The sun beat unmercifully down on Jonathan. He could feel a droplet of sweat running down the back of his neck and his hair matting from the heat.
Well, this morning's shower sure was wasted, Jonathan thought.
Even though many of the seniors wore shorts and T-shirts beneath their graduation gowns in the blistering summer heat, his mother insisted he wear a dress shirt, pants and tie.
"Mom, they won't even see it under the gown," said Jonathan as his mother fixed his tie.
"I know," she said, with a soft smile. "But today is your big day. And I'll know you're wearing it."
Jonathan gazed at the sea of odd graduation caps and shimmering blue gowns – blue was the school color. He searched to find the telltale wavy locks that was Emily's and saw them three rows ahead and to the left. He wished Crane was closer to Andrews – that was Emily's last name. As the speaker droned on and the sultry heat grew more intense, Jonathan's eyes wandered elsewhere, looking behind him. A couple rows back he saw him – Stan Wekson. Suddenly Jonathan felt Scarecrow emerging from within him, maliciously smiling at his former prey.
Oh, he was a fun one, wasn't he, whispered Scarecrow. After this we should play with him. He was too much fun the last time. So much Fear, so much screaming.
No. Stop it now, thought Jonathan. You are to do that never again. You hear me!
Jonathan remembered back to the last time with Stan. It was a mixture of nightmare and dark delight – a delight he didn't want to admit within himself. At first Jonathan was horrified Scarecrow threw the drugs into Stan's face and he was clearly in such agony. Then Jonathan slowly began to enjoy the feeling of power and control, the feeling that for once he was the one inflicting the pain on his hated tormentor.
But Jonathan grew lax, enjoying the vision of the bully turned to a sniveling, whining coward. He let Scarecrow gain too much control and by the time Scarecrow was shoving the last of the terrible CliMax drug up Stan's bloody nose, Jonathan's attempts to stop Scarecrow were of no avail. Scarecrow was awash in sadistic delight and Jonathan was forced to watch as Stan started to spasm, foam at the mouth and shriek until his throat was raw. Scarecrow hovered over, drinking up his torment until Stan could no longer scream and he collapsed upon the garbage pile exhausted.
My God, you've killed him! What have you done, cried Jonathan.
He isn't dead. The mind – the body – can take much more than that, whispered Scarecrow. Believe me. We shall return for our prey later – when he regains his strength.
We shall not return at all, screamed Jonathan.
He closed his eyes tight, shoving the dark, twisted and hideous Scarecrow back into the shadows of his mind. There Scarecrow remained waiting, with a sick, demented smile upon his face.
You will want me again and very soon, Scarecrow whispered, and retreated into the darkness.
Now Scarecrow wanted to "play" again with Stan after the graduation ceremony.
Scarecrow was smiling maliciously at his previous prey and Stan caught eye contact. He must have remembered something from that terrible afternoon because his eyes suddenly clouded in fear and he turned away from Scarecrow's gaze.
(Ah, good. See, he Fears us now, Jonathan. He beat you so savagely and tormented you for so long, now he shall taste real Pain, real Fear from us. It shall be sweet, will it not, eh, Jonathan?)
No, no, I can't.
(And stupid, fearful fool that he is, you know he never told anyone what happened to him, too afraid of what they would think of him, afraid his friends would laugh at him. Big mighty Stan Wekson reduced to sniveling whiney baby by Scarecrow. No, he never told anyone, and still won't tell anyone. We have him, Jonathan, we have him and his Fear all – to – ourselves).
No, Jonathan cried in his mind.
(You are missing out on so much fun, Jonathan. Through Fear there is much Joy. You must know this, whispered Scarecrow. You have tasted it. Isn't it sweet?)
Jonathan licked his lips, then gazed down the rows to the beautiful wavy brunette hair of Emily Andrews.
No, thought Jonathan. I think Love is sweeter than Fear.
(Naïve fool, you shall see you are not loved by anyone and that Fear is the only true Joy, whispered Scarecrow.)
Jonathan almost sighed in relief. Scarecrow was gone for now and in some ways he hoped he was gone for good. He shifted in his uncomfortable metal folding chair and gazed past the bright blue streamers and the fluttering "Congratulations Graduates!" banner to the chain-link fence he used to stare at many a time before and after school.
Past the sunny and green confines on the school campus, through the chain-link fence was the heart of Gotham City. He passed through those wire gates every day – to the beatings of Stan, to the disappointments, the poverty, the cramped apartment and the lonely nights when he went to bed with hunger gnawing at his stomach. Past the chain-link fence was the real world, not this sunny, pristine lawn he was now sitting on in the sweltering sun, wearing this absurd graduation cap and polyester gown. He did fear what was to come, once he had a high school diploma in hand and he left the confines of Gotham City Central High School forever.
How many of these graduates had their fates sealed once they left this place? It was the same fate Jonathan had feared his would be: Finding a minimum wage job where his talents and intellect would be wasted, that he'd spend countless months, then endless years slaving away overlooked and forgotten.
When faced with such a miserable fate, Jonathan spent long hours, sacrificing sleep, diversions and a social life to earn the top grades needed to qualify for the most coveted – and most difficult to earn – scholarships. Then when a plain envelope bearing the scarlet crest of Gotham City University arrived in the mailbox, his heart pounded, his hands turned cold and clammy. His mother stopped stirring over the steaming pot; it was the same dinner they had many a night – spaghetti and tomato sauce (it was a cheap meal, though Jonathan had long grown tired of it).
His mother wiped her left hand on her apron while still holding the spaghetti spoon in her right. Although she was exhausted after pulling a 12-hour shift at the sewing factory, suddenly there was excitement shining in her eyes.
"Is that what I think it is," she said. "Open it Jonathan."
"I'm afraid to. What if –"
"Jonathan, you've worked like no other. If anyone has earned that scholarship it is you. Now open it."
His hands almost were shaking as he turned the envelope over and slowly tore at the paper. He slipped out the letter and unfolded it, afraid to read it. At first he just skimmed it, bracing for the worst. Then he looked over it again, his blue eyes widening.
"Jonathan, did you get the scholarship? Did you get the Arthur C. Stephens Scholarship?"
"No," said Jonathan. "No, I didn't get it."
"Oh, Jonathan. I'm so sorry."
"I got the Gerald Thaddeus Wayne Scholarship instead," said Jonathan.
His mother's eyes widened and she remained frozen, leaning back into the stove. Luckily she wasn't anywhere near the pot because she was so in shock she probably wouldn't immediately notice if she caught fire.
"What is the Wayne Scholarship, Jonathan?"
"The Stephens Scholarship is only partial, but the Wayne Scholarship is full." Jonathan turned the letter around to his mother, trying to fight back the tears in his eyes. "They only offer it to the top 1 of the graduating students in the state. I'm going to college mom. I can go to college."
"Oh, Jonathan!"
She dropped the spaghetti spoon; it clattered to the floor, splattering water and some noodles on the worn, time-yellowed linoleum tile as she clasped her son tight.
"I'm so proud of you, Jon! So, so proud of you!"
"And now graduates, as you go out into the world, a wonderful future awaits you. You will do great things," droned Principal Geoffrey Hardy. "But remember, as wonderful as power and prestige is, love, ideals, friendship are of even greater value."
"What bullsh-t," muttered a teenage boy a few chairs down from Jonathan.
"Congratulations, graduates," Principal Hardy concluded.
A flurry of graduation caps swirled into the air and it was with some relief the long, hot and extremely drawn out ceremony was over with. Jonathan strained to find Emily in the crowd as teenagers bumped and shoved, trying to get to their friends and family as quickly as possible for pictures and their post-graduation parties.
"Jonathan!"
A flash went off. Jonathan was annoyed; he wasn't even facing the camera and he wasn't smiling.
"Mom! I wasn't even looking at it this time."
"But I think your profile shot is the best," she said.
"I must have looked like an idiot."
She smiled indulgently at him.
"You're in far too much of a hurry to find someone. A friend?"
"Yes, a friend," said Jonathan. "I'll be right back and then you can take all the profile shots you want."
"Okay, but I'm holding you to it," she said, cranking the disposable drug store camera.
Jonathan shook his head, hoping he didn't lose the opportunity to find Emily in the precious moments he spent talking with his mom.
He began looking in the front row where Emily was sitting, hoping she'd linger there, perhaps to talk with her friends nearby, but no such luck. Now that teens were clustered into dense cliques; he knew it would be difficult to spot Emily if she was in one of them, Scarecrow would not be invited to come anywhere near them. Jonathan stopped as Scarecrow whispered malicious plans to hurt other teens who excluded and taunted him throughout his long years in high school. Jonathan shook his head and continued searching Emily.
Jonathan was making his way toward the bleachers, figuring her family would be there, when he heard someone behind him.
"Hey, who are you looking for?"
Jonathan turned around and met those familiar deep brown eyes and welcoming smile. Emily looked more beautiful than he remembered her, even though she was wearing that silly graduation cap and the gown's pleats were bunched awkwardly about her shoulders.
"I don't know about you, but I can hardly wait to get out of this stupid thing," she said, pulling at her gown. "I thought I saw your mom around here. Wasn't she the one waving in the stands?"
"Yes," Jonathan sighed. "That was her. She can get a little enthusiastic . . . No, I just wanted to thank you – for all your help on that behavioral study."
"Well, it was a team effort," said Emily, now suddenly looking a little embarrassed. "You were a great help, collecting all that detail, so meticulous. I never had any lab partner so meticulous before. It really made it much easier."
"But you were right you know," Jonathan said. "The whole hiding the toys thing was a bad idea. I'm glad you saw that."
Emily smiled, her beautiful brown eyes gazing into his, so warm and comforting. He felt he could be lost in them forever.
"Thank you, Jon. Well, it was an obvious deduction. Children like toys, without them they cry. We saw that with little Judy." Jonathan suddenly looked a little uncomfortable. "Regardless we got an A. We had the best project."
"We did, didn't we?"
"We made a great team."
Jonathan savored the moment and she gazed back at him, a soft smile upon her lips.
Love is sweeter than Fear.
"Hey, Emily!"
Kevin Smithson bounded up, swept Emily into his arms and kissed her.
"There you are," Kevin said, then looked at Jonathan. "Why are you talking to the Scarecrow?"
"He is not Scarecrow! His name is Jon," snapped Emily, slipping out of his arms. "I worked with him in psychology."
"Well I hope you didn't work a little too closely, if you know what I mean," said Kevin.
"It never was like that, Kevin," Emily sighed, crossing her arms. "Please excuse his poor manners, Jon. He's usually not like this."
Jonathan gritted his teeth and gazed at Kevin Smithson. Kevin was a quarterback on the football team with rugged good looks, broad shoulders, strong arms, powerful legs and a muscular chest. Although he never stooped to the level of Stan, Kevin still enjoyed some light teasing and a few pranks directed at the class nerds. Jonathan remembered one time how Kevin tripped him at the top of a full flight a stairs.
"Oops! Guess the Scarecrow is a little cluuumsy to-day!"
And of course there was the annual spring water balloon toss, which always left Jonathan soaked and shivering. Now Kevin was holding Emily close in his arms and Jonathan struggled not to betray any emotion as Kevin grinned smugly at him as if to say:
So you've been wanting my girl all this time? Well too bad! She's all mine! You never had a chance! Never!
"So Jon, are you going to college now," asked Emily.
"Yes," said Jonathan. "I got a full scholarship – to Gotham City University."
"A full scholarship! Isn't that wonderful, Kevin," said Emily.
"Yeah, it's alright," mumbled Kevin. "I got a full scholarship, to play football at Penn State."
"Emily, are you going to Gotham City University," asked Jonathan.
It was his last shred of hope.
"I'm sorry, Jon. I'm going to Penn State too. It is cheaper and I do have a tuition discount there, my parents being alums there and all."
Jonathan felt his heart sink and his dreams of Emily fade to nothingness.
"Well kid, see ya around, eh," said Kevin, with a sly grin.
I'll twist that grin of yours back into a scream!
"It was nice seeing you, Jon," said Emily. "Good luck."
"Thanks." Jonathan forced a smile. "You too."
It took every ounce of energy to fight the disappointment welling up inside him as he walked away, surrounded by a sea of smiles and laughter.
Jonathan sat at his desk, gazing listlessly at his acceptance letter to Gotham City University. This should be the best day of his life. Everything he wanted was coming true, wasn't it?
"Jonathan Thomas Crane, I know you're sulking in there."
There were only two times his mother used his full name: When he was in big trouble or she was going to have a "talk" with him. She opened the door to his bedroom and stood there, her arms folded. She still was wearing the beautiful white and blue cotton dress she wore to the graduation ceremony. For once she splurged at the hair salon to have her brunette hair curled and styled for the special occasion. Normally she was the last one to spend money on such vanities when there were more practical and pressing matters such as electric bills and food to pay for.
"So why are you hiding in here for," she asked. "I'd think you'd be happy. How many times have I heard you go on how happy you would be once you graduated?"
"I am happy," he said.
Although he had turned around from his desk, he was trying not to make too much direct eye contact with her. She had an uncanny ability to tell when he was lying.
She moved from the doorway and started to neatly fold his graduation gown, which he had angrily tossed on his bed when he was alone.
"You know I was glad your class colors were blue. Brought out your eyes really well in the photos." She placed the folded gown on his bed. "It was that girl, wasn't it? You like her?"
"No, mom. She was just a friend."
Jonathan turned away and back to the desk, nervously fingering the acceptance letter.
"I think you like her," she said. "I could see it – the way you talked to her. There's no shame in it. She's very pretty."
"But she doesn't love me . . . It was stupid of me to think she would."
He felt like he was on the verge of tears and he fought it fiercely.
"Jon, honey. Jon, look at me."
He felt the soft, warm touch of his mother's hand upon his shoulder and the sweet scent of lilac – the scent of her hand lotion. Slowly he turned to her, his vision swimming.
"Jon, you're going to college! There are going to be so many pretty girls there. And from experience Jon, many girls are looking for someone like you – handsome and smart."
"You're biased mom," Jonathan said, forcing a smile.
"I'm not biased, I speak the truth. But I am proud of you, Jon, proud in so many ways. There were times I didn't know if you would survive to graduate high school." Tenderly she touched his cheek, her thumb upon an old scar left from an especially cruel beating
from Stan. "And I am proud you've stopped fighting."
Jonathan fought from wincing. He hadn't stopped "fighting"; he had stopped being beaten. Scarecrow had saved him.
Scarecrow had saved him?
"You know you are the first, Jonathan, or at least the first of the Crane Family that I know of to go to college."
Jonathan gazed at his mother, who suddenly looked so sad.
"You don't know how many nights I stayed awake worrying because – because I just couldn't afford to send you to college – not on what I make, Jonathan."
"Oh, mom –"
"But you were smart enough and you did it." She smiled with tears of joy in her eyes. "You were smart enough, Jonathan. I knew you could do it."
Now Jonathan was feeling terribly embarrassed; he didn't know what to say.
"I have a gift for you," she said.
She smiled brightly and before Jonathan could protest she went into her bedroom to retrieve it. When she returned she was holding a small, rectangular package wrapped in rich burgundy paper topped with a swirl of gold ribbon. It looked professionally wrapped from an upscale shop. Whatever it was must have cost her a small fortune. She handed him the package, her eyes alight and expectant.
"Go ahead and open it. It is your big day after all."
Jonathan was almost hesitant to ruin the beautiful paper and gorgeous ribbon. He couldn't recall having such a lovely gift before. But his curiosity quickly overcame the guilt that his mother spent more than she should have. He removed the ribbon and slipped off the paper. A fine leather black case greeted his finger tips and as he opened it there was a glint of gold.
"Oh, mom. It's too beautiful."
Inside the rich burgundy velvet was a gleaming gold pen, more the likes an executive or a doctor would own, not a poor high school graduate living just a few blocks from the Narrows.
"Look on the other side, Jonathan," his mother said.
Jonathan picked up the pen. It was perfectly smooth, exquisitely balanced and engraved at the center of the pen in graceful cursive were the letters J.C.
"Mom, it's wonderful."
Jonathan hugged her close and she savored the moment, tenderly stroking his soft brunette hair.
"Thank you, mom. I won't let you down. I promise, I promise I'll make you proud of me"
"Oh, honey. I already am proud of you," she whispered, closing her eyes. "I already am."