Brutal (18 page)

There were others. The short guy named Kevin who dreaded coming to school because he was stuffed in garbage cans every week. The straight guy who acted gay and was tormented constantly about being a fag. The loudmouthed girl who couldn't seem to figure out why other girls hated her. The kid they called “Teenie” who got the nickname from the boys’ locker room. It was like a celebration of sick diversity and it made me want to puke.

After everybody who had something to say was emotionally spent, Mr. Halvorson stood, a grave and compassionate look on his face. He paced, building on the moment before he began. “We know what happens in this world. We know sometimes it's unfair and mean and painful, but what we have to do is look inside ourselves and see the true us. The true person inside. The person we really are and the person who wants to shake off the chains of our differences and be at one with ourselves and the people around us. Do you agree?”

A few nods before he pointed to the ceiling, shaking his finger. “The key to that is realizing that we are all indeed the same. The boy who calls you a name or the girl who ignores you has feelings, too. Feelings of pain and anger and sadness that make them do what they do, and feelings that cause them to hurt other people. We need to understand that and realize that we're not different.” He stopped, looking over the room with an expectant air. “So now I ask you, what can we do when faced with adversity? Should we separate ourselves through harsh words and bad feelings and feelings of isolation, or should we have the courage and compassion it takes to understand why this is happening? To shape our thinking differently?”

He pointed to the kid with acne. “Karl, how do you feel when you are ridiculed? Like running to your room? Disappearing? Isolating yourself from the world because you don't want to deal with it?”

“No.”

He pursed his lips. “Then why do you go to your room?”

Karl's dead flat voice hushed the room. “Because nobody is there.”

Mr. Halvorson nodded. “You go to your room because nobody is there. Isn't that running away from the problem?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you wish it was different? That you didn't feel as though you had to run?”

“Yes.”

Mr. Halvorson nodded, smiling. “What do you wish you could do?”

“Kill them.”

Mr. Halvorson took a deep breath, then went on. “Though perhaps understandable at times, don't you think that's a bit extreme?”

“No.”

Mr. Halvorson cleared his throat, maybe thinking he had come here to talk about the dangers of prancing through the daisies. “Do you think there's something else you could do that might be better? Perhaps telling a teacher or parent? Perhaps talking to your counselor?”

His eyes, as flat as his voice, bored into Mr. Halvorson. “I've been in private counseling for two years. I've also talked to Mr. Holly. So have my parents.”

He nodded. “Very good, because that's why we have
things like that. To help you.” Mr. Halvorson's body visibly flooded with relief at not having to deal with this kid. He addressed the group. “Does anybody have an idea of what we can do to make things better for Karl? Maybe what he can do?”

I stared at Mr. Halvorson for a moment, considering, then raised my hand. “Why aren't we talking about why you allow them to do it?”

Mr. Halvorson's brow furrowed. “Allow them?”

“Yeah. What you're saying is that we have to deal with the jerks and understand them and all that bullshit, but the jerks don't have to do anything.”

Mr. Halvorson blinked. “We can keep this seminar civil, Ms. Holly. Your language …”

I rolled my eyes. “You just blew off a guy who told you that he wishes he could kill people, and you want to talk about my language?” I tapped my finger on my chin. “I get it. We can say whatever we want, but only if it looks pretty?”

He glowered. “We're here to solve problems, Poe, and if you choose not to, you may leave. You are off topic.”

“I'm off
your
topic, Mr. Halvorson.”

“I'm trying to solve problems in a manner that will allow you to help yourselves.”

I shook my head. “Solve what problems? Yours or ours?” I pointed to Karl. “He just told you
he wanted to kill people,
and you want to ask for suggestions about how to change his thinking? I don't think Karl has to change anything, Mr. Halvorson. I think you do.”

My dad stood, relieving a flustered Mr. Halvorson. Theo chuckled, then patted my knee. Dad crossed his arms. “So
you believe it is entirely up to other people to solve your problems, Poe?”

I shook my head. This was the culmination of all the conversations we'd had. Everything rolled up in one big, slimy ball. “That's not the point, because this isn't ‘life.’ This is school, we're trapped here, and you control it. You make the rules.”

“What's the point you're trying to make, then?”

“The point is that all of a sudden,
you have a problem,
and that's why we're here. Not because
we
have a problem.” I shook my head. “When
Benders High School
has a problem, Mr. Halvorson gets up and tells us that we have to solve it for them, then gives us a bunch of bullshit about how it's normal to have these feelings and that we have to understand how the ass wipes who make life miserable feel.” I pointed to Karl again. “I don't think a kid wanting to murder half the school is normal, and I don't think he got to feeling that way all by himself.” I looked at Karl. “Karl, you're not normal. You're fucked in the head, but you know that, don't you?”

Dad interrupted. “Poe, that's enough.”

“No.” I kept my eyes on Karl. I could almost read his mind. “Who would you kill first, Karl? Come on. Tell us.”

He hesitated in the silence of the room. Then he looked at my dad. “You.”

Corpses made more noise than the people in the room. Nobody breathed. I nodded. “Why?”

“Because he's supposed to make them quit, but he won't.”

Dad shook his head. “That's not true, Karl. I've tried. We have done—”

My voice rose above his. “Have done what? Why don't
you tell us what's being done instead of this stupid seminar? An anti-harassment seminar for the wrestling team? Detention? Suspension? Probation? Conflict resolution classes? A change in school policy? Maybe a teacher or two who doesn't ignore it when it happens? You make the rules, right?” I thought about Mr. Halvorson's little speech on the first day of school about “fitting in.” “Tell us, because the only reason we're in this room is because Benders High School sees a liability threat with the name Velveeta written all over it and you need to control it. There, I said it. The real reason you even give a fuck. So what happens? Colby Morris and all the superstar guys in the bathroom who watched Velveeta get stomped are business as usual, but we're here listening to a crock of crap from a guy who thinks the world's troubles would be solved if everybody was exactly the same.”

Dad shook his head. “That's a separate issue.”

Hypocritical statement of the year. I gestured around us. “Then why are we here? The only reason you put this seminar on was because of what ‘didn't’ happen to Velveeta, so why doesn't the school do something about the guys that ‘didn't’ do it?” I slumped in my chair. “Tell us, huh?” I jabbed a finger at my dad and Mr. Halvorson. “The only reason they beat the shit out of him is because
they knew they could,
and
this school
gave them the power to do it!” I waved my arms around the room. “God! This seminar even proves it!”

Dad's face tightened. “We're planning to do things, but the first thing we can do is help kids deal with it.” He nodded. “Something has to come first, doesn't it?”

“So you think the first thing to do with Velveeta is talk
to him about how to accept why it happened and change his thinking so it won't happen again? If you're not going to be honest about it, you could at least say ‘Hey, losers, you're pretty much on your own, so you'd better fight back or get used to being social punching bags.’”

He sighed. “This is a no-violence zone, Poe, and you know we can't condone any action like that. Or your language.”

I laughed, thinking of everything from choir to PE to Colby Morris and how every time my dad didn't want to be honest, he fell back on the bullshit. “Okay, fine. Let me get this straight. After you don't do anything to stop violence in the first place, you tell us that we can't fight back because there's no tolerance for violence.” I stared at him. “Aren't you basically telling us that there's no escape from it? God, Dad! What do you expect?”

“Poe…”

“NO! I'm right!” I turned to the classroom. “Who here has fought back?”

The short kid who liked getting stuffed into garbage cans raised his hand.

“What happened?”

“I got suspended for fighting.”

I turned back to Dad. “So what you're telling him is that he's just as bad as the jerk who harasses him?”

He looked at the gathering of students, all of whom were silent as church mice. “There's a difference between solving a problem and escalating a problem, and that's why we have safeguards to protect you so that it doesn't happen.”

I stood. “Safeguards? Like at Columbine?” I said, knowing
I'd thrown a bomb into the room. Columbine was better seen as an aberration, something that could happen
there,
not
here.

“We're not talking about that circumstance, but that's exactly what we're trying to avoid.”

“Avoid?” I crossed my arms, growling. “Has it ever occurred to anybody that when you tell the wrong kid they can't fight back, they'll eventually snap? That once Karl has jumped through all of your useless hoops, he might just come to school locked and loaded?”

The lines around Dad's eyes said his patience wore thin. “Again, that's what we're trying to avoid.”

I looked over the gathering. “How many people in here have fantasized about killing the people that mess with them?” A few seconds passed, then hands went up. At least ten. I gazed at Halvorson. “Great job! Why don't you just light the fuse and watch it blow, because that's what will happen.”

Mr. Halvorson stood. “I don't think we should be talking about killing. This seminar isn't about that, and it's dangerous ground.”

I laughed. “Then what the fuck is this seminar about? Random acts of giggling? We shouldn't even be here!” I pointed outside. “They should. Colby Morris and every guy who was in the bathroom should be sitting here getting a ration of shit from you, but they aren't, are they? They're getting ready for their little festival fund-raiser tomorrow, right? The Night of Stars?”

Mr. Halvorson sighed. “We're here to talk about our problems and how we can solve them, Poe, not about accusations and bitterness. And furthermore”—his eyes flicked
to my dad, then settled back on me—”I'm asking you to leave this seminar immediately. There is no need for you here, or your vulgarity. Please excuse yourself.” With that, he raised his arm and pointed to the door.

I locked eyes with him then, and took a breath. “You just saw ten people raise their hands saying they've thought about MURDER, and what I'm saying is that maybe they wouldn't feel that way if you actually believed in what you preach.” I shook my head. “I watched a kid almost get killed in your school because the guy that did it knows you won't do anything. Good job. You suck,” I said. Then I left.

I left Theo and Anna in the dust, stomping my way home with
one thing on my mind. Velveeta. Since Theo told me about Colby's car being bashed, I'd had a sinking feeling about where things were headed, and the seminar only made me rage more. I didn't think things were going to get better before they got worse, and it would be bad. Real bad. And Benders High School wasn't interested in doing a thing about it.

I knocked on Velveeta's door, but nobody answered, so I sat on the porch for ten minutes, knocked again, peeked in his bedroom window on the other side of the house, sat for another half hour, then went inside and sat in front of the window, watching the pictures in my head. I had to do something. Velveeta hadn't been in school, I hadn't seen him, and that meant bad things.

My cell phone minutes had expired three days before I arrived in Benders Hollow, and I was still going through cell withdrawals. I picked up the cordless, dug in my purse for Theo's cell number, and dialed. “Hi. Sorry I ditched you.”

He laughed. “Didn't miss much. Just Mr. Halvorson
elaborating on how sinful violence is and that it's never the answer to anything. Unless you're a government, of course. Then you can drop bombs on people's heads all you want.”

“Whatever.”

“You were right, though. Maybe a bit extreme, but right.”

I laughed. “Since when does right matter?”

“When it suits the Man.” He paused. “Are we still on for tomorrow's festivities? Always wanted to have my leg tied to yours as we race across a park.”

“No.”

“Come on, Poe. It's not the end of the world. The school has to do stuff that way.”

“I'm not going.”

“You said you would.”

I thought about it. “Fine. What time?”

“Six-thirty The football guys need time to rinse the blood off after practice.”

That answered the question I called him for, and I was glad I didn't have to ask it. “Cool. See ya tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

I walked out the door and headed back to the school, checking the church clock on the way. Five-fifteen. I reached the school courtyard and walked through the deserted place, soaking in the silence of the usually crowded area. Almost peaceful if you forgot what it was. I wondered if it could be a good place, then put it out of my mind.

Past the courtyard and between the choir building and gym, I walked around the corner and saw the football team breaking from the field and jogging toward me, their white
helmets bobbing up and down against shoulder pads as they headed for the gym doors. The coach jogged behind them, and I stepped aside as the first player clattered past. I heard several Mohawk comments as I searched through the face masks for Colby and when I saw him, I stepped out, making eye contact. He smiled past the bars of his helmet as he neared, and he veered my way when I called his name, slowing a bit.