I've Got the Straightedge
By Maureen (sXe)
Standard disclaimers apply
A/N: I'm straight edge and this fic was inspired jointly by the song 'Straight Edge' which also inspired the entire straightedge movement amongst punk youths. The other thing that inspired this fic was a fic written by BE-A-TL which she is currently refusing to release so go bug her about it! Special thanks go to Jeeves and Babel fish for helping me find the Hebrew and French words :P
***
Catie leaned against the bleachers, basking in the spring sunshine. Under the bleachers several of the potheads had just lit up and were passing the joint around. "Hey Catie," one of the guys called out, "Want it?"
"No!" Catie exclaimed, it was well known around school that she abhorred any unnatural substance in her body, including caffeine. "No fucking way!"
She saw Carlson coming out of the corner of her eye and stood up, walking back into the school building. No way was she going to be caught by their weed.
"Ms. Roth," Principal Carlson said, stopping her on her way to the building, "is that marijuana I smell?"
"No sir," she replied, "I don't do pot. I keep telling you that and you never believe me."
"You're a little gothic punk," Carlson snarled, "you don't matter! Two days of detention for insolence. Understood?"
Catie was shaking with rage, but managed to reply "Crystal," in a level voice.
***
Walking back into the cafeteria, she was assaulted by several jocks taunting her with barbs, again misconceived. "Look, it's the little wastoid," one said elbowing the other.
"Yeah," his friend replied, "I bet she's just coming back from shooting up."
"Gods! You imbeciles make me sick!" she exclaimed, disgust lacing her words like acid, "You keep talking out your butts, not caring what the truth is or who you hurt with it!" before she could earn herself more days of detention, she stalked off.
***
After school, she once again made her way into the detention room, taking her customary seat next to Jamie. Surprisingly enough, he was not there with her. Then she remembered that he was on duty and had done his detention that morning before school.
In an effort to make the detention time go faster, she pulled out a piece of paper and began to pen a poem. After the required hour and a half, she folded it up and slid it into Jamie's locker. He'd understand it, even if no one else at the school seemed to.
***
"Jamie?" Carlson said, the next morning, coming up to him. This was the first time he had ever called him by his preferred nickname. Usually he was referred to as 'James' or 'Mr. Waite'.
"Yes, Mr. Carlson?" Jamie said, turning the combination for his locker.
"I'm very sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, but you're friends with Catie, right?"
"Yes?" Jamie said, trailing off, suddenly concerned. He usually saw Catie before school started and he hadn't seen her this morning. However, she had left a note in his locker for him. He picked it up and stuffed it in his pocket to read during homeroom.
"Her mother just called the school, she's been in a car accident. I'm sorry, but she didn't make it."
"What?" Jamie whispered, "No!"
"If you need to speak with someone, the counselors are of course -" before he could finish Jamie had slammed the locker shut and was running down the hall, out of school.
Jamie took his bike and drove off to the fair grounds where the motor cross tournaments were held, the last place he and Catie had been together. He quickly picked the lock to the judge's booth and climbed up, wanting to be alone.
Remembering the note in his pocket, he opened it up and saw the simple but real poem written on it in her familiar scrawl. Catie was melodramatic, opinionated and stubborn about what she believed in, but she was refreshingly real in a society of 'political correctness' and euphemisms.
***
Two days later, Jamie stood with the other EMTs at the cemetery for her funeral. Val was sobbing while Tyler held her, and Jamie had been comforting Brooke since Val and Tyler were both unable. All the EMTs and Brooke wore matching lapel pins and at Jamie's insistence had drawn Xs on the back of each hand with a sharpie.
The funeral went by in a blur for Jamie until her father, a man Jamie had barely met; spoke of her in his eulogy. Catie had always complained how her parents were so out of touch with her life that they had no clue what was going on with kids anymore. Listening to him ramble on, Jamie knew that she was right. Finally he finished, and said "One of Catie's best friends has asked to speak for her as well."
Jamie walked to the front where the small podium had been placed. "I just want to read a poem she wrote a few hours before she died.
I'm a person just like you
But I've got better things to do
Than sit around and fuck my head
Hang out with the living dead
Snort white shit up my nose
Pass out at the shows
I don't even think about speed
That's something I just don't need
I've got the straight edge
I'm a person just like you
But I've got better things to do
Than sit around and smoke dope
'Cause I know I can cope
Laugh at the thought of eating ludes
Laugh at the thought of sniffing glue
Always gonna keep in touch
Never want to use a crutch
I've got the straight edge
"Catie had to cope with so much because of her belief in being 'straight edge' and I know she tried to show everyone how off their preconceived notions of her were. Catie was straight edge. She tried so hard to not mess her life up with drugs or alcohol like other kids did, and in the end, alcohol killed her. I'm straight edge and I'm going to miss you, Catie."
The family and friends gathered sniffed as he walked back to where Brooke and Val were. The Rabbi then asked that everyone say the Mourners Kaddish in honor of Catie. Softly, Jamie began to chant "Yitgadal veyitkadash shemei raba. Bealma divera chireutei, veyamlich malchutei. Bechayeichon uveyomeichon uvechayei dechol beit Yisraeil. Baagala uvizeman kariv, veimeru: amein. Yehei shemei raba mevarach, lealam ulealmei almaya. Yitbarach veyishtabach, veyitpaar veyitromam, Veyitnasei veyithadar, veyitaleh, veyithalal shemei dekudesha, berich hu, Leeila min kol birchata veshirata, tushbechata Venechemata, daamiran bealma veimeru: amein. Yehei shelama raba min shemaya vechayim aleinu Veal kol Yisraeil veimeru: amein. Oseh shalom bimromav, hu yaaseh shalom aleinu Veal kol Yisraeil, veimeru: amein,*" As they walked past the grave, he whispered "Repos dans la paix, cher ami.**"
Dispersing slowly, the EMTs headed slowly towards the station, by unspoken agreement choosing to walk. They were not on duty for another few days, so they could mourn but the station was a common bond to them all. "I didn't know you or Catie were Jewish," Brooke said.
"Yeah, I haven't practiced in years, but maybe now I should." Jamie replied softly, wrapping his long arm around Brooke's narrow shoulders.
*the entire transliteration of the Mourners Kaddish from Hebrew into English.
** French for 'rest in peace dear friend'
By Maureen (sXe)
Standard disclaimers apply
A/N: I'm straight edge and this fic was inspired jointly by the song 'Straight Edge' which also inspired the entire straightedge movement amongst punk youths. The other thing that inspired this fic was a fic written by BE-A-TL which she is currently refusing to release so go bug her about it! Special thanks go to Jeeves and Babel fish for helping me find the Hebrew and French words :P
***
Catie leaned against the bleachers, basking in the spring sunshine. Under the bleachers several of the potheads had just lit up and were passing the joint around. "Hey Catie," one of the guys called out, "Want it?"
"No!" Catie exclaimed, it was well known around school that she abhorred any unnatural substance in her body, including caffeine. "No fucking way!"
She saw Carlson coming out of the corner of her eye and stood up, walking back into the school building. No way was she going to be caught by their weed.
"Ms. Roth," Principal Carlson said, stopping her on her way to the building, "is that marijuana I smell?"
"No sir," she replied, "I don't do pot. I keep telling you that and you never believe me."
"You're a little gothic punk," Carlson snarled, "you don't matter! Two days of detention for insolence. Understood?"
Catie was shaking with rage, but managed to reply "Crystal," in a level voice.
***
Walking back into the cafeteria, she was assaulted by several jocks taunting her with barbs, again misconceived. "Look, it's the little wastoid," one said elbowing the other.
"Yeah," his friend replied, "I bet she's just coming back from shooting up."
"Gods! You imbeciles make me sick!" she exclaimed, disgust lacing her words like acid, "You keep talking out your butts, not caring what the truth is or who you hurt with it!" before she could earn herself more days of detention, she stalked off.
***
After school, she once again made her way into the detention room, taking her customary seat next to Jamie. Surprisingly enough, he was not there with her. Then she remembered that he was on duty and had done his detention that morning before school.
In an effort to make the detention time go faster, she pulled out a piece of paper and began to pen a poem. After the required hour and a half, she folded it up and slid it into Jamie's locker. He'd understand it, even if no one else at the school seemed to.
***
"Jamie?" Carlson said, the next morning, coming up to him. This was the first time he had ever called him by his preferred nickname. Usually he was referred to as 'James' or 'Mr. Waite'.
"Yes, Mr. Carlson?" Jamie said, turning the combination for his locker.
"I'm very sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, but you're friends with Catie, right?"
"Yes?" Jamie said, trailing off, suddenly concerned. He usually saw Catie before school started and he hadn't seen her this morning. However, she had left a note in his locker for him. He picked it up and stuffed it in his pocket to read during homeroom.
"Her mother just called the school, she's been in a car accident. I'm sorry, but she didn't make it."
"What?" Jamie whispered, "No!"
"If you need to speak with someone, the counselors are of course -" before he could finish Jamie had slammed the locker shut and was running down the hall, out of school.
Jamie took his bike and drove off to the fair grounds where the motor cross tournaments were held, the last place he and Catie had been together. He quickly picked the lock to the judge's booth and climbed up, wanting to be alone.
Remembering the note in his pocket, he opened it up and saw the simple but real poem written on it in her familiar scrawl. Catie was melodramatic, opinionated and stubborn about what she believed in, but she was refreshingly real in a society of 'political correctness' and euphemisms.
***
Two days later, Jamie stood with the other EMTs at the cemetery for her funeral. Val was sobbing while Tyler held her, and Jamie had been comforting Brooke since Val and Tyler were both unable. All the EMTs and Brooke wore matching lapel pins and at Jamie's insistence had drawn Xs on the back of each hand with a sharpie.
The funeral went by in a blur for Jamie until her father, a man Jamie had barely met; spoke of her in his eulogy. Catie had always complained how her parents were so out of touch with her life that they had no clue what was going on with kids anymore. Listening to him ramble on, Jamie knew that she was right. Finally he finished, and said "One of Catie's best friends has asked to speak for her as well."
Jamie walked to the front where the small podium had been placed. "I just want to read a poem she wrote a few hours before she died.
I'm a person just like you
But I've got better things to do
Than sit around and fuck my head
Hang out with the living dead
Snort white shit up my nose
Pass out at the shows
I don't even think about speed
That's something I just don't need
I've got the straight edge
I'm a person just like you
But I've got better things to do
Than sit around and smoke dope
'Cause I know I can cope
Laugh at the thought of eating ludes
Laugh at the thought of sniffing glue
Always gonna keep in touch
Never want to use a crutch
I've got the straight edge
"Catie had to cope with so much because of her belief in being 'straight edge' and I know she tried to show everyone how off their preconceived notions of her were. Catie was straight edge. She tried so hard to not mess her life up with drugs or alcohol like other kids did, and in the end, alcohol killed her. I'm straight edge and I'm going to miss you, Catie."
The family and friends gathered sniffed as he walked back to where Brooke and Val were. The Rabbi then asked that everyone say the Mourners Kaddish in honor of Catie. Softly, Jamie began to chant "Yitgadal veyitkadash shemei raba. Bealma divera chireutei, veyamlich malchutei. Bechayeichon uveyomeichon uvechayei dechol beit Yisraeil. Baagala uvizeman kariv, veimeru: amein. Yehei shemei raba mevarach, lealam ulealmei almaya. Yitbarach veyishtabach, veyitpaar veyitromam, Veyitnasei veyithadar, veyitaleh, veyithalal shemei dekudesha, berich hu, Leeila min kol birchata veshirata, tushbechata Venechemata, daamiran bealma veimeru: amein. Yehei shelama raba min shemaya vechayim aleinu Veal kol Yisraeil veimeru: amein. Oseh shalom bimromav, hu yaaseh shalom aleinu Veal kol Yisraeil, veimeru: amein,*" As they walked past the grave, he whispered "Repos dans la paix, cher ami.**"
Dispersing slowly, the EMTs headed slowly towards the station, by unspoken agreement choosing to walk. They were not on duty for another few days, so they could mourn but the station was a common bond to them all. "I didn't know you or Catie were Jewish," Brooke said.
"Yeah, I haven't practiced in years, but maybe now I should." Jamie replied softly, wrapping his long arm around Brooke's narrow shoulders.
*the entire transliteration of the Mourners Kaddish from Hebrew into English.
** French for 'rest in peace dear friend'