September 4th, 2009
Standing in the backyard of Kriller Elementary, the sounds of excited kids should've had my attention. My mom said I was supposed to make friends. Be nice. But I didn't want to. My dad barked at me before leaving for work, and I didn't need that. I didn't want it. When I grew up, I planned to be better.
There were too many years for that...
But those birds? The ones soaring in the sky? I could be them. So, as the kids excitedly walked around and waited for the teachers to escort us inside, I watched the pigeons. They were dirty rats with wings, yeah, but they didn't care. They were up there enjoying the sun, flying around; free. They lived their best life. Who said you needed to have a lot to be your best?
"Um," a kid came beside me, "is this the line for room 103?"
Adjusting my backpack, I looked down at the boy with wild hair and a bright red shirt. We wore uniforms; didn't he know? He was going to get in trouble. I blinked at him. "It is, but," I looked at his clothes, "they're going to yell at you."
His eyes widened. "Me? Why? Oh no, what did I do?"
Oh, man, he looked scared. Was he new? It didn't matter, right? Getting in trouble for a shirt was stupid, anyway.
The doors to the school opened. Teachers slowly made their way out onto the concrete playground. Excited kids quickly returned to their places, patiently waiting for their homeroom teacher to take them away. I looked back at the kid with the red shirt and shook my head. "You're wearing the wrong color," I hissed.
"Color?" He looked down at his shirt. "Oh, no, my mom said—"
The teacher was coming. I glanced up as the older man with short, grey hair approached our group. But it looked like he didn't see us. He focused on the papers in his hands. I looked back at the kid as I let my backpack slide to the ground. "Here." Quickly shimmying the shoulder straps off my arms, I unzipped my uniform sweater and handed it to him. He blinked at it before touching it. "Take it," I said. "Zip it up, wear it, hide the shirt."
"But," he looked at me with sad eyes, "what about you? It's yours."
"Just put it on." I scooped up my backpack and put it back on. "I have the right shirt on. I didn't need the sweater. My mom said I needed it."
"Will she be mad?" he asked.
The teacher came closer. He slowly lifted his head, searching his classroom. Just as his eyes could've landed on us, kids cut in front of us, so we were no longer in front. Cool. It meant he couldn't see. Looking back at the kid, I shook my head. "She'll get over it," I hissed, "so just put it on and give it back tomorrow or something."
"Room 103!" the teacher called. That was the horn the kid needed. Quickly dropping his backpack, he pushed his arms into the sweater's sleeves and pulled the zipper up to his neck so fast he nicked himself. He whimpered and closed his eyes, but he was in 'uniform' when the teacher stood in front of the class; his eyes passed over us, and saw nothing wrong. "All right, the first day of school! Everyone ready?"
A chorus of "Yes!" echoed. I glanced back at the kid as our room's line started to move. "My name's Gio," I said. "Are you new?"
"Yeah," smiling, he pointed at his chest, "and I'm Mark. Thanks for helping me."
"Sure, but thanks for taking the sweater." I followed the kids in front of us, keeping close but still far back.
"Why?" Mark kept up with my stride. "It's yours."
"I didn't want it." I looked at him. "It looks better on you, anyway."
***
Sirens filled the air. I opened my eyes and caught the colors in the distance. Red, blue, white. Half of me worried about the police finding us, but they sounded too far. Or was I far?
Paired with the sirens, ringing rang in my ears, pounding in the back of my skull. When I tried to touch my head but found I couldn't. I was numb. "Shit...." I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut.
"You... won," Mark's voice quivered beside me. Weak, barely audible. I turned my head and saw Mark beside me. His gaze was stuck to the sky. The red had faded away. His lids fluttered without shutting.
I placed my hand on the grass. "Mark?"
"You..." he croaked, "...won."
The lights came closer, slowly driving down the street. Weakly, I flipped on my stomach to see them better. Two patrol vehicles. One stopped just half a block away from the park. An officer got out with a flashlight, shining it at the trees. "They're looking... for us," I whispered. "We need... to go."
"No."
I glanced at Mark and got a good look at him. Where I'd hit him, blood-drenched his face. It spilled over his eyes, cheek, and neck. My computers scanned him. His computer chip shifted to the other side of his skull, detached. "Do you... remember when we first met?" he whispered.
I didn't know what to say. I felt like I'd just thought of it, sifting through the memories of my life. Meeting Mark when we were kids, was a part of it—the scrawny new boy at school who couldn't follow the rules. And I remembered thinking if I kept him out of trouble that day, he'd be all right. I cared a lot then. I still do.
"I do, but..." I crawled closer to him with one arm. "That doesn't matter."
"You said... the sweater... it looked better on me," he whispered.
"Shut up," I hissed. "Stop."
"You're right..." Air left him in a painful wheeze. "None of it does... and I'm sorry." His lip quivered as he apologized. It was all I wanted to hear from him; just like Ruben. Ruben admitted he was wrong and cried to me. Sure, he was in pain while it happened, but the apology was there. It was real. And Mark's... felt real, too.
"If it doesn't matter, then," pain shot through my head for a moment, and I looked away, "why?" I lifted just my gaze. "Why did you do this?"
Mark's lips twitched up into a weak smile. The trees overhead moved as the wind blew. A single leaf fell on his forehead before dropping to the grass. "You're... right. You're... right."
He was repeating things. The damage was done. Was he even aware of what happened? What he'd done? What I'd done? He moved his head and looked at me. "I wanted... to be you..." he whispered. "I wanted to be more... than you."
I struggled to sit up. Cradling my arm against my chest, I looked down at him as he moved his eyes to keep his gaze on me. And continued. "I wanted... to be the... bigger guy."
I chewed on my bottom lip and shook my head. "You sacrificed me," I whispered. "You gave me up."
"Money..." Mark laughed weakly. "It changes people...."
Taking a deep breath, I leaned against the tree and looked up at the stars. At my right, the patrol cars moved again. Closer than before. When I glanced back, I saw them at the park's entrance. "I want to say I forgive you, but..." I sighed. "I don't think I can."
"That's okay." Mark's trembling hand struggled to stretch out. "Just take... your chance." Silence. I quickly scanned him, thinking he was gone, but he blinked. His mouth parted. "I wasn't... built for this..." he whispered.
"No." Grinning, I painfully snorted. "You weren't."
He did, too. "How can you still smile?"
I closed my eyes. "Because I've let all of this go. The anger, the pain, revenge." I sighed. "I've let it go."
When I looked back at Mark, nothing was there. His body remained, but his eyes were lifeless. Dark. Empty. I reached out to touch his hand, but it was cold. Was that quick, or had he been done for longer than I thought? The second the computer in his head powered off, so did he.
Wrapping my fingers around his arm, I whispered, "If you see Brenda, tell her I'm sorry. Tell her I made my mistakes, but..." I shook my head. "I got Maggie, and I'll take care of her."
One last breath left him. A part of me wanted to believe he heard me, but I wasn't dumb. I knew what happened to a dead body when it passed. That was a natural reaction, not the will of God. Yet, still... I needed him to know. I needed her to know.
Branches and leaves crunched nearby. I panicked, looking up. The cops found me. I knew it. And I accepted it. I was never good at running from them; they caught me too often. Today was the only day I got away, where I managed to commit another crime like an awful criminal. I should've quit while I was ahead, but I didn't. That was how everything crumbled, right? I can't get away if I keep going back.
"Gio," a voice hissed. My head snapped up, looking ahead into the other trees. There was a shadow tucked in the playground behind the slide. A hand motioned for me to approach. I squinted, trying to make out who it was. Then the clouds overhead cleared.
"Anthony?" My eyes widened. "What, why—"
Anthony's shadow hurried in my direction. He didn't give me a second to gather myself. He bent just enough to lift my arm and place it on his shoulder. With a low grunt, he hoisted me up into a stand. I bit down on my tongue to keep from shouting, but when I squeezed my eyes shut, I felt the tears on my cheeks.
"We need to stop meeting like this," Anthony whispered as he helped me walk through the playground and away from Mark's body. "It isn't healthy."
"Shit, why," I gulped as the pain slowly traveled down my legs, "why are you here? I told Kimi—"
"I don't think she listens to you," Anthony chuckled, looking at me. "She's close by, and we're leaving with you."
"That wasn't the plan," I hissed. "I said—"
"You said you'd die tonight, right? Get your revenge and just die?"
I bit my lip as I stopped. Anthony struggled to keep standing but looked at me. He blinked as if he'd said nothing wrong. "Did you die, though?"
"No," I whispered.
"You didn't follow your plan, either, then," he said, adjusting himself to support me better. "And that's okay, man, so there's a new plan."
"Where we all escape?" I let him place me against him and followed without a verbal complaint. Each step hurt, and standing hurt, but I knew Anthony couldn't let me sit there.
"Yeah." Anthony pointed ahead, across the park. At the opposite exit, at the second gate, away from the police and the officers calling out if anyone there was Kimi's red Honda. And in the backseat was my mom. In her arms, sleeping, was Maggie.
I clenched my jaw to keep from crying.
"I think it's a better plan," Anthony said.
It was. Shit, it was. Peace for everyone. A second chance for all of us.
With a heavy heart, I glanced back at Mark's body. Anthony ducked us closer to the shadows before the police turned the corner. They shined their light on Mark's face. They turned on their walkies.
That heaviness in my chest exploded for a second. If I had seen the bigger picture, if I had asked the right questions, I could've saved him. And if I had saved him, maybe Brenda would be alive. But I didn't. I just waited for everything to unfold like burned pages in a book.
As the sound of a car's door opening and shutting echoed in my ears, I looked ahead to see Kimi walking toward me. Tears slid down her face, and I knew, the book hadn't burned. It was charred on the edges, but it had a new spine. New binding. The pages that were singed were just the prologue no one wanted to read anyway.
Kimi stopped partway and opened her arms. A smile graced her face. It was weak, but it was there. Welcoming, wanting, thankful.
I swallowed the heaviness in my chest and allowed it to disappear into my past. I closed my eyes. With a deep and long breath, I let my heart open like hands. The darkness grew wings. And when I opened my eyes again, it flew away.
"Come on," Anthony hissed as we walked faster.