Hauok and Mr. Lee. The third, Dr. Schaf, approached me from my left side, the backside of the ruckus, and put his hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him and saw a gigantic smirk entrenched firmly in his grizzled face. It was then that I became keenly aware of a thousand pairs eyes all looking in my direction from across the cafeteria.
I knew what was coming next.
Shamefully, I stood up and began walking the gauntlet of jeers, screams and applause from the student body. Dr. Schaf was in tow with his hand on my shoulder the entire way, either in a display of support or a show of situational control to the rest of the student body… I like to think the first, but it was probably a little of both.
“And that’s it,” I said, sitting back in the chair that faced Dr. Schaf’s desk. “That’s everything.”
Dr. Schaf studied me as if I were a specimen in some sort of laboratory study in comic tragedy. His hands were clasped in front of his face with both thumbs resting under his chin and index fingers extended, forming a point which hid a smirk he’d worn since about the third sentence of my tale. The pen that his fingers once clenched lay cooling upon the incident report, for he had long ago abandoned the prospect of writing as I told my story finding that it required much more than just a cursory interest. He coughed and said, ”I just… I don’t know what to say, Peacock.”
“Well then, don’t say anything,” I suggested. “Just let this… You know. Slide right by. Without a comment.”
He laughed. “Oh, now you know as well as I do, that’s impossible.” He sat back in his oversized chair, which rotated slightly in response to the inertia.
“Yeah, I know,” I replied.
“I mean… WOW. This is just…”
I nodded. “Yeah, I know…” I said once again, sharper this time, trying to get him to shut up.
He squinted a little and shifted his head to the right. “…And it looks like she clocked you pretty good right there,” he said, pointing to his left eye to indicate my right. “It’s gotten a little puffy since we’ve been sitting here.”
I squinted with the one eye… It felt much tighter than it should have, but nothing I’d really classify as pain. I lifted my hand to feel just above my right cheek bone – it was a little swollen and puffy. “Is it black?” I asked him.
He shifted his head slightly. “It’s not now… but it’ll probably be a little discolored. It’s not the worst I’ve ever seen, but you can definitely tell you got bopped.”
“Well, shit,” I muttered, forgetting where I was. I looked immediately at Dr. Schaf with wide, pleading eyes, issuing an unspoken apology for my language which he accepted with a dismissive wave-off. “Man…” I continued, “As if all of this shi… Er, as if this CRAP… with Amanda weren’t bad enough already, now I gotta go and explain a black eye to everyone...”
“Peacock…” He said, folding his arms over his chest. “Everyone saw what happened. I mean, you had to march through the entire cafeteria after she throttled you… And I’m pretty sure you had the entire room’s attention, so really, I doubt you’ll have to explain it to anyone.”
I looked at him as my lungs slowly deflated through my nostrils. “Please… suspend me.”
He laughed heartily. “No no, I’m not going to do that. Amanda, yeah… she’s probably going to be in ISS for a while,” he said, referring to In-School Suspension. “But I don’t see where you did anything wrong here, so…”
“PLEASE!” I pleaded. “For the love of God, suspend me! I can’t go back into classes with this hanging over me! I’m begging you!”
“Joe, I can’t suspend you if you did nothing wrong.” He picked up his pen and continued where he’d left off with his report for my permanent file. “Besides,” He said while looking down, “If I suspend you, you won’t be able to play in the game this weekend.”
Just then, three sharp electronic tones rang across the school’s intercom system, indicating that it was 3:10pm and time for everyone to make a mad rush into the hallways in an effort to get the hell out of the building. For me, however, it signaled the beginning of my descent into hell, as I had football practice that afternoon and had to be dressed and on the field in 30 minutes.
“That’s the bell,” He said, looking up at me with his head still down – an action which had become a trademark of his. “You’d better get to practice.”
I sighed and stood. With a funeral dirge playing in my head and a defeated look on my face, I began shuffling toward the door of his office to make my way toward the FUN awaiting me at practice. As I reached for the door and swung it open, I heard Dr. Schaff call from behind me, “And hey… Peacock?”
I turned and looked his way. “Yeah?”
“Don’t sweat this,” He replied. “It’ll all blow over soon enough.”
I looked at the ground, then back up. I’m not sure why. “Yeah, okay,” I agreed.
“See you tomorrow,” He said as I walked out.
From the moment I entered the hall I heard whispers and giggles all around me. I made my way through the halls to my 4th period classroom to collect the things I’d left laying in there before lunch, then down the hall to my locker and finally back around and to the gym. The entire time, I heard heckling and jeers; people calling my name and asking me questions. With a stalwart spirit and Dean Clean’s “Fuck off” attitude, I ignored them all and went on to practice (which went exactly as you’d expect it to, so I won’t waste much time on describing the knee-jerk reactions of a gang of over-testosteroned Neanderthal hillbilly fucks).
Home wasn’t much fun either. Jenny laid into me about how stupid it was of me to date Amanda (“I didn’t DATE her!!! She had the wrong idea!”) which lead to a harsh scolding about my fighting with her in the lunch room (“I didn’t FIGHT her!!! She just kept hitting me!”). The volume of that conversation spawned the dreaded Upset Mother carrying the Spatula of Hitting +1 (“No, Mom – OW! – I swear, I didn’t – OUCH! – I wasn’t fighting! I just sat there and took it – OWW! – Just like now!”). Anytime the Upset Mother spawns, she’s accompanied by Angry Dad who has “Spirit of Pissed Off Bear” on auto-cast. I just thank God that I had the counter-spell, “A Girl Kicked My Ass,” handy (It paralyzes the subject with laughter).
It was about 10:00 PM before I was finally able to find sanctuary in my bedroom. Somewhere between drawing little caricatures of the people I went to school with finding their demise in creative ways and jotting manic and overdramatic entries in my journal, Mike called.
“What do you want?” I asked him with a note of irritation on my voice.
“What?” He asked in defense. “I was just calling my friend.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I wanted to offer my support,” He added.
“Right…” I replied from the back of my throat.
“I also wanted to remind you, we have a test in Calhoon’s class tomorrow,” He said, referring to our 2nd period College Math class – a class I only showed up for if there was a test. Not so much so that I could take it, but to ‘help’ Mike take his.
“Yeah, ok, I’ll be there. Don’t worry,” I replied as I doodled a little in my sketchbook.
“I also wanted to remind you that you got your ass kicked by a gir— *Click*”
I not-so-gently placed the phone on the cradle and returned to the self-righteous endeavors of a teenager who had a pen, some paper, and a few hours to kill.
The next day at school, I was a ghost. I hid out in the art room cages before homeroom that morning, pretending to work on some sort of pottery assignment Ms. Daughtry had given the week previous. Thanks to my position in the front office as the principal’s aide, I enjoyed the flexibility of having a pass that allowed me out of homeroom to start my duties early for my first office period. The only real threat I faced that morning was Dr. Schaf, who fired a few light shots across the bow of my ego to remind me that, if he wanted to, he could sink it quite easily. Other than that, I hid out in the copy room and let the first two hours of school slide by without incident.
Then came 2nd period.
I purposely arrived five minutes late, gambling that the test would have already started and I could skip the pre-class hazing I knew I’d receive. Thankfully, luck was with me – Mr. Calhoon was already passing out the papers when I cracked the door open and slid through.
“Nice of you ta’ join us,” Mr. Calhoon said in a very heavy Scottish brogue. “I was beginnin’ ta' think you were in the hospital for a bruised ego!”
The class chuckled in response. I just snatched the test paper from his extended hand, took my seat, and began working on the test. It took a mere ten minutes to complete, and after I was done I handed Mike my completed test and he switched it out with his blank one, which I completed in under four.
I sat there the rest of the period and purposely kept my head down, avoiding the attempts from several classmates to gain my attention with a look so that they could either silently express sympathy or amusement for my predicament. With only two minutes left to suffer through, there was a knock at the door of the classroom. Mr. Calhoon rose to greet whoever was behind it, and while the curiosity that arises in all of us about the person behind a door that has been knocked on burned so hot it threatened to consume me, I managed to quell the flames and keep my head down. I wasn’t going to give ANYONE the opportunity to talk to me about anything regarding Amanda, no way, no how, no matter wha—
“Joe Peacock?” I heard from the front of the room. The voice was feminine and only somewhat familiar. So much for keeping my head down.
I looked up to see who it was. Standing at the door was Mr. Calhoon with his left arm raised, the end of which contained an extended index finger pointing in my direction. To his left was a petite black woman with a concerned look on her face and a Clayton County Police uniform on her body. She was looking down the barrel of Mr. Calhoon’s arm, lining me up in the sights. I had seen her a few times in the hallway over the past two weeks of school and recognized her as our school’s brand new “Resource Officer”, Jennifer Brown.
“Uh… Yeah?” I asked, confused and scared to death.
“Would you come with me?” She asked, extending her arm much like Mr. Calhoon had before and, instead of pointing my way, flexed her finger to beckon me near.
“Ooooh’s” and “Uh-oh’s” Filled the air as I rose sullenly and lumbered up the row of filled desks to the front of the room, turned left, and was ushered out the door with the light guidance of her hand on my back. As I entered the hallway, I saw Dr. Schaf standing to one side of the doorway, out of sight. He nodded toward me and uttered something that sounded like my name, but I couldn’t really make it out. I turned around in time to see Officer Brown exit the room with the door closing behind her, so I stood to one side and allowed her to lead me to wherever it was that we were going. I thought about asking what was going on, but I figured whatever it was, it was happening and I’d figure it out soon enough. The only communication that took place during our march was Dr. Schaf placing his hand on my shoulder in a sign of either support or situational control. I like to think it was the first…
We entered the back door of the front office and I was led by Officer Brown to a room I recognized as the former office of one of the school’s old councilors (who had been terminated a year before for reasons never clearly announced, but the rumor was that he punched a parent during a peer mediation). The screws affixing the brass nameplate holder to the door were visible, anxiously awaiting the new placard bearing our school’s county-appointed policewoman’s name to cover them. I entered the room and took a seat in a chair that would have felt just like the one in Dr. Schaf’s office if the foam in the seat had been conditioned over the years to mold to my butt the way that one had.
Dr. Schaf and Officer Brown spoke outside of her office for a few seconds in hushed tones and whispers. I strained mightily to hear what was being said, but years of loud rock and rap music had made it impossible to eavesdrop without looking at the subjects’ lips. As the sharp trio of tones rang across the intercom system indicating the end of 2nd period, I heard someone enter the room and close the door behind them. Officer Brown rounded the desk and took her place in the chair directly across from me.
My eyes were near the point of watering, my head was being poked by a thousand hot needles, and my stomach felt as if it would fall through my ass and hit the floor at any second. I was a gigantic ball of nervous energy. I was about to explode. Every nanosecond that ticked by added to the mounting tension.
What the FUCK did you do??
NOTHING! I haven’t done ANYTHING yet this year!
See, I want to believe that, too… But being your subconscious is a very stressful job, and sometimes I can be forgetful… Wait a second! Didn’t they make fighting in school an arrestable offence this year?
Um… Yeah, but I wasn’t fighting! I was just getting beat up! SHE was fighting! Arrest her, not me!
Don’t tell ME that, tell HER!
“I wasn’t fighting!” I yelped. “I just sat there! I didn’t do anything wrong! Arrest HER!”
“No, no,” Officer Brown said calmly. “It’s nothing like that. You’re not in any trouble.”
Oh, what a difference five words can make. My guts were sucked back into my butthole and my head cooled off immediately as I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Oh, thank GOD.”
“But… I have some bad news.”
Bring on the needles of pokey hot fire! Prepare the floor for my guts!
“I… Understand that you know, or at least know of, Amanda Peters?” She half stated, half asked.
Oh, no.
This can NOT be good.
I killed her.
Don’t be ridiculous.
I nodded, indicating that I did, in fact, know or know of Amanda Peters.
“Well…” Officer Brown continued, “She was found a little while ago, in the Fine Arts hall bathroom along with a letter, containing your name.”
OH GOD, I KILLED HER.
Calm down. You don’t know that.
What else can it be? She’s got a history! They… They found her with a NOTE! What else can it be, huh?
She could have just been writing poetry while on the john or something. Calm down. Don’t be ridiculous.
Calm down? How can I calm down? I’m going to JAIL! For murder!
We are NOT going to jail. We don’t even know what happened. Calm. Down.
“She was unconscious, apparently from a reaction brought on from taking an entire bottle of Advil.”
Okay, yeah, you killed her.
I KNEW IT! I KILLED HER! WITH ADVIL!
“Oh, no no! Joe, She’s okay,” Officer Brown said in response to the look of extreme horror that had grown on my face. “She’s on her way to the emergency room at Southern Regional now, and the paramedics assured me that she is going to be fine.”
Oh, thank CHRIST!
But you don’t believe in Christ.
I do now! And I thank him heartily!
I sighed so heavily, I lifted the edges of some papers on her desk and caused them to scoot slightly. I had a million questions, and all of them came flying out at once. “When… What… Okay, um… Why did she… You know… Um…?”
“Well, I was hoping you could shed a little light on that,” She said, opening a folder and making notes on paper that not at all resembled the ones on Dr. Schaf’s desk.
“Well… I don’t… I don’t know, honestly,” I replied. “I know that she had some… Issues. In the past and stuff.”
“What sort of issues?” Officer Brown asked.
“Well, Officer, I..”
“Jennifer,” she announced, head down.
“Excuse me?”
“You can call me Jennifer,” She replied as she looked up at me, “If that’s more comfortable for you.”
“Uh… Okay, Jennifer. I don’t really know much about Amanda’s past, except for what I’d heard from friends over the weekend. You see, I only just met her Friday, and…”
“What was your relationship?” She interjected.
“Huh?”
“You and Amanda,” She expanded. “What was your relationship?”
“Umm… I dunno. Friends, maybe? I didn’t really know her…”
“You weren’t… More than that?” She asked.
“No… NO! God no. No no no,” I insisted. “Well, I mean… She wanted us to be, but I… No.”
“Hmm,” She said, returning to writing. “So there wasn’t anything between the two of you? Anything… Physical?”
“No! Wait – We kissed once, but I didn’t like it.”
She lifted her head with a shot and looked at me quizzically. I extrapolated from her reaction that I needed to clarify that a little.
“I’m not gay,” I stated.
Her look grew even more quizzical. “I don’t care,” She replied.
“Well, I just… I…” I looked at my feet, smacked my lips, and looked back up at her. “We kissed. That’s all.”
“Nothing else?”
“No,” I replied.
She went back to writing her report. “That’s not what she indicated,” Jennifer stated.
“Oh, well I don’t doubt it,” I said with a dismissive snort. “What did she tell you?”
“She didn’t. Tell me, I mean,” the officer replied. “It was in her note.”
“Can I read it?” I asked.
She chuckled a little. “No, I don’t think so. I can’t let you do that.”
“Well… Can you at least tell me what was in it?” I asked.
She looked up at me with a crooked smile, indicating that she wasn’t going to.
“Please?” I pleaded. “I need to know.”
She sighed, and sat back in her chair. “Okay, let’s just say that she clearly has a different idea about the nature of your relationship.”
We sat in her office for the better part of two hours, during which time I managed to find out that Amanda was suicidal due to my not wanting to – and I’m not kidding here – father her children. “If Joe doesn't want me, then NOONE can have me, EVER!” was another choice quote that Officer Brown related. Ultimately, she ended up telling me everything I could have learned by reading the actual note.
“Okay, I have to go see her,” I responded.
“I HIGHLY advise that you don’t,” Jennifer replied.
“Why not? She’s clearly in need of help, and I need to set her straight.”
“You’re right, she DOES need help,” she answered, “But trust me – you’re not in any position to give her any. In fact, I’d say that showing up right now would be the worst thing you could do.” She paused for a second to let the words sink in, then added, “She needs to be away from you, and you need to be away from her.”
I thought it through for a moment. “Yeah, okay. I guess you’re right.” I scratched my head and shifted in my chair, and asked “Okay, so what now?”
“Well, I think I’ve got everything I need from you, and I can get Mr. Schaf to fill in the rest of the details. So you should probably get back to class. And Joe?”
“Yeah?” I asked as I began to stand.
She looked into my eyes and asked simply, “Don’t discuss this with anyone, please. I mean, I know you’re going to tell your family and probably your friends, but… You know. Try to keep that to a minimum.”
“Alright, I will,” I said.
She rose and gave me a hug and let me know that if there was anything I needed, I come to her anytime. I didn’t know it then, but this particular little meeting was the start of an amazing friendship that impacted me in ways that still persist to this day… but that’s another story for another time. This time, I shall tell you that I completely ignored her advice and at the end of the school day, I skipped football practice and insisted Mike drive me to Southern Regional to visit Amanda.
“Dude, that’s a BAD idea,” He said loudly, repeating Officer Brown’s sentiment while shouting over The Rollins Band album that played on his Camaro’s speakers.
“I don’t care,” I insisted. “I have to apologize and clear the air.”
“Yeah, okay, that’s great and all, but you didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Dude, I nearly killed the girl with Advil,” I stated.
“NO, you didn’t, she took a bunch of Advil because she’s nuts,” He replied. “But look at it this way – at least it didn’t hurt when she hit the floor!”
I frowned his way. “Dude, that shit’s not funny.”
“Oh, come on. It was a little funny.”
“I shouldn’t have led her on,” I said, ignoring him and returning to the crisis at hand.
“You DIDN’T!” he demanded. “She’s loony! You attract the crazies – have no control over that. Just let it go! Let’s go back to your house and play Mortal Kombat or something.”
“No. I have to see her,” I insisted, and turned to stare straight forward in an act of stalwart determination.
He kept looking between the road and me, trying to stare me down while not killing us both. “Fine. Whatever you say,” He finally said with a shrug.
We arrived at the hospital about 3:45 PM and I nearly sprinted into the emergency room. “Amanda Peters!” I shouted at the startled clerk at the registration counter.
“Um… Excuse me?” He asked.
“I need to see Amanda Peters, please. What room is she in?”
The clerk did some typing on the computer in front of him, then turned to a nurse standing nearby and asked her to come take a look at something. The nurse looked over her glasses at the computer screen, then up at me.
“Are you immediate family?” She asked.
“No… I’m uh… I’m her friend,” I answered. “I just… I heard about her and wanted to come see her.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” she answered. “I’m afraid that only immediate family are allowed back to see this patient.”
“But… But I—”
“Joe?” I heard from behind me. I turned to find Amanda’s mother standing just to my left clutching two sodas.
The sight of her sent a blue electricity through my body, causing me to nearly hit the ground. It took a second to recover, but I finally managed to say the word, “Hi.”
“What… What are you doing here?” She asked.
“I just… I wanted to… I just…”
“You… Wanted to see Amanda?” She asked.
I nodded.
“Well… I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” She answered.
I sighed. “I don’t… I don’t want to cause any trouble, Mrs. Peters,” I said. “I just heard about her and I wanted to come and… I dunno. Talk to her. Tell her I’m sorry.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Joe, this is not your fault,” She answered like a woman well experienced with this sort of situation. “As I’m sure you know, Amanda’s had some… Issues. In the past.”
Just then, I noticed that no matter who said those words, they always came out sounding the same.
“I know,” I answered. “But I just… I feel so bad…”
“I understand, honey,” She replied, swapping both sodas into her left arm and placing a cold right hand on my arm. “And really, you shouldn’t. This isn’t your fault, no matter what you may have heard.”
“Right,” I answered. “But still… I need to see her. I need to tell her I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Peters looked at me with a mixture of pity for my situation and understanding for my feelings, and reluctantly agreed. I followed her down a long series of winding halls, through three separate sets of heavy double doors, and finally to a secluded room at the very far end of the emergency room. As I walked in, I saw a groggy Amanda with an IV in her arm and a small spray grey liquid drying on a bib wrapped around her neck. Her mother walked around to the side of the bed and placed her hand on Amanda’s arm.
“Amanda, honey…” She said softly.
Amanda groaned slightly and opened her eyes. Immediately, they locked on me. I smiled a little and waved, fighting off the intense nausea building within my nervous stomach so as to feign bravery and happiness to see her. Her mouth bent into a smile and, with as much intensity as she could muster, she said, “I knew you cared!”
Shit.
Yep, you just made a huge mistake, bucko.
For once, I agree with you wholeheartedly.
For about ten minutes, I fought off as delicately as I could Amanda’s insistence that my visit showed how much I truly loved her. I tried as hard as I could, without hurting her feelings, to let her know that I only came to make sure she was okay and to express to her that I never meant to give her the wrong idea. It never once dawned on me before that moment that by doing just that, I’d given her the wrong idea once again. Finally, acknowledging my folly, I lost all semblance of tact, bit my lip, and just told her how it was.
“Amanda, I will never, ever be your boyfriend. We won’t be married, and I certainly won’t be the father of your child. I do not like you in that way. I am sorry, but that’s how it is.”
She looked at me with shaky eyes, then began to cry. She called me a few choice names as her mother rushed to usher me out of the room. I felt immensely guilty, once again, that I had caused such grief within her, but her mom let me off the hook.
“You did what you had to. You shouldn’t be sorry about that,” She said.
“I just… I feel horrible…”
“Joe, you should go home,” She finally said. “Amanda will be fine. I’ll talk to her, and she’s going to get some help.” She looked me over once more, then gave me a hug. “Go home,” She whispered in my ear.
I broke from the hug and turned on my heel to find my way out of the hospital. As I entered the waiting area and placed my hand on Mike’s shoulder, he stood, took one look at me, and turned to exit without saying a word.
This is Part III of a 3-part story. Please check at the top of this page for links to the other parts.
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