I compare losing Les to losing Hope all those years ago. It seemed back then that everything that happened for months after Hope was taken somehow led to thoughts of her. I would wake up in the morning and wonder where she was waking up. I would brush my teeth and wonder if whoever took her thought to buy her a new toothbrush, since she didn’t get to take anything with her. I would eat breakfast and wonder if whoever took her knew that Hope didn’t like orange juice and whether or not they were letting her have white milk, because that was her favorite. I would go to bed at night and look out my bedroom window that used to face hers, and I would wonder if she even had a bedroom window where she was.
I try to think of when the thoughts finally stopped, but I’m not so sure they have. I still think about her more than I should. It’s been years now, but every time I look up at the sky I think about her. Every time someone calls me Dean instead of Holder, I think about her and how I used to laugh at the way she said my name when we were kids. Every time I see a bracelet on a girl I think about the bracelet Les gave her just minutes before she was taken from us.
So many things remind me of her and I hate knowing that it’s just going to be worse now that Les is gone, too. Every single thing I think or see or do or say reminds me of Les. Then every single time I’m reminded of Les, it leads to thoughts of Hope. Then every single time I think about Hope, I’m reminded of how I let them down. I failed them both. It’s as if the day I gave them their nickname, I was somehow nicknaming myself the same. Because I sure as hell feel pretty fucking hopeless right now.
I’ve somehow made it through two classes without a single person speaking to me. Not that they aren’t discussing it, though. It’s like they think I’m not even here, the way they whisper and stare and speculate about what’s going on in my head.
I take a seat next to Daniel once I arrive in Mr. Mulligan’s classroom. Daniel silently asks how I’m doing with just a look. Over the past few years we seem to have formed some sort of nonverbal communication between us. I shrug, letting him know that it’s going. Of course it sucks and I’d rather not be here at all right now, but what can I do? Suck it up. That’s what.
“I heard Holder’s not speaking to anyone,” the girl in front of me whispers to the girl seated in front of her. “Like, at all. Not since he found her.”
It’s obvious by the volume at which she’s speaking that she has no idea I’m sitting right behind her. Daniel lifts his head to look at them and I can see the disgust on his face, knowing I can hear their conversation.
“Maybe he’s taking a vow of silence,” the other girl speculates.
“Yeah, maybe. It wouldn’t have hurt Lesslie to take a vow of silence every now and then. Her laugh was so freaking annoying.”
I instantly see red. I clench my fists and find myself wishing for the first time in my life that it wasn’t wrong for a guy to hit a girl. I’m not angry that they’re talking about her behind her back, I expected as much. I’m not even angry that they’re talking about her beyond the grave. I’m angry because the one thing I loved the most about Les was her laugh. If they’re going to say anything about her, they better not mention her fucking laugh again.
Daniel grips the edges of his desk and lifts his leg, then kicks the girl’s desk as hard as he can, scooting her a good twelve inches across the floor. She squeals and immediately turns in her seat to face him.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Daniel?”
“What’s wrong with me?” he asks, raising his voice. He leans forward in his chair and glares at her. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong with me. I’m pissed that you’re a girl because if you had a dick, I’d be punching you in your disrespectful, fat mouth right now.”
Her mouth drops open and it’s obvious she’s confused why he’s targeted her. Her confusion is instantly cleared up the second she notices that I’m right behind her, though. Her eyes grow wide and I smile at her, lifting my hand in a half-hearted wave.
I don’t say anything, though. I don’t really feel the need to add to anything Daniel just said and apparently I’m taking a vow of silence, so I just keep my mouth shut. Besides, Daniel said he’s been dying to yell at these people for two weeks now. Today might be his only chance, so I just let him do his thing. The girl immediately turns and faces the front without even offering up the slightest hint of an apology.
The classroom door opens and Mr. Mulligan enters, breaking up the tension and naturally replacing it with his own. Les and I did everything we could to avoid having him at all this year, but we weren’t very lucky. Well, I’m not, anyway. Les doesn’t have to worry about sitting through his tedious, hour-long lectures anymore.
“Dean Holder,” he says as soon as he reaches his desk. “I’m still waiting for your research paper that was due last week. I hope you have it with you, because we’re presenting today.”
Shit. I haven’t even thought about what I might have had due over the past two weeks.
“No, I don’t have it with me.”
He looks up from whatever it is he’s looking at on his desk and eyes me. “See me after class, then.”
I nod and maybe even roll my eyes a little. Eye rolling is inevitable in his class. He’s a douchebag who gets off on the control he thinks he has over a classroom. It’s obvious he was bullied as a kid and anyone not wearing a pocket-protector is the recipient of his misguided revenge.
I ignore the presentations during the rest of the period and try to make a list of what assignments I might have due. Les was the organized one of the two of us. She always let me know what was due and when it was due and which class it was due in.
After what seems like hours, the bell finally rings. I remain seated until the class clears out so that Mr. Mulligan can practice his retaliation on me. Once the classroom is occupied by just the two of us, he walks to the front of his desk and leans against it, folding his arms over his chest.
“I know your family has been through quite the ordeal and I’m sorry for your loss.” Here we go. “I just hope you understand that unfortunate things like this are going to happen throughout your life, but that doesn’t give you the excuse to not live up to what’s expected of you.”
Jesus Christ. It’s a fucking research paper. It’s not like I’m rewriting the Constitution. I know I should just nod and agree with him, but he picked the wrong day to play preacher.
“Mr. Mulligan, Les was the only sibling I had, so I actually don’t foresee this happening again. As much as it seems like it happens repeatedly, she can only kill herself once.”
The way his eyebrows crease together and his lips tighten into a firm line make it apparent that he doesn’t find me amusing at all. Which is good, because I wasn’t trying to be amusing.
“Some situations should remain off-limits to your sarcasm,” he says flatly. “I would hope you would have a little more respect for your sister than that.”
As much as I hate that I can’t hit girls today, I hate the fact that I can’t punch teachers even more. I immediately stand up and walk swiftly to where he’s standing, stopping just inches from him, my fists down at my sides. My proximity causes his body to go rigid and I can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing I’ve scared him. I look him directly in the eyes, clench my teeth, and lower my voice.
“I don’t give a shit if you’re a teacher, a student, or a goddamned priest. Don’t you ever mention my sister again.” I stare at him for several more seconds, seething, waiting on his reaction. When he fails to say anything, I turn around and grab my backpack. “You’ll get your report tomorrow,” I say, exiting the classroom.
I’ve been convinced I was minutes away from being expelled. However, Mr. Mulligan apparently chose not to report our little interaction, because nothing has been said or done and it’s now lunch break.
Moving along.
“Holder,” someone says from behind me in the hallway. I turn around to find Amy catching up to me.
“Hey, Amy.” I wish her presence gave me even the slightest hint of comfort, but it doesn’t. Seeing her standing here just reminds me of two weeks ago, then that reminds me of the pictures she was at my house for, then that reminds me of Les, then that reminds me of Hope. Then of course I’m consumed with guilt again.
“How are you?” she asks hesitantly. “I haven’t heard from you since . . .” Her voice trails off, so I answer her quickly, not wanting her to feel she has to go into more detail.
“I’m okay,” I reply, feeling guilty that she seems disappointed I didn’t call her. I thought she was pretty clear with what happened between us. I hope she is, anyway. “Did you um . . .” I look down at my feet and sigh, unsure how to bring it up without sounding like a complete asshole. I shift my weight from one foot to the other and look back up at her. “Did you want me to call you? Because I thought what happened . . .”
“No,” she says quickly. “No. You thought right. I just . . . I don’t know.” She shrugs and looks as though she already regrets this conversation. “Holder, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ve been hearing rumors and I’d be lying if I didn’t say they have me worried. I felt like I made that day at your house all about me, and I never even thought to ask you how you were holding up at all.”
She looks guilty for even bringing up the rumors, but she shouldn’t feel that way. She’s the only person all day to actually make an active effort to ensure the rumors aren’t true. “I’m okay,” I assure her. “Rumors are rumors, Amy.”
She smiles, but doesn’t seem to believe the words coming out of my mouth. The last thing I want her to do is worry about me. I wrap my arms around her and whisper in her ear. “I promise, Amy. You don’t need to worry about me, okay?”
She nods, then pulls away from me, looking nervously down the hall to her left, then to her right. “Thomas,” she whispers, excusing the fact that she pulled away from me. I smile at her reassuringly.
“Thomas,” I say, nodding. “Not at home helping his dad with yard stuff, I guess?”
She purses her lips together and shakes her head. “Take care, Holder” she says, turning to walk away.
I put my things in my locker, then head to the cafeteria. I walk in several minutes after the cafeteria has filled up with people, and at first it’s like any other day at lunch. But once people begin to spot me as I make my way to the table where Daniel is seated, the voices drop entire octaves and eyes can’t seem to mind their own business.
The amount of drama I’ve witnessed today is comical, really. Everyone I pass, even people I’ve been friends with for years, all seem to think if they don’t quietly watch my every move, they might miss the moment that I completely break down and lose it. I hate to disappoint them, but I’ve got a pretty good handle on things today. Nobody’s going to be losing it, so they might as well go back to their regular routine.
