I Won't Be Afraid Just As Long As You Stand By Me

Chapter 1: Do You Guys Wanna Go See A Dead Body?

     I sat by myself at a table in the local café, slowly sipping my tea, which I was only now acknowledging. It had long before turned cold and tasted bitter, despite the three sugars in it. I didn't utter a sound, unable to form words.
     The weekly newspaper, The Oregonian, sat on the table in front of me, opened to section C-3. While I had come to grab my morning tea, part of my daily routine, I had begun to read one of the newspapers that the owner sat out on each table. It seemed like it was going to be just the normal articles inside; things like 'Help Wanted' ads and Johnny Halton's pointless opinions on something new. But when I reached C-3, I saw an article that made my smile instantly drop.
     My chest felt heavy and I felt like I couldn't breathe, though the news wasn't new to me. I struggled to read the full article, not wanting to replay the awful memories, but I couldn't bring myself to put the paper down. I wanted to see it the way that others did. Maybe it would hurt less if I could.
     I couldn't help but wonder how any other person reacted when they read the title of the article.

Attorney Christopher Chambers Fatally Stabbed In Restaurant

     Chris was gone. It felt odd because he had always been there. When I broke my arm when I was six and he was almost seven, he pulled me in an old red wagon to the hospital. When I was nine and the other girls made fun of me for hanging out with a group of guys, Chris made me feel better. When I graduated, he was right there by my side, literally, since our names were next to each other in alphabetical order.
     One of the most memorable times though, was when I was twelve. He was there the first time I ever saw a dead body.

     It was the summer of 1959. I had just turned twelve. It was a long time ago, but only if you measured in years, for it seemed like it was just last week.
     I had lived in the small town of Castle Rock, Oregon since I was born. There were only around twelve thousand and eighty people, but it seemed like it was the whole world; it was the only thing I had ever known.
     It was a Friday morning, and I had nothing to do. So, I started my trek to the old treehouse that the guys and I liked to hang out in. We had just found it one day and claimed it as our own, since it was clear that no one had used it in years.
     I climbed up the ladder and knocked on the door the way I normally did, so they would know that it was me. It was a simple beat: tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap...tap, tap.
     A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal the smiling face of none other than Chris Chambers, my best friend. Across from him was Teddy Duchamp, one of the craziest kids I knew. They both had cigarettes in their mouths and cards in their hands, so I assumed that they were playing a game.
     Chris grabbed my hand and helped me up through the small square opening, as he always did. I saw a small set boy approach the ladder and I recognized him immediately. It was Gordie Lachance, a kid that was far too smart to be hanging around with us, but he still did anyway. 
     Once he was inside, Chris moved the block of wood that they used as a table back onto the door and dealt Gordie a hand of cards.
     "You wanna play, Liza?" he looked at me, taking a drag on his cigarette. I just shook my head and picked up a magazine. It was a car magazine, which would confuse most girls, but I understood every word of it. My dad was a mechanic and had taught me about cars since I was young. It was how we bonded after Mom died when I was six.
     While they were playing, Chris would crack jokes every so often. "Hey, how do you know a Frenchman’s been in your backyard?" he asked us.
     Teddy spoke up, his tone mildly defensive, "I'm French, okay?" He really wasn't any more French than I was, but I didn't say anything.
     Chris answered his own question as if it was a normal conversation, "Your garbage cans are empty and your dog's pregnant." He was looking at his cards when he said it and when he looked up at Gordie, smirking, they both began to laugh, while I smiled behind the magazine. Chris was sort of like the leader of our gang. He came from a bad family and everyone just "knew" that he would turn out bad. Sadly, Chis believed it.
     "Didn't I just say I was French?" Teddy piped up.
     "I knock," Chris told them, knocking on the makeshift table, causing Teddy to mutter "shit" with his cig hanging in one side of his mouth. "Twenty-nine."
     "Twenty-two."
     "Piss up a rope," Gordie said, throwing down his cards. He never was very good at card games, but he had been off his game lately with what was happening at home. His big brother, Denny, died back in April in a car accident. His family ignored him most of the time and he had told me once that his father was all the time criticizing him for not being as sporty as Denny or have as good of friends as him. But each time, Gordie defended us.
     He came and sat beside me on a little bench covered by a few cushions and blankets, grabbing a magazine while the guys were laughing at him. Teddy's laugh, which drowned out Chris's, was so strange, but I had gotten used to it.
     "Gordie's out! Oh Gordie just bit the bag and stepped out the door!" Teddy had always been an oddball. To be honest, he didn't really have much of a chance in life. His dad had fits of rage. During one of his fits, he had held Teddy's ear to a stove and almost burned it off.
     "C'mon man, deal," Chris interrupted. They looked at their cards and within a minute, Teddy knocked on the table.
     "I knock." Chris looked at him disbelievingly.
     "You four-eyed pile of shit," he said. The guys always said stuff like that to one another.
     "A pile of shit has a thousand eyes," Teddy shot back, widening his eyes for a second, making us all laugh. I swear, that boy had a comeback to everything. "What? What's so funny? C'mon I've got thirty, what have you got?"
     "Sixteen." Even though he had just lost, Chris was still chuckling.
     "Go ahead, keep laughing. You're down to your ride pal," Teddy told him. We heard someone knock urgently on the door.
     "That's not the secret knock," I spoke for the first time, not looking up from the article I was reading.
     "I forget the secret knock, just let me in," a voice yelled desperately through the door. At once, we knew who it was. We all looked up at each other.
     "Vern," we stated simultaneously.
     "C'mon you guys, open up," he pleaded. Chris moved the table again and Teddy opened the door. "Oh man, you guys are not gonna believe this," Vern panted as he scrambled through the hole, "This is so boss. Oh man, wait til you hear this, wait til you hear this! You won't believe this, it's unbelievable. Just let me catch my breath," he spoke quickly, repeating his words as he tried to breathe, "I ran all the way from my house," he explained.
     Almost immediately, we all began to sing, "I ran all the way home! Just to say to say I'm sorry!" while Vern protested.
     "C'mon guys! This is boss, c'mon! Okay, forget it; I don't have to tell you nothing."
     "Alright you guys, hold on," Chris said loudly, "What is it man?"
     "Okay great, you guys won't believe this, sincerely," he began, but he was cut off by the guys as they started to sing again. "Screw you guys."
     "Can it guys," I told them, going to sit beside Vern, "What is it, Verno?" I felt sorry for the kid; he was sort of the odd one out. He was a bit chubby and he was shorter than all of us. He probably had it the best home life out of all of us though; he had two parents that got along and he was never faced with any sort of danger other than his brother, Billy. His brother was part of Ace Merrill's gang. He acted tough and was always doing something illegal. On top of that, he liked to pick on kids, especially Vern.
     Immediately, Vern began again, "Can you guys camp out tonight? You know, if you tell your folks that we're gonna tent out in my back field."
     "Yeah, I think so," Chris replied, "Except my dad's kind of on a mean streak, you know he's been drinking a lot lately."
     Chris's dad seemed to always be on a mean streak. He would get drunk and either shoot beer cans or beat Chris and his brother.
     "You've got to man, sincerely, you won't believe this!" urged Vern, "Can you Gordie?"
     "Yeah, probably," he answered, still flipping through his magazine.
     "Liza? What about you?" I was asked.
     "Yeah, Dad won't mind." Dad knew his parents; they were good people.
     "So what are you pissing and moaning about, Verno?" Teddy questioned him.
     "I knock," Chris interrupted, knocking on the table.
     "What? You liar, you ain't got no pat-hand! You didn't deal yourself no pat-hand," exclaimed Teddy.
     "Make your draw, shit heap," Chris retorted. 
     I could see that Vern was trying to figure out how to word what he was going to say next, and he could tell that they weren't listening to him, so he spoke up, "Do you guys wanna go see a dead body?"