Everyday your parents are forced to relinquish their hold on you - just long enough for you to go out into that world; just long enough for you to kill yourself every day, trying to be something you are not just so your life is that much easier. People are unnecessary beings, thriving in that which they should not -- violence, melicious joy, destruction. People pull themselves apart, and then they laugh when there is nothing left, nothing more than the evidence of their self destruction.
"What are you doing here, Beeve?" Jackson asked, approaching his relunctant friend. Beaver was a year younger than him, but because of Jackson's schooling (or lack there of) he'd been held back a grade. Beaver should be in school but he was not. He thought he was past all of this, he thought what had happened at his last school had been enough to push him over the edge, enough to give him a reason to never come back; not to a educational facility, not again. He was wrong.
"It sounds stupid now that I've gone all the way across town to talk to you but now that I'm here --" Beaver began. Beaver hadn't ever been a person to begin his reasons with a big open sentence. He usually was really blunt, and Jackson appreciated that, but now Beaver was timid. Before it usually meant that he'd never spoon feed Jackson bullshit, but Jackson wasn't so sure anymore.
"What is it?" Jackson asked, leading Beaver away from the student body and into a secluded corner. He peered closely at his friend's face. "Beaver, what's the matter?"
"I ran into Rodney," he said, his voice lacking the general confidence Jackson had been associating with Beaver since the seventh grade.
Jackson stared hard at Beaver, but even Beaver's dodgy glances away couldn't quite convince him that his friend was lying. Beaver hadn't ever lied to Jackson - hadn't ever shied away from his questions. He wouldn't diminish the relationship now. "Where?"
"A few blocks from Melissa's," Beaver answered quietly. "He's reconciling. With his gang. not all of them but...you know how loyal they were...before."
Jackson nodded before glancing across the rapidly emptying studnet center at a clock on the far wall. School was still in session for another two hours and that voice in his head, the thing that Dr. Brennan had identified as the superego was telling him not to skip, it was telling him that skipping would have serious repercussions. "Are you okay, Beaver?" Jackson asked, studying his friend's face. Beaver's face was paler than Jackson had ever seen it before, a few plotches of red outlining his cheeks; there were dark circles under his eyes and Jackson just noticed the unrythmatic rise and drop of Beaver's chest. "Did you run here?"
Beaver shrugged off his question, glancing away. "I'm fine, Jackson." Beaver glanced away again, glaring at the passing students. "I just wanted to let you know about Rodney, okay?" Beaver attempted to back away from Jackson but Jackson moved forward, gripping Beaver's arms in a soft but firm grasp. "Don't do this, man..."
"Why didn't you ever tell me what Rodney did to you?" Jackson asked, pulling Beaver closer to him.
Beaver looked away, pulling away. "What are you smoking?" He asked when he couldn't escape Jackson.
"What did Rodney do to you, Beeve?" Jackson asked, backing up so he was further in the corner. Beaver looked down and then away. "Beaver, just tell me."
"I can't Jackson," he mumbled, backing against the wall, Jackson moving closer to him. "I'm sorry," he gasped.
"What are you so afraid of, Beaver?" Jackson asked quietly.
"Only what's out there," Beaver answered. "I'm sorry," he repeated. Beaver untangled himself from Jackson and stumbled back against a kid who was rushing past them, late for class. Beaver hadn't heard the final bell but he still lurched to the side, away from the kid. "Sorry, man," he mumbled. The kid nodded meekly and rushed past them.
"Beaver?" Jackson asked, staring closely at Beaver's downcast face.
"You always worried about this, didn't you?" Beaver asked suddenly, staring after the kid. "We grew up in the worst schools, broken down -- the only ones that needed metal detectors but didn't have them. People always thought we'd have a shooting -- gang related. But we didn't, did we, Cody?"
"What are you talking about?" Jackson asked.
Beaver nodded after the kid. "What do you fear?" He asked, glancing to the side. Jackson shrugged, unsure of the answer his friend seeked. "Being helpless," Beaver murmured. "That's the real thing, right? That kid has a gun, Jackson."
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The gun shots echoed in the distance and Eric jerked his head up quickly. "I'm not dreaming, right?" he asked Nathan quietly. "Pinch me."
Nathan shook his head but pinched Eric anyway, ignoring the loud hiss of pain. "that was a gunshot," he said quietly.
"That's what I thought too," Eric admitted. "But dude, here? Nobody would - "
"Don't you watch TV?" Taylor asked, turning in her chair to face the two. "Don't you know how many school shootings there's been?"
"But those were all poor kids, right?" Eric asked. "Nobody here is poor, Taylor."
"Are you high?" Taylor asked. "You know there's ton of poor kids here, you just ignore them, Eric. They used to be your friends."
"Who do you think it is?" Nathan asked worriedly. "I mean...nobody we know right?"
"Remain in your classrooms," a loud voice commanded over the intercom. His next words were indistinguishable, covered up by the loud echoes of gun shots and screams of terror and pain.
"Oh god," Nathan said.
"He can't go in every classroom," Eric told himself quietly. "He can't kill everyone, Nathan. Right? Right?!"
"He's not after everyone," Melissa said, pulling a chair over to the table.
"But I wasn't..." Taylor paused, rethinking her question. "I'm not that mean, right?"
Melissa shook her head. "Not that mean," she said quietly.
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Daley opened a classroom door quickly and pulled Lex into it, aggressibely locking the door behind them. "What are we going to do, Lex?" she asked. "What is gonna happen to us?"
Lex held up his hands calmly. "I don't know, Dae," he said quietly. "There's someone in this school with a gun. Even if we don't die, which, chances are we won't, this will stay with us forever. We may never heal completely; we will never be able to trust another person ever."
Daley stared hard at Lex. "What are we going to do?" She asked, quieter this time, sliding to the ground, her back against the door. "What are we going to do."
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"In here," Jackson said, pulling Beaver into library.
"Right," Beaver said, closing the door behind him. "What killer goes to the library?"
Jackson stared hard at the students in the library. They were all staring at him, their hands slightly raised in the air. "What?" Beaver asked them, coming up beside Jackson.
"You guys aren't..." a kid began. "You're not the shooter?"
Jackson's eyes narrowed, his face turning harder when Beaver erupted in laughter. He glanced to the side at Beaver who stopped laughing abruptly. Beaver quickly made a move for his coat, laughing loudly again when several students flinched back. "Just kidding," he offered in between laughing fits. "Kids these days, so impressionable."
"What happened?" Jackson asked, approaching a wounded student who was sitting on the ground, his arm cradled against his chest.
The kid looked young, probably new, just in his freshman year. He'll be scarred for the rest of his life. The boy relunctantly shifted his weight, moving his arm so Jackson could see the wound. Jackson knelt beside him. "We need to stop the bleeding," he said, glancing over at Beaver. Beaver nodded and gestured for a kid to give him his shirt. It was an overshirt, but the kid was still relunctant.
Beaver knelt beside the boy, and wrapped the shirt around the bleeding wound, tying it tightly, trying to ignore the grimace and grunts of pain. "Sorry," Beaver told the kid quietly. "It's okay, kid. It looks like he missed the bone. Your bone would've been a bitch to heal. Do you know how long it takes the bone to heal?"
"It doesn't matter, Beeve," Jackson told him.
Beaver shrugged, rising to his feet. "Yes, it does -- because he might still bleed to death. The cops will wait outside - till everything blows over; it could take a while..."
Jackson nodded and helped the boy to his feet. "What's your name?" He asked.
"Klause," the kid answered, mustering the energy to conceal his pain.
"I'm Jackson," Jackson told him, leadin him to the door. "This is going to be a little...um, stressful, but we can't stay in the library. You understand?"
klause nodded. "Yeah. I don't want to die," he told Jackson quietly. "I'm fucking fourteen, man...I don't want to die."
"You're not going to die," Jackson assured him, leadin him around the corner. "Alright? Do you trust me?"
Klause was silent for a moment and then he nodded. "Yeah, I trust you."
"Stop," a voice commanded from behind the trio. Beaver stopped automatically but it took a few more shouts and the cocking of a gun to stop Jackson. Jackson walked backed to Beaver who was frozen to the spot.
"He's needs medical help," Jackson told the shooter, a sophomore named Chad, gesturing back toward Klause. Klause had grown pale, his healh fading fast. Klause was watching Jackson intently. "He'll die if he doesn't get it soon."
"I didn't mean to shoot him," Chad told Jackson. "I didn't want to hurt him. I'm sorry," he told Klause. "I only wanted to shoot them."
"Who?" Jackson asked.
"You don't know who I'm talking about?" Chad asked sarcastically. "You've barely been here at all, but you know the ones I'm talking about - the ones who are pointing at you, laughing when you turn around. You know who I'm talking about."
Jackson nodded. "I do," he said quietly. "But you shot this kid." He gestured back at Klause, more aggressive this time. "This kid is dying and you shot him. Let us go, let him get help."
Chad was hesitant but then he nodded. "Only one," he said quietly. "Only one goes."
Jackson glanced back at Klause, who looked unsteady on his feet as it was and then he turned to Beaver. "Go, Beeve," he said. Beaver began to shake his head. "I know you need this Beaver; please, just go."
"Alright," Beaver said quietly, slowly inching toward the freshman. He took Klause by the arm and gently led him to the door, uttering soft assurances to him.
Beaver couldn't say who had called the cops, but there were three cars parked outside, several cops guarding the doors with raised guns. Beaver stopped abruptly, the guns aimed on the pair. He held up his hands, still leading Klause into the crowd. Two cops rushed forward to klause, quickly whisking him away, the rest crowding Beaver, turning him around and handcuffing him to eliminate the danger.