The Original

My computer broke this morning. Something was wrong with the hard drive, and I was afraid I lost the writing I did last night. I rewrote this story during my office hour (it appears as Witness in the next entry). I think it's interesting to see how memory works, so I figured I'd post the original here now that all is well.

I think I heard it. It was like a door slamming upstairs. Sometimes the doors slammed like that when it was windy and the language teachers left their classroom windows open. I was in the school after school, probably in the library. I was probably with my friends in the library after school like usual, but when I think back I think alone.

They found the body that night. This kid Hollis found it, this kid Hollis who had a unibrow that he smoothed over and over with his fingertips when he stood on the diving board about to do a dive. Hollis was on the prom committee. The prom committee was in the auditorium decorating for the prom. Hollis had gone upstairs for something, he went upstairs to find more decorations or something, into the dressing rooms on the sides of the stage that we only used during plays or musicals. He went upstairs and he saw the body, and he told Mr. Harrison, and Mr. Harrison went upstairs and he saw the body too. Later, months later, in our junior English class, Mr. Harrison read us a piece of prose he had written about that night. I don’t know what he wanted us to say about it. It was like he wanted us to help him carry it, or something, like he didn’t want to be alone with it anymore. He said the body was pale and slumped against the wall. He mentioned the blood. For years after I would sometimes imagine the body slumped against the side of the bathtub in my parents’ house. I would imagine it when I closed my eyes in the shower. I would imagine it like Mr. Harrison described it. I never heard how Hollis described it.

Hollis was “pretty shook up”. That’s what Carrie said the next day when we were posing for prom pictures at Cascade Park. Carrie said it matter-of-factly – of course he would be shook up. And then Veronica almost started to cry, but caught herself because of her makeup, and she said she didn’t know how anybody could enjoy prom now, now that this had happened. I was sorry it happened, but I didn’t know him and neither did Veronica. Veronica saying that was just trying to get attention like Veronica always did. She was actually lucky to get attention for being upset about the kid who died instead of the dress she was wearing, which was so slutty she had Carrie pretend to be her when they went to her blind date’s parents’ house to pick him up. The blind date was a freshman from another school. The blind date’s parents weren’t fooled.

They buried the body a week later. By then they had decided that he definitely knew that the wrestling team wasn’t going to get cut, after all. By then everyone knew about his migraines, that he was in frequent terrible pain. His casket was plain wood, and his friends wrote messages on it in Sharpie. They put bottles of alcohol in there with him, and a couple of joints, and CDs of Metallica and Iron Maiden and stuff. I wonder what his parents thought about that. I wonder how long it had been since his parents knew him that well.

The prom went on, in spite of this dead kid we didn’t know, this kid we could barely picture because nobody went to wrestling meets and he didn’t do anything else. The prom went on, and graduation, and college, and people got married and people had kids. Other people died. It was like we were all on a train going away from high school, and most people stayed on the train, but some people stopped. That kid was the first to stop. And I only had one thing to do with it, and that was this: I heard the shot.