What happened to Gary

Gary was never strange or different. I know, they never are. But he actually wasn't. I know that given everything that happened I should be able to see it now, say that 'yeah, he was a bit weird, wasn't he?'. I should remember tiny little details about how he was odd and suppress everything else. I should be able to pinpoint a moment during which he actually scared me, when he looked at me and I realized there was something seriously wrong with him. But I can't. I never noticed anything of the sort.

   Four years of high school together, all those classes we shared, all those group projects we did together, and I never noticed anything. I was at his house once. We were sixteen, we were working together on some chemistry assignment and I came to his home. I lied on his bed and stared at the ceiling while he worked and muttered about me not helping. His mother made us chicken sandwhiches and he threw his lettuce in the trashcan under his desk because he didn't eat lettuce. He had a Nirvana poster on his wall, but he had never strook me as someone who listened to rock.

   That is what I remember most, when I was at his house for two hours and ate a chicken sandwhich. I don't know how much of that memory I have fabricated afterwards, but I don't think I will ever be able to forget it. Not because he was weird or strange, but because he was so normal.

   But of course, he had never been that normal, not in that sense. There was something a little different about him. It was a bit of a shock to me at first, I won't deny that. It was weird that Gary was gay, that he liked boys like the rest of us liked girls. But I got over it. I didn't care much about that sort of thing, it didn't really bother me. I almost never talked to the guy, why would I give a damn who he slept with?

   For some time Gary had hung out with another guy. It had been weeks, maybe months, and they had been inseparable. Michael was not as big of a shock. The rumours had been going around for a while, through most of high school if I recall correctly. I don't think he ever had a girlfriend, and someone had seen him kiss some other guy once. I think they even beat him down at one point. I wasn't involved in that, I didn't care that much. I had never exchanged a single word with Michael. He was odd though, that I remember. He kept to himself and always sat at the back of the class, he never raised his hand and never said anything.

   Gary was more engaged. He read all the pages in all the books, raised his hand when he knew the answer and wrote notes for everything the teacher said. Sometimes I thought he overdid it, other times I asked him if I could copy his test. He always said yes, but he had toned all that down when he started hanging with Michael.

   He moved to the back of the class and sat next to him, and they whispered to each other and sat alone by their own table during lunch. They were always touching too, more or less discreetly. They put their feet together or someone had a hand on someone's arm or shoulder. Sometimes Gary laughed out loud and Michael smirked complacently, but they were mostly quiet, bent over the table and whispering into each other's ears. I suppose I should have seen it earlier, that they were a couple. If I had cared I would have, but as I said, I didn't.

   Some people did care though. Some people didn't like them at all. I know that some of the guys would occasionally spew out something during class, and Gary would look uncomfortable and twist in his chair but Michael would just glare at them. I would have shut them up, if I cared. I don't think you know how much I wish I had cared.

There was a party. I was at all the parties, I am not going to deny it. So I was at this one. And so was Gary. I think that was the first time I had seen him without Michael by his side for months, but I don't think I ever saw Michael at a party. I suppose he just wasn't the partygoing type and didn't feel like it, and so Gary was on his own for the first time in ages.

   I was on the football team. I wasn't quarterback or anything, and I wasn't good enough to be playing at all after school; but I had somehow gotten a position and I was on the team. Most of the rest of the team was at that party that night. And they had started getting drunk, and they had started talking about Gary. I didn't listen much, because the music was loud and I had consumed more alcohol than I should have. But they were angry, they were disgusted with him and they called him names. Suddenly someone brought up the idea of doing something to him, and they started talking about 'putting him in his place'. At this point I had started flirting with a girl whose name I can't even remember and zoned out from their conversation completely.

Then suddenly they were grabbing Gary. They didn't lift him off the ground and carry him away or something like that, it was more subtle. Someone grabbed his arm, someone said something, and they started leading him away. He was drunk too, I am sure he would have resisted if he wasn't. But he didn't understand what was going on.

He looked back at me. Of all people, it was me. He just looked at me. He didn't look scared or anything, just confused. He was alone and drunk and confused and no one helped him. And he looked at me. And I knew they were going to hit him, I wasn't dumb. They didn't want to have a friendly discussion or ask him to join them in some drinking game. He was in for trouble, and he looked at me. For just a brief second he looked at me with those confused eyes, but then I looked away. Because I was drunk, because that girl was wearing a short skirt, because I didn't want to fight with my team, because I didn't care.

   There was a scream. But the music was loud, everyone was drunk and I suppose someone put a hand over his mouth. Because I didn't hear anything more after that, and I forgot about everything. I didn't see him again that night. My friends came back of course, but I don't remember when that happened. I was drunk, I had better things on my mind.

   Maybe I would have realized that they had been gone an awful long time. Maybe I would have gone down to that closed door and checked in on him. But I won't lie. I probably wouldn't have.

I passed by Gary in the hallway during that Monday. He didn't look too bad, I remember. He had a black eye, but that was everything. In my mind a black eye wasn't that bad, I had thought they would go even harder at him.

But then I was in the locker room. And we started talking about the party, which was perfectly normal. Some holes needed to be filled in, some people needed to be reminded of some awkward things they had done. It was innocent to a start, someone had spilled beer on someone else. I told them about my girl and someone dunked me in the back and congratulated me.

   I think it was Rhett Peck that said it.

   ”How about that f****t then?” A proud grin followed.

   ”Don't remind me”, Jody Darnell sighed and rolled his eyes.

   I winkled my nose in slight confusion. Suddenly I was all ears, but only because it was practically the only part of the night I didn't know about, not because I actually cared.

   ”Think he learned a lesson?” Rhett asked the group.

   Someone " I think it was Nathan " snorted.

   ”I doubt that”, he said.

   I started sensing something, started getting a feeling that I didn't want to hear anymore, that I should change the subject and forget all about it.

   ”I wouldn't be surprised if he liked all that dick”, Jody muttered under his breath.

   I realized. I realized that they hadn't hit him. Well, they had probably done that too. But that wasn't the problem. I felt cold, cold down to my bones.

   ”'spose we did him a favor then”, someone stated.

   And everyone but me laughed. I couldn't even muster a forced smile. I didn't see what was funny.

   I had been 20 feet away from it. I had laughed and danced and drank beer in a red plastic cup. I had been 20 feet away, trying to get into the pants of a girl I still can't remember the name of. His mother had made me a chicken sandwhich. I wondered if he still didn't eat lettuce. I had been 20 feet away.

   And I had not even gotten laid with that girl.

I thought about it an awful lot. I lied awake at night, thinking about how he had looked at me and I could have said absolutely anything so he could have started fighting or screaming or anything. Anything, just anything. Because anything was better than what had actually happened.

   I didn't look at my team the same way anymore. I had lost all my respect for them. I looked at them and I couldn't think about anything but that night at the party, about what they had done. I felt repulsed by them. It was disgusting, what they had done. Not because it was a guy, but because they had forced him. They had been so many, and he had been drunk. And I had been 20 feet away.

   I don't think Gary remembered that moment we shared, that second he looked at me. I mean, if I could choose what he would remember from that night I would choose that second over everything else, but I can't do stuff like that. No one can.

   He looked so strange afterwards. So weak and so fragile, like a little child. There was something about his entire being that could make anyone just want to hug him. His back was less straight, he held his head lower, limped a little and sometimes, when he thought no one saw, he leaned against the wall with one hand and just stood like that, with his eyes at the ground and his entire body supported on that one hand against the wall. I wondered if it would ever pass. His black eye would heal and he would stop limping, but I didn't think his back could ever be as straight again or his head as high, and I didn't think he would ever have to stop leaning against the wall and catch his breath.

   Michael was there, of course. Suddenly he was everywhere all at once. It was good really, because sometimes someone from the football team would still push Gary or walk right into him. There was something about Michael's presence that made them refrain them from doing that, and I think that was the point. He must have started skipping classes, because he was always outside the classrooms when Gary got out from a class. Then they walked side by side, and Gary leaned slightly against him as if he was too weak to walk on his own.

   They disappeared from the schoolyard and all the recreation rooms. They were never at lunch. Once I was in the restroom and inside one of the stalls I could see both their feet beside each other. Because there they sat, every break, every lunch. Side by side on the same toilet seat in the same locked stall, quiet and in silence. Sometimes smoke would rise over the top of the stall, but that was the only indication apart from the feet that they were in there.

   I wanted to knock on the door to that stall, and I wanted to ask Gary if he still didn't eat lettuce. But I knew that would lead to me having to explain why I hadn't done anything, and that couldn't happen. Because I had no explanation.

Everything became worse when the pictures came out. I tried not to look at them, but they were everywhere. On all the websites, in my email, in the texts, on other people's phones when they stopped me in the hallway.

Once they were even up on one of the boards in the cafeteria. I still remember the laughs that turned into silence as Michael threw the door open. He walked straight up to the board, ripped away the paper and tore it into tiny shreds as he walked back out with long steps, and not once did he look at anyone in there. I could see the rage in his eyes and how he was biting down hard, how he tried the hardest he could to not jump at someone. As soon as he had left the room someone broke out laughing and everyone else followed. I did too. Even though I wondered who had taken them and who had printed them out. And I wondered if Gary knew that they had been on the wall in the cafeteria, if Michael had or would tell him. Or if it was Gary that had heard it and asked him to take them down. I don't even want to think about what could have happened if he had walked in there himself.

   I didn't want to look at the pictures, I didn't want to know that I had eaten a chicken sandwhich in that guy's house. Because the thing was that the way the pictures had been taken, the angles and the moments, you couldn't see what was actually going on. He looked willing, and his pain looked like pleasure. But I knew better, and I wanted to throw up when I saw them.

   During one of the last classes Gary ever took I sat down right in front of him. Apart from him and Michael the entire last row was empty, and so were the seats directly ahead of them. People were whispering and laughing under their hands, but I turned around and I looked at him. He was so much skinnier, and so pale. He had bags under his bloodshot eyes and his hair was unwashed.

   ”Hi”, I said.

   He looked up at me suspiciously.

   ”Hey”, he replied.

   Michael glared at me the way he did at everyone. I used to think it was smug, but I realize now that it was more distrust and suspicion than anger or superiority. That glare made me suddenly realize that he probably thought I had been part of it. Hell, for all I knew Gary might even have thought I had been. But more so, that got me thinking that I actually had been. I had seen it, but I had chosen that drunk girl with the short skirt and I had let it happen. I could have stopped it, but I hadn't. I was responsible for that, and I was responsible for what happened afterwards.

   I wanted to ask him if he remembered when he had looked at me and I had looked away, I wanted to ask him if he blamed me, I wanted to ask him exactly what they had done and how it had felt. I wanted to ask him if he was still mad that I hadn't helped him with that chemistry assignment. And I wanted to ask him if he still didn't eat lettuce, but I couldn't say any of it. My mouth would not do it.

   ”Did you study for this?” I asked instead.

   He confusedly furrowed a brow.

   ”No”, he replied.

   He had obviously had other things on his mind. I hadn't studied for that test either, but my excuse wasn't as good. I think I failed it.

   Both Gary and Michael dropped out the week after. We had two months left until graduation, but they quit. Gary had gotten straight A's for as long as I had known him and he would had gotten into whatever college he would have chosen, but he never got that far. They just disappeared. Their places at the back of the classrooms were occupied by others as they turned into memories.

   Gradually we all forgot about them and what we had done to them. Out of sight, out of mind, I suppose. I wish I could say that I didn't forget, but I would be lying.

It was our last practice for our last game of the year. For me the last one of my high school career, the last one of my life. And everything was freakishly normal. I know that people tend to say that they felt something was different, that they had a bad feeling, or that they wanted to go home. I didn't feel anything like that, nothing. It was a regular practice, completely normal. Nothing was different, I didn't have a bad feeling and I didn't want to go home.

   It got late before we got into the locker room and changed. I showered, and I got dressed. I was sat at a bench putting on my socks, some of the guys were messing about. Nathan was by the mirror, fixing his hair. He still had his towel around his waist.

   Then the door opened. At first I thought I thought it was our coach, I think everyone did. The door was on the other side of the lockers from me and I didn't see.

   ”What the hell?” someone said.

   I didn't have a bad feeling, not even when I got up and looked around the lockers. Not even when I saw Michael and Gary there. Gary was a bit behind him, his back was little crouched. No one said a word. I didn't even have get that bad feeling when I first noticed that they were both holding rifles. What did I think they were going to do with the rifles? I don't know. Why didn't I see them immediately? I don't know. I don't think I was prepared, not for that. No one can be prepared for that, no one can expect that.

   Jody got out of the shower. I think he was the last one in there. He was completely naked and had his towel thrown over his shoulder. He froze, and he just stared at them. I don't think he saw the rifles either. Or maybe he did, but didn't know what to say.

   ”What the f**k are the f*****s doing here?” he asked loudly.

   Michael smiled at him, and tilted his head a little to the side. The worst part was that it wasn't even a cold, cruel smile. It was a completely normal smile. It was warm and loving even, as if he was looking at his son and remembering how much he loved him.

   He lifted his rifle. He loaded it, because it wasn't even loaded yet. Still no one did anything. Then BAM. Right in Jody's head. And he fell down dead.

   It didn't sink in. I just wondered where he had learned to aim like that. He, a regular high school student. Who just aimed and shot a guy in the head.

   I think Nathan moved. I think he was going towards him, I think he was going to do something. Gary loaded his rifle, and shot him in the stomach. He fell to his knees and Gary shot him again and again. Someone started screaming, but Nathan never made a sound.

   Nathan lived next door to me, I had know him since he was five. I had leant him my Legos, I had sneaked him some of my brother's porn magazines. I had stood quiet when he raped a guy 20 feet away. Nathan had gotten a scholarship to the college he had wanted to get in to, but he couldn't go because he was dead. Is it wrong that I never felt sad?

   This was where the real hell started. They both opened fire at us, all of us. We could finally react. We could scream and we could run, and we did. But we could also get hit and we could die, and we did.

   It didn't feel real. Maybe the first shots had affected my hearing, but I heard everything as though I had cotton balls in my ears or it was on the television on the other side of the wall from my bedroom. Everything had a tone of grey to it and was slightly blurry, and everything moved in slow motion. I didn't think, because it wasn't real. I would wake up in my bed and it would all have been a nightmare that I would forget in time for breakfast. How could it possible be real, something like that? Stuff like that doesn't happen. They happen on television and we see it on the news, but they don't happen to actual people. Actual people in locker rooms with only one sock on. It wasn't even dark outside. It didn't rain. The weather was great. It was warm and the sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. But around me were bullets piercing through the room and impaling my teammates.

I zoned out. It stopped happening around me. All that existed was the locker that I knew I had to get inside. I don't know how I came to that conclusion without thinking. But I got it opened and stepped inside, and I closed it behind me.

   It was dark and it was cramped. I could barely stand upright. I could hear my own breathing, it was suddenly incredibly loud. And so was my heart. I could hear it beating steadily. It wasn't even particularly fast. The gunfire started dying down a bit, and so did the screams. They had turned into moans and crying. It hit me that I might die. But I couldn't grasp it, I couldn't fathom it. It had no meaning. I closed my eyes, and I opened them.

I hadn't heard him open the locker, but there he was. Gary looked at me. I looked at him. He didn't look confused the way he had done at the night of the party. He didn't look mad either. He looked like he knew exactly what he was doing. But he didn't look pleased in any way, not relieved. He just looked neutral, completely indifferent. I thought that maybe it wasn't real to him either.

   He stared at me. I stared at him. I couldn't hear anything anymore. What happened outside my locker, outside in the locker room, was not happening. Gary didn't show any facial expressions, didn't move, didn't flinch. Just slowly closed the locker.

   Suddenly breathing was difficult, I struggled with it and had to direct all my attention towards getting enough oxygen in my lungs. I wondered who was dead and who was still alive. There was a last scream, and two final gunshots. Then silence.

   ”Are they dead?” Gary asked.

   He sounded disturbingly normal and domestic. As if he was asking him if he had taken out the trash. The trash filled with all the lettuce that he didn't eat.

   ”Yeah”, Michael replied.

   That was the first thing I ever heard him say. His voice was lower than I had imagined it.

   ”Huh”, Gary said.

   He didn't sound like a guy who had just shot and killed an entire football team.

   ”Let's go”, Michael said.

   Through the fog in my brain I could hear their footsteps and the door opening and closing, and then I was alone with the silence, my steady heartbeat and the slight wheezing my breathing had gained.

   There were two more gunshots. They found them sitting up on the roof with their backs pinned against the wall and their heads resting against each other. Their unseeing eyes stared up at the sky as it started to darken and the stars started to come out. But of course, I didn't know this. Not when I stood in that locker.

   I don't know how long I was in there, I had lost all perception of time. I suppose that if someone calls 911 the police doesn't take long to get there, but it felt like an eternity. And I just stood there. I didn't think they would come back, that wasn't it. But my body wouldn't obey me, my feet wouldn't lift off the ground and my arm wouldn't reach to open the locker. I just stood there for that eternity, waiting to wake up. I was in my bed and not in the locker, but when I woke up I would go to Gary's house and knock on his door, and I would ask him about the lettuce and I would apologize.

   I didn't even go out when the police came. I could hear them, and I knew they were there. But none of their words stuck, I couldn't perceive what they said. I only heard noises, not words and sentences. The fog still hadn't disappeared. I still couldn't move or open my mouth to scream. I thought that if I didn't go out, then I would never have to deal with it. I could stay in the locker forever. Because suddenly I knew that I wouldn't wake up. And I stood there in the locker with my one sock on, and suddenly it was real.

I went to Gary's funeral. The casket was closed because he had blew his own brains out. There were lots of people there. I shook hands with his parents, who looked completely normal and not like they had raised a mass murderer. I don't mean that they raised him to be, but he did become one. And maybe it was partly because they hadn't accepted that he was gay. Maybe I was just trying to put the blame on someone else. His mother had made me a chicken sandwhich. He had siblings too, siblings that didn't look like siblings of a mass murderer. It was strange.

   I didn't go to Michael's funeral. No one did. He didn't have any friends and his only family was the dad that had hit him his entire life and they had killed before they went on to slaughter the football team. Go big or go home, I guess.

   Though they didn't actually kill the entire team. There was me, and there was Rhett Peck. He ended up in a wheelchair. I think he stopped talking after a few months. It wasn't physical, he just stopped. I suppose he just didn't want to anymore. I don't know where he ended up, maybe I should look it up. But I don't think I want to.

I remember everyone looking at me, surprised to see me there. I could see exactly what they were thinking.     'Does he forgive him?' they wondered. I wanted to scream and tell them that he was the one that needed to forgive me.

   I was going to say that I was sorry. But when it came to it I could just touch the coffin, drum against it lightly with my fingers and move on. It was too late anyway, he wouldn't hear me. I should have said it before he died.

But sometimes I think I did. When he opened that locker and we stared at each other, I think I apologized. Even though my mouth didn't move and no sounds escaped it. Sometimes I think I said it with my eyes, when we stared at each other.

   For seconds, minutes, hours. I don't even know anymore. Because it has been 20 years, and I still feel as if he is staring at me. And I don't think he will ever stop.

Reviews

[James Towers]

First off, great first sentence(s). Really got me hooked. It was an overall enthralling piece.
I was only planning on reading a couple sentences but I couldn't stop.


The recurring pattern with the short sentences repeating more or less the same thing gave it a very human aspect to the overall story and to the main character. Also enjoyed the build up. There were maybe 2-3 word usages that I don't think are correct. ("I had borrowed him my legos" maybe should be "I had lent him my legos.")

A well written piece, well done.

[EJ Coleman]

Thank you so much! I was actually a bit self-conscious about the beginning, having been told before that it's too long and boring, so it's a pleasant surprise that some actually like it! And as I'm not a native English speaker there could definitely be some errors, and I appreciate that you pointed one out.

[ATcharles]

This is an interesting story that is well written from the first person point of view. The story itself is a chilling reminder about the adverse effects of bullying. The person I am today is due in part to those who picked on me during high school because I was not like everyone else, and did not defend myself. Of course I did not go to the extremes Gary and Michael went to, but trust me the thought entered my mind many times.
I liked the references to the times where the narrator recalled eating the chicken sandwich at Gary's house, and how Gary did not like lettuce. To me, this constant reminder shows how the narrator had remorse in not sticking up for Gary when he had the chance, which could have possibly saved not only Gary and Michael's lives, but also the lives of those who ridiculed them.
For a non-English speaker, the grammatical errors in the writing really do not distract from the story, and I believe your writing level is better than many of us who are native English speakers and writers!