This Town Called Nowhere

Chapter 15: Invitation To Freedom

15

I never thought I would see her so soon. But when I enter Mr. Williams's classroom for English on Monday, a purple-headed badass punk, crazy, soccer fanatic, strange, savage maniac, but also, a pretty, little girl is occupying the seat behind mine. I cross my eyebrows when I see her. She smiles at me, widely.

Mr. Williams enters the classroom a minute later, and his eyes drift straight to Artemis on my back. He calls her and lets her introduce herself to the class. All eyes are on her, including mine. Derek has an amused expression on his face as he stares at Artemis. I have an unbelieving face. Didn't she say she's from Middleton High School?

"Not anymore," she replies to Mr. Williams when he asks a question that relates to mine.

After her introduction, Mr. Williams carries on to talk about Hamlet. As he is discussing in front, Artemis is talking to me at the back. At first, I don't listen to her, but her stories become so compelling, I end up only hearing her voice in the whole class.

". . . And Rigel said, 'No, that wouldn't kill you, believe me I've tried.' Then I say, 'Yeah, try putting a .32 caliber bullet in your mouth and tell us what it tasted when your dead."

She's telling me about a time recently when Josh Batley, one of her friends back in Middleton, thought about taking his own life. And instead of consoling him and convincing him to stop thinking of suicide, they actually helped him find the best way how to do it and do it correctly. That's what I call the best of best friends, helping each other through suicide by planning suicide. Damn, they're crazy.

Keeping my voice low, I lean my head back and say, "Then what?"

"See, Rigel is this really weird guy. He doesn't look like it but he is. Anyway, so Batley put the gun on his head and we're watching him on riverbank—he's on the edge so that when he dies, his body will fall back to the water and he'll flow to the sea—my idea. So yeah, gun to the head, and I was like, why on the head? Didn't he tell us he'll do it in the mouth? So I tell him that. He was frustrated, like really frustrated. Then he shouts, 'Fine!' He put his hands down for a second and inhaled his last breath. Then . . . he slipped."

I turn my head. "What?"

She grins at me, "He slipped."

I shake my head, turning my head to the front. "And by slipped, you mean?"

"I mean, he slipped, his foot misstepped a rock and slipped to the water. He was admitted to the hospital for some stitches on his head. I came with him and had a bullet taken out of me."

What? I turn my head again, and she greets me with a satisfied grin. "You got shot?"

She chuckles, "Yeah. Anyway, he ended up abandoning the whole suicide thing and said he's sorry about a gazillion times to me. It became irritating, I eventually have to even it up so that he'll stop."

A grin forms on my lips. "What did you do?"

"I shot him back."

"What?" I cross my eyebrows and turn to her for the 3rd time. A savage maniac indeed. The satisfied grin greets me again, whereas I stare at her with a horrified face.

"Oh, c'mon, Armstrong, how can you even the score up if you don't do the same thing he did?" She looks at me distastefully.

I shrug. "I don't know—kick his ass or something, or—"

"If I kicked his ass, that wouldn't be even. He didn't kick my ass, why would I kick his?" She props her elbows on her desk as she leans near me, waiting for my rebuttal. I don't have any. I stare at her, and when I hear my name out of Mr. Williams's mouth, I turn my head to the front.