Jon's Test

A Test
6:15am; BEEP, Beep, Bee… The alarm went off, its annoying crescendo jolting me from my thoughts. A flash of irritation spread though me, this was the only time in the day I could just sit and relax. The impertinent alarm had the nerve to wreck my critical review of the day. Fifteen seconds later I was out bed and down the stairs, in my head I planned out the day, at 6:25 I would have eaten and washed up, by 6:30 I’d be dressed and out the door to catch my bus.
At 25 minutes after I came down the stairs again and grabbed my backpack, but wait, it was open. Someone had been into my stuff! They probably messed everything up too, now all my folders and books are going to be in who knows what kind of order! Some one would hear about this when I got home. Order, first I had to get everything back in order in my pack. What did they move around, why was anyone in my pack in the fist place? There, my French folder, it was in the back of the pack, must move that to the front, and my Math book, there it was, sticking out of the middle of the mass of materials, had to get that in back. Who would have done this kind of thing? No time for that now though, its 6:29 I have to go, hurry now or I’m going to be late. Everything better be back in the right order, I don’t have anymore time to fix other peoples mistakes. Out the door now, I start jogging to the bus stop, running like this every morning is refreshing. The chill wind blows the long red strands of my hair back over my shoulders, and my heart keeps pace with the measured smack of my soles on the pavement. The sky is dark as overcast clouds glare down on the world. I run along the road, a car’s headlights blink to life coming around the hairpin curve at the end of my street. They move towards me as I move slowly towards them, soon I can make out the body of the car though the rings of light. Coming towards me it looks like any one of a dozen things but it strikes me as a person. Rushing by me, as someone rushes through life, never enjoying it, the bright lights, eyes, downcast, their radiance blinding and hiding the thoughts and driver of the car. A blank windshield reflecting the world back at itself, never giving anything back, the hood set in a permanent frown. Then it’s gone, the air ruffling my jacket as I move now away from it, not learning anything, not getting anything from this random encounter. I finish my run at the bus stop and I stand alone from the group of students while I wait for the bus. Those other students are just like the car, empty, no passion for anything, no commitment to life. They stayed in their little groups, never acknowledging anyone else and shunning the “lower class” of the school, those students, like me, who didn’t fit their standards. I had no desire to go and join them however, and happily spent my mornings alone. Today was no exception and I waited for the bus in silence, contemplating the coming school day.

At school I got off the bus and went to my locker, opening it I found the spartan environment comforting. I got my books that I hadn’t needed for homework the night before and carefully ordered them in my pack.
“Hey, Jon whatsup?”
I turned around as my locker shut to see Joe standing there. His messy black hair puffed up his head, adding another few inches to his already tall stature. I returned the perpetual smile on his face with a grin.
“Not much, someone went through my pack last night.”
“Really, that is just horrible” he joked as we walked towards the main hall.
“Stop it; you know I hate it when people go through my stuff.”
“I know, but I can’t fathom why. Dude, it’s just a backpack, or is their something in there we don’t know about, what aren’t you telling us Jon?”
“Nothing, I don’t know what you are talking about.” Sometimes Joe was really weird, I never truly understood his attitude. I think some of my confusion carried over into my voice because he gave up on that line of conversation.
“Oh, never mind, you just don’t get it. So where are you headed to now.”
“I’m going to my chemistry class today, since it’s an A day.”
“I think you’re the only one who could say that it’s an A day with such authority, everyone else would just be guessing. You actually know.”
“Of course I know, why wouldn’t I”
“Sometimes I wonder about you. Ever heard the words, obsessive compulsive?”
“Yes, I have heard of that, and no I am not obsessive compulsive.”
He laughed, “How many other people do you know go straight to class, twenty minutes before the bell rings to start school?”
“I have no idea, but I’m sure that there are people who do.”
“Yep, you.”
“I meant other than myself.”
“I know. How do you think you did on the math test?”
“I do not know, but I needed a 100% on it because my grade is going down too far.”
“Oh, really, so what is it now, a 99 or a 98 or even, gasp a 97?”
“No, it’s worse than that, too bad to tell you.”
“I don’t believe this. You. Don’t have the highest grade possible? I’m amazed.”
“I know, I need to work harder, this is just unacceptable. But right now I need to go study for Chemistry.”
“Ok, I’m sure you’ll have fun, I’m going to go find someone else to talk to.”
We parted ways at my chemistry classroom; I went in to review my notes for the test in two weeks. Mr. Winthow still had my project from October on his desk, I had asked him to take it down several times. I could find myriad mistakes with it. My mother making me stop working on it was the only reason I had turned it in the way it was now. Mr. Winthow refused to take it down though; he said it was the best project that he had ever seen. I sat down and took out my notebook, flipping to the section we were currently working on. Scanning over the black ink I read the doodle free notes, refreshing my memory on chemical reactions. The work in this chapter was so unbelievably easy I could not understand why we had spent the past week on it. Mr. Winthow was a good teacher but he didn’t always know what it was he was talking about, no one else in the class seemed to notice but he always made little mistakes. I did my best to correct him when he did, but sometimes I think he gets annoyed with me. I caught myself getting off topic and dragged my attention back to the notes in front of me. The class began filing in as the bell for school to start rang. I prepared myself for another day of off topic discussion and correcting the teacher.
The rest of the day was the usual chaotic disorder I had to endure everyday of my school life. The order less existence of the average high school student grated against my mind, nothing was concrete and regular. I couldn’t wait to get home and back to the sanctuary of my room the last bell finally rang, freeing us from the chaos and I fled to my locker. Carefully keeping them in order I got all my books for my assignments out and slid them into my backpack. Joe came around the corner as I slid my pack over my shoulder.
“Hey fool, wait up”
I turned and watched him make his way towards me. His lanky six feet finally seemed to be under his control and not some puppet masters. I could remember back to when he had just started to grow and soon outstripped everyone in the class. For a while after that it seemed as if he could not walk ten steps without tripping over something or running into someone. Now he moved gracefully, or as gracefully as someone with size seventeen shoes can, down the hall. As he approached he opened his mouth, “So how was your day?”
I stepped in next to him, my own five foot four frame dwarfed next to him.
“It was horrible, but is it ever anything else?”
He laughed, “I guess not, what went wrong with this particular day?”
“Math today, we got…”
“OH, yes math. What did you get on the test?”
“I was getting there. I did really badly; I got a sixty four percent.”
“WHAT! You, you got a ‘D’. What’s the world coming to?”
“I know, I don’t know what I did wrong. Well, I mean I know what I did wrong but I don’t know how I did it, I should have understood the material. Mrs. Quinert said she’s going to send out an interim too, my mom will kill me.”
“Good God, what did you do to need an interim? Your mom can only kill you if you don’t do it first. Relax some, a grade is a grade, you’ll live.”
“You just don’t get it do you? I have to get good grades, you can just slack off and waste away your intelligence but I can’t. I have to use it and push myself…”
“Whoa, wait a minute, who said I was wasting any intelligence, just because I choose not to waste my time appeasing this system of idiots doesn’t mean I don’t care. I’ll exert myself when it’s really worth it. Plus why would I want to try and work in that class when talking to Theia is so much more entertaining?”
All I could do was shake my head, Joe would never change, and he had always been like this. As long as I had known him he was easily as smart as I was but he never felt he needed to work towards anything but girls and his guitar. Maybe that’s why we made such good friends; the polar differences of our personalities drew us towards each other.
“What, you know she’s amazing, I still am shocked that she’ll even talk to me. Maybe you should try and talk to her sometime, she might actually be the first female you’ve had a real conversation with for fun in your entire life.”
“What do girls have to offer me? Why would they want to talk to me anyway? Even if I did want to talk to them.”
“Well, as for the first part, I know you think you can get everything you need in life from books but I’m here to inform you that you are quite wrong. As to the rest I have no idea why anyone would want to talk to you, I still haven’t quite figured out what I’m doing here.”
“I do not have time for girls anyway; I have too much work to do. My mom wouldn’t be able to handle it if I got a girlfriend anyway.”
“Therein lies the problem my friend, you must make time for girls and who said anything about a girlfriend, you have to start small. Like actually saying two words together at one time to a girl.”
“I think my social life is perfectly acceptable right now, and I am not going to change it.”
“I’ll take your word for it, but I personally think your mother has rubbed off on you to much.”
“I will see you tomorrow Joe, I am going to miss my bus though if I stay here talking to you.”
“Ok, I’ll see ya then, have fun doing your homework.”
“Bye”

I rode the bus home that day, thinking about what Joe had said. We had this argument weekly now, but today it seemed to stick in my mind more than it normally did. Maybe it had something to do with my problems in math. I had no idea what I was going to do about my grade, but I had to do something. Mrs. Quinert said she had sent the interims out last week so they should be getting here sometime in the next few days; I had until then to think of something. Once my mom found out what I had she was going to go ballistic. The last time had been right after dad left and I brought home a “C” in art. I just couldn’t understand what the art teacher wanted me to do, she was so unorganized and the assignment had no structure to it. The only criteria she gave were to paint a picture that pertained to the environment. What kind of assignment is that? I tried but I couldn’t do anything with directions that vague. When I brought home my report card my mother went nuts, I tried to explain it to her but she was beyond rationality and grounded me for two months afterward. I really didn’t mind the grounding, it’s not like I did anything anyway, but I couldn’t get past how disappointed she was in me and I knew I couldn’t do it again. The world went by in a gray monotony, the weak February sun lending no vitality to the scene. Cold, messy slush lined the roads, barren trees reflected his mood. Few people were out and the ones that were rushed through their business anxious to get back in a warm building. The rest of the bus was loud, the shouted conversations ranging across all topics. Slowing the bus came to my stop; I rose pulling my backpack over my shoulders. Like every day the bus seemed to empty at my stop, of 23 kids on the bus today, 16 of them got off at my stop. Now, the empty shell, devoid of the robust conversation from just a moment ago, would continue on to the seven other stops. Disembarking from the yellow cylinder that carried me to and from my doom everyday I began my walk home.

* * *

I sat at the computer, staring into the flickering screen; a small text box was perched in the right hand corner, drawing in my concentration. ‘I should probably go do my homework’ I thought. That reminded me of mine and Jon’s conversation that afternoon, ‘He’s probably got all of his done and then some and is now stressing about math. I wonder if he got his interim today.’ My mom had looked at mine and been like, “ Joe, this says ‘Currrent letter grade in need of improvement, what does that mean?”
“I don’t know mom, I’ll work on it.”
“Ok, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
‘Maybe me and Jon should trade places for awhile and see what it did to his attitude. There’s no way he could keep his expectations up if he lived around here.’ I thought. I closed the text box after giving the customary farewell and got up to go start my homework. My bio project was due next week and I had no idea what I was going to do, but I’d figure it out, I had the whole weekend to do it. Tonight I had to finish the math homework we got after going over the test. After I did that I could practice my guitar, I was starting to write a new song. Tonight maybe I could finish the first verse. Going to bed before twelve probably wouldn’t hurt either, but I didn’t see that happening, I was a late night type of person. I went into my room, the green carpet was barely visible under the piles of “stuff” consisting of clothes, old papers and who knew what else. My desk was semi-clean, with enough space for him to do his homework without crushing anything vital. Somewhere under one of the indistinguishable lumps was a bed that I crawled into every once in a while. Clearing off a little more space on the desk I dug around in my backpack for my math book. Dragging it out I flipped it open to the page we had started in class and began working.
I finished a while later, throwing the paper in the book and sliding it back into my pack. I got up to go back out to the computer as the phone rang. Reaching the computer desk I grabbed it off the ringer.
“Hello?”
“Hey, this is Jon, is Joe there?”
“Yes, this is Joe, what’s up?”
“Oh, hey how are you?”
“Good, what did you need?”
“Oh, nothing, I don’t really know why I called you. Just thought about doing something random.”
“You, do something random? You sure you’re feeling all right?”
“Yeah sure, I feel fine, never better. My mom just made dinner, we had salmon, and my dad said it was excellent.”
“Ok, what ever you say my friend. Did you get your interim today?”
“What, oh yeah, I got that.” His voice dropped, the light happy tone from seconds ago gone.
“So how’d you do?”
Suddenly there was a click and the line went dead. I slowly lowered the phone from my ear. That was really weird. I don’t think in all the time I’d known him Jon had ever ended a conversation any way but painfully politely. Him just hanging up on someone was so out of character so as to be unnerving. On the other hand, not wanting to talk about a bad grade was something that could drive him to do that, I don’t really know what he’d do if he found out that he was failing a class. Something else about that conversation was bothering me as well, his whole tone and word choice was strange, but there was something more.
That thought stayed in the back of my mind for the rest of the evening, I couldn’t put a finger on it but it was there. I got back on online for a while after we ate dinner, Theia was on and I helped her finish her homework. I played my guitar for the rest of the evening, finishing up the lyrics to my song. It was eleven when I was putting my guitar away and getting ready for bed that it finally hit me. Jon’s dad had left them when he was in eighth grade because his mom was too involved in her job. He had just walked out one day and never come back. It really shook Jon up, he adored his dad, and I thought sometimes that he worked so hard as a way to replace him. The other thing was, Jon hadn’t touched sea food since that time in third grade when we both got sick from eating fish sticks over at his house. There was no way he would have touched that salmon. That conversation was beginning to worry me but it was too late to do anything about it now, Jon always went to be by nine. I would talk to him in school tomorrow about it; maybe he was just feeling weird tonight.

I woke up the next morning at my usual time of quarter after six. I rolled out of bed and got in the shower, grabbing something random from my closet. My dad was sitting at the table reading the paper.
“Have a good day.”
“Yep, you too, I’ll cya tonight.”
Then I was out the door, walking quickly to catch my bus. On the bus I found someone to talk to and passed the half hour ride chatting with Ian. We got to school on time for once and I went in to see if I could find Jon. I went to his locker but he wasn’t there, maybe he’s studying for chem. again. But he wasn’t in his chem. room either, that was unusual, but there was nothing I could do, he could be sick today. So I went to find some other people to talk to.
In third period that day we were going over our homework from the night before, Theia and I were checking each other’s papers. Someone knocked on the door; Mrs. Quinert got up from her desk and went over to the door. Someone said something and she stepped out into the hall. I went back to looking over Theia’s paper; interruptions like this happened almost daily, no big deal. A few minutes later she came back in with a piece of paper in her hand. She scanned through it has she walked back to the front of the room. It must have been some teacher’s thing, and I finished checking Theia’s paper.
“Class, listen up, I’ve got an announcement to read you from Dr. Smith.”
Everybody gradually pulled their concentration to the front of the room, when the conversation had died to the background she started again. This time reading from the paper.
“This is Dr. Smith; some of you may have known a student here, Jonathon Furio…”
That got my attention, fully; I had been listening with half a brain before, now I really started to listen.
“… He was a tenth grader at this building, an exceptional student. This morning his mother found him in his bed. He was pronounced dead at 8:41 this morning at Mercy hospital from an overdose of sleeping pills. I know…”
My mind went blank; I fell back numbly in the chair. I knew that he was obsessive over his grades but I never thought it would be this bad. The strangeness of the conversation I’d had with him last night came back to me and what I had said as he got on the bus yesterday, “She can only kill you if you don’t do it first.” What had I done, what was going on? I had known him for so long, he was gone, what could I do. Why didn’t I see this coming, all I could do was make fun of him.
“JOE, JOE”, someone was shouting my name, it cut through the fog around my head.
“Are you alright?” It was Mrs. Quinert. I realized my hands were shaking and tears were staining my cheeks.
“No, I’m not alright, Jon is dead.” Saying the words seemed to give it finality, the immenseness of this situation finally sank in.
“Why don’t you come with me, we’ll go to the counselors and you can call your parents.”
I just sat there and nodded, what else was there to do? Jon was dead and we had killed him. She came around to my desk and helped me get up and we walked out of the classroom.