David thought about his name as the bus turned with the road, his eyes fixed on the fleeting trail of dust the white bus left behind it- covering parts of the setting sun. The bus creaked a little with every turn, shaking and showing its age.
Karof-sky. Karof-SKY.
David knew his name was Polish, knew that much but had tuned his dad out when he had started talking about family heritage and genealogy and roots and all that shit. All Dave really knew was his name had the word sky at the end. Sky as in blue, sky as in freedom, sky as in….well, he had the idea pretty well captured. David knew a lot about silence too. Silence was all there seemed to be these days.
The creaking white bus was headed towards Georgia, not much time left now. David had his open bag of Twizzlers and his two bottles of Vault on the open seat next to him. There were eight other kids on the bus, but all were separated by at least two rows and David was in the back.
David Karofsky was the worst of all these sinners.
What hurt the most was not the way his mother had started bullying his father and leaving hints about David's illness all around the house or using bleach for all his clothes (including his McKinley varsity jacket, which almost didn't get rescued). Nor his dad's retreating silence. Even the fighting that hung in the air over the dinner table didn't hurt as much as what had happened. What had happened, David wondered in retrospect?
He couldn't stand to think, just let the bus ride take him silently and deeper into his own pain. This was what he deserved for the way he had treated Kurt, wasn't it? Yeah, it was, his own voice replied to him. Slushies, tauntings, death threats, this is the perfect end to that road.
And what an end it was going to be. Goodbye Lima, Goodbye possibly returning to McKinley or playing football as a Buckeye in Toledo. Hello Georgia. Hello Stone Eagle Academy.
Sounds great, like a euphemism for some privileged rich place like Dalton, doesn't it? Dave thought to himself, mocking himself and continuing that damn punishment that he had been giving himself ever since…ever since when? A long time, at least since he was fifteen and Greg….
No, he commanded himself. Maybe I'm fixable, he thought and hoped. But didn't hope either. Truth was, Dave liked being a bear cub, liked how much it explained, he wasn't sure he wanted to throw that away just yet. But how many times could you listen to your mother pray for you loudly? How many cans of pink spray paint against your locker proclaiming you "a fag" at how many schools could you take before you broke down hard?
As it turns out, the number is smaller than you think. That's how you end up at Stone Eagle.
Maybe it'll be worth it in the end, David thought with an almost cheerful sort of pessimism. Maybe they can fix me. Reaching for a Twizzler, he bit off both ends and chewed slowly, savoring the syrupy cherry taste. Then he placed his edible straw into a 20 oz of Vault and sipped, watching the twizzler dissolve into nothing and turn the water pink.
Or maybe it will destroy you, a less cheerful thought thundered into the conversation. Dave pushed it away, he had to. They had just crossed the state line. Twenty miles to go.