Punkzilla (11 page)

I vowed that I would never turn away from help again and I started thinking about how I could’ve been in a nice house and like totally sleeping in some girl’s bed all warm and dry and probably taking a shower and washing my hair with some expensive shampoo that smells like peaches or cherries or fresh apple pie or something. It almost makes me sick to my stomach as I’m writing this even though I’m safe and dry now in the backseat of this Lincoln.

I eventually made it through the field just before it went completely dark. Then there was another highway. It was a pretty busy one with semis roaring by so I decided to just sit down on the shoulder. I eventually took the mask off because I figured no one would stop for some kid wearing a rubber Halloween mask in the beginning of March. I sat close to the zooming cars because I figured the sound of their blaring horns would help me stay awake and NOT SLEEP. Either that or I wouldn’t be able to fight sleep anymore and someone would veer off the road and put me out of my misery for good. I was really at that place P. Just a few hours ago. I was so exhausted I didn’t even care if a COP caught me. If that happened I knew I would be taken in and eventually Mom and the Major would get called and then I’d have to face the shitty music and under the circumstances even THAT seemed okay. Have you ever been at the end of your rope like that P? I mean you probably are now right because of your cancer but maybe you’re way more professional or poised when it comes to that kind of exhaustion? Or maybe you DO feel it too? Like you’re always running away from everything and you’re hungry and your pants keep almost falling down because they got your only belt buckle which was one of your favorite items from Portland and you have no friends and everyone thinks you’re a fucking girl and you suck at most things mainly Monday drill and decision making and other important leadership qualities and you don’t know if you’re going to suddenly puke or piss your pants or if you’ll get lucky enough to find a safe place to sleep? That’s what I was going through earlier P. Exactly that and God is a dick for letting all of this happen! He’s a fucking dick for letting you have cancer and if he had an e-mail address I would get a Yahoo account or one of those other free ones and fire off a few complaints because as it stands right now there’s no way I’m going to Heaven anyway if that place even EXISTS if God is even OUT THERE the great miracle maker!

When the Lincoln Town Car pulled up Dave or Dan or Dale lowered the window and asked me if I needed a ride and I said yes and he said he was heading east so I got in. I told him how I was supposed to be on a bus heading to Memphis and how I got jumped and how they took my money and how I wasn’t feeling so great. Then he offered me a piece of gum and I took it and as soon as I bit into it I almost puked I don’t even know why maybe because of the sudden rush of flavor but I swallowed hard and kept chewing. Then the old lady in the passenger’s seat turned around to look at me and she was staring at me hard like she could barely make me out like she was mad confused about something. I said “I’m a boy okay?” and this is what the old leaky-eyed hag said back and it’s the only thing she said the whole time I’ve been in this car P she said “I don’t care what you are shrimp” and then she turned around just like that. She called me a fucking shrimp P! She was the exact kind of person I would have robbed in Forest Park I swear.

A few minutes after she called me a shrimp the guy who was driving asked me to buckle my seat belt and I did and then he stared at me through the rearview mirror a bit and asked me what school I went to and I told him about Buckner and how it’s a military school. He said “You on spring break?” and I said “Till next week” which was my first lie. I tried not to say much after that because I was afraid that I would just start lying like crazy like a bunch of loose teeth falling out of your mouth or something.

I have to stop writing now P because my hand really is hurting pretty bad and I’m not just saying that. It’s like I have a permanent headache in my palm. And this pen is running out so it may be a while before I can write you again. I’m just glad I’m not dead and that I’m finally out of the rain.

I hope you’re okay and not in too much pain.

I remember seeing this movie where a guy gets AIDS and dies. He gets all these brown spots on his face and starts stumbling around his apartment and then he goes blind and collapses on a coffee table.

Is anything like that happening to you yet? I figure AIDS and cancer have at least a few things in common but maybe I’m totally wrong. When I get to you you better not be blind. At least give me a few days of you being able to see.

August 28
^th
, 2007

Dear New Boy,

Welcome to Buckner!

This is my fifth year at the academy. As a seventh-grader in New Haven, Connecticut, I coasted by with a 3.0 GPA, played sports, and was fine with being “good enough.” Then I came to Buckner’s summer camp and after the incredible experience I had, my parents decided to enroll me for the full academy program.

My experiences here at Buckner have been life-changing, as I’m sure they will be for you, too. The program has taught me dedication and motivation. I’ve learned that anything I want to do can be accomplished with hard work. My cumulative GPA is now 3.8, and I tutor other cadets in math at the Reginald Plotke Learning Center. This year I will compete in three sports: football, basketball, and track. I’ve been challenged with the leadership position of captain of the varsity basketball team and have worked very hard in preparation for the upcoming season. Chapel services help ground me. I listen to each message to see how it applies to my everyday life.

In our Leadership Education Training classes, I’ve learned alternative methods of dealing with problems and people and strategic ways to talk to and motivate others. I’ve earned several medals and academic stars, but my coveted achievement is the JROTC National Scholar Athlete Medal because it is awarded to a cadet who is successful both in sports and in the classroom.

All this is here for you, too. As you begin the difficult initiation process that will challenge you during the coming weeks, just know that I was once in your shoes. Have faith that Buckner Academy is here to make you better!

September 10, 2007

Dear Mom,

So I promised you I would write you so here goes my first letter. I got here two days ago and I haven’t slept yet. This place is really scary Mom. Not like horror movie scary the kind of scary where you think you might die because you don’t have what it takes. All the buildings are made out of stone and there’s this huge graveyard full of these things called class stones and my room overlooks it and I keep thinking I’m going to see the Headless Horseman galloping through with an axe or something. I know Dad is a military hero and Edward won all those physical-fitness badges and is an all-conference wrestler and can do that thing where you grab a pole and stick your legs out sideways but I don’t think I have the same intestinal fortitude or whatever that’s called. What I’m saying Mom is that I’m weaker than everybody like physically and mentally too like I can’t remember how to ask permission to eat or use the bathroom. I screw everything up. I feel like I’ve been shining shoes nonstop. My squad leader hates me. He’s this guy Sergeant Voyce and every time he sees me he makes me drop and do push-ups. I know I should give it more time but I was wondering if I could come home. I really don’t think I’m cut out for this Mom. I know that’s disappointing to hear but I’m just trying to be honest. If you let me come home I promise I won’t smoke any more pot and I won’t steal anything and I’ll stop doing antihistamines and I’ll apply myself in school and start using my intelligence in a positive way. Things are so bad that last night in the middle of the night I had to go to the bathroom really bad but I didn’t go because there was this guy on duty who likes to poke me in the Adam’s apple with his knuckle. He’s done it like six times in two days his name is Staff Sergeant Rebillard and he has a face like a smashed cat so I stayed in bed and eventually fell asleep but I pissed my bed right before reveille. It wasn’t a huge amount or anything it was mostly my underwear and pajama bottoms I threw them away but I had to change my sheets before first mess which meant that I couldn’t work on my shoes and they weren’t shiny enough and Sergeant Voyce wound up making me stay in push-up position for the whole morning formation and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking all through breakfast if you don’t let me come home I think I’m going to run away like go AWOL and never look back or maybe I’ll stick a fork in my eye and get kicked out I swear Mom I’m going to do that if you loved me you would let me come home. Okay fuck this I just read this letter and there’s no way I’m sending it to you. No way no way no way no way. It will live in this notebook forever or I will burn it.

September 25
^th
, 2007

Dear Jamie,

How’s military school? I hope it’s going well. You’ve been gone for almost a month and it’s strange getting used to you not being here. At night every time I look over at your bed I keep expecting to hear you snoring or talking in your sleep like you do, but you’re not there. Do you keep your new roommate up at night with your snoring? Has he written down some of the things you say in your sleep? Remember that time after we went fishing in Michigan how you stood straight up in your bed and said that the state capital of Ohio was hidden in the cornflakes? That was really funny. You should tell your new roommate to keep a pen and a pad of paper near his bed so he can write everything down.

Things at home are good. I just applied for early acceptance into the University of Chicago premed program. I applied to Yale and Carnegie Mellon too, but my first choice would be U of C because it’s the best. My biology teacher, Mr. Sparr, thinks I have a great chance to get in all three, so cross your fingers for me.

I decided to join the cross-country team because I thought it would get me in better shape for wrestling. Three-point-one miles is no joke. After the two-mile mark I always feel like I have nothing left. You have to really dig down deep for that final one-point-one. I’m going to try to go down a weight class this year because Coach Calhoun thinks I could win state at 156. I’m on a no-cholesterol, high-protein diet. I mostly eat oatmeal and almonds and salmon. Did you know that salmon is considered one of the perfect foods? Apparently so is anything from a goat, like goat milk or goat cheese. And coconut water is the most hydrating thing you can put in your body. Did you know that? It’s even more hydrating than Gatorade. Dad’s basically on the same diet, so it makes it easy for Mom.

Speaking of Mom, she’s on a mission to renovate the basement. She was on the phone with Home Depot for over an hour today. She ordered a bunch of paneling for the walls and she’s getting carpeting too. She spends most of her time down there, sorting through old boxes and trying to figure out where she’s going to put stuff. Dad wants a bar down there, too. And maybe a sauna and a Jacuzzi. Don’t be surprised if they put you to work during your Thanksgiving break.

I got these circular push-up mounts that the Navy Seals use for their workouts. They’re part of the perfect push-up package that I ordered off the Internet. I’ve been working out with them for two weeks now and my chest and shoulders are getting really strong. I asked Mom to get you a pair so you could do some working out on the side. I know you don’t like the notion of fitness so much, but it could help you get through the initiation process for new cadets that Dad was telling me about. I also got a pull-up bar mounted in our room now. I’ve been doing three sets of ten three times a week and I’m hoping to get up to twelve by next week.

Jamie, I wanted you to know one thing. Remember how you were getting into all that trouble this summer? With the stealing and that thing you did to Mrs. Weitzel’s birdbath? And how I walked in on you smoking pot in the garage? Well, I never said anything about that to Mom or Dad. I let that one stay between us. I hope you believe me, Jamie, because it’s true. I know we haven’t always gotten along, but I don’t want you to think for a minute that I’m some sort of narc.

But regarding your recent behavior, I do hope that Buckner is helping you find a better path, one that is more productive and helping you move toward your potential, because you have so much of that, Jamie, so much potential. All three of us do, and even though Peter is squandering his down in Memphis or Athens, Georgia, or wherever it is that he is busy being an opinionated homosexual, there is still hope for you.

Please don’t break Mom and Dad’s hearts.

Please do not do that, Jamie.

March 8, 2008

Dear P,

It’s two days since I wrote you and my hand is definitely starting to feel better. My head hurts less too but it still throbs if I bend down to tie my shoes. When I do anything like that it feels like my eyeballs are going to burst.

I’m at this shitty little place called the Lakeside Motel where Dan or Dave or Dale and the old lady with the leaky eye dropped me off it’s about twenty miles away from Highway 25 on this road with this huge old parking lot where all these semis and a bunch of truck drivers are smoking and sitting on plastic beach chairs and drinking out of bottles with brown paper bags over them and playing cards and talking on their cell phones. It’s mad big this parking lot thing and there’s a hamburger stand blaring classic rock at the front like mostly Bruce Springsteen and Fleetwood Mac and Pink Floyd. I was walking around there a little earlier but there weren’t any other kids around. It’s like truckers have something against the younger generation. This one Mexican dude with all these tattoos on his arms offered me an ear of corn on a stick. He had like a whole bucketful of them but I said no thanks and kept weaving through the crowd. In some ways that parking lot is like a carnival without rides. A carnival without rides or kids. I think it used to be a drive-in-movie place because there’s an old white screen with all these stains on it. Someone spray painted “JESUS HAS A WEBSITE” on it which is a funny thing to write without adding the website address like it’s some seriously privileged information that you have to PRAY to get or something.