The Fat Boy Chronicles (17 page)

Mom drove me and my sister home after the funeral. The family didn't stay around to talk to anyone, so I didn't get a chance to say hey to Paul. I wanted to tell him to call me or something. Since there wasn't
a wake, I was hoping to see him after the funeral. But the family only wanted relatives to be at the burial. It was okay for my dad to go, but not me. On the way home, Mom asked if we wanted to get something to eat, but for once I wasn't hungry. Neither was my sister. She's been better lately, and I'm glad she came to the funeral with us.

For the rest of the day, my sister and I sat around and watched Dr. Phil and Oprah. I never watch those shows, but for some reason it helped. My sister asked what I thought was going to happen to Paul now. I said he'd probably be okay, maybe better off, in a way. But I don't really believe that. I think Paul's going to have a really hard time and probably get worse into drugs. Even though he acted like he hated his dad, I think he really loved him and wished that his dad would have liked him better. Paul used to talk all the time about how one day his father's going to take him to see the Cincinnati Reds, and they're going to have hot dogs and peanuts and everything. But the meaner his dad got, the more that dream faded. And after Mr. Grove lost his job, Paul stopped talking about that dream. I worry about Paul. I worry that his mom will make him sleep in the basement where his dad hung himself. I worry that Paul's mother will drink more. I worry that I won't have Paul as a friend any more.

In
A Separate Peace
Gene says, “Nothing endures, not a tree, not love, not even a death, by violence.” The line didn't mean anything to me until tonight. Nothing ever stays the same. One day Paul's dad was alive and now he's dead. Paul will never be the same again, and our friendship hasn't been the same for months. Maybe the last part of this quote means that Mr. Grove's suicide will be forgotten over time. Then people will remember who Mr. Grove was before he
turned mean. I think it will take Paul a long time to forgive his dad, but he'll never forget. I know how much Paul wanted his dad to love him. Not in a big way, but in small ways. He said his dad never paid any attention to him—Paul told me once his dad didn't even know what grade he was in. That would suck, really bad, to have a dad like that.

Friday, 3–9

Sorry, I've been kind of out of it lately. Paul called me last night and said his mom's really out of control and he can't take it anymore. He asked his grandmother if he could live with her, but she said her hands are tied, because his mom has legal custody of him. Besides, she's pretty old and doesn't have a place big enough for the both of them. His uncle can't stand Paul's mom, either, and has asked them to move out. Paul's afraid they'll have to live in a shelter. My dad said he could find them a place to live, if Paul's mom would be willing to get help for her drinking. My dad even called her, but she screamed at him and used obscenities. He even offered to let Paul live with us, but his mom won't listen to reason. Paul told me he's thinking about running away. My dad thinks he's only talking, but I believe him. I know how bad his mother is. Since I found out about the suicide, I haven't been able to eat much. I lost six pounds over the last few days. Weird. Mr. Grove dies and I lose weight. I think that's ironic, but I'm not sure how.

Sunday, 3–11

The worst has happened. There's been another murder—another girl from Hanover County. She was murdered in the same way as the other girl. There was no way the arrested kid could have done it, since he's been in jail for months. Now everyone's all scared and really mad at the police for taking the easy way out and arresting the boyfriend. They should have known he didn't do it. Now there's another girl dead. It also came out in the news that the police intimidated the kid and he got scared and that's why he confessed the way he did. He still admits he had sex with Kimberly, but it wasn't in the woods—it was at his house. His parents were out of town and he and Kimberly had a lot to drink. He doesn't remember much about that night because of how drunk he was. The police now think after Kimberly left the house that night, the killer picked her up. I don't understand cops. Why would they want a cheesy confession from some poor kid who only confessed because he was scared out of his mind? You'd think they'd want to find the real murderer.

I called Paul to tell him he was right about the kid being innocent, but his mother said no one has seen Paul for three days. She was pretty upset about it and started crying. I told her I was sorry, but that only made her worse. Once she calmed down, she told me she was moving and for me to call Paul's grandmother if I found out anything.

The whole thing freaked me out, and I thought about Paul and his spying, and wondered if the predator got him. Man, that really scared me, so I told Dad the whole story, well, almost the whole story. I left out the part about Jessica and MySpace. Then the next thing
you know, Dad's on the phone to the police and they tell us to stay put, because they're coming right over.

When they got here, they asked me a lot of questions and why Paul and me thought it was that particular guy, and I told them how we found him on the Internet, and the head cop got all serious and told me I was playing with fire. And that Paul and me might have been his next victims. I got all scared when he told me that. He said we should let them do their job.

I asked them if they thought that guy really was the killer, and they said he was one of many suspects. That some of the agents didn't think the boy committed the crime, even though he admitted to it, and were still out there trying to find the murderer. He said we might have screwed up the whole investigation. They made me promise to stay away from the case and mind my own business. Dad assured him that I would not go putting my nose where it doesn't belong. Again.

Then they asked me if I knew Paul was planning to run away. I told them I didn't have a clue. They acted kinda funny, like they didn't believe me. Anyway, after a real heavy stare, they said they think Paul will call me or send me a letter. I'm supposed to let them know as soon as I hear something. I asked them if they contacted any of his new friends, since we don't hang out as much as we used to. They said the other kids don't know where he is either. I sometimes wonder if he's dead; maybe the killer got him, but I doubt it. I think he went to Florida to watch some of the major league spring training games. He loves baseball and I think, since his father's dead, he decided finally to see a game. Florida is a place Paul would like, because the weather's
always warm and it's near the ocean. He's never been on a family vacation, and I bet he decided to take his own, now that there's no chance for him to have a real family. But I'm not saying anything. I don't want the police in my driveway again. We have too many nosy neighbors as it is.

Monday, 3–12

Life seems weird without Paul. Everything looks so different to me. My sister feels bad for me, but she still makes sicko jokes. She accused me of being gay, because of how hard I was taking Paul's absence. I couldn't believe she said that to me. I mean, I have nothing against gay people, and that's not what I was upset about. It's just that she acts like if a guy has a good friend he really cares about, then he must be gay or have a problem or something. And that's not fair, because my sister gets really hurt and cries and stuff if one of her girlfriends doesn't include her in something, or doesn't call her back for a few days. Some years ago she was a real head case because one of her friends moved to Iowa. She wouldn't come out of her room for days. I didn't think she was weird or gay or anything—I thought she just missed her friend. Why can't guys do the same thing? Paul and I were real close and we shared a lot, some good, some not so good things. I always thought I could help Paul and maybe even make up for how bad his parents were. But I was wrong. I couldn't do anything for Paul, and now he's gone. That really bites.

Last night I sat in my room and tried to imagine what Paul was
thinking. He must feel really scared and alone. He's probably freaked out by his father's death and has nightmares about him, especially finding his body like he did. I bet he finally bought a cell phone and dialed his mom, then hung up fast because he was afraid the police might trace his call. He's smart that way. He might go to a public phone and try to call her, but that might make him look suspicious. He wouldn't do anything to get noticed.

One summer my family went to Sarasota and there were some homeless kids downtown, trying to get money from the old rich people. We went to this one restaurant on Palm Avenue and sat outside to eat our pizza. This kid came up to this old couple sitting next to us and asked to borrow some money for an airline ticket home. He made up this story about how he was mugged and the only thing the robbers left him were the clothes on his back. He was on his way home from college, and he had stopped in Sarasota to hook up with an old friend. It turned out his friend was out of town, so he stopped to gas up his car, when some Hispanic guys attacked him. They stole his car keys, credit cards, and cash. His parents were on a cruise, so he couldn't call them for help. He was stuck in a strange city without any friends and no money. He said he was desperate, but he didn't look so desperate to me. His clothes were all nice and neat, and he seemed pretty confident and cool. And, besides, someone who had been mugged would have been at the police station, not walking around Palm Ave. Anyway, this old couple bought this kid's gig, and gave him a fifty–dollar bill! The kid acted like he was going to cry, but I could see the gleam in his eye. His story had worked and he ripped off these old people. I could see Paul doing this. He could
do a number on people—he learned how to lie and deceive by practicing on his parents.

Thursday, 3–15

Please Don't Read This Page

Sable asked about Paul at youth group last night. I told her everything, and then I started crying. She put her arms around me and held me until I stopped. I've never been held by a girl before— except by my mom or grandmothers—but I didn't feel awkward like I thought I would. It felt good to have a friend care so much about me. Sable said she knows all about pain. When we were alone, she rolled up her sleeves and let me see all the scars on her arm. She said she used to cut herself to relieve the pain she felt inside. The pain from the cuts helped her forget her emotional pain. She said she doesn't cut herself as much since youth camp last summer, when the counselor made her turn in her razors. But she thinks about it all the time. She says it's like an addiction. I asked her what she does to stop herself. She said she reads lots of books, especially books about cutters. She said that helps, because she lives
vicariously
that way. That means to live through someone else. I guess you knew that, since you're an English teacher. But then again, you're not supposed to read this page, so it doesn't matter anyway.

I can't believe it's that easy for Sable though. I mean, there's no way reading would keep me from eating a pizza if it were there in front of me. Sable says it's all about control—mind over matter. The more you deny yourself something you crave, the
more control you have in your life. I wonder if control can be an addiction. I wonder if everything in life could be an addiction if you took it far enough. My dad even said some people are so addicted to religion they neglect their families, just like alcoholics or drug addicts neglect their families. The world is so complicated, especially when good things can be just as harmful as bad things.

Monday, 3–19

I really like Shakespeare. He's really cool, and he's funny. That stuff at the beginning about weapons and stuff is pretty dirty, but most of the kids didn't get it, so you don't have to worry. Sable will make a good Juliet, if we ever get to her part. Are we going to read the whole play out loud in class? If so, we need to pick up the pace. No offense, but Tony is all wrong for Romeo. It takes him forever to read. He didn't pay attention when you said read to the punctuation mark; he stops at the end of every line. I know he volunteered, but you're too nice. Sable's going to make him look really bad when she reads with him.

I like the part of Benvolio, the peacemaker. That fits my personality well, though I wish he had more lines. You said that when we get into it more, we're going to act out some scenes. I'm not sure about using those fake swords you showed us—that could be pretty stupid, waving cardboard and tin–foil swords around. Everyone will probably start laughing and miss the point.

Thursday, 3–22

Please Read This—You're collecting my row's journals this week.

I'm practicing my lines like you asked, though I miss playing Benvolio. I think it's a good thing Tony said he didn't want to read anymore. He really doesn't think it's a dumb play—he just said that to get out of reading. Tony knew everyone was complaining about him. Sable told me before class she was going to suggest that I read Romeo's part, but I was surprised when the rest of the class agreed with her. I heard someone whispering about my being too fat for the part, but someone else said, “Yeah, but at least we'll get through the play sometime this school year.” Then one of the girls said, “He's not as fat as he used to be.” But I think I was the only one who heard her. I'm down almost forty–four pounds, and now Mom's complaining about having to buy me new clothes. I can tell she's really happy about it though. Mom can't stand for me to be the only one buying new clothes, so she's losing weight too. My sister says she looks real hip, but she doesn't look any different to me.

I read ahead to the part you want Sable and me to act out, and I think they're supposed to kiss. There's something about Romeo and Juliet putting their hands together, and Romeo says, “O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do.” Not long after that the stage directions say, “[
Kissing her
].” If I kiss Sable, the class will laugh and get way out of control. Do you think we could act out another scene? Also, I don't want Sable getting all mad at me. What if I accidentally kiss her too strong, and she thinks I'm taking advantage of the
situation? I hope you're reading this. I wish I had looked ahead before I agreed to be Romeo. Now I'm stuck.