Prologue:
I would like to say that when we first met, it was an eye opener. My life was suddenly brand new, and everything suddenly made sense. A light had popped on in my head, and all I could see was her beautiful face, flooding my mind, and that it never went away, not for a second. My life was complete, now that she was in it.
But it wasn't like that.
We were second graders. She was just a girl. Not even one that I would take notice too, either. She didn't have cooties, no, only rabbits had those (or so I believed, thanks to Birdie), so she was normal. Boring. As you know, second graders have the attention span of a goldfish, so nothing really kept me entertained for more than a few seconds.
Her hair was pretty though. Short. So she couldn't get gum stuck in it, I supposed. Mom said that happened to herself when she was smaller.
I couldn't tell you how she acted for those first years at my new school, and leading on to middle school, all the way to eleventh grade. I couldn't tell you what her last name was. But on that day, that Monday, on the second day of my junior year, I could tell you what I knew from then on. You said write everything that happened and everything that led up to it.
I couldn't really tell you when it all started, because it's just time, moments just bouncing back and forth, and a moment having the ability to change anything and everything. But if someone threw me to the floor, held a gun to my head, and told me to tell them exactly when it began, the first thing that would flood to my mind was the only reasonable answer: the day Harold got punched.
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When You Reach Me
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I'm coming to save her life, and my own.
When you reach me, I'll no longer be myself.
So I ask two favors.
First:
You must write a letter to me. Tell me everything that has happened and everything that has led up to it. Don't write until you are certain.
Second:
Don't try to find me.
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Chapter One:
The Day Harold Saw Stars
Let me just start with this.
Harold is a nose picker. He just picked. And picked. And I'm pretty sure that explains everything about him. At least it did for me, those years I had known him.
Something about him just pissed me off. I had always had the urge to tease him, and I almost always acted upon it. Some laughed; some called me mean, or rude, or said 'You're so insecure'. If I was insecure, then the world was flat. And we know that people only said that because they knew nothing better or smarter to say.
So anyway, Harold pissed me off. It was obvious that he was threatened by me. So I picked on him. It was easy, and it wasn't as though I needed to build my self-esteem, I really just think that I was bored. I needed some source of entertainment in this bleak little town. So I just picked on him, and yet he still picked his nose.
I live in an old apartment that no one really pays much attention to. It's 1977, and people don't really care where you live at anymore. Somehow, this part of town was always densely populated, for all the wrong reasons. It's in the wrong area of town, you might say. I didn't realize this when I was smaller. I thought everyone lived here. I thought everyone loved it the way I did. I was so pure back then. Now I always feel dirty.
I'm about to give you the main course here. The whole reason I'm writing this, for better or for worse. For you, of course, because it was your simple request. It all starts with her.
Courtney has dark hair, caramel skin, and bright green eyes. She is always wearing this silver bracelet that I know should have charms on it, but it doesn't. She was clean cut, nice smile, had a nice body. That was all I knew about her at first.
Courtney's parents were the rich kind of people, at least as rich as you got in Chamber Falls. She was the best of the best in the tiny town, anyway, and she also cared for a lot.
Her mother had asked me if I would please drive her to school and back and such when we hit eleventh grade. She didn't really ask, rather demanded it, referring back to the loan of cash she had given my parents back when I was not born. As if to shout 'pay your parents dues'. So I came to pick her up that Monday.
I drove slowly, because they actually had a driveway. A driveway! I thought. I was amazed by it, and I felt shame. My mom and I always parked on the curve. My dad used to park in the parking lots that cost a quarter a day. That was when we sure of ourselves. We're kind of lost now.
Mom had me drive the Camaro instead of the old pick-up. "Let's look our best for the Meeks. We owe them for a lot."
But our best look like nothing compared to them not even trying.
Courtney was sitting at the door, waiting, tapping her foot, to a beat though. She was swaying, right to left, swing, swing, swing. I listened, but I heard no music.
I opened the car door. She didn't stop swaying, but she hesitated, like she was looking me over. I got that a lot.
See, I'm not the type of guy you want to approach, and for me that can be a good or bad thing. My size was bit weird, tall and well-built was what my mom said, lanky and giant from Birdie (my sister), and my Dad just scoffed and rolled his eyes. My mom would whisper that he was just jealous. My Dad was only 5'6. I was 5'10. It's an on-going 'reason to hate you' list.
Oh yeah. And I have a green Mohawk. Not exactly the biggest in style, I suppose, but that's not what it was for. Birdie had died it for me two years before at a party. She had been smoking a bit, so it was easier to win her over. I hated it when she smoked. Only when she handed the green over to me did I shut my trap. "Take a drag and just go away, Duncan. I'm not in it now." She was never in it.
She had said, "This Mohawk, I guess you could call it you, Duncan, but it's not you. It's your outer shell. I'm a bird, and you… well, right now, you're this."
One look at Courtney's face said it all: what the hell is this?
The hair, and me, I mean. What the hell was I, she probably thought. I'll never know. Her next three words were simple: "So you're Duncan?"
The name came out of her mouth as if it were tainted. "Do I not please you?"
She flipped her short hair, standing up. "Let's go." She walked by me, as if I didn't matter, as if I was nobody. To people like her, I probably was.
As soon as we got in the car, I turned to her. "Just because my parents owe your parents, don't think I'm going to accept this attitude you have." I slipped on my seat belt. "Things don't work that way."
She was quiet for a moment. I thought she might get upset, but what I didn't expect was exactly what happened. She stuck up the finger, and licked her lips. "Then don't accept it." She hissed. "But deal with it. I don't know what attitude you're referring to, but I'll tell you this: people like me break people like you." Her green eyes didn't even flicker.
I started the car, smiling. "People who look like me get broken. People harder than me break others. You would get a can of whoop ass if I was any harder, sweetheart."
"Right." She said. "I have fifteen lawyers."
"Well, I have a gun."
She looked at me, wide eyed. "Kidding," I said, smirking. She crinkled her eyebrows.
The start of a great friendship, am I right?
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When You Reach Me
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So anyways, I drove Courtney that first day. We were outside of school- thank god, I was pretty sure she might strangle me in the next two minutes. "OK, honey, time to go to school." I joked.
She was not as amused. She slammed the car door. I could see she was at the edge, so I pushed more. "Don't break a nail, Princess."
She turned to me, eyes burning with a fire. Just then, Harold came behind me. "Duncan, where's my inhaler? I know you took it. Gosh, I mean, why would you want that?"
Courtney looked to him. Suddenly, oh-so fast, she walked up to me.
She hit Harold right in the jaw.
Now imagine the girl in your class who is teacher's pet, a bit demanding, always gets the grade. Now imagine her in ratty clothes. Imagine her sick looking, her eyelids drooping, dark circles, frown lines, bad hair day all rolled into one. Imagine her not wearing that certain perfume that day. And imagine her fist making contact with that one losers face.
I hadn't noticed how distraught Courtney looked before. Had I just been focused on her face? She looked bad. Withered, I supposed.
And then the moment was over. Harold was on the ground, and Courtney was walking away. Kids stared in awe, but no one said anything. Harold was crying. I was standing there.
And Courtney was walking away.
It was the start of a memory still so vivid in my mind, yet so far away. Like a movie I could play again and again, any time I felt like it. Which is never.
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