Solitary: A Novel (21 page)

PLEASE READ THIS.

I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO GET TWO MINUTES OF CONVERSATION WITH YOU SINCE THE NIGHT OF THE 'PARTY.

I NEED TO EXPLAIN THINGS.

I'M USED TO NEARING ABOUT `T- OSE GUYS." SOME OF MY FRIENDS -AVE BEEN 11TNOCE GUYC." THE ONES THAT WANT ONLY ONE THING FROM A GIRL AND THEY GET IT. I'VE SEEN GUYS TREAT GIRLC'PRETTYDAD, AND I PAVE ALWAYC'PROMICEDMYSELF WOULDN TBE ONE OFTNOCE.

I WANT YOU TO KNOW-I WAS SCARED. I WASN'T CURE WHAT WAS HA'P'PENING, AND I INSTANTLY TNOUG - T OF WHAT I CNOULD AND CNOULDN'T DO. I'D LIKE TO SAY I WAS BEING A GENTLEMAN, BUT TO BE COMPLETELY NONECT, I WAS SCARED. TNAT'C'PUTTING IT MILDLY. I JUST NEVER EXPECTED TNINGC TO GO THERE.

I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I'VE NEVER MET A GIRL LIKE YOU. EVER. SINCE THE MOMENT YOU WALKED UP TO ME WITH RACHEL AND POE THAT FIRST DAY, I BEGAN TO THINK TNIC. BUT TNERE'C COMETNING MORE.

EVER SINCE SEEING YOU WITH YOUR CTE'P-UNCLE-I JUST GOT TNIC CRAZY URGE NODE OF ME. TO NOT BE ONE OF "TNOCE GUYC." INTERESTED IN ONLY ONE THING.

I TNOUGNT I'D BE LETTING YOU DOWN IF I GAVE IN TO TN AT.

IT'C COMETNING DIFFERENT.

WHEN I SAW YOU WITH YOUR CTE'P-UNCLE AND I SAW THAT LOOK ON YOUR FACE-MAYBE I'M CRAZY, I DON'T KNOW-BUT I NAD TNIC URGE TO PROTECT YOU.

IC THAT INCANE?

I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT.

I JUST WANT A CHANCE TO GET TO KNOW WNAT'C BEHIND THAT LOOK, AND WNATC BEHIND THAT HEART-STO'P'PING BEAUTY THAT WALKS'PACT ME OM A DAILY BASIS.

THESE AREM'T LIMES-T-EVRE MOT ORIGINAL, BUT THEY'RE TRUE, AND THEY'RE EXACTLY WHAT ('M TPIMKIMG AND FEELING.

( JUST WANT A COAMCE TO KEEP GETTING TO KMOW YOU.

IT SEEMS LIKE EVERYBODY AROUND NERE- INCLUDING YOU-WANTS ME TO STAY AWAY FROM YOU.

BUT TOE ONLY TOIMG THAT OEL'PS ME MAKE IT TI- ROUGO TOE DAY AT THIS SCHOOL IS TOE TOOUGOT THAT MAYBE I'LL SEE YOU.

DOM'T GIVE UP OM HE, JOCELYM. THAT'S ALL I ASK.

CI--IRIS

I put the letter back in my notebook and don't reread it.

I have a feeling that if I do, I'll tear it up.

I give myself a twenty-five percent chance of giving the letter to Jocelyn.

That percentage will probably go down by the time the sun rises tomorrow.

just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water ...

I remember reading that the tagline for jaws 2 was one of the most popular ever. I can see why.

The phrase pops up in my head as I'm washing my hands and see the figures approaching in the mirror.

It's Gus and his boys.

I tried to talk with Jocelyn after second period, but she gave me the complete stranger treatment. She didn't know I had a letter for her, a letter I'm seriously contemplating throwing away.

The splotchy skin of Gus stands out under the cold, white light.

"You ever been hurt, Chris?" he asks me. "Like hurt really bad?"

Oli stands behind him, guarding the narrow passageway to the door. Oli is short for Oliver, I have learned. Newt told me.

Not that that's going to help anything at this moment.

I see Burt and Riley flanking Gus. They're average guys who get all excited when Gus pushes their buttons. Otherwise they're pretty harmless.

Gus, however, isn't.

I've been expecting this for a while.

"What are you going to do now, man? Where are you going to run now?"

My notebook and a couple of textbooks sit on the edge of the sink. I think about using the doorstop of a English book on Gus's face but know that I won't get far.

There's no window in this bathroom, not that I would have time to open and climb out of one.

The door opens, and Oli slams it shut.

"You're not looking so brave now, are you?" Gus says.

The bathroom isn't that big. There's a narrow entrance, which Oli is blocking, then an open area with five sinks in it, then a half wall that leads back to the urinals and a set of four stalls.

Burt moves toward the back area.

I dash over to him, scaring him and slamming a shoulder against his puny side as I scram to the stalls. I don't have a plan. I'm just running.

I get in the last stall and lock it. The door is flimsy, and I know it will just take a good kick to open it. You can reach in underneath the door as well as get in above the walls.

This only gives me time to think.

Come on. Do something.

I hear them scampering behind me.

Gus curses at me, calling me names. The other guys are laughing.

I look at the white plastic seat. It takes two good jerks to pull it off.

"You really want to be hiding in a john, do you? You wanna know how gross those toilets are? Do you really want to know what that water tastes like?"

I'm holding the light toilet seat, and then I put it on the floor. Not sure what I'm going to do with it.

Gus taunts me some more, then says something under his breath to one of the guys.

I pick up the tank lid. It's heavy, white, ceramic.

Then I stand firm, a little ways back so the door can't strike me.

"Go ahead, Oli," Gus orders.

This isn't going to be pretty.

The door blasts open and slams against the side of the wall. As Oli regains his balance from kicking the door in, I rush toward him with the tank lid as a battering ram. It hits him square in the chest and sends him backward with a gasping cough.

The next few seconds are a blur.

I ran Oli into one of the other two-I think Riley. Burt doesn't know what to do and just stands there.

I wouldn't know what to do either if some crazy kid holding a tank lid from a school toilet came barreling out of the stall at me.

That leaves Gus, who looks at me still holding the lid and then backs off to find something to hit me with.

He launches a garbage can at me, but it simply rolls to my side. Then he grabs my stack of books and flings them at me.

I follow him because I want to get out of this bathroom with my teeth in place and my face intact.

Gus stays over by the sinks as I drop the lid on the ground in a loud crash and then rush out the door into the mostly empty hallway.

On my way to my next class, I realize my books are still in the bathroom.

So is my letter to Jocelyn.

Later that afternoon, as I'm moving slowly through the masses trying to avoid Gus, I see two figures huddled near an open classroom.

I can see Mr. Meiners looking down, his arm around someone.

Then I see her.

Jocelyn.

She's got her hands in her face. One hand wipes her eyes.

Tears.

I wonder if someone she knows died.

I stop and nearly get trampled by the herd behind me.

"Watch out," some girl says.

I want to go to Jocelyn, see what's wrong.

She doesn't want you knowing.

I lurk around the lockers on the other side and watch them.

Jocelyn continues to cry. But then she does something else, something strange and baffling.

She laughs.

The tears she's crying-1 can't tell if they're tears of sadness or ofjoy.

Or maybe both.

Time scrapes by, the same needle on the same side of the same album turning around and around.

Mom comes and goes, doing a little better, staying busy. But sometimes I hear her come back home really late and then I see her the next morning and know her habits haven't changed. I don't have to smell her breath to know. Drinking somewhere other than home is still drinking. To avoid a lecture, she promises that we're going to get cable and Internet.

I'm sixteen years old. I should be the one getting lectured.

Classes remain the same. Schoolwork remains the same. I'm uninterested and uninvolved. The same way 99 percent of the students are regarding me.

Jocelyn is a stranger. And all the words I summed up and scripted in a silly little letter remain missing, just like our brief friendship.

If that's what I can call it.

Rachel reaches out to me, just as Poe seems to try to cast an evil spell on me every time I see her. In my mind they balance each other out.

Every now and then I see Ray. He talks to me like I'm part of the crowd at a pep rally, shaking my hand or patting me on the back.

This is life.

This is how I spend my days.

I long to be twenty-seven and grown up. Why twenty-seven? It just sounds good. Not married-no way. But living in a house. No, scratch that. Living in a cool loft in a big city. New York, maybe Chicago. With a serious girlfriend. With a bunch of guys I like hanging around with. With a sweet car. And an awesome job that pays way too much.

Is this too much to ask for?

Maybe.

It feels like a mirage. Like the promise of water when I'm in the middle of a desert.

The days in that second week of November smear away, leaving empty slots on a calendar I ignore.

The weekend approaches, and with it comes the promise of getting away from here, of getting away from the reality that I don't have much to look forward to day after day.

Friday finds me alone at my locker, and I feel something touch my arm.

For the second time in a week, I see Jocelyn in tears.

"Chris ..."

Then she gives me a big hug.

When she moves away, I see something in her hand.

Then I realize.

My note found its way to her.

"How did you-"

But she puts a finger on my lips and stops me from saying anything else.

"Later."

"What?" I ask.

"Don't say anything. Okay? Not now. Just wait for later."

"Later?"

"Are you doing anything tonight?"

I chuckle. "Yeah, I have a double date I'm going on."

"Seriously."

"No."

"Then meet me at my locker at the end of the day."

"For what?"

She gives me a heartmelting smile that seems to say I adore you and I'm sorry and I'm yours all in some magical way.

Or maybe I imagined that.

Maybe I'm imagining this.

"Okay" is what I think I say.

Then she's gone.

"Do you believe in God, Chris?"

These are not the words I'm expecting out of Jocelyn the moment the doors shut and she starts up her car.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why? Do you?"

As she backs out of the parking space, I wonder what to say.