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Description
When I entered Adam Valley High School I would smell the aroma of tobacco smoke and overpriced perfume in the air. Smelling the smoke had an obvious answer behind it; someone would leave a cigarette near the front steps. And it was always lit dimly, the orange glow would be slowly meeting its end. We eventually found out that it was Nathan Legerwood who did this every morning. And he must have felt good doing it. Smoking was prohibited at Adam Valley High, even when all the lights were turned off and there was no one around. And Nathan was never punished, even though people would state that he should from time to time. That they should take action to protect their children because they were first priority. But everyone was too tired to start taking action and that killed the idea and buried it six feet deep underground.

Nathan was a rather large boy, coming in at six feet and two inches tall and weighing roughly two hundred and fifteen pounds. And he was only sixteen years old. He had a broad pair of shoulders and was in relatively good shape, especially with his biceps. He had umber colored hair that covered the majority of his ears and usually went down below his neck. And it somehow appeared looked wet every day even when we all knew it was dry and he knew it too. And his hair was nothing but straight lines and small, triangle shaped portions where his pale white skin and a few pimples were exposed. He got a haircut every two months or so and when he did it looked better but that wouldn’t last long. Nathan and I were both juniors. We shared two classes: Gym Class, period one, and College Preparatory Mathematics, period three. I knew Nathan’s height and weight because we took yearly physicals.

Nathan was violent. It has been said that in the seventh grade a classmate of his called him a lardass while his back was turned. When Nathan found out about it, he followed the boy when he was heading home and at the opportune moment he tackled him down between some bushes and beat him with his fists until they grew numb. The student received a black eye and his two front teeth were gone. After a two day suspension, Nathan was calm for the rest of the year and no one insulted him again. He did however get in trouble several times once he graduated. People have also told me that Cassie Igleheart broke her two of her ribs, not because of an accident during cheerleading practice, but because Nathan hit her in the chest repeatedly with a baseball bat.

In my mind, I have compared Nathan to a professional javelin thrower. He spent the majority of his time training for that one moment where all eyes are watching him, and when that time does arrive he used all of his anger to achieve his goal. And after the javelin had been thrown, he was tired, and that moment passed. And then he was calm, absolutely proud of himself, and then he built up his anger and waited for the next moment to come. He did not know exactly when it did come however, nobody would. I once read a true story about a professional javelin thrower who impaled himself in the eye with his own tool because he was distracted while he ran to retrieve it; he couldn’t help but boast to his few audience members how fantastic the throw was.

One morning I arrived to my second period class, English, a little early and I was waiting outside in the hall for the door to open. Nathan walked past me, wearing a slate gray short sleeved shirt, a leather belt and a pair of faded blue jeans. He was talking to a boy named Francis, someone that I had the chance to share a few conversations with, but I wouldn’t consider ourselves friends. He was more close to Nathan anyway. Apparently something he said made Nathan laugh. And Nathan patted him on the back while they were walking together.

“Look at you,” Nathan said. “Being smart.”

“I didn’t know you were, Nathan,” I replied back. I couldn’t help myself.

Both of them immediately looked at me and grew quiet. Francis formed the outline of a smile at my remark, but it soon went away. Nathan walked over to me, his mantis green eyes trying to cut me before his words or his hands would.

“What the f--- did you say?”

“I said I didn’t know you were smart. Hell, I know you aren’t; more than half of the students in our College Prep. Mathematics class score better than you do.”

If I remembered correctly, the most recent grade post at that time showed that, including myself, twenty-four of the thirty-six students had a better percentage than Nathan. I could not guarantee that, though. Henry was always better at memorizing things.

Nathan placed his hands on my shoulders and pushed me against the wall. Not gently either, but I tried not to show any weakness towards him.

“Let me tell you something. I might not be the best student, but I’m one hell of a teacher,” Nathan said. He suddenly let go of me, smirked and ran his left hand through his hair. It rearranged his bangs and allowed more spaces for his skin, and thus the acne, to seep into open view. “Last week I taught your mother what a real man is like.”

Francis smirked at this too, but it wasn’t as strong as when he smiled at what I had said. It made me think that he only looked amused because he didn’t want to be insulted too. Nathan chuckled. I waited for them to enjoy themselves for a little while before I spoke.

“You’re right, Nathan. My mother hasn’t been sleeping with anyone for so long, due to my father passing away when I was three and her still being devoted to him all this time.”

Their crude form of happiness flatlined. Other students gave concerned looks at me and glared sternly at Nathan. Some of the students whispered amongst one another.

“You must have showed her though,” I said, without emotion. “How it feels to make love again.”

Nathan’s face evinced as much feeling as my words. He was shocked, but I could not tell whether he was more shocked at the truth or the fact that everyone else understood it as well. Nathan glanced over at Francis, but he did not return it. He instead put his hands halfway into his pants pockets and looked over at a wild orchid colored poster with yellow lettering that was put up on the wall opposite us. Glitter covered the damn thing.

“If I had known that you had a soft spot for older women Nathan, I would have arranged you to meet my grandmother too. She just got a new pair of dentures and she’s ready for a new, young man to slip into her life.”

This made Francis laugh; he tried as best he could to conceal it with his right hand, but it did no good. A few of the students joined him.

“Shut up!” cried Nathan. He held up his right hand, pressed into a fist, at Francis. Francis fell silent, but the others didn’t. Nathan then turned back to me and, before I could react, he used both hands to pull me by my shirt collar. I stayed calm.

“I’ll get you one day. I’ll really do you in, just watch,” Nathan said.

Something inside me made me want to hit him right then and there. In the throat. Even though I had never learned how to fight. I just felt I had to all of a sudden. It would give another reason for people to laugh at him instead. Matthew Emberton, a kid who has a dead father, lifted a weight maybe once or twice, and has never been blown by a girl, knocked Nathan Legerwood down to the ground. Sounds like a riot. I understood it wasn’t right, however, and so I refrained from giving him what he rightfully deserved. The laughing, now that I thought about it, was also a bit too hurtful; everyone was just doing what he has been doing to us for God knows how long. I guess that’s why we’re all sinners.

He let me go after that and walked away. First alone, but then he shot a glance at Francis and motioned for him to follow and so he did. I could tell Francis was reluctant, though.

“Matt are you alright? I just saw Nathan grab you by the collar before he walked away. Did something happen?”

I turned to my left to see who said it to me, and I noticed that it was Betty Simmons, another junior whose mother talks to mine about parenting. Betty was her mother’s first child, and since she entered middle school and started talking about boys, she’s had this slight feeling that perhaps she has been doing everything wrong. As a result, she thought that Betty would have a horrible future, involving crystal meth or whatever else she felt could deflower her precious little girl, and the way to save her was not to be one with God, but to have a proper feminine role model teach her how to live a respectable life. So she sought out my mother for assistance, even though I had no sisters and she had no experience that I know of about raising a daughter, let alone a teenage one. We had known about each other for years since and I firmly believed back then that if it hadn’t been for their meetings about when to talk about the importance of safe sex and the cesspool that was our minds, she would not even consider talking to me.

Betty was wearing a black denim half vest, a dark beige tank top underneath, and a honeydew tinted skirt that went down to the top of her knees. It went well with the light tan she acquired over the summer. Her otter brown hair was braided and descended down her left shoulder and her bangs fell directly above her eyes, which were livid blue. I did not know how tall she was; she was shorter than me so if I had to guess I would think she was around five feet and seven inches. I thought she also weighed around ninety-eight pounds, since she had a reasonably slim build, but I knew I should never ask a girl to know the real answer. There was not a day that went by where I saw her and didn’t think she was attractive. Her being observant and concerned about me made her even cuter.

“No, it was nothing. At least, I think it was nothing.” I put my hands in my pockets and looked away for a little while, thinking. She continued to look at me, now more curious than worried.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I embarrassed him in front of everyone here. Hopefully he be angry at me for that long. He always does find something else to express his rage at.”

Betty didn’t say anything. Her face refused to change expression though, and that spoke just as much as she could with the time we had left. I tried to get her to smile, but it did not work. She had a really nice smile. Then Mr. Etchison, the teacher, came and used the key attached to his eminence and teal lanyard to unlock the door. I held the door open, but I did not go inside. Instead, I told Betty that it was a pleasure talking to her again, which was the truth and not one of those white lies I would sometimes tell adults.

“You know I wish we could talk more, but I don’t want to make you late to class.”

She said I was right and that she should be going. As she left I said that she didn’t have to worry about me; that everything will turn out fine. It made her turn her head back at me and in return she gave me a smile as she kept walking. There still might have been nervousness or fear behind it but she did it to made me feel good and I can tell you that it worked. I smiled as well and I continued to smile when she disappeared around the corner and when I headed into the classroom.

That following Thursday, three days later, I was sent to the principal’s office even though I knew I didn’t do anything wrong. Four other students were with me and we all went in together. One of them was Francis. And I was surprised to find that another was Betty. I wanted to push her aside and ask her what she knew about this, but we were urged to go inside. We sat in chairs and the principal told us that Nathan Legerwood had died last night, shot while he was robbing a gas station. It hit me hard even though I didn’t particularly care for Nathan, given that he took pleasure in making me and many others feel pain. The principal continued by saying that we weren’t called to his office just so he could tell us that, he was planning on announcing it over the PA system once we were told. No, there was another reason why we were there.

“You five were the people that were the people closest to Nathaniel. He personally acknowledged all of you as his companions.”

I wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or repulsed by that statement. Nathan wanted to beat me and I wanted to return the favor by breaking his neck. If having such thoughts made us friends then we certainly were. Hell, he was a better friend than I was. I then understood why Francis was there, he knew Nathan for as long as I could remember. Though I was still wondering how Betty fit into all of this. I still barely knew her, which was sad to think about because she certainly wanted to show me that she was a good person by being nice and caring about whether I was soon going to be missing my two front teeth or not. I doubted that Nathan, with as few friends as he had, could have been friendly to a girl like Betty. They might have slept together, but a thought like that would have been more disheartening than any injury given to me with his fists.

“I have obtained the security camera footage from the clerk working that night with approval from the manager. He wanted you to see how your friend died, but I don’t want any of you to watch it if it is too hard to bear.”

No one wanted to leave, or maybe they did but they didn’t say so. The principal turned his computer monitor towards us; it was completely black.

“Can somebody dim the lights, please?”

I got up from my seat and flicked the switch. Darkness replaced light. Everyone else looked different on the trip back, as if I only saw their shadows.

“Alright then,” said the principal. “Prepare yourselves.”

My eyes were greeted by the plain white walls of the gas station. A man, who looked to me to be in his fifties, was standing behind the counter. From the camera view, I could tell that he was very tan and that he had fairly short, gray hair. The sliding doors opened and the bell rang. In came Nathan, who wore a laurel green duffle coat with the hood covering his head and khaki pants. At first he acted like the many people I have noticed walking around stores and other places of that nature. Then, after he took a second look back at the door he entered through, he pulled out a revolver from his right-hand pocket and pointed it at the man. Nathan yelled at him, but I could not tell what he was saying exactly. The audio spiked here and faded there. Nathan was careless with the gun. He kept it angled in the vicinity of the man, but he would occasionally take a look outside through one of the windows or wave it around as if it was something a child would use. I guess it just felt good to him holding it. Nathan repeated himself, quieter this time but I still could not hear him too well. The man replied this time however, with something I know I could understand.

“No.”

Suddenly, the man revealed to Nathan a polished M1 Garand that was kept underneath the counter. Within seconds the man aimed it at him and pulled the trigger, and it was then that I knew the man had been trained. Nathan’s head burst open and blood erupted from the wound. Pink flesh clung to hair, torn from the rest of the body, leaving bone. I saw a line of light brown run across the top of his forehead. It was his brain escaping onto the tiled floor. The man saw what he had done and he dropped the rifle and placed his hands over his hands while placing his back against the wall behind him. And he looked nauseous to me and he got down on his knees, grabbed a bucket that was lying next to him, and emptied all his sorrow inside it. I too felt sick, but I was able to control myself as the screen faded to black and I heard the man call for an ambulance.

“Matthew, if you would...”

I turned the lights back on before he could finish his sentence and I sat back down with my palms touching my knees, which were covered with a pair of cadet grey jeans. I looked over towards Betty and Francis, who were sitting in seats to the left of me, but neither of them returned my glances. Betty had her hands clenched together and her head slightly tilted downward, as if she was whispering a prayer that only she could hear. And Francis had his left hand running through his short, dirty blonde hair and his right hand pressing against his navy blue pant leg.

“Now there is one more subject I need to address. Shortly after Nathan died his mother and father decided, as difficult it was for them, to slowly take away his possessions out of his room and into storage boxes. As for any clothes they found, they would be donated to those who needed them. While doing this, Mr. and Mrs. Legerwood found a tattered white gym bag that was hidden away in the closet. They dumped what it contained out onto his bed and saw that it was a collection of love letters and other related items. Every one of them is stolen. Some will not be of interest to any of you, as they date back to when he enrolled in Ginsberg Elementary School, but I will give you the opportunity to look at them. Perhaps you will find one that you wrote to some girl or boy long ago. Nathan blocked out the names of the writers with black marker, but I am sure you would be able to recognize your own creation otherwise. There will also be a recycling bin ready for the letters that you do not want wish to keep.”

I looked into the principal’s cool grey eyes and knew that he was telling the truth and I thought how sad it must be to feel things that you can’t put to words. Or that something in your nature prohibits you from doing so. A knot was forming where my heart was and it only grew tighter when I actually saw what the principal was talking about.

I headed outside the room along with the others and noticed that the door to our left was open. That was where the love letters were kept. Some were small. Some were larger. Some were written in poetic verse, while others were in drawn out prose. They were all kinds of colors. Some had little things added to them, like glitter or stickers and other pleasantly stupid things. One was intricately made into a butterfly. I wondered if there was a message inside it but I was nervous to even touch it because it wasn’t mine to begin with and if I were to find that there was in fact nothing hidden, then I would have ruined a perfect work of art. I would have actually hated to receive this from a pretty girl because I would be caught between those two choices and the thought of slowly destroying something that nice would have made me sick. And it would also make me wonder why I was so special to deserve something that nice and killing that butterfly would in a way kill me on the inside.

What Nathan had done I viewed as a stone tree. Something that could have been seen as beautiful and as much a part of nature as the ferns or weeds that grew and thrived beside it. The words written on those letters and poems were beautiful. Though he took them because he could not say them himself to those girls that he wanted to say them to. His heart hardened and remained cold once he was insulted by his fellow peers. And thus the tree was cold too. And it could still be called beautiful. His way of hurting others could be considered beautiful too, as if he had applied those bruises to eyes and other parts of the body through means of a paintbrush. But everyone’s view of beauty was different and I had to wonder how far deep you have to go to measure such a quality. And I also wondered how deep is too deep. How the tree came about remained unknown to me and to many others. And it might never die because there will always be those that suppress their feelings with drinking themselves to sleep or breaking a cheerleader’s rib with a baseball bat.

Betty saw the letters and when she did she covered her mouth with her hands, closed her eyes and let out a little cry. Then tears ran down her cheeks. And she ran out of the principal’s office without saying a word. I went after her. I caught up to her pretty quickly because Betty was never much of a runner. I wasn’t much of one either but I still wanted to take a light jog every so often to stay in shape. Betty had ran quite fast before but on that day she ran at a terrible pace. Her muscles were as shattered as her voice and her heart. For what reason, I was not certain.

I grabbed her left hand with my right to stop her from running any further and I asked her what was wrong and what had come over her to get away all of a sudden. Betty turned her head toward me and I could see the tears and they glowed in the morning sunshine like her livid eyes did. And I noticed that she was wearing a cross around her neck and it shared the same glow. And before I knew it she came closer and wrapped her arms around me. She buried her head into my chest and cried again. I held her back and she made no effort in stopping me. And I felt her crying on me but she was warm to the touch. Then she lifted her head and looked at me.

“Nathan was my cousin,” Betty said. “When my mother got married to my father she wanted to keep her maiden name.” Her voice was weak and it reminded me of the poor audio on the security footage. If she was there it would not register her voice properly either but it would be too low to hear rather than too high. I stayed silent so she could gather the strength to continue.

“His father owned a .38 Special Ruger SP101 for ten years. He said it was to protect the family, but he never learned to use it after he purchased it and even what he learned was not proper. And he didn’t expect Nathan or his wife to take courses on how to use it either. It was like having it in the house was enough. And he didn’t clean it very often and when I visited their home last month I saw that it was starting to rust. And now Nathan carried it with him to rob that poor man. I doubt if it would actually be able to fire. It would have been loaded because I know Nathan and he would have wanted that. He wouldn’t have tried to trick the man into fearing for his life.”

As I listened I ran my right hand around the design weaved in the back of her linen white blouse. It helped calm her down. I kept saying I was sorry and I truly meant it. And she told me to be quiet because I wouldn’t be saying that if she hadn’t told me they were related. I held her tighter and said that wasn’t true. She did the same. And in that moment I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

Description
When I entered Adam Valley High School I would smell the aroma of tobacco smoke and overpriced perfume in the air. Smelling the smoke had an obvious answer behind it; someone would leave a cigarette near the front steps. And it was always lit dimly, the orange glow would be slowly meeting its end. We eventually found out that it was Nathan Legerwood who did this every morning. And he must have felt good doing it. Smoking was prohibited at Adam Valley High, even when all the lights were turned off and there was no one around. And Nathan was never punished, even though people would state that he should from time to time. That they should take action to protect their children because they were first priority. But everyone was too tired to start taking action and that killed the idea and buried it six feet deep underground.

Nathan was a rather large boy, coming in at six feet and two inches tall and weighing roughly two hundred and fifteen pounds. And he was only sixteen years old. He had a broad pair of shoulders and was in relatively good shape, especially with his biceps. He had umber colored hair that covered the majority of his ears and usually went down below his neck. And it somehow appeared looked wet every day even when we all knew it was dry and he knew it too. And his hair was nothing but straight lines and small, triangle shaped portions where his pale white skin and a few pimples were exposed. He got a haircut every two months or so and when he did it looked better but that wouldn’t last long. Nathan and I were both juniors. We shared two classes: Gym Class, period one, and College Preparatory Mathematics, period three. I knew Nathan’s height and weight because we took yearly physicals.

Nathan was violent. It has been said that in the seventh grade a classmate of his called him a lardass while his back was turned. When Nathan found out about it, he followed the boy when he was heading home and at the opportune moment he tackled him down between some bushes and beat him with his fists until they grew numb. The student received a black eye and his two front teeth were gone. After a two day suspension, Nathan was calm for the rest of the year and no one insulted him again. He did however get in trouble several times once he graduated. People have also told me that Cassie Igleheart broke her two of her ribs, not because of an accident during cheerleading practice, but because Nathan hit her in the chest repeatedly with a baseball bat.

In my mind, I have compared Nathan to a professional javelin thrower. He spent the majority of his time training for that one moment where all eyes are watching him, and when that time does arrive he used all of his anger to achieve his goal. And after the javelin had been thrown, he was tired, and that moment passed. And then he was calm, absolutely proud of himself, and then he built up his anger and waited for the next moment to come. He did not know exactly when it did come however, nobody would. I once read a true story about a professional javelin thrower who impaled himself in the eye with his own tool because he was distracted while he ran to retrieve it; he couldn’t help but boast to his few audience members how fantastic the throw was.

One morning I arrived to my second period class, English, a little early and I was waiting outside in the hall for the door to open. Nathan walked past me, wearing a slate gray short sleeved shirt, a leather belt and a pair of faded blue jeans. He was talking to a boy named Francis, someone that I had the chance to share a few conversations with, but I wouldn’t consider ourselves friends. He was more close to Nathan anyway. Apparently something he said made Nathan laugh. And Nathan patted him on the back while they were walking together.

“Look at you,” Nathan said. “Being smart.”

“I didn’t know you were, Nathan,” I replied back. I couldn’t help myself.

Both of them immediately looked at me and grew quiet. Francis formed the outline of a smile at my remark, but it soon went away. Nathan walked over to me, his mantis green eyes trying to cut me before his words or his hands would.

“What the f--- did you say?”

“I said I didn’t know you were smart. Hell, I know you aren’t; more than half of the students in our College Prep. Mathematics class score better than you do.”

If I remembered correctly, the most recent grade post at that time showed that, including myself, twenty-four of the thirty-six students had a better percentage than Nathan. I could not guarantee that, though. Henry was always better at memorizing things.

Nathan placed his hands on my shoulders and pushed me against the wall. Not gently either, but I tried not to show any weakness towards him.

“Let me tell you something. I might not be the best student, but I’m one hell of a teacher,” Nathan said. He suddenly let go of me, smirked and ran his left hand through his hair. It rearranged his bangs and allowed more spaces for his skin, and thus the acne, to seep into open view. “Last week I taught your mother what a real man is like.”

Francis smirked at this too, but it wasn’t as strong as when he smiled at what I had said. It made me think that he only looked amused because he didn’t want to be insulted too. Nathan chuckled. I waited for them to enjoy themselves for a little while before I spoke.

“You’re right, Nathan. My mother hasn’t been sleeping with anyone for so long, due to my father passing away when I was three and her still being devoted to him all this time.”

Their crude form of happiness flatlined. Other students gave concerned looks at me and glared sternly at Nathan. Some of the students whispered amongst one another.

“You must have showed her though,” I said, without emotion. “How it feels to make love again.”

Nathan’s face evinced as much feeling as my words. He was shocked, but I could not tell whether he was more shocked at the truth or the fact that everyone else understood it as well. Nathan glanced over at Francis, but he did not return it. He instead put his hands halfway into his pants pockets and looked over at a wild orchid colored poster with yellow lettering that was put up on the wall opposite us. Glitter covered the damn thing.

“If I had known that you had a soft spot for older women Nathan, I would have arranged you to meet my grandmother too. She just got a new pair of dentures and she’s ready for a new, young man to slip into her life.”

This made Francis laugh; he tried as best he could to conceal it with his right hand, but it did no good. A few of the students joined him.

“Shut up!” cried Nathan. He held up his right hand, pressed into a fist, at Francis. Francis fell silent, but the others didn’t. Nathan then turned back to me and, before I could react, he used both hands to pull me by my shirt collar. I stayed calm.

“I’ll get you one day. I’ll really do you in, just watch,” Nathan said.

Something inside me made me want to hit him right then and there. In the throat. Even though I had never learned how to fight. I just felt I had to all of a sudden. It would give another reason for people to laugh at him instead. Matthew Emberton, a kid who has a dead father, lifted a weight maybe once or twice, and has never been blown by a girl, knocked Nathan Legerwood down to the ground. Sounds like a riot. I understood it wasn’t right, however, and so I refrained from giving him what he rightfully deserved. The laughing, now that I thought about it, was also a bit too hurtful; everyone was just doing what he has been doing to us for God knows how long. I guess that’s why we’re all sinners.

He let me go after that and walked away. First alone, but then he shot a glance at Francis and motioned for him to follow and so he did. I could tell Francis was reluctant, though.

“Matt are you alright? I just saw Nathan grab you by the collar before he walked away. Did something happen?”

I turned to my left to see who said it to me, and I noticed that it was Betty Simmons, another junior whose mother talks to mine about parenting. Betty was her mother’s first child, and since she entered middle school and started talking about boys, she’s had this slight feeling that perhaps she has been doing everything wrong. As a result, she thought that Betty would have a horrible future, involving crystal meth or whatever else she felt could deflower her precious little girl, and the way to save her was not to be one with God, but to have a proper feminine role model teach her how to live a respectable life. So she sought out my mother for assistance, even though I had no sisters and she had no experience that I know of about raising a daughter, let alone a teenage one. We had known about each other for years since and I firmly believed back then that if it hadn’t been for their meetings about when to talk about the importance of safe sex and the cesspool that was our minds, she would not even consider talking to me.

Betty was wearing a black denim half vest, a dark beige tank top underneath, and a honeydew tinted skirt that went down to the top of her knees. It went well with the light tan she acquired over the summer. Her otter brown hair was braided and descended down her left shoulder and her bangs fell directly above her eyes, which were livid blue. I did not know how tall she was; she was shorter than me so if I had to guess I would think she was around five feet and seven inches. I thought she also weighed around ninety-eight pounds, since she had a reasonably slim build, but I knew I should never ask a girl to know the real answer. There was not a day that went by where I saw her and didn’t think she was attractive. Her being observant and concerned about me made her even cuter.

“No, it was nothing. At least, I think it was nothing.” I put my hands in my pockets and looked away for a little while, thinking. She continued to look at me, now more curious than worried.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I embarrassed him in front of everyone here. Hopefully he be angry at me for that long. He always does find something else to express his rage at.”

Betty didn’t say anything. Her face refused to change expression though, and that spoke just as much as she could with the time we had left. I tried to get her to smile, but it did not work. She had a really nice smile. Then Mr. Etchison, the teacher, came and used the key attached to his eminence and teal lanyard to unlock the door. I held the door open, but I did not go inside. Instead, I told Betty that it was a pleasure talking to her again, which was the truth and not one of those white lies I would sometimes tell adults.

“You know I wish we could talk more, but I don’t want to make you late to class.”

She said I was right and that she should be going. As she left I said that she didn’t have to worry about me; that everything will turn out fine. It made her turn her head back at me and in return she gave me a smile as she kept walking. There still might have been nervousness or fear behind it but she did it to made me feel good and I can tell you that it worked. I smiled as well and I continued to smile when she disappeared around the corner and when I headed into the classroom.

That following Thursday, three days later, I was sent to the principal’s office even though I knew I didn’t do anything wrong. Four other students were with me and we all went in together. One of them was Francis. And I was surprised to find that another was Betty. I wanted to push her aside and ask her what she knew about this, but we were urged to go inside. We sat in chairs and the principal told us that Nathan Legerwood had died last night, shot while he was robbing a gas station. It hit me hard even though I didn’t particularly care for Nathan, given that he took pleasure in making me and many others feel pain. The principal continued by saying that we weren’t called to his office just so he could tell us that, he was planning on announcing it over the PA system once we were told. No, there was another reason why we were there.

“You five were the people that were the people closest to Nathaniel. He personally acknowledged all of you as his companions.”

I wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or repulsed by that statement. Nathan wanted to beat me and I wanted to return the favor by breaking his neck. If having such thoughts made us friends then we certainly were. Hell, he was a better friend than I was. I then understood why Francis was there, he knew Nathan for as long as I could remember. Though I was still wondering how Betty fit into all of this. I still barely knew her, which was sad to think about because she certainly wanted to show me that she was a good person by being nice and caring about whether I was soon going to be missing my two front teeth or not. I doubted that Nathan, with as few friends as he had, could have been friendly to a girl like Betty. They might have slept together, but a thought like that would have been more disheartening than any injury given to me with his fists.

“I have obtained the security camera footage from the clerk working that night with approval from the manager. He wanted you to see how your friend died, but I don’t want any of you to watch it if it is too hard to bear.”

No one wanted to leave, or maybe they did but they didn’t say so. The principal turned his computer monitor towards us; it was completely black.

“Can somebody dim the lights, please?”

I got up from my seat and flicked the switch. Darkness replaced light. Everyone else looked different on the trip back, as if I only saw their shadows.

“Alright then,” said the principal. “Prepare yourselves.”

My eyes were greeted by the plain white walls of the gas station. A man, who looked to me to be in his fifties, was standing behind the counter. From the camera view, I could tell that he was very tan and that he had fairly short, gray hair. The sliding doors opened and the bell rang. In came Nathan, who wore a laurel green duffle coat with the hood covering his head and khaki pants. At first he acted like the many people I have noticed walking around stores and other places of that nature. Then, after he took a second look back at the door he entered through, he pulled out a revolver from his right-hand pocket and pointed it at the man. Nathan yelled at him, but I could not tell what he was saying exactly. The audio spiked here and faded there. Nathan was careless with the gun. He kept it angled in the vicinity of the man, but he would occasionally take a look outside through one of the windows or wave it around as if it was something a child would use. I guess it just felt good to him holding it. Nathan repeated himself, quieter this time but I still could not hear him too well. The man replied this time however, with something I know I could understand.

“No.”

Suddenly, the man revealed to Nathan a polished M1 Garand that was kept underneath the counter. Within seconds the man aimed it at him and pulled the trigger, and it was then that I knew the man had been trained. Nathan’s head burst open and blood erupted from the wound. Pink flesh clung to hair, torn from the rest of the body, leaving bone. I saw a line of light brown run across the top of his forehead. It was his brain escaping onto the tiled floor. The man saw what he had done and he dropped the rifle and placed his hands over his hands while placing his back against the wall behind him. And he looked nauseous to me and he got down on his knees, grabbed a bucket that was lying next to him, and emptied all his sorrow inside it. I too felt sick, but I was able to control myself as the screen faded to black and I heard the man call for an ambulance.

“Matthew, if you would...”

I turned the lights back on before he could finish his sentence and I sat back down with my palms touching my knees, which were covered with a pair of cadet grey jeans. I looked over towards Betty and Francis, who were sitting in seats to the left of me, but neither of them returned my glances. Betty had her hands clenched together and her head slightly tilted downward, as if she was whispering a prayer that only she could hear. And Francis had his left hand running through his short, dirty blonde hair and his right hand pressing against his navy blue pant leg.

“Now there is one more subject I need to address. Shortly after Nathan died his mother and father decided, as difficult it was for them, to slowly take away his possessions out of his room and into storage boxes. As for any clothes they found, they would be donated to those who needed them. While doing this, Mr. and Mrs. Legerwood found a tattered white gym bag that was hidden away in the closet. They dumped what it contained out onto his bed and saw that it was a collection of love letters and other related items. Every one of them is stolen. Some will not be of interest to any of you, as they date back to when he enrolled in Ginsberg Elementary School, but I will give you the opportunity to look at them. Perhaps you will find one that you wrote to some girl or boy long ago. Nathan blocked out the names of the writers with black marker, but I am sure you would be able to recognize your own creation otherwise. There will also be a recycling bin ready for the letters that you do not want wish to keep.”

I looked into the principal’s cool grey eyes and knew that he was telling the truth and I thought how sad it must be to feel things that you can’t put to words. Or that something in your nature prohibits you from doing so. A knot was forming where my heart was and it only grew tighter when I actually saw what the principal was talking about.

I headed outside the room along with the others and noticed that the door to our left was open. That was where the love letters were kept. Some were small. Some were larger. Some were written in poetic verse, while others were in drawn out prose. They were all kinds of colors. Some had little things added to them, like glitter or stickers and other pleasantly stupid things. One was intricately made into a butterfly. I wondered if there was a message inside it but I was nervous to even touch it because it wasn’t mine to begin with and if I were to find that there was in fact nothing hidden, then I would have ruined a perfect work of art. I would have actually hated to receive this from a pretty girl because I would be caught between those two choices and the thought of slowly destroying something that nice would have made me sick. And it would also make me wonder why I was so special to deserve something that nice and killing that butterfly would in a way kill me on the inside.

What Nathan had done I viewed as a stone tree. Something that could have been seen as beautiful and as much a part of nature as the ferns or weeds that grew and thrived beside it. The words written on those letters and poems were beautiful. Though he took them because he could not say them himself to those girls that he wanted to say them to. His heart hardened and remained cold once he was insulted by his fellow peers. And thus the tree was cold too. And it could still be called beautiful. His way of hurting others could be considered beautiful too, as if he had applied those bruises to eyes and other parts of the body through means of a paintbrush. But everyone’s view of beauty was different and I had to wonder how far deep you have to go to measure such a quality. And I also wondered how deep is too deep. How the tree came about remained unknown to me and to many others. And it might never die because there will always be those that suppress their feelings with drinking themselves to sleep or breaking a cheerleader’s rib with a baseball bat.

Betty saw the letters and when she did she covered her mouth with her hands, closed her eyes and let out a little cry. Then tears ran down her cheeks. And she ran out of the principal’s office without saying a word. I went after her. I caught up to her pretty quickly because Betty was never much of a runner. I wasn’t much of one either but I still wanted to take a light jog every so often to stay in shape. Betty had ran quite fast before but on that day she ran at a terrible pace. Her muscles were as shattered as her voice and her heart. For what reason, I was not certain.

I grabbed her left hand with my right to stop her from running any further and I asked her what was wrong and what had come over her to get away all of a sudden. Betty turned her head toward me and I could see the tears and they glowed in the morning sunshine like her livid eyes did. And I noticed that she was wearing a cross around her neck and it shared the same glow. And before I knew it she came closer and wrapped her arms around me. She buried her head into my chest and cried again. I held her back and she made no effort in stopping me. And I felt her crying on me but she was warm to the touch. Then she lifted her head and looked at me.

“Nathan was my cousin,” Betty said. “When my mother got married to my father she wanted to keep her maiden name.” Her voice was weak and it reminded me of the poor audio on the security footage. If she was there it would not register her voice properly either but it would be too low to hear rather than too high. I stayed silent so she could gather the strength to continue.

“His father owned a .38 Special Ruger SP101 for ten years. He said it was to protect the family, but he never learned to use it after he purchased it and even what he learned was not proper. And he didn’t expect Nathan or his wife to take courses on how to use it either. It was like having it in the house was enough. And he didn’t clean it very often and when I visited their home last month I saw that it was starting to rust. And now Nathan carried it with him to rob that poor man. I doubt if it would actually be able to fire. It would have been loaded because I know Nathan and he would have wanted that. He wouldn’t have tried to trick the man into fearing for his life.”

As I listened I ran my right hand around the design weaved in the back of her linen white blouse. It helped calm her down. I kept saying I was sorry and I truly meant it. And she told me to be quiet because I wouldn’t be saying that if she hadn’t told me they were related. I held her tighter and said that wasn’t true. She did the same. And in that moment I couldn’t have asked for anything more.