151 Days Read online

  “We’re feeling guilty because it’s our fault Kelly killed himself, of course.”

  You ever get that feeling like you’re dreaming even though you’re wide-awake? It’s like you become hyperaware, and everything around you is way too vivid for a few moments. I’ve read about oxygen deprivation, and what I felt then seemed like that. The whole world became a blur of colors and sounds before it started to fade away. That’s how I felt sitting there hearing Jennifer say those words. Though I hadn’t budged, the seat felt like it was falling beneath me while the whole car spun on an invisible axis. Was I asleep? Was all of this just a hallucination? Hearing the words I had used come out of her mouth made everything surreal for the few seconds I spent scrambling to get my wits back.

  “How is it your fault?” I heard myself ask her even though I hadn’t consciously commanded my mouth to say anything.

  “How isn’t it?” she asked back sarcastically. “You told us he was in trouble, you begged us to help him, and we all did nothing.” She was starting to cry again. “You had to storm out of Brad’s car because he and I were so sure we knew what was best for Kelly.” Huge tears rolled down her face, and she laughed through her sobbing. “Everyone always thought I was such a vapid, mean bitch who only thought of herself, and when the time came to prove them wrong, all I did was the same thing everyone else did.” She shook her head as she stared off across the parking lot. “Maybe they were right. Maybe I am just a dumb cheerleader.”

  “Oh, shut the fuck up.”

  We both paused as we wondered where that had come from. I was a bit more surprised to find out it came from my mouth than she was.

  “It isn’t your fault Kelly killed himself, no more than it is anyone else’s. He made his choice, and sucky as it was, it was his choice to make. You want to blame someone? Then blame the people who mocked him on Facebook, or blame Jeremy for posting the damn video in the first place, but don’t blame yourself, Jennifer. That’s just a waste of time and effort.”

  It was everything I needed to hear for myself but knew I wouldn’t believe.

  “You and Brad and half of the football team could have gone over and tried to sit on Kelly every day, and he would have made the same choice he did. Don’t be upset because you think you didn’t do enough—be upset about the people who did too much. Be pissed at the town that created the environment, the school that fostered the attitude, and be furious at the people who egged him on, but not at yourself. You were his friend, and he knew that. In the end, it’s all we can be to each other.”

  I felt my own eyes stinging as the weight that had settled on my heart since Kelly had died seemed to lighten by a few thousand pounds. Jennifer had stopped crying as well. She just stared at me blankly, my words sinking in past her own guilt and despair. “You really believe that? You don’t blame me or Brad or anyone else for not helping you, do you?”

  Now I was crying. “Did you think I would?” She nodded meekly, and I tried to laugh away a sob or two. “You guys were there in every way that counted. We all were. This isn’t our fault—none of it is.”

  She reached over and pulled me into a hug that told me the past few days of misery were over, and that it was time for a new start.

  “Okay,” she said more to herself than to me. “Okay, time to stop being such a moody bitch.” She sat up straighter and checked herself in the rearview mirror. “Oh God, I look like an emo raccoon who just got done watching Titanic.” She grabbed her purse, fished out a Kleenex, and began to wipe the smeared mascara off her face. “So where did you need to go?” she asked as she reapplied her face.

  Now I felt sheepish asking her a favor after all that. “It’s no big deal. Let’s go see Robbie or something.”

  She paused and looked over at me. “No, you’re trying to make things better, so let’s make things better. What did you need me for?”

  I made a small smile as I said, “I kinda wanted to see your dad?”

  She rolled her eyes as she went back to the mirror. “Now I know I don’t want to know anything else.”

  She drove me to the police station, and I felt my stomach do a small, nervous backflip. The last time we had been here was to find a way to make copies of the pictures from Kelly’s room so I could shove them in Jeremy’s face. Neither Jennifer or I had wanted to see the pictures, but I knew Jeremy would need something so shocking he would never be able to unsee it. I hated using the pictures, but I knew Kelly would have found some justice when I used them to jar Jeremy out of his delusions.

  Jennifer parked the car and looked over at me. “So should I come in too, or is this another two-man operation?”

  I shook my head. “No, nothing like that.”

  She got out with me. “I hope not, because I can’t do something like that again.”

  “Me either,” I agreed with her as we walked into the station.

  One of the few bright points about Foster was its abundant lack of anything resembling an actual crime rate. It was a quiet town, and to be honest, quiet was the way we all liked it. So it was no shock whatsoever to see a lot of nothing going on when we walked in. The lady who worked dispatch waved Jennifer and me through as she talked on the phone.

  Jennifer’s dad is kinda cool for an adult.

  He wasn’t one of those cops who took the whole badge thing so seriously that he became a dick about it. I guess growing up in Foster gave him the luxury of knowing what the town was like when he took the job, so he never had illusions that he was anything more than a small-town sheriff. He knew everyone’s name and knew where everyone lived. I had never once seen him pull his gun out. Period. He didn’t need to, since his expressions were enough to scare people into behaving themselves. Jennifer had once told me that her dad knew his way around a gun, a shotgun, fifteen different kinds of rifles, and a black-powder cannon. He just didn’t need to use them.

  In other words, he was one of those sheriffs you wanted to be with you when the zombie apocalypse came.

  He smiled when he saw Jennifer walking toward his office. Then I saw his smile waver just a bit when he saw me walking behind her. I guess I couldn’t blame him; after all, before me this town really didn’t have a body count. “Well, this is an unexpected pleasure,” he said as we walked into his office. “Anything wrong?”

  Jennifer sat down and gestured to me, pretty much saying this entire thing was my idea.

  I sat down slowly and asked him, “Is it against the law for the school to refuse to let us have a gay-straight alliance if we asked for one?”

  He didn’t say anything at first, which to me was a sign that someone had brains. Only idiots, like me, went off talking without the benefit of thinking about it first, and he was not one to talk without thinking. “I am guessing your alliance thing would be an after-school activity?” I nodded. “And one that is inclusive to gay and straight students?” Another nod. “Well then, normally it would be illegal for the administration and the board to deny you one. But that’s not what they are going to do.”

  I paused and cocked my head in question. “How do you know what they’re going to do?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “If you kids knew half of what you really thought you knew, you’d be running the world.” I opened my mouth to retort, but he kept talking. “If you asked, they would grant you the club or alliance or whatever you’d call it and then tell you there was no facility available to run it. I assume you know about what happened to Charlotte Axeworthy?” Jennifer and I both shook our heads. He paused for a moment, and I could see him backtrack mentally. “Okay, well, let’s just say she was the only person who would want to touch that kind of thing at all, and she almost lost her job because of it. After the ruckus the kid’s parent made, I have to admit I was shocked she got to keep her job.”

  “What did she do?” Jennifer asked her dad, now interested in the topic.

  “Depends on who you ask. You ask Mrs. Axeworthy, nothing. You ask the kid, she provided a safe place to allow them to get together to
talk about life. Ask the parent, and she willingly discussed the topic of gay sex and behavior with minors without parental consent.” He didn’t sound like he was overjoyed about the topic himself, but he kept his voice neutral. “In the end, the school board put a permanent mark on her record with the understanding that if anything, and I mean anything, was brought up in relation with her name, she would be out on the street quicker than she could pack her office up.”

  Suddenly her fear made a lot more sense. I sat up, concerned. “But I don’t understand. Why do you say you know what they would do?”

  He looked at both of us for a long couple of seconds and then sighed. “Look, guys, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but there is no way Mr. Raymond is going to let one of those alliance things be formed at Foster. He knew that Axeworthy didn’t do anything wrong—that was just the excuse he used to shut it down. It was a warning to the other teachers. If they tried to do something similar, then it was just a matter of time before another parent stepped up with another ‘complaint.’”

  By the way Jennifer’s mouth hung open, she was as shocked as I was. “But that’s not fair,” I complained, knowing I sounded like a five-year-old the second I said it.

  He shrugged and nodded. “I agree, but a lot of life isn’t fair.”

  “That’s not an answer,” Jennifer fired at him. He looked over at her with an eyebrow arched questioningly. “You know it isn’t. That’s just a crappy fact of life.”

  I saw he was about to say something to her, but I didn’t really care. I had done the math in my head, and I was pretty sure where this was leading. “Who was the parent?” He slowly closed his mouth and turned his attention to me. He wasn’t smiling, but I could see by the way he looked at me he was pleased I had finally caught up with the true problem. “No other teacher would volunteer to run the club because they already saw what happened to Mrs. Axeworthy. The only way a gay-straight alliance can happen is if we get whoever complained about the club to take it back. So who was the parent?”

  He slowly leaned back in his chair and gave me a lazy smile. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Oh come on, Dad!” Jennifer exclaimed, standing up. “Why even bring it up if you can’t help us?”

  I just stared into his eyes as she complained, and I could see the quiet challenge in them. “He did help us,” I said, cutting her off. “Thanks, Sheriff,” I said, standing up myself and extending my hand out to him. “You’ve been a great help.”

  “He has?” Jennifer asked me, shocked.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, standing up to shake my hand. “Good luck,” he added with a wink.

  I was going to need it.

  “You ready?” I asked her as she looked at him, then to me.

  She finally threw her hands up in frustration. “God, I wish I knew what was going on just once around here.” She grabbed her keys out of her pocket and stormed out.

  “See you at dinner,” he called after her playfully.

  She didn’t answer him back.

  “Hey, Kyle,” he said as I began to follow her. “Do everyone a favor and stay away from Mrs. Axeworthy while you investigate this. Because there aren’t too many people who know what happened, and they will assume….”

  I held up a hand to stop him. “I got it. Trust me, the last thing I want to do is get her in trouble again.”

  He smiled and nodded. “Just making sure.”

  I nodded back and ran out the door on the off chance Jennifer had taken off without me. When I got into the car, she did not seem happy. “Where to now, Miss Daisy?”

  “He can’t tell us who the parent is because there was never an official complaint,” I began to explain. “They made that deal to have the whole incident go away, so the fact we know what we do is something big. Now all I have to do is figure out who made the complaint.”

  I saw the realization in her eyes as she figured it out. “So how are you going to do that?”

  “No earthly clue,” I admitted, fastening my seat belt.

  I SPENT the next two days feeling like I had decided to swim upstream against a flooded river or like I’d wandered into a wind tunnel and had to battle for every step forward. And, whether I glanced at my phone or the clock on the wall or not, I never lost track of time racing by while I had to dig harder than I should have for information. If it hadn’t been for Brad, I would have given up on the whole thing a couple of dozen times. I don’t know what had gotten into him, but he was my own private cheerleader, and it was awesome.

  I spent most of my time in the library, my eyes glued to the dusty fiche reader, through which I spooled old copies of our local paper, the school paper, the published minutes of the school board—anything that might give me a clue as to the identity of the parent who’d spoken out against Mrs. Axeworthy. I found a quarter-column-sized article about it in the local paper, but all it said was that a teacher was being investigated for improper behavior at the school; it didn’t mention the group or who had complained. When I pulled up copies of the school paper as well as the published minutes of the school board meetings, I could find nothing substantial.

  The only evidence that there had been a situation at all was one notation in the board minutes advising that Mrs. Axeworthy had been given two weeks of unpaid leave. But there was no reason noted. There had to be something about it somewhere. I just couldn’t think of where else I could go to research.

  The last few days rushed by as I dug and dug but found no information at all that might help us. Friday came, and I knew I had failed.

  Again.

  Brad, Jennifer, and Sammy waited with me outside the meeting, though we knew what the outcome was going to be. Brad stopped me more than once from barging inside and starting a scene. It was a good move on his part, because we all remembered how the last time I tried to interrupt the school board went.

  Finally the doors opened, and the members of the school board stalked past us. Most ignored us as adults are wont to do with kids, but Mr. Raymond locked eyes with me and gave me a scowl like he was ready to hit me. I swear the temperature dropped a dozen degrees as he passed by.

  My mom walked out with Brad’s mom and Mrs. Axeworthy, which kind of stunned me.

  “How did I know you guys would be sitting out here waiting?” my mom asked me, smiling.

  I did not feel like smiling back. “How bad did it go?”

  Mrs. Axeworthy looked at me and grinned. “That’s a funny story.”

  DOROTHY AIMES

  THERE ARE things in life that you can never ready yourself for.

  I mean, you grow older and you see things and you think, “Well, there is just nothing else in the world that can surprise me.” And then life has a way of coming along and proving you wrong in ways you can barely survive.

  I had never been one of those women who believed getting pregnant was going to get in the way of living my life. When I was a little girl, I didn’t dream only of growing up and being someone’s wife: I knew I had other plans. What I’m saying is that I wasn’t one of those women who insisted year after year that they weren’t ready for children. “I’m not ready yet. We’re not ready yet.” That didn’t even occur to me. When I was told I was pregnant, such a joy came over me that I knew there was nothing in the world that would ever compare with that feeling, so why bother trying?

  William wasn’t as ready, but he didn’t shy away from being a parent either. The further along I got, the more he embraced it, until the end when he was easily as nervous as I was. I can tell you I had a life before that day in April when I was wheeled into Foster General feeling like I was going to explode. I had dreams and wants and friends and desires, all of them very real to me.

  Right up to the point where they handed me my son, and I realized my life was just starting.

  We ended up selling our part in one of the larger ranches outside of town and using the money to buy a place big enough for the three of us. From that home base, William and I set out to fit into the tax brack
et we felt was ours. I wish I could tell you that trying to make friends with the women who were born into that tax bracket was easy, but I think I’ve lied enough for one life. I have fake boobs, fake hair, fake eyelashes, and a pretty convincing fake smile, so a little truth shouldn’t be that painful.

  There is a rather large group of people who live in and around Foster with money, and more than a few had children the same age as Kelly. We began to throw parties, attend fund-raisers, and Will took up golfing, all in the name of our infant son. William and I told ourselves we were doing it for Kelly, that we were trying to make influential friends for his sake.

  What a crock of shit.

  I had a bird growing up named Ola. She was an albino cockatiel and, I thought, a smart bird all around. I say “thought” because one day my mother hung a mirror on the side of Ola’s cage, and the bird was beside herself. She would coo and chirp and preen herself, all in hopes of gaining the mystery bird’s attention, never knowing it was just a reflection. I hate to admit it, but I lost respect for Ola because what was once a clever bird was reduced to looking like a self-centered fool by just adding a mirror into the equation.

  I became worse than Ola once I began to socialize with the upper crust of Foster society, the people who lived just under the scale of the old money. I became vain, I became petty, and worst of all, I became a bad mother. Of course, all of this is crystal clear after the fact. There’s nothing like hindsight to make you realize every single one of your flaws when it is far too late to fix them. Kelly grew up with children who had this social Darwinism bred into them unconsciously, and it made him miserable. Kelly was an emotional child. He had wild mood swings, was always on the verge of crying, whether it be from rage or sorrow. He walked around the house on eggshells because we had instilled such a value on the things we had purchased that he felt terrified he would accidentally break something. William pushed him into football because he thought the sport would somehow toughen him up. Again, I did nothing because I was too busy flirting with the woman I saw in the mirror and trying to find ways to make her more popular.