The fall term opens in Sherwood, Ohio to the bustling masses of high-school students funneling into Westerburg High. While jocks and cheer squads unite together under the enthusiastic fervor of the Westerburg Rottweilers athletic superiority, the majority of students are more distant. Tiny paper boats flowing on waving river of passive aggressive jabs at each other's expense.
One paper vessel of a boy with similarly pale complexion steps off the school bus and pulls out a notebook from inside his denim jacket with marks of once proud patches he would sport just a few years ago. One patch on his jacket that remains is a banner on his right arm that reads "Valiant", his first patch, fitting his first name. This young man, Valiant Sawyer, then draws out a pen from his acid washed jeans and starts to jot his diary's first entry of the school year.
"September 1st, 1989" he writes, murmuring it to himself. Valiant pauses, did he say that out loud? Oh god, everyone will think he's a super-freak! Like one of those kids who climbs up a tower to take sniper shots at people. But he doesn't own a gun, his parents don't even own a gun. How would he get one? Wait, why is that the only problem with this situation? Are they right to think hes-
He exhales, forcing all that paranoia out his head on shuttle of carbon dioxide into the open air. Valiant returns to writing in this notebook, lips tightly shut and rather conservative shoes pacing into the school building.
"Dear diary,
I think I'm a good person. You know I think there's good in everyone. But here we are, first day of Senior year!"
Valiant tilts his head up with a smirk at the insincerity of his entry's enthusiastic exclamation, looking over at all the students. His attention drawn to a group he recognized to be in the same year group as him. A laughing girl beside a tall male with his left arm wrapped around the girl's waist and his right hand on a less imposing boy opening up his locker as he turns to the pair. The diary scribe watches them, scribbling down into his diary:
"I look around all these kids I've known all my life and I wonder,"
In an instant, the bigger male throws the locker boy into opened maw of his locker and slams it shut, joining his partner in laughter with an extra kick to the locker door for good measure. The diary jotting young man looks away.
"What happened?" He asks himself before walking onward into Westerburg High, listening to the bellows of insults as students spit at each other.
[Backers, spoken] Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-eyes! Poser! Lard Ass!
[Valiant, sung] We were so tiny,
Happy and shiny,
Playing tag and getting chased.
[Backers] Freak! Slut! Loser! Short Bus!
[Valiant] Singing and clapping,
Laughing and napping,
Baking cookies,
Eating paste.
[Backers] Bull Dyke! Stuck-up! Hunchback!
[Valiant] Then we got bigger,
That was the trigger,
Like the Huns invading Rome!
A girl shoves practically through Valiant, violently knocking himself and his thoughts aside. Just as he collects himself, he looks over to the continuing girl and calls out, "umm, sorry." With no acknowledgement or retort from her, Valiant straightens himself and walks onward to his locker.
Welcome to my school,
This ain't no high school,
This is the Thunderdome.
A quick unloading of his school bag later, Valiant marches on to his first class. Between the teenage angst he sees statements of inspiration from long past and imagines his past self's eyes twinkle with naive awe for the world around him.
Hold your breath and count the days,
We're graduating soon.
[Backers] White trash!
[Valiant] College will be paradise,
If I'm not dead by June!
First class commences with Valiant sitting at his desk, part daydreaming and another part looking over the scrawls of his earlier years within his notebook diary.
But I know, I know,
Life can be beautiful,
I pray, I pray,
For a better way.
With the first class over, Valiant looks upwards and strides with the closest thing to his name sake of valor he could ever muster in Westerburg's hallowed halls.
If we changed back then,
We can change again!
We can be beautiful…
A nerdier girl gets shoved down close to Valiant, his eye catching her as she falls to the ground.
Just not today.
"Hey, are you ok?" Valiant crouched down to inquire, trying to help her up.
The girl slaps away Valiant's arms and barks at him, "get away, freak!".
And there it was, first one of the year. First utterance of "freak" towards him. With his optimism retreated, Valiant dismissed her with a few words.
"Oh umm, ok."
Throughout classes, Valiant continues to wax nostalgia and his typical mental hyper-gymnastics as he reads through his notebook's older entries and the progressively more angsty and defeatist newer ones.
[Backers] Freak! Slut! Cripple!
Homo!
Homo!
Homo!
[Valiant] Things will get better,
Soon as my letter,
Comes from Harvard, Duke, or Brown.
Wake from this coma,
Take my diploma,
Then I can blow this town!
With break commencing, Valiant queues up with his tray in hand, collecting his food and drink with such robotic autonomy, the relief from lessons seemed to not enter his mind. He continues his thoughts from during the lessons.
I dream of Ivy-covered walls,
and smokey French cafes.
Fight the urge to strike a match,
and set this dump ablaze.
Just as he reaches for his last item, a red apple, the tray in his left hand flies up into his face. Bread and liquid either against his head or tarnishing his denim cloaked back before collapsing into a heap on the ground.
"Oops", a sassy little white brunette sporting the schools' sports colors quips.
Valiant grips the apple and breathes deeply to himself. He should have known this would happen. How could he forget one of his fellow seniors.
Rae Sweeney, 3rd year as top of the pyramid.
"And 8th as lunch tray smacker and a huge bitch!" Valiant remarks to himself as he tries to clean up somewhat with his apple now safely pocketed. Sadly, Valiant's insult catches the ear of the rather well-built cheer squad member.
Rae glares down at the crouched Valiant and spits "What did you say to me, horn dog?" as Valiant's head rises to stand back up.
"Gah! N-nothing!" Valiant recoiled, trying to keep all the spoiled goods on the tray before disposing them into the bin.
[With backers] But I know, I know
Life can be beautiful.
[Valiant alone] I pray, I pray,
For a better way,
We were kind before,
We can be kind once more,
We can be beautiful (beautiful).
A poke into Valiant's back causes him to jump. The foreign sensation of the poke with the dampened denim and dried crusts under his collar certainly helped add to the shock. Valiant spun around to see the offender, a rotund and shorter boy of Asian descent with large lenses in his glasses. A chubby smile rests below his glasses and infects Valiant with a smile of his own.
"Hey Martin", Valiant utters.
"Hey" he replies.
Martin Dunnstock. Valiant's best friend since, diapers now that Valiant thought about it. Despite the two fitting together as well as mismatched socks, they were good friends, this tall posing freak who mutters to himself and the squat fat ass nerd with the wisdom of a freshman.
"Are we on for movie night?" Martian asks as the two boys walk over to their typical table of D+ socializers.
"Yeah, you're on jiffy pop detail". Valiant smiles, pointing to Martian before pulling out his apple and giving it a wipe to make sure nothing was on it.
"I rented the Princess Bride" Martin stated they closed in on their seats.
"Oh ho ho! Again? Wait, surely you got it memorized by now." Valiant chuckled before getting a quick bite into his apple.
"What can I say, I'm a sucker for happy endings" Martin confesses, engrossed with chatting to his friend.
Too engrossed.
"MARTIN DUMPTRUCK! WIDE LOAD!"
Suddenly, Rae with a loud dark skinned compatriot rushes across the two boys and slams Martin's tray into the ground before bellowing a loud "HONK!" right into his shocked face before trying to salvage his tray and its contents. Oh yes, the OTHER queen of smacking lunch trays out of people's hands.
Kate Kelly, lead cheerleader and the smartest girl in the squad. Valiant could think of more back-handed compliments she should be commended for, though a part of him preferred to stick with "the tallest dwarf".
Swallowing his mouthful of apple and quickly wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Valiant shouted, "Hey! Pick that up! Right now!" pointing at Martin's food with his apple holding hand, the other trying to hold Martin back. Sure, Martin could clean up like Valiant did, but at this point, it was the principle of the matter.
"I'm sorry, are you actually talking to me?" Kate remarked, strutting back at Valiant with a sneer. She cut a short figure in comparison to Valiant but her glare more than compensated for the intimidation factor.
"Yes I am." Valiant answered, "I want to know want gives you the right to pick on my friend." Valiant leans down over Kate but she keeps her glare. There was something almost heart-racing for Valiant to actually feel in authority. A submissive beanpole of a teen now looking like he was worth something. The stare down seemed to excrete intensity with the rivaling forces, Martin and even a small crowd of students watching with interest. "You are a high school has been waiting to happen" Valiant continued, "A future gas station attendant".
And yet, all this meant nothing. The towering height, the grim specter of an inevitable reality, a determined stare. It all meant nothing before Kate's single response.
"You have a zit, right there." She pointed, above Valiant's left eye and near the top-most part of his nose. Valiant out of teenage image induced reflex tried to cover it but too late, the crowd was in an uproar, tension dead, the girls leave, Martin's tray still on the floor. Valiant lost. He'd probably be a joke again because of this, God it was worse than the Roger Rabbit jokes from last year!
Valiant went to sit alone at the desk and draw out his notebook for an impulsive diary entry.
Dear Diary,
Why? (Why do they hate me?)
(Why don't I fight back?)
(Why do I act like such a freak?)
Why? (Why won't she date me?)
(Why did I hit her?)
(Why do I cry myself to sleep?)
Why? (Somebody help me,)
(Somebody fix me,)
(Somebody save me.)
Valiant drops his head hard onto the lunch table and with entwined hands, presses down from the back of his head.
(Send me a sign God,)
(Give me some help here,)
(Something to live for!)
As if brought to a theatrical silence, the cafeteria halts before the presence of 3 figures. Three towering tenements of Westerburg high. Gods in mortal man's flesh? No, flesh would be an insult to them. For they were more marble statues of man's greatest figures made manifest. No one would dare look away from the three jacket clad seniors entering the cafe. The awestruck silence brings Valiant's head up to look around before catching sight of the glistening gods in question.
(Ahh,
Henry,
Henry,
and Henry)
The Henrys, just floating above it all. When Valiant is at his lowest point, who better to metaphorically press his face further down into social mud?
(I love,
Henry,
Henry,
and Henry)
On the right end of this pack of Adonises was Henry McNamara. The school's star quarterback dressed in bright yellow with a blonde mullet. Valiant heard his mother was loaded from her business of selling engagement rings. In terms of McNamara himself, everyone seems to speak positively of him specifically. Probably because the guy is always smiling, yeah, had to be that.
(I want,
Henry,
Henry,
and Henry)
Left side, Henry Duke. The well-groomed if bland green guy is the dark pompadour wearing head of the yearbook committee. Perhaps it was the general hush-hush of any rumors on him, his recent growth in body mass and ultimately all the implications there, or just Henry's rather unimposing presence outwith the Henrys but whatever the case, Valiant personally liked him the least. Which is actually a compliment in comparison to…
(I need,
Henry,
Henry,
and Henry)
Henry Chandler. The man that ties this trio together like a large red band that could tie back his long straight red hair. The Almighty among the already almighty clique. This tanned monarch of the student populous was a proud member of Westerburg high despite not being a lead of any sports teams. He was the cream of the crop, and boy did he know it.
"He is such a mythic prick." Valiant murmured.
As the spectacle of watching the Henrys collect food and sit at their exclusive table waned away, Valiant turned back to his apple, his head clouded with thoughts of the Henrys.
They were solid Teflon he chewed over with chunks of bitten off apple in his mouth. Never bothered, never harassed. Despite Valiant's distaste for the whole clique, he would undoubtedly give anything to be one of them. In some regards, Valiant was not alone:
[Girl] I'd like to be their girlfriend,
(That would be beautiful),
[Boy] If I sat at their table, chicks would notice me,
(So beautiful),
[Martin] I'd like them to be nicer,
(That would be beautiful),
[Girl 2] I'd like to kidnap a Henry and photograph him naked in an abandoned warehouse and leave him tied up for the rats.
Was that Betty? Valiant should have known she'd be into the freaky stuff. Or maybe he just thought of that as an excuse for his ego after she rejected him. He was doing better than Martin in any case, poor guy hasn't even asked a girl out yet...maybe for the best given who he was particularly pining for.
By the time the bell kneels for class' re-convention, Valiant found himself too engrossed with writing some cursive on the back pages of his diary when he originally went in for a quick dry of his denim if possible.
Trapped in a cubicle, Valiant kept trying to mimic the cursive of one of the yearbook teacher's lettering. In part out of interest, graphology seemed interesting to Valiant ever since he read its importance in a detective thriller as a child. In another part, well forging a hall pass might help him get some more fresh air after such a shitty day.
Bluarrgh!
Valiant pricked his ears up to the sudden sound of puking, followed by a too familiar voice.
"Ugh, grow up Henry! Muscle Hypertrophy is SO '87!" the voice of Henry Chandler projected from the North west point of where Valiant was sitting.
"Henry, I need a mint!" the stall voice piped up, Henry Duke. If both of them were here, then it only made sense that-
"I think what you need is a doctor Henry." a voice at the mid-point of the other two remarked, yup, Henry McNamara. All three Henrys alone. Except with Valiant, stuck hiding in the nearby stall.
"Yeah, maybe you're right Henry" Henry Duke responded, well shit Valiant figured, if I go out now, they'll probably think I am going to spread rumors about Henry Duke puking in a toilet. Just his luck, he was going to become the Henrys' greatest enemy due to coincidental timing.
Valiant held his breath and pulled up his legs. If there is a God, throw me a bone!
"Ah, Henry and Henry" the voice of Mr Fleming arose from the bathroom entrance, his timing punctuated but Henry Duke's second throw up, "and Henry" Mr Fleming added.
How is this a bone, Valiant thought. Now he was going to get detention and trouble from the Henry's. This day is the worst!
"Perhaps you three didn't hear the bell from all the vomiting? You are late for class" Mr Fleming stated.
Wait a moment, the hall pass. If I hand this fake page now, I'm free, Valiant discovered, carefully tearing his notebook page out, with thankfully no sign of tear.
"Henry wasn't feeling well, we're helping him." Henry Chandler explained, Valiant realizing the Henrys' plight too.
Wait, if I get them out too...they'll owe me he reasoned. Maybe I could dodge their wrath. No, better. I could...but dare I?
"Not without a hall pass you're not." Mr Fleming rather chirpily retorted to Chandler's failed persuasion attempt. "A week's detention."
"Actually, Mr Fleming?"
With a final stroke of pen, Valiant opened his stall door and raised the forged note towards the floral print shirt wearing teacher. Fleming grabs the note and inspects it.
"All four of us are out on a hall pass." Valiant stated, Mr Fleming surveys the four students, no doubt drawing suspicion that Valiant would be out alongside the Henrys. "Yearbook committee", Valiant quickly added.
"Oh" Fleming replied, "Well, I see you are all listed. Hurry up and get where you are going".
Fleming left after handing the note back to Valiant. Before the denim clad youth could sigh with any semblance of relief however, Henry Chandler swiped the note and inspects it himself, McNamara and Duke joining in on the investigation over the Almighty one's shoulders.
"This is an excellent forgery." Chandler rather uncharacteristically compliments before snapping, "Who are you?"
"U-Um, Sawyer. Valiant Sawyer. I...I crave a boon." Valiant responded, partially relieved the Henrys did not poke fun at his rather uncommon name.
Instead, Chandler promptly asked "What boon?"
Valiant felt on the verge of sweat drops from the nerves. A sharp swallow later he requests though in a rush of nerves, "Lemme sit at your table, once, no talking necessary. If everyone believed that you guys tolerated me, they'll leave me alone."
A moment of awkward silence. Chandler being quiet. Duke with eyes wide from shock. McNamara not smiling in some way? Valiant panicked. He offended them, oh shit. So much for that plan then, goodbye ambitions, hello Senior year hell!
Chandler then breaks into a laugh, a laugh at the absurdity of this weirdo's request. Duke joins in with his own rather downplayed snicker and McNamara returns to a smile with some laughter of his own.
"Before you answer," Valiant desperately added during a lull point of the Henrys' laughing, "I also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes."
"What about prescriptions?" Henry Duke asks before Henry Chandler slams his verbal gavel.
"Shut up Henry"
"Sorry Henry"
Henry Chandler then starts to close in on Valiant and paces around him. Pulling faces of disgust and yet also impress as he walks round Valiant.
"For a little greasy nobody" he remarks, grabbing Valiant's chin and moving Valiant's head around, "You have excellent bone structure" he compliments once again before McNamara pulls Valiant towards the least messy mirror in the bathroom.
"And a symmetrical face." Henry McNamara adds as the Henrys crowd around the mirror to examine. "If I pulled out a meat cleaver and chopped down the center of your skull" he explained, gesturing with an open hand narrow side against Valiant's nose. "I would have matching halves, that is very important" he concluded, the Henrys nodding in agreement to Henry McNamara's evaluation with Valiant still staring in a state of confused worry.
"Of course, you could stand to gain some more muscle" Henry Duke stated. That much didn't really surprise Valiant, compared to these three, he looked like flag pole.
Chandler reclaimed Valiant from McNamara with some further evaluation and plans of action. Actions that would change Valiant in ways he could have never imagined.
[Henry Chandler] And you know, you know, you know,
This could be beautiful.
Letterman,
maybe some posture,
and we're on our way.
Get this dude some gear,
and Henry, his breath needs clear,
Let's make him beautiful!
(Let's make him beautiful!)
(Let's make him beautiful!)
Make this beautiful!
"Ok?" Chandler asks.
"Ok!" Valiant squeaked back.
And in a sweeping blur, the Henrys commenced their plans of action. McNamara was the first to attack with, mouthwash. The liquid was forced into Valiant's mouth and just as quickly, Henry McNamara started jostling Valiant's heads and cheeks, rinsing the solution all around his mouth before a quick chop at the back of Valiant's head forced the fashion victim to spit the mouthwash out into the sink. Out of his pocket, the quarterback popped a strong mint into Valiant's mouth.
"Don't swallow." he ordered before then gesturing Henry Duke to take over with a rather padded jacket.
"Denim was so mid-80s, jeans only from now on...and only outside school hours. We're jewels of Westerburg high and thus must present as such." Henry Duke remarked, Stripping Valiant of his denim jacket, revealing a band shirt underneath. Henry sighed, "Plain tees or dress shirts from now on. Flip that for now."
Turning Valiant's shirt with some deodorant sprays added in for good measure, Henry Duke presented a blue jacket with the spitting image of the Henrys' own.
"Not yet Henry" Henry Chandler interrupted, "Let's get him pants first and-" he approached to jostle Valiant's short mess of hair "maintenance advice".
The makeup session lasted into the end of the school day with hair styling and cleaning advice (apparently, Valiant's remark of washing hair everyday gained looks of revulsion from the Henrys). Students began to funnel out of class with their typical spirit
[Girl] Out of my way geek!
[Nerdy girl] I don't want trouble!
[Goth girl] You're gonna die at 3pm!
[Pair of boys] Don't you dare touch me!
Get away weirdo!
[Nerdy girl] What did I ever do to them?
[Backers] Who could survive this?
I can't escape this,
I think I'm dying.
[Guy] Whose that with Henry?
Once again, the students halted and glanced over to the striding band of seniors, with their new 4th member to flaunt off to the masses trailing behind them.
Murmurs of a "4th one" catches Martin's ears and, with curiosity gnawing into him, tries to pass through the crowd to see. The crowd in turn, starts to cluster up as they present a split down the middle of the hall for the Henrys.
[Backers] Whoa.
Henry,
Henry,
Henry,
and someone.
Henry,
Henry,
Henry,
and a hunk!
Henry,
Henry,
Henry,
[Henry Chandler & Martin, spoken] Valiant?
[Backers, sung] Valiant,
Valiant,
Valiant!
To the call of his name, Valiant steps out and folds away his notebook. Standing to a crowd of awestruck teenagers was a dashing figure. Hair gelled back and a glistening smile, his fine physique defined by the padded blue Letterman jacket and the school plaid pants and his shoes now pearly white trainers. Upright, with confidence far more befitting his namesake and new station, Valiant presents his person and follows towards the Henrys.
[Valiant] And you know, you know, you know,
Life can be beautiful (life can be beautiful),
You hope, you dream, you pray,
And you get your way!
The grinning teenager starts waving to the enamored audience of teenagers as the Henrys lead him towards the school's front doors. Valiant picks up his pace though not at the expense of more flaunting to the onlookers.
Ask me how it feels, (beautiful!)
Looking like Hell on wheels!
From one of the school doors' windows, Valiant catches sight of the studly senior reflecting back at him and the mesmerized gawking masses behind him. Valiant begins to fawn over the reflection as if it was the first time.
My God, it's beautiful, (beautiful!)
This might be beautiful, (beautiful!)
And when you're beautiful,
It's a beautiful fricking day!
Pulling away from the reflection, Valiant pushes the doors open ahead of the Henrys and steps out to the opened horizon with arms out wide. The students also start to pour out as they cheer for this new Henry.
(Henry,
Henry,
Henry,
Valiant.)
(Henry,
Henry,
Henry,
Valiant)
(Valiant,
Valiant,
Valiant,
Valiant!)
Valiant jumped from the steps leading into the school. He could have sworn he was flying though, wings must have sprouted from him this year and granted him freedom from the status quo plagued beasts of the ground for now he would surely soar through the skies with the majesty of great eagles.
But such wings bring new laws. Flying too high and the sun shall melt your gift of flight away. Flying too low and the sea will burden down your flight.
