Give a Boy a Gun (11 page)

Approximately 750,000 deaths by firearms have occurred in this country since 1960.

When you're with someone a lot, they can change, but it's gradual, so you're not always aware of it. I think that's what happened to all of us, but more to Brendan. Looking back on it, I realize he just got weirder and more and more twisted. It was like he stopped caring. He'd do whatever he wanted.

There was one night when Gary wasn't around. I think maybe he had to go see some psychologist with his mom. Brendan called up and wanted to go out. I'm older than most of the kids in my grade and I have a license, so I usually drive. Anyway, I supplied the car and Brendan supplied the booze. It was probably screwdrivers. We went up to the park and drank for a while and talked. I can't remember now what we talked about, but with Brendan it was usually about how much he hated school and town and blah, blah, blah. Sometimes when I had a good buzz going, I could just tune him out.

After a while Brendan wanted to get in the car again. We drove out of the park, and I thought we'd head back toward town, but
he wanted to go the other way. The other way is basically nowhere. Just dark roads and farms and hills, but by then I was pretty trashed and couldn't have cared less.

We're driving along this road way out in the country, and it's a pretty cool night, so I'm kind of surprised when Brendan rolls down the window.

I guess I was sort of aware that he took something out of his jacket. When I heard the bang, I thought one of the tires had blown out or Brendan had thrown a firecracker out of the window. That's what it sounded like. Not really loud or anything. Then we came to the railroad crossing. The red lights were blinking and the gates were coming down, and out of the corner of my eye there's a bright flash and I hear
Bang! Bang!
Only it's louder because we're stopped, and then there's the sound of glass shattering. That's when I realized Brendan was shooting at things.

Five percent of students say they've seen another student with a gun in school.

Bang! Bang!
He shot out the other light. You know the smell of burned gunpowder? Then he looked across the seat at me and smiled. I was beyond caring. The railroad gates went up, and we kept driving. Brendan kept shooting. Mostly at signs. Then he opened the glove compartment so he had light while he put more bullets in the clip, or whatever they call it. The gun looked bigger and squarer than the one he'd showed us that time in the park.

I never said a word. I didn't tell him to stop. I didn't turn around and go back to town. To be honest, I just didn't care. I actually thought it was a little cool. Like we were a couple of outlaws on the run in
Natural Born Killers
.

After a while it was late and we did head back to town. By the time we got to Brendan's, just about every house on his street was dark. Everyone was asleep. Brendan and I sat for a while in the car. You could still smell the
gunpowder. I realized that since we'd started driving, he'd hardly said a word.

Twelve percent of students say they know another student who has brought a gun to school.

He looked across the seat at me again. I hope this doesn't sound sick, but it was a really sexy moment. I mean, he really was an outlaw and dangerous and unpredictable, and I happen to find that extremely attractive. I think he knew that. He started to move toward me, and I'm thinking,
This is my boyfriend's best friend. I dont believe this
. But I really don't think he cared. I really don't.

Anyway, I know this will sound weird after everything I've just said, but I wouldn't let him touch me. I still don't know why. I think maybe it was that dark thing inside him. He could be sexy and attractive, but it was too scary.

—Allison Findley

The school I came from had the same crowds as Middletown. There were athletes and brains and preppies and rah-rah girls and stoners. There were cliques, but they weren't that big of a deal. Sometimes I felt like the real power of a clique was only in the minds
of those kids who wished they were in it. If you didn't care, you just went along with your life. At least, at my old school.

— Chelsea Baker

In ninth grade we might have done some drinking once or twice a month and smoked some pot or hash now and then. By tenth grade we were smashed every Friday and Saturday night. We were getting high in school. A couple of times we dropped acid in eighth period so we'd have a nice buzz going by the time school was over. Oh, and I'm not just talking about Brendan, Allison, Gary, and me. This was a lot of kids. Athletes, too.

— Ryan Clancy

I'm not so far from being a teenager myself, and I can tell you that there's a huge amount of denial among parents. Anyone who insists that “my kid isn't drinking, my kid isn't
smoking pot, my kid isn't having sex.” Maybe they're right. But look at the statistics and you'll know they can't all be right.

— F. Douglas Ellin

Of the male youths who say it would be easy to obtain a gun, most say they can get a gun within twenty-four hours.

TerminX
:
Ever C a dead person?

Blkchokr
:
In a casket

TerminX
:
What was it like?

Blkchokr
:
It was my grandma. Not a lot different than when she was alive
.

Dayzd
:
LOL
.

Rebooto
:
You can go C my grandparents, Trm. They're almost dead
.

TerminX
:
I mean it
.

Dayzd
:
What?

TerminX
:
A dead person. Spark gone. Lifeless flesh
.

Blkchokr
:
I don't want 2 talk about this
.

TerminX
:
Y?

Blkchokr
:
So what's tomorrow's weather supposed 2 B?

TerminX
:
Scares U?

Blkchokr
:
Bothers me
.

Dayzd
:
I can C it
.

Rebooto
:
What's 2 C?

Dayzd
:
Eternal peace
.

Rebooto
:
Eternal nothingness
.

TerminX
:
Same difference
.

Blkchokr
:
I'm outahere
.

Dayzd
:
Later, Blk
.

Rebooto
:
Bye, Blk
.

TerminX
:
Imagine death
.

Dayzd
:
No pain
.

Rebooto
:
No gain
.

TerminX
:
Insane
.

Everything seemed to get more extreme [in tenth grade]. The battle lines became more clearly drawn, you know? I think a lot of things contributed to it. The Middletown Marauders went to the states that fall. It was the furthest a team from Middletown had gone in twenty-five years, and we were feeling pretty full of ourselves. We deserved it, considering how hard we'd worked. But it was kind of like Brendan and Gary were on a campaign to belittle what we'd done. Make it seem as if what we'd accomplished was
meaningless and that we were basically just a bunch of dumb jocks with no future. They never said it in words. It was all done with looks and smirks and sniggers. But the football players heard them loud and clear.