MABLETON HIGH SCHOOL - MONDAY, OCTOBER 17, 2014; 9:47 AM.
The tardy bell for 2nd period rang as we stood around in the gym waiting for class to start. We were all changed into our gym uniforms; blue shorts, a grey shirt with a snarling canine head and "MABLETON TIMBERWOLVES" across the front, and our various trainers and sneakers that we owned. The gym was large and dim-lit since outside the large windows near the scaffolded ceiling, it was raining hard outside. Lynne was telling me something, but I don't remember what it was because I became preoccupied with Damien, David, and Will on the other side of the gym.
All three of them were large, with Damien being the tallest and David being the bulkiest. Will was built slim like a fox, and kind of looked like one, too, with his short-cropped hair and his angular face. David was big, blonde, and dumb-looking. He stood slouched and his facial expression was usually blank with his mouth agape. Damien was lanky with dark skin, and he was pretty popular with our female classmates.
The three of them were standing around the pull-up bar bolted high onto the painted brick wall, each of them taking turns jumping up and grabbing it with ease with their long arms and legs, and seeing how many pull-ups they can do. We found our first suspects.
We all heard a blast from a whistle and Lynne stopped talking. Coach Donner was walking out of his office and across the gym. "Alright everyone, listen up!" he shouted. "We're gonna be playin' volleyball today! You know the drill; boys on this side, girls on that side. No questions and absolutely no complaints!"
Lynne and I separated to opposite sides of the gym. I was visibly anxious as I walked away, not just because I knew I was going to get hit in the face with the ball, and Lynne watched after me in concern. I tried to stand off to the side, looking for my friend, but unfortunately, I was spotted. Damien, David, and Will walked over to me from their post at the pull-up bar. I refused to make eye contact and tried to act like I didn't notice them, but that strategy didn't work for long.
Will towered over me and took a long pause to look me up and down. "The hell you doin' over here, Fletcher?"
I didn't respond, and Damien and David laughed. I didn't know what they were laughing about. It was like Will was holding up cue cards. Will stepped closer to me, and I could feel him breathing down my neck. I held my breath and probably looked constipated.
Will spoke quietly in a low, velvety voice, which was terrifying. "What were you and your bitch doin' around Gresky's?" He spat the word "bitch" in my face. I felt the thrill of adrenaline as my heart leaped into my throat and I could hear the blood pounding through my ears. At that moment, I knew I was in trouble, and I was pretty sure he did it. I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my fists, which were stuffed into my pockets.
He turned around and spoke to his friends. "Hey guys, I heard cat pelts go for a lot of cash these days!"
Damien and David laughed, each giving him a fist bump. "You better watch out for your pretty kitty, Fletcher." Will breathed, leaning down close to my ear as I tightly gripped the lining of my pockets. "I heard Devon Rex fur is very expensive."
It suddenly clicked in my mind. I took the risk, even though it felt like he was bluffing. I looked up at him slowly. "You did it, didn't you?"
The three of them burst out into laughter. Sarcastically, Will exclaimed, "Ha! Wow! What a great detective! Hey, Fletcher, how's your grandpa? Is he dead yet--?"
In a sudden outburst, I stepped to him and roared, "SHUT UP!"
Everything was silent, and my shout echoed through the gym. It seemed to echo through the whole school. Everyone turned and looked at me. The three looked shocked and then started jeering at me.
"Oh-ho-ho! You wanna fight, Fletcher?" Will stepped to me and I started backing up.
My friend Aaron stepped in at the right moment. He was tall, skinny, and blonde, and tough-looking from his several scars and piercings. "Leave him alone, Manfreid."
Will pushed him, shouting, "Hey, mind your own damn business, faggot!"
"Hey!" Aaron pushed him back. They started to fight, and everyone began to crowd around, pulling their phones out. I stepped between them and tried to push them apart. "Aaron, STOP! He's not worth it, man!" I saw Will rear back and his fist flew, and next thing I knew, I felt a crack and pain like a flash of lightning. I blacked out for a moment, and when I opened my eyes, I was sprawled back on the floor with my legs in the air. Well, either way, I knew that I was probably going to get hit in the face that day, with the ball or otherwise.
I felt something warm pouring down my face over my lips and chin, and pins and needles underneath my eyes. I could feel my pulse in my nose and with every heartbeat, it felt like it was about to explode. My eyes began to water and everything was blurry. It had probably been a few seconds since I was hit, but the pool of students surrounding us was still jeering and wincing. I confused the sound of a whistle blasting over and over again with the ringing in my ears until Coach Donner parted the crowd like the red sea and rushed through, immediately breaking Will and Aaron apart, screaming, "AARON, OFFICE! NOW! Fletcher, come with me!"
Donner grabbed my arm and pulled me up off the floor. My head spun and I felt like I was gonna throw up. I put my hand over my face and felt something warm and wet, and when I pulled my hand away in shock, it was smeared with blood. I covered my face back up as I stumbled along behind Donner.
Lynne pushed her way through the crowd and emerged somewhere behind me. "Elliot, are you okay?" she called after me.
"I'b fibe, dob'd worry aboud be!" I shouted through my hands.
Donner walked briskly through the hallway and I trudged after him. It was a painful and humiliating experience, but I wouldn't have changed it. That's when Coach Donner led me right to a lead.
"What were you thinkin', kid?" Donner shouted in exasperation. "I don't know what the hell you were even doin' over there!"
I didn't respond, because by then my head hurt so bad that I couldn't understand what he was saying. He led me to the nurse's office where Nurse Kim, the petite school nurse greeted us. "Oh, no...not another one," She placed her hands on my shoulders, examining me.
There was another person in the room that I recognized as Nonny Donner. He sat on one of the blue plastic beds with a paper towel over his nose. "Hi, Dad," he said to Coach Donner, muffled by the paper towel. I had no idea that was his son.
"Got a nosebleed, son?" Donner asked him, sticking his head into the room.
"Yeah."
Coach Donner nodded. "Alright, I'll, er...leave you to it." He left awkwardly.
Nurse Kim led me by the arm to the other bed, sat me down, and pulled my hand off of my face to examine my nose closely.
"Is id brokeb?" I asked her as she wiped my face gently with a paper towel, then she shone a light in both of my eyes.
"Luckily, no. You've just got a bad cut. I'll get you some ice to make the swelling go down."
Nurse Kim crossed the room, poured some ice in a plastic bag, wrapped it in a paper towel, and handed it to me. "Thabks," I pressed it on my nose.
Nurse Kim left the room and I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes and feeling the ice soak up the pain in my face.
"Does it hurt?"
I open my eyes and sit up and look at the source of the sudden words. Nonny Donner had taken the paper towel from off of his face. He had curly brown hair that hung down into his eyes, a pointy chin, narrow brown eyes, and a round bulbous nose. He was lanky and awkwardly proportioned with knobbly elbows and knees. I'd almost forgotten he was there.
I shrugged and sniffled. "Not doo bad anybore. Yours?"
"Nah," he replied. "I just get nosebleeds sometimes."
Neither of us said anything for a while until he broke the awkward silence of the white noise from the rattling HVAC. "You're on the yearbook, right?"
"Yeah, I ab. I'b the phodographer."
Nonny pursed his lips and nodded. "Cool."
At that moment, I looked down and noticed scratches all over his hands and arms. I started to connect the dots. After long scrutiny, I asked him, "Do you know Brs. Gresky?"
"Kind of," he said. "She's my next-door neighbor. Last Friday I was looking at a dent on her mailbox and as she was leaving she yelled at me. I guess she thought I was stealing her mail."
I furrowed my brow. "What tibe was that?"
"I dunno. Around 4:30, maybe?"
My mouth went dry. "Huh."
"Why do you ask?"
"No reason."
I cleared my throat and settled back against the wall. We sat in silence again. Nonny sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, looking uncomfortable.
At 10:55, the bell for 3rd period rang and Nurse Kim said I could go to my next class since the swelling had gone down. Nonny had gone back to class half an hour ago, and Lynne brought me my bag shortly after that. I got a lot of thinking done during my alone time and many theories were spinning through my head. I headed to forensic science class and I sat down at the table next to Lynne where we always sat in the back right as the tardy bell rang.
"Dude, are you okay?" she asked me as I collapsed into my chair.
I took my notes out of my bag. "Yeah, I'm fine. Listen--"
Lynne lightly touched the cut on my nose and winced. "That looks bad..."
I was slightly annoyed. "Lynne, I'm fine. Seriously, listen. I figured something out. Do you know Nonny Donner?"
"Yeah. He's that weird guy, right?"
"Yeah. Turns out he was there at the scene of the crime, he has scratches all over his hands and arms, and I think he has a motive."
"What was it?"
The forensics teacher, Mr. Doberman, walked in and started talking. He was a built man with wide shoulders and a tiny waist, and he had black hair and brown eyes. He had a gruff voice and personality.
I continued, whispering. "He said that Mrs. Gresky accused him of trying to steal her mail as she was leaving the grocery store, right before Sprinkles was killed. And turns out he's Coach Donner's son, so he lives right next door. So it would make sense for him to jump the fence."
Lynne cautiously watched the teacher and whispered, "Really? Wow. Do you think it was him?"
"I don't know, maybe. Will also could've done it, judging by what he said before he decked me. He and his friends would be able to climb the fence. Did you figure out the shoe yet?"
Lynne pulled out her notebook. "Um, yeah. I did some research while you were gone. It was probably a pair of Converses. The sole pattern matched the footprint. Was Nonny wearing Converses?"
"I have no idea. I could barely see anything."
Lynne snorted. "The one thing you didn't notice,"
"Dude, I got punched in the face."
She grimaced. "It's not broken is it?"
I rolled my eyes. "Do you really think I'd be sitting here right now if I broke my nose?"
"Hey, quiet back there." Doberman boomed. I sheepishly started copying down our assignment.
"Hey, what did Will even say to you?" Lynne whispered, scribbling in her notebook.
My stomach clenched. After a long pause, I muttered, "I don't wanna talk about it."
After 3rd period, we headed to lunch. The cafeteria was small and filled with long tables, and even though everyone sat at the same tables, there were still two to three seat divides between groups. Lynne and I always sat next to each other at the end of the table closest to the brick wall right next to the tall windows.
Aaron walked over to our table and sat down as Lynne and I were conversing in hushed voices. He had a large purple bruise marring the side of his face and a cut splitting his eyebrow.
"Whoa. That looks bad." I said as his lunch tray clattered on the table.
"It doesn't really hurt," he replied, picking up his work with his left hand. "What about your nose?"
"It's just a cut. I'm fine." I assure him, feeling guilty that he got hurt worse than me by fighting my battles.
"Are you okay?" Lynne asked him softly.
Aaron shrugged. "Yeah, it's not a big deal. They just called my mom." He sighed, pushing the bland school spaghetti around with his fork. "Will was the one being a dick, but I get in trouble? He's the one who punched you in the face."
"Well, uh...thanks, for...you know," I told him sheepishly.
He smiled. "Hey, no problem. What are friends for, right?" He gave me a fist bump as Lynne smiled and smoothed my hair back out of my face. Then I looked up as Nonny Donner walked by, and I watched him closely as he crossed the room and sat down at a table by himself.
Not taking my eyes off of him, I asked Aaron, "What do you know about Nonny Donner?"
Aaron turned around to glance at him and then turned his attention back to his lunch. "Hm...not much. He's kind of weird, I guess. He goes to my counseling center."
I furrowed my brow. "Do you know what's up with him?"
He shrugged. "Dunno. We never really talk. He's quiet."
"We, uh, think he might've killed Mrs. Gresky's cat," Lynne disclosed.
Aaron looked up at us with genuine disbelief. "Nonny? Nah, I don't think he has it in him."
"Mrs. Gresky accused him of stealing her mail right before it happened, and he has cat scratches all over his arms," I explained.
"Um..." Aaron gazed down at the table, his expression unreadable. "Those aren't cat scratches, Elliot."
Lynne frowned in concern. "What do you mean?"
He lowered his voice. "You don't hear it around? He's a cutter. I thought everybody knew that."
All three of us glanced over at Nonny, and Aaron stared at him with sympathy. I felt a sudden pit in my stomach.
Lynne blinked rapidly. "Huh. I, uh...didn't know."
I swallowed hard. "Wow,"
"So, I don't think he did it, man." He was still quiet.
"Do you think it could've been Will?" Lynne wondered aloud.
Aaron scoffed. "Pfft. It probably was him. Everybody knows he hates Mrs. Gresky."
"He hates everybody," Lynne added.
"He said that he saw me and Lynne at her house, so we know he was around," I recounted to Aaron. Lynne shoots me a questioning glance.
"Did you guys call the police?"
I sighed. "Yeah, but they think it was an animal attack."
"Oh. Huh."
"Which is ridiculous since an animal couldn't skin a cat," Lynne grumbled.
There was a pause as Aaron stared off into space. "Yeah. That's messed up."
Saturday morning, I sat on the toilet seat in my boxers, prepping my injection. I used to hate needles, but after a while of doing it myself every week I got used to it. I picked up a bottle labeled "TESTOSTERONE CYPIONATE" and measured it carefully into the syringe, then I took a deep breath and slowly injected it into the side of my thigh. I always did it slowly even though I hated the pinch because I was terrified of messing it up.
All of a sudden there was a loud knock on the door and I jumped, jerking the spent needle out of my leg. "Elliot, Grandpa Fletcher is here!" Mom called through the door. I exhaled the breath I was holding in. "Coming!"
I stood up and pulled on my jeans and flannel, and I stashed my injection kit deep into the bathroom cabinet. My grandfather visiting was always a huge event for me, even though it presented its own problems.
I walked briskly into the living room, so eager to see him that my heart was jumping out of my chest. My grandfather, Flynn Fletcher, sat in an armchair in the living room. He was a large, jolly man, who used to remind me of Santa Claus as a small child, and you can see the hint of the young man he used to be when he was the spitting image of my father.
Grandpa Fletcher stood up to greet me, grinning from ear to ear. He pulled me into a large and slightly too tight hug. "Nora, sweetheart, good to see ya!"
I was pretty sure that I visibly cringed. "Hey, Grandpa,"
He pulled away and looked down. "I see ya still got my shoes!"
Mom walked in from the kitchen holding a cup of black coffee. "Oh, he wears those things every day. I'm surprised they haven't fallen apart!"
Grandpa took the coffee. "Thanks, sweetheart. That's a good pair of shoes, right there. They're good luck, too."
"Well, we haven't been very lucky around here lately," Dad said from the couch. "Agatha Gresky's cat was killed last week."
"Miss Agatha? That's a darn shame." Grandpa took a sip of his coffee. "Tell me, is ol' Stoney still on the force?"
"Yessir," I told him.
"Ah, I remember when he was just a beat cop givin' out parking tickets!" he reminisced, chuckling. "What's he doin' about it?"
"Nothing, he says it was an animal attack."
"Well, was it?"
"It couldn't have been..." I told him cautiously, eyeing my dad. "...the cat was skinned alive."
Grandpa was shocked. He thundered, "What? And he didn't even look into it? That's a damn crime is what that is."
Dad cleared his throat. "Well, it was probably some kid who did it. It probably won't happen again."
Grandpa ignored him. "Do you know who did it?" he asked me.
I coughed. "I, uh, can think of a few people who could've done it."
He tossed his head back and let out a hearty laugh. "That's my flesh and blood, right there! Sit down, lemme give you a piece of...old man wisdom."
Grandpa and I sat down on the couch and he put his hand on my shoulder. "The first thing you do when you suspect someone of a crime is to ask yourself, 'Why did they do it?' If ya can't answer that question, you're followin' the wrong lead."
If anybody knew what they were talking about, it was my grandpa. What he said really made me think. Maybe Nonny Donner killed Mrs. Gresky's cat out of anger at her. Or, was it something deeper than that? And would that deeper motive drive him to strike again?
Later that afternoon, after Grandpa left to go back home to Ohio, I went to Lynne's house. The fact was, we were both beginning to feel guilty about suspecting Nonny Donner.
"Do you really think Nonny actually did it?" I asked her, lying back on her bed.
"I have no idea."
"I mean...I had no idea." I expressed. "It's crazy that I had no idea."
"It kind of makes me wish that we actually talked to him, you know?" Lynne said.
"I talked to him the other day. He actually seemed really nice." I felt like Nonny was simply misunderstood, which I understood completely.
"But if he takes things out on himself, who's to say he won't take things out on someone or something else?"
I sighed. "I dunno." I felt really bad for the guy.
"Elliot, are you okay?"
I sat up. "Yeah, I just...I wonder what it is that made him take it out on an animal like that."
"Well, there could be many reasons."
"But we don't know them, Lynne."
We sat there looking at each other for a couple of seconds, and she gave me a small smile, sad and knowing.
"I think we're following the wrong lead," I told her softly.
Lynne patted my knee. "Maybe."
I sighed again and laid back down. "What about Will?"
She smirked. "Well, he's a dick. Maybe that's it."
I laughed. "Yeah, he is."
"We'd have to talk to someone who knows him to figure out what his motive could be."
"No one really knows him except for Dickhead 1 and Dickhead 2," I said. "And they probably don't even know him that well. Ever since we were kids he was super reserved."
"Do you remember anything specific about him?" she inquired.
"I know he would show up with cuts or bruises a lot like he'd got in a fight. And he would get pulled out of class all the time."
"Sounds like he had a troubled childhood." Lynne acknowledged.
"Yeah, that'd explain a lot."
"Looks like he has something to take out on other living things, too."
"Well, we already know he does that."
Lynne examined the cut on my face. "Does it still hurt? Have you been putting something on it?"
"Nah," I said.
"You should really put some Neosporin on it or something."
"I'm too tough for Neosporin," I told her.
Lynne rolled her eyes. "Idiot,"
That evening the air was chilly as I walked around the block to go home. Something didn't feel right; it was too still and too quiet as if someone else around here was shrouded by the dark and concealed with silence. There wasn't a single cricket chirp or rustle of leaves in the wind or even the crunch of the worn and dirt-eroded asphalt underneath the soles of my shoes. I stopped underneath the orange beam of a street lamp as if the light was a safe haven and stood motionless, wishing that I had just gone over the fence.
I felt the skin crawl on the back of my neck and my hair raised as if something was creeping up behind me. I whipped around, but the neighborhood behind me was empty. I heard the ambiance of the night again, and it put me at ease. I continued to walk down the street.
Suddenly I heard a cacophony from one of the neighboring houses: a loud, pained yowling of the animal and the clattering of a struggle. Without even thinking, I ran towards the source of the noise, feeling a pool of dread in the center of my stomach.
After careening through an alleyway between two fences, I ended up in Nonny Donner's backyard. It was dead silent, like the moments after a murder. Swallowing hard, I took one step at a time towards the bloody heap lying in the grass. Fudge laid there, the fear in his wide eyes still frozen as they were during his death. "Oh my God..." I whispered in horror.
Maybe we were following the right lead after all.