H. A. Carter (4 page)

God, I hate that guy.

It all started freshman year with John.

That's when the segregation of life and
reality really begins to play out. When we are young and naive we
all dream of high school as this vast Utopia where we are all
friends and walk around hand in hand. In actuality, high schoolers
are like packs of wild animals when it comes to friendship. If you
stray away from the pack, for any reason at all, you will be cast
out and most likely eaten alive. During this time of life, no one
strays outside of their circle for fear of being thrown to the
wolves. I had always thought of John and I to have our own little
circle, but come to find out, I was really alone.

I had no circle, no pack, and I had no
friend. I was nothing more than a lame runt left to fend for
myself. Nothing but open prey.

The first couple weeks of freshman year
passed quickly. I hadn't been able to talk to John at all since we
started. He had gone on vacation with his family the week before
school, and I didn't see him when he got back. No one was answering
the phone at his dad's, and calling his mom is out of the question.
I just figured he was busy with new classes and homework. Plus, he
started football this year and had almost non-stop practice. I,
myself, had tons of homework. It seemed as though every teacher
assumed that their class was the only one you were attending, and
therefore, they could pile up as much shit for you to do as
possible. It was all a little overwhelming, even for me. My mother
tried her best to fill the gaps that John was leaving in order to
comfort me, but now that she started working over-time at Lou
Ann's, I didn't get to see her much either.

I was finally caught up with my homework and
was itching to just chill out, order pizza, and maybe play some
games. We used to do this religiously when we were in middle
school. I figured John was just as excited to get back to normal as
I was.

Just then I saw John strolling down the
hallway. I rushed over to him, afraid I might miss him again and
have to try calling the house yet one more time.

“Hey, John!” I yelled, but he stayed turned,
“John! John!”

Finally he froze in mid stride, bending his
head slightly. John turned around slowly. He had a grimaced look on
his face. His body was slightly hunched over as though he were
about to get sick. I could see the blood slowly drain from his face
giving him a ghostlike appearance. I wondered what jerk-off put him
in this mood and was already planning on how we would secretly get
back at them.

“Hey, Harvey,” he said softly, almost in slow
motion.

“What happened to you, Man?” I asked.

“Nothing. I'm just having a busy day.” he
said shortly, quickly starting to turn around again.

I caught his arm slightly, “Oh, well listen,
I thought tonight we could rent some movies and just hang out at my
house. You know, like we used to on Friday nights. I know I'm dying
to hear how stupid the guys on the football team are,” I chuckled
and gave him a hopeful smile to cheer him up a little. He still
looked bummed.

“Hey, did someone do something to you? You
can tell me, you know. If you can't talk about it now, you can tell
me about it when we hang out. What do you say?” I smiled again.

John looked down at the floor. He took in a
long slow deep breath and released it even slower, squeezing his
eyes shut tightly. He opened them slowly, as if trying to avoid the
reality around him. John peered cautiously down the deserted
hallway. I feared he was too embarrassed to tell me what had
happened to him that I put my hand on his shoulder. John had shot
up so much over the summer that I had to practically stand tip toe
just to reach him.

“It's okay, Dude. You can tell me anything,”
I said reassuringly.

His grimaced face turned into an almost
shameful frown as I held my breath. Whatever those guys did to him
must have been pretty bad. JJ and his friends hadn't picked on John
nearly as much as they did me for two blatant reasons. For one,
John was just as big as JJ and could easily have knocked him on his
ass if he wanted. The other reason was simply that John wasn't the
one they wanted to hurt. Most often he just got caught in the
crossfire trying to defend me.

He looked back at me, but still not quite
looking me in the eye. His absent stare frightened my core. Dread
rose deep in my gut.

“Harvey,” he said quietly, “You and I have to
have a little chat.”

“Sure, Man. What is it? Is everything okay? I
mean, whatever JJ did, just ignore that bastard. He's not worth it.
We both know that.”

“No, Harv, JJ didn't do anything. I mean, not
to me anyway. Look, here's the deal. I really don't want to hang
out tonight,” he said emphasizing each word slowly as though
talking to a child.

I shrugged my shoulders, “Hey, that's fine.
Maybe we could do it tomorrow night?”

John lowered his head slightly and shook it,
“No, I don't think so. I don't think any night will be okay. Do you
get me?”

I didn't get him. Why wouldn't any night
work? Was he really that busy? I was sure I could help if he was.
Just like before. Like we used to.

“Do you have a lot of homework? I can help!
Hell, I can probably even do it for you!” I plead pitifully, hoping
the deep impending intuition in my gut wasn't right.

“Harvey, I just can't do this anymore. I
can't keep spending my weekends watching movies and making fake
plans that will never actually happen. Do you understand?”

No, I didn't understand. What the hell is he
trying to say? That we're not friends anymore? No. John wouldn't do
that to me. We've always been best friends. Maybe he's just having
a hard time adjusting to high school. I know I am.

“John...really, whatever is going on, I
can...”
“Harvey, I don't want to be your friend anymore,” he said flatly,
interrupting me.

It was so blunt. His voice had been as calm
as could be, as though we were talking about the weather. It was
like this meant nothing to him. Like I was just some random overly
talkative stranger whom he was trying to let down easy. Like eight
years worth of friendship meant nothing.

I stood silent for a moment, not sure how to
react. I wanted to cry, but I also wanted to scream
hysterically.

“What do you mean, John?” I played dumb.

This couldn't be true. I'm his best friend!
He's got to be fucking joking!

I laughed a little, “You're just joking,
right? Ha ha. Let's play one over on Harvey,” I laughed nervously
again giving him a playful punch to the arm.

John squared his shoulders and this time
looked me directly in the eye.

“Harvey, I don't like you. All you do is get
me beat up and made fun of. You have no idea how hard it is to be
your friend and to constantly stick up for you! I don't know what's
wrong with you, but no one else likes you either. I want to have
friends, Harvey! I want to be liked for a change!” he said

loudly.

“I am your friend, John,” I sighed, staring
at the floor, completely ashamed of myself. I could feel the tears
welling up in the corner of my eyes, and I begged God to let this
all be a dream.

“Not anymore, Harvey.”

He turned and walked away without looking
back. I could still feel his presence even after he left. The air
was thick with his hatred and disgust toward me.

A couple of girls started chatting by their
lockers across the hall. They stared at me, smirks glistened across
their snobby faces. Tears trickled down my cheeks. I knew they were
talking about me, making fun of me. They're always making fun of
me.

Their smirks turned into giggles and then
outright laughter. I was right.

“Aw, what's the matter, wittle boy? Did that
big man hurt your wittle feelings?” they mocked in baby talk as I
stood sobbing.

I clenched my fists while wet shame poured
down my face.

“Shut up you...you..BITCHES!” I screamed at
them and ran down the hall bawling profusely, my throat
burning.

Their faces were full of shock, mouths agape,
and eyes scornful. How dare I speak to them that way? They were
popular and important, and I was nothing. Their salty voices rang
down the hallway

as I ran away.

“Get back here, you little shit!” One harped
at me, “You're going to get your ass kicked, Carter!”

All I could think was at least they knew my
name.

I kept running though. I didn't dare turn
around for fear of one, if not both, fulfilling their promise. I
couldn't even fend off two high school girls. That's how pathetic I
truly was.

John was right. No one liked me. I was crying
and hurt not only because I had just lost my best and only friend,
but because I knew he was right to leave. I understood that it was
hard for him to

defend me all the time. Especially when I
didn't know how to defend myself. But still, I thought that was
what friends did for each other. I thought friends didn't care
about your flaws. I hated to be wrong about that.

That night I ordered a large pepperoni and
onion pizza, rented two movies, and turned my TV up so my mother
wouldn't realize I was alone.

I tried to forget my hurt and anger, my
shame, but it engulfed me. My heart ached with so much grief that I
literally wished I could rip it out and throw it in the trash. It
was useless anyway.

I stood in front of the mirror staring back
at myself for what seemed like hours. Just staring down at my pale
skinny body. My thin weak hands. My gaunt pimpled face. Even my
blond hair dulled with heartache.

“I hate you!” I cried out.

I held my breath, refusing to let this putrid
body keep taking precious air from those more important in life. My
vision began to blur with each ticking second. The once pale pink
of my skin turned a blush shade of red. It felt as if small bubbles
of air were rising inside my brain. My body convulsed for air,
fighting me for control. I began to forget about John, about those
two bitches in the

hall, about my life. Shadows slowly crept
across my vision as the room grew black. Darker and darker.

Boom.

I blacked out.

Blacked out of my forsaken life.

I laid on the floor for more than a few
minutes after my head cleared. I just wanted to go to bed and pray
to never wake up.

Please, God. Don't let me live another day. I
swear, if you don't take my life soon, then I will. Holy Christ.
How could anyone ever like me when even I hate myself.

Ah, those were the days. The “best days of
your life”, right? Honestly, who came up with that shit? I'm not
sure anyone ever considers high school as the best of their life. I
certainly wasn't one of them. How can anyone truly think that four
years of the constant hell of peer pressure really be the best of
their life? If high school was the best of what life had to offer,
then I'm quite surprised there are not more suicides after college.
My high school days were the worst. Although, Joanna made some of
those moments bearable, but in the end it just prolonged the
inevitable. I really do miss her though. More than anything.

Off I go. Off to deliver my vengeful message.
My boots scratch heavily against the pavement. The sound is
grinding against my eardrums. I feel the cold panic stirring inside
me.

Was I being stupid for doing this? What if
they are right about me?

More questions raced through my mind.

What if I get caught? What if I chicken
out?

What if I actually go through with this?

The last question stuck in my mind. Was I
really going to do this?

Yes, of course I was. I couldn't stop now,
even had I really wanted to. He has to be punished.

The school door loomed in front of me. Thick
heavy glass and steel was all that stood between running back home
and entering the building. I paused at the door for only a
heartbeat before stepping into the drafty empty hallway.

I took in a deep breath. I peered to the
right, then the left. Not a living soul could be seen, however, the
muffled roar of teenage chatter could be heard from the cafeteria.
That's where I wanted to be, but where I hated the most.

I began walking toward the ever growing sound
of casual laughter and nonsense. My footsteps barely making a sound
in comparison. I could picture everyone gathered in their
respective groups. Each making fun of all the others but secretly
wanting to be like each other. Such ironic horse shit. Why couldn't
I belong to one of those groups? Why couldn't they just accept me?
Am I really that horrible?

Anger boiled inside me. I couldn't tell if it
was anger against myself or them. I gripped the icy gun in my hand
tightly under my jacket, almost fusing it to my shaky fingers. It
felt strong, unbreakable, reassuring. I couldn't back down now.
There was no turning back for me. I answered my questions.

I entered the large room slowly, not daring
to look anyone in the eye for fear my true intentions would be
known. I searched the ocean of kids for JJ. I imagined him sitting
at the head of the table slicking back his black gelled hair as he
tried to convince everyone of how wonderful he was. What crap!

JJ's red and white letter-man jacket appeared
like a beacon through the crowd. Large block letters glowed
brightly against the florescent lights. SCHS Football. Our
inglorious hero. It was almost pulsating with egotistical smut.
Crimson red was the perfect color for JJ. It suited what I had
planned for him.

I lifted the gun in slow motion until it
reached beyond the fabric of my coat. I gave one more hate-filled
glance at JJ. I tilted the gun higher and higher, zeroing in on my
target. I closed my eyes tightly. My vision became nothing but red
and black.