Event in Progress

Chapter Twenty

But he had gone through the phone call without once thinking I can't.

Sean wasn't sure what that meant. Maybe it was progress. And maybe it was wishful thinking.

He returned his attention to Insomniac and put his fingers on the keyboard. But before he could begin to type, the phone rang.

"Hello."

"Hi Sean."

"Hey Christine."

"I'm on my break now, so you've got fifteen minutes."

"This won't take that long anyway."

"Oh? Do tell!"

"I...I went to a therapist today."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I just thought you should know that. After our conversation yesterday and all."

"That's wonderful!"

"I'm not sure yet."

"It is, Sean. It really is!"

He laughed. "I wish I had your optimism. But...well, I have some things to work out."

"I know you do."

"Thank you." Sean paused. He wanted to say it. He wanted to just say, Will you go out with me? But now wasn't the right time, so he repeated: "Thank you."

"Any time, Sean."

"I gotta run then. Take care."

"You too. And Sean?"

"Yeah?"

"You'll get through this. I know you will."

"Good-bye."

Sean held the dead phone in his hand for a moment. Then he began to type again.

* * *

The abuse at school was ballooning. It had started because of a single girl's insults. It had metastasized to the boys with their physical violence. Then it had exploded to every single person in his class engaged in mockery and abuse. Now, it included people in other classes too.

I had been playing on the playground during recess. No one had picked me for football again, and I pretended not to care. But I often kept watch on them from the confines of my fort as they'd run up and down the field.

Matt was quarterback again. And were it not for the fact that my family would move to another town after that school year, I'm sure that I would have seen Matt become the star quarterback during high school.

No, that wasn't true. If we hadn't moved I'm sure I would have killed myself long before high school. The evil was building, and it would always build.

I learned it that day. I wasn't playing under the fort, and that was my first mistake. I had wandered over to the little tennis court that was set up at the edge of the playground. Some kids from fifth grade were in there, playing jump rope and tag. I walked around the edge of the court but then Billy saw me.

He ran up, pushed me in the chest. "You wanna fight, fat boy?"

"No," I said quickly, looking for the way out. Billy pushed me again. He was in a class below mine and I outweighed him by at least twenty pounds. But I was terrified.

I didn't have any fight left in me. I was a cat, lying motionless on the floor while the broom fell.

Billy pushed me again, shoved me right into the net in the middle of the tennis court. "Come on, fat boy!"

Around me I heard the chant start up: "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

Billy pushed me again, but by then the teacher on duty had seen. "Sean! Billy! To the principal's office now!"

I hung my head and, like the convict I was, made my way to the office.

* * *

We had to sit in the office for the rest of the day, pulled from our classes. As I think back on it now, it makes little sense. Most kids who go to the office hate being in class in the first place, and sitting in the office is a way to avoid being in class. Isn't it rewarding them?

But I wasn't like most kids. I liked to read, and as a result I liked learning. Sitting in the principal's office was torture for me.

The only consolation was that they allowed me to read my library book. It was The Hobbit. As I read, Billy looked on. Finally, he said, "What's that book about?" Remember, this was decades ago, before the famous movies by Peter Jackson. Back then, only nerds and geeks had read the books.

"It's about Hobbits," I said.

"Duh. I read the cover."

"Hobbits are short people. They live in holes in the ground."

"Sounds stupid."

"Actually it's a great story," I said, miffed. "It's got trolls, goblins, wizards. Even a dragon."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Well, what happens in it then?"

I summarized the plot up to the point that I had read. Billy sat there, his chin resting on his hand while the receptionist for the school looked on from her desk to make sure we didn't get into a fight again.

"I might have to read that book."

"It's a good one," I said. "And there's another copy in the library."

Billy raised his hand, caught the attention of the receptionist. "Can I get that book from the library?"

* * *

We read until the last period of class. Billy and I had, against all odds, become friends.

"You're not so bad, Sean."

"You too." But of course that was because Billy and I were alone.

It was a different story Out There. And both of us knew it. As soon as we left the principal's office, Billy would hate me again. If we were on the playground and he was with his friends, he'd push me into the tennis court net again in a heartbeat. I knew this as surely as I knew the sun is hot and water is wet.

Because Matt and I were the same way.