life; the never-ending rollercoaster;2

CHAPTER 2

School was not the boring hall of learning for me, as it was for some others. For me it was escape. Escape from my stepfather, escape from insanity – if only for around seven hours. But even so, the high school was a large, foreboding building, and after a painful, dizzy, many miled walk, the only good thing about its appearance was Jason waiting for me. I don’t exactly know why Jason always waits for me; if he didn’t, he’d certainly be late less often.
It was the first time that I had even gone to that school, because this was the first day of freshman year, but I knew my way to it, because I’d been there before, just not gone to the school. Was that too complicated? I tend to explain things in a way no one ever gets, so maybe I’ll try again. I didn’t exactly know my way around the inside of the school, but I knew how to get there.
“Hey, dude,” Jason greeted me as we knocked fists. Man, our handshake was cheesy. Maybe we should get a new one. Wait, do other guys even have handshakes anymore, or is that just girls? I remembered that handshakes were big with girls from kindergarten to sixth grade…. And some guys, but now we’re freshman. That’d be queer. But Jason and my handshake is more of a greeting, a way to show that nothing bad has happened. We always welcome each other with it, and if one doesn’t return it, then we know something’s wrong, like a code. Oh well, now’s not the time; He’s starting to stare at me.
Jason’s face spun before me. Lord, I wished I wasn’t this dizzy!
“Nice damage,” He said, making a face and eyeing my limp.
I frowned at my friend’s head. “So you still didn’t get a haircut, huh? Ain’t you ever going to?” Jason’s hair was long - well, long for a guy’s. It’s around an inch or two above his chin. But look at mine! Ha! I shouldn’t talk.
“Ah, pack it, short stuff,” Jason threw back. He’s taller than I am, and most of the guys that I know are. Not all, just most, mind you. Okay, pretty much every guy in our grade is. Jason’s got big, brown eyes the color of honey. They're always full of amusement and laughter, like the rest of him. But they could be serious, too. That’s another thing that I learned firsthand. Jason’s hair is a lighter brown that mine, though it’s not quite blonde, (he hates to be called blonde), and as you know, it’s long. His head looked a bit like an upside-down egg. Jason is slim, and was once described as a ‘hooligan’ from one adult, and a ‘charming young man’ from another. I agree with neither of those. He’s Jason; no other nouns needed. People’s first impressions with him could be wildly different, and that’s the only way to explain it.
“We’re gonna be late,” Jason paused. “And no, I am not.” I grinned; I had missed laughing with Jason over the summer. Jason laughed at stuff that was funny. The people I spend the summer with, i.e.: My step dad and me, don’t really laugh that much. And if nothing was funny, and Jason felt some tension needed to be disposed of, then he made something funny: It came naturally to him.
Both of us never really spent any time together over the summer. Mostly because Jason’s family was always out of town during the summertime. Well, not always. But, when Jason and the rest of my friends were here, knew better than to ask my step dad to do anything with them. Most of the time, I just went with Jason, without permission. Then I usually caught it. But it was worth it, because I don't think that I would be able to stand three months without my friends. My step dad wanted me to be there with him, so if he had a sudden urge to pummel me, he didn’t have to wait for me to get back.
Once we finally found our assigned lockers – the numbers had come in the mail-- we pretty much failed in trying to open them. I finally lost my senses and did whatever I could to make it open, in fear of being late for a first impression on the teachers. Teachers never liked me. I don’t exactly know why. Maybe I was just annoying to them, but I’m not sure. It was never a certain teacher that hated me; I just got a bad vibe from all of them. Homeroom teachers were usually neutral. I guess that they didn’t observe me enough to have an opinion.
Finally, Jason suggested that I find a better way to open my locker, for when I at last kicked the locker with all my might, and it retaliated by flying into me.
That didn’t do my wooziness any good, either. I called Jason a hypocrite; He had to do the same thing to get his open.
I watched a red-headed girl in tight jeans pass by in the hall. She stopped a few lockers down. Gawking, I wondered absentmindedly how she was able to walk in those pants. Jason happened to glance at me at that moment. He laughed.
“Put your eyes back in your head, boy, that’s Ashley.” Jason whispered so she wouldn’t hear us. My mouth fell open.
“Ashley. Lawrence? The nurse’s daughter?” I said in a low voice. What other wonders could summer work? Last year she looked eight years old.
Jason nodded.
“Oh, wait you don’t know. She’s my girlfriend. Stay away, if you know what’s good for you.” Jason said seriously. Like I would -- or could, -- steal his girlfriend. Really, Jason, it’s Jamie, the kid you've known since kindergarten. Who in their right mind would dump you for me? Are you insane?
“Really?”
“Yes, and if she isn’t my girlfriend, she will be. But I’m pretty sure she is. It’s not exactly official, though: I never asked her.”
“So, you made out with her, but you never asked her to be your girlfriend?” I said, in understanding, waiting for a response with a grin spreading across my face.
“Well, that’s kind of an unwritten law, since I went out with her so many – hey, who said I made out with her?!” He said in an angry whisper, looking offended. Took him long enough.
“I just assumed…”
“Yeah, well don’t. If my parents ever hear you say that, I’ll be in for it.” He said. Yeah, right. Spend a moment in my world.
“Right, because I’m just so socially interactive with everyone…”
“Right. Sorry. But, if anyone else heard that—”
“Relax, I won’t say it anymore! Okay, I know what would happen! Fine. God, I only said it once, you don’t have to flip out on me. Ruins the fun, you know…Anyway, isn’t she the half-baked, cockamamie one?” I twirled my finger around my ear, making the insane sign. That was how my head felt, too. I believe that that was the first time I had ever used the word ‘cockamamie’ in a sentence. And the last.
“Shut up. I’m serious.” Jason whispered.
I whistled, pretending to be impressed that Jason could be serious. Ashley looked over, and I pretended to be fixing the strap on my bag. Then she noticed us standing there.
“Don’t strain yourself, Jason.” He elbowed me in the ribs, where my step dad hit me. I winced, and he didn’t notice.
“You obviously haven’t seen her over the summer,” Jason smirked slyly, and raised his voice slightly, just as Ashley headed over towards us. “ I love public pools.”
Ashley scoffed, but in a sarcastic way.
“Uchh,” She placed her hands on her hips and smiled. “Stalker?” Ashley put on amber puppy-dog eyes, and turned her gaze back to the both of us. “I can’t open my locker, could you help me?”
“Why won’t it open?” Jason asked her, probably already knowing, because of our adventure trying to open them. He’ll do anything to make conversation sometimes. Ashley wrinkled her little nose.
“I don’t know! I thought that you would know that,” She said.
“Did you put in your combination?” I asked, looking at her with raised eyebrows. She shook her head and her protuberant gaze returned to her pale face. That girl must have escaped from an asylum somewhere.
Jason threw his hands up in the air. “Well, there you go!” Ashley stood on tip-toe and kissed him on the cheek.
“You’re so cute when you’re exasperated, my little rattle-brain!” She reached up, shook his head, and pinched his cheek as a grandmother would a little kid. Then she was distracted by the warning bell and bade them farewell to go to class. I was glad she didn’t shake my head like that. You know, she never opened her locker. She’s weird like that. But in a good way... kind of cute, too… Oh, SHUT UP, I scolded myself. She’s Jason’s girlfriend!
Jason looked bewildered. “Why’d she do that?” I took my opportunity.
“Because you’re just so cute when you’re exasperated, little rattle-brain!” I mocked the way she shook his head, not really looking to associate myself with a grandmother by pinching him. Jason responded by smirking and punching me where-the-sun-don’t-shine.
“ You’re a little too good at acting like a girl, if you know what I – Aaaah! Quick, hide me!” And he attempted to fit his lanky frame behind me. It didn’t work. I mean really, did he actually think it would?
“Oh, relax, honey-bunch,” Ashley called, coming back to her locker. “I forgot my books.” Her locker opened smoothly.
“I’da – w’ba – what about the – but – yours – mine – with the – and the --How’d you do that!?”
Jason stammered something about ‘why did her locker open?’, until Ashley walked over and silenced him. He stood there in shock, as she kissed him, and I felt awkward and embarrassed, backing up. Finally, she broke off, and walked away. Jason just stood there, frozen.
“Well,” I said. “You’ve made out with her now.” Jason broke out of his trance, and grabbed me in a painful headlock. But he looked pleased, nonetheless. He dragged me away to the wall where our homerooms were up, along with the rest of our classmates. The hard part was finding our names.
Jason ran his finger down the paper, then he burst out laughing.
“What?” I asked, wondering what in the world could be so funny about a class list. Jason looked at me.
“They spelled –” Peals of laughter. “They –” I looked for myself, because I could tell that we were getting nowhere with Jason’s way of explaining, so I looked where he had been looking, at room 496. A few names jumped out at me, like: Jamie Slater, Jason Walker, Ashley Lawrence, Michael Michaels, Mark McDonalds – wait a second! Mark’s last name was MacDonald. But they spelled it like the fast food place: ‘McDonald’s’. Ha! I could see the humor, and I chuckled, but it wasn’t that hysterical. He made a fool out of himself, as I waited, patiently, for him to be finished doing so. Then, when he was done, I mentioned Mike, another one of our friends.
“Didn’t you ever wonder why they named the poor kid Michael Michaels?” He nodded.
“Every day,” He said. “I bet if his parents chose DeAngelo, or something, he wouldn’t be nearly as messed up now.” I agreed. That was one name of Mike’s that just made me think about what kind of medication that his parents were on when they named him.
Actually, Mike was Spanish, and their family had changed their name, in fear people here would look down on them. It went from Michael Hernandez to Michael Michaels. Nice choice, right?
When we reached their homeroom, the bell was just about to ring. We slipped into the two available seats in the back before the bell rang and the teacher turned around. He looked like he was in his mid forties. Maybe fifties. He had broad shoulders, but a large gut. His look was stern and he definitely did not look like someone to mess with, and it looked like everyone else noticed that, too. Perfect. Nothing to aggravate this one. Just a quiet first period. Yeah. Right. Then the bell rang and the teacher spoke to us.
“Er - Your names haven’t come in yet, so, can I get a head count? Everyone sit up straight, and take your hat off young man.” Some efficient school filing system. That’s funny, he kind of reminded me so much of a marine commander that I half expected him to call out ‘Attention!’. He began to count the number of people in the room. I had slumped in my chair, without taking my hat, off too late.
“Young man who needs a haircut,” Half the boys in the class looked up. “With the A-beer-croom-bee shirt.” He continued, pronouncing Abercrombie strangely, as the number of boys looking up thinned. “Sitting next to the boy with the – Oh, what am I saying -- you!” Jason automatically looked up as Mr. Groundland specified his search. “Please tell your friend next to you to take his hat off, because he won’t listen to me.” Jason shrugged, as I ignored him.
“Okay,” The teacher began again, cutting in over the chatter, “I’m M-i-s-t-e-r- G-r-o-u-n-d-l-a-n-d,” He said, stretching the name out as he wrote it on the board. “And your schedules that you will follow for the rest of the year are on the board. Copy them down until second period. I’m making this simple enough for you future fry cooks of America. And please, take your hat off!” I tuned him out and scowled at him.
“Dude, maybe you should listen to him,” Jason said quietly, “before you get detention on, like, the first day. He means business.” I shook my head vaguely; half to answer Jason, and half to rid my head from its lightness. It only made it worse. Jason shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Mr. Groundland addressed me once again.
“Listen, err, – name please?”
“Goliath.” I muttered blandly, as the rest of the class began to snicker. Can’t believe I just did that.
“Listen, Goliath –” The class’s laughter drowned out the rest.
“What, now?” Annoyed, Mr. Groundland turned his attention back to the entire class. Someone mumbled, unthinkingly: “That’s not his name.” I looked, and it was Mike. Oh, thanks, Mike!
“Then what is it?” Mr. Groundland asked through clenched teeth. I had a feeling that I was already his least favorite student, and he’d only known me for 10 minutes. Mr. Groundland seemed to be struggling not to lose his temper. I didn’t blame him; that’s what I was trying to make him do, forget about my hat. I answer him with silence. Why was I still messing with this guy?
A few more people laughed, one muttered “Bartholomew,” and a couple others murmured “Jamie.”
“Traitors,” I sneered. More amusement.
“Listen, Jamie,” He paused here, waiting for signs of laughter, and disregarding whoever muttered ‘Bartholomew’, “take your hat off, or else!”
‘Or else’. I had learned the meaning of those words from my stepfather, but did not think that they had the same meaning with Mr. Groundland.
“Sure, fine, whatever.” I added under his breath. “Just don’t eat me.” Lord, I’m an idiot. Making fun of teachers was Mike’s job. “Oooh, Mike’s got some competition!” Mike swung his head in the direction that the voice had come from and wagged his finger at them.
“I’ll deal with you later,” He said, faking a deadly serious voice and giving them a look. He mimed out ‘I’m watching you’, and slowly turned back to his desk.
A fresh wave of hilarity around him broke out at this, along with some whispering to pass my words and Mike’s reaction to the further walls of the classroom. I raised my hands up, as to take off my hat, but, as soon as Mr. Groundland seemed satisfied and had begun to walk back to his desk, I leaned back in my chair, almost falling, and put them behind my head. The class began to laugh again, and Mr. Groundland turned around. Now I was in for it. But I couldn’t figure out why on earth I was messing with a guy that looked like he would snap me in two for shooting a spitball.
“Look, son, I am not going to ask you again! Do I have to get the principal in here?”
I could see he wasn’t giving up. I weighed my options. One: I could refuse yet again and get a call home about behavior, and then a call from the school nurse about my head when Mr. Groundland saw it – both of which would provoke my stepdad; Two: I could obey, and only face Jason’s consequences. He was the only one that would see my head, because we sat in the back row. Thank god, I don’t know what I’d do if I sat in the front row. Well, he’d be the only one to see it for now. After that, everyone would kind of see it, and I’d be dead. Remember how I said that I tend to think ahead and only see the bad. Pessimistic, if you will. The glass is always half empty for me. Well, this is a perfect example.
I preferred the second choice. I hesitated, and took my hat off. I saw Jason make a face and flinch. Mr. Groundland seemed content, but the class seemed disappointed that the fun was over. I avoided Jason’s eyes.
Jason was thoughtful enough to let me copy down my schedule, before he asked to go to the bathroom, grabbed my arm, and somehow swung me outside the classroom without Mr. Groundland or any of the other students seeing. I slapped my hat back on, and felt, and probably looked, as if I was going to fall over. Whoa, head rush.
“What?” I asked, knowing the answer.
“Ow.” Jason said lamely.
“What?”
“You know what.” Jason sighed.
“Wait, I’m confused.” I said, half stalling and half really confused. The reason I was stalling was because I wanted time to think of an excuse. The reason I was confused was because my lightheadedness made everything harder to comprehend.
“How did you do that?” He asked.
“Do what?”
“Just tell me how you -- did that – that thing.” Jason said calmly. I paused before I answered, giving myself time to think up an excuse, as my last attempts had been unsuccessful. But pausing had made Jason suspicious, so he questioned me when I said:
“I just fell, man, it’s no big deal, okay?” That sounded lame, I mean, as if I made it up on the spot without rehearsing it in my head. Well, I did do that. I burned what I had said inside my head, so that I stuck to it and didn’t make up another excuse that would make Jason ask why I changed my story. But I knew that he didn’t buy it.
“Uh, it kind of is, because it looks like you cut your head open.” Jason reached out to take my hat off. I stepped backward.
I started again:
“Come on, before they mark us absent in second period.” I said walking towards the door. Jason side-stepped in front of me and blocked my way.
“Look, I don’t give a horse’s butt about second period! And it’s not for, like, half an hour anyway!” Jason hesitated and folded his arms suspiciously. “Just tell me how you did that, and we’ll call it a day, Jamie.”
“Can we call it a week, instead?” I asked pleasantly.
“We can call it doomsday for Jamie Slater, if you like, if you don’t tell me the truth in the next ten seconds,” Jason replied, sweetly.
I knew that Jason must have been collecting signs about my father over the years. There had been huge hints, but it wasn’t until about two years ago that Jason started to put the pieces together and try to figure it out.
This was probably the biggest hint of all, considering I didn’t think up a good explanation for myself this time, and I had a feeling that, now that we were older, Jason was going to push harder. And Jason was already pushing hard. Especially this time. And I wasn’t that strong: he didn’t know hat he could break down my barriers if he kept on at this pace.
I was in the middle of dizzily thinking up a legitimate story to go with my excuse, when Jason seemed to realize that I had been staring into space for the last few minutes.
“Jamie?” Jason waved a hand in front of my face. I jumped. I realized Jason was waiting for an answer.
“Er – huh?” I looked back at Jason. Jason heaved a sigh, and put his hands on my shoulders.
“Listen. To. Me,” He said at a snail's pace, but clearly. “There’s a gash on the back of your head…right?” Jason nodded my head. “Yes. Tell me how that happened.”
“I did, I said I fell.”
“Well, falling doesn’t give you a cut like that! Did you do it?”
I swore angrily. “—No! I didn’t, no one did! Why the heck would I do that? I hit my head—why are you making such a big deal out of this?” I was pretty good with profanity, too, Jason.
“You’re the one getting all defensive! If it’s not a big deal, then why were you trying to hide – “ I interrupted him.
“Because I knew you’d do this! I didn't do it pur–“ Jason raised his eyebrows. I was glad he interrupted me: when Jason had gotten me worked up, it made my head spin even worse
“Well then, who did it?” Jason laughed. “Your stepfather?” He took the opportunity to be sarcastic, or maybe to pretend to be sarcastic to grind an answer out of me for once. He probably thought he could trick me. But, I didn’t think I had heard him right. I momentarily forgot my anguish.
“Er – what, sorry?” I asked. Jason hit himself in the forehead.
“Do you have, like, an attention disorder, or something!?!” I don’t know, did I? No one had ever asked me that before, everyone just thought that I was the kind of person who spaced into my own zone every now and again. No one ever actually tested me for, like, ADD or anything, though, so the possibility’s still open.
“Would it matter if I did?”
“Would it matter if you answered me?!”
“What?!” I already knew the answer again. Well, I already knew the question, which was the answer. Why is every answer in life a question? I don’t know; I’ll have to ask Gandhi, if I ever see him. Or is he dead? I think he’s dead. Anyway, I wasn’t entirely sure if Jason’s question was what I thought it was, and I didn’t want to blow up at him for something he didn’t even say. I also didn’t want to bring the subject of my stepfather up again unless I needed to, or Jason did.
“Do you know how badly I want to shake you right now?” Jason asked, looking at me with stressed eyes.
“Was that the question?” I stalled. Jason noticed that, so he decided to make his answers simpler.
“No.” He wouldn’t give me anything else to elaborate on, so I couldn’t stall by answering with another question.
“Then what is?! I can’t answer if I don’t know what I’m answering to.”
“Did. Your. Step. Dad. Do. That. Question mark.” Okay, Jason. I’m not that dumb. I may not think sometimes, and I may do stupid stuff, but I can recognize a question. And an interrogation.
My heart skipped a beat; I had heard him right the first time. I pondered on which method to use; playing dumb, getting angrier, or just going along with whatever he said. Jason was irritated at my spacing out:
“What are you, on crack?!” Jason had gotten it into his head, in the sixth grade he ‘learned’ (from his older brother, Zac) one of the side effects of crack was spacing out. I don’t know if it was, so I couldn’t correct him. If I told Jason that I wasn’t on it, then he would just think that I was lying to him. Jason was serious about things like that. Very serious. I really hadn’t, but he wouldn’t believe that if I said that, and I didn’t want to say yes. He’d take my silence as a yes, so I said:
“Maybe.” Although, he probably wouldn’t be surprised if I did. I could understand that: I seemed like that kind of person. Not a person that was living on the street, or scummy or anything, just like a person with issues.
“Just answer me.” Yep, I could tell he took it seriously. Great, so, now he thinks I’m a drug addict with ADD.
I remembered that we were arguing about my head, and my step dad. So I rolled my eyes, and started to walk away. Jason turned me around.
“He didn’t really…” Jason laughed, but then, his smile fading, continued. “… Did he?” I hesitated in answering, and didn’t look at Jason.
“Oh! So,” I finally yelled, jerking away from him. “Now you’re blaming him? He’s all I have left. You start accusing him of junk like that and he’ll be gone, too!” I hadn’t lied, but I hadn’t answered Jason’s question either. Jason looked like he regretted his words… partially. My head was spinning from getting all worked up, and it was getting harder and harder to focus on anything besides not falling over. Even sight was becoming an issue.
“I’m sorry, Jamie. I didn’t mean – ” Jason tried to take back his words, but it was too late, because he already did the damage, and I took it to heart that he didn't believe me. And he had hit right on target. I cut Jason off, not wanting to hear an apology, especially knowing the fact that he didn’t mean it. That’s the fact that hit me the hardest: that I didn’t think that he meant it.
It’s not one particular thing that drove me to flip out at Jason, as I was doing, it was my entire life. It’s not as if anything happened too fast, it’s as if everything happened too soon. It doesn’t seem fair to me that everyone I know will have their parents until they’re middle aged, and I’m never going to see my mom again. Everything was so solid until I was ten, and then mom died and everything started to unravel. My step dad started hitting me and telling me that everything I did was wrong, and that actually started to make me believe that it was. After a few months, I was regretting almost everything that I had ever done, all the decisions I had made, and all of the stories I had told. The kids at school started to divide up around into groups around the fifth grade, like the preps and the punks and the Emos and the SpEd.s, and the jocks. I didn’t really belong to any of those groups; I was with Jason. Even though I was with Jason, I wasn’t really there, I mean, I wasn’t really a part of it. If Jason weren’t with me, then I would have never had the nerve to say anything to anybody, because I knew I would regret all of it later. Without him, I would have been a loner; that is, if I was still able to survive. It seemed like Jason was my only salvation, he was the only way that I could make it through the day, and the fact that he didn’t believe me, now, was too much. I just couldn’t take it anymore, I just had to get away from all of this. Everything was falling apart.
“You know what, save it! I don’t care. Leave me alone,” I took out my hall pass, ripped it in half, and threw it on the ground – Why I ripped it up, I wasn’t sure. I probably just wanted to get my point across. Remember when I said that I did stupid stuff? “And let me run my own life.”
And, with my angst overpowering my common sense, which wasn’t that great anyway, I turned around and began to walk away – around a corner, and heading right out the front doors. It was the only way to get away from him. The only way to get away from the school. The only way to get out of going home to my step dad. The only way to get away from my problems. And the only way to stop my chest exploding.
I heard Jason speak:
“Ouch.”
I could hear him begin to walk behind me, but looked back and saw a senior stuck his head out of the Tec. room door too soon. I turned away so they wouldn’t see me looking.
“Could you keep it – where’s he goin’?” I heard him ask over the sound of tapping keyboards.
Then, I heard Jason’s footsteps fade, without replying. But once the senior was gone, I knew he followed me.