Lost in Clover Page 8

  A rift had been developing between Jeremy and Gary since the trial. People had been laid off at the power company, and though Gary had kept his job, he worked more hours with a pay cut. When he came home, Gail would gripe about Jeremy’s low grades and lack of motivation. He and Jeremy had a few talks that revolved around moving forward. “The trial is over. They never called on you to testify. Consider yourself lucky and move on.” Jeremy always nodded, saying he would.

  “You got to buck up, kid. Get back up on that horse again,” Sam said, bringing Jeremy back to the present.

  “My name is Jeremy,” he said, feeling blood rise to his cheeks.

  “Okay, Jeremy, even if it isn’t athletics, look into doing other things, like me. I got injured, but I’m still making the most of my college scholarship, you know. I’m vice president of the University Business Club and I’m in a bunch of other organizations. You should look into groups like Future Business Leaders of America or the Debate Club.”

  “Oh, Sam,” Jeremy’s mother said. “Jeremy ain’t the academic kind. His grades have gotten to be something awful.”

  “I’d like to see Jeremy in drama. Can you see him quoting Shakespeare?” Jessica said, laughing.

  “How about chess club?” his mother added before ripping into a snort of laughter.

  Jeremy brought up a brave, singular smile. Let the laughs rain down, he thought, I can take it.

  *

  Jeremy tossed in bed, mulling things over in his mind. Was he a loser? He definitely wasn’t a “winner,” but then again he knew many others who were a lot worse off living in trailer parks, or those who were plain dead. He had survived by some weird combination of good luck and intuition. If that intuition didn’t care whether or not he went to college or had high grades, who was to say he wasn’t on the right track? Or maybe, he thought as he plunged into the darkness of his mind, he had used up his last good luck pass and was existing on borrowed time until a comet or a plane would smack him down. Lord knew he deserved it.

  26. MR. SIMS

  Jeremy’s downward academic trajectory continued through his junior year. In the winter he was pulled from history class to the counseling office. Mr. Mark Sims, a thin bald man who wore colors of dirt and prairie, sat behind a metal desk. On top of his desk he had a manila folder open with what looked like grades, and behind him was a wall full of certificates and degrees. Jeremy read one that said Students with Special Needs Training Certificate of Completion.

  “Jeremy, I called you in to make sure that everything is going okay.”

  Jeremy looked around and nodded. “Sure, everything is fine.”

  “Jeremy, you know your grades are suffering. I looked back at your files and, while you weren’t a straight A student, you had a high B average. Of course, that was before last year and this year.” He had a concerned expression that looked like pain. Jeremy tried to smile back. “I also looked at your past yearbook pictures and it seems to me you’ve been putting on a few pounds over the years. Not that that is necessarily a bad thing, but it could be a sign of something else. So let me ask you, Jeremy, is there anything you want to talk about?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Not really? Does that mean there is something?” He said in a soft voice full of so much sensitivity that Jeremy felt creeped out.

  “Nothing at all. Absolutely.” Jeremy tried to look Mr. Sims in the eyes, but he couldn’t hold his stare.

  “I noticed that you didn’t seek counseling after the murders a couple of years ago. Not that we had many come, but there were a few and the counseling was confidential. For those who did come…it helped them to cope with the tragedy that affected us all.” He paused for a long moment. “Jeremy, would you like to talk about the murders?”

  “Seriously, I’m fine Mr. Sims. Maybe a little distracted, but…” Jeremy felt his face turn red.

  “Distracted by what, Jeremy?” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles.

  Jeremy wanted to run out of the office. Was he sweating? He felt like it.

  “You know, life and…stuff.”

  “I don’t know, Jeremy. Please explain.”

  “I can’t explain. It’s nothing. I just want to go back to my class so my grades don’t get any worse.” Jeremy felt stupid for letting his voice rise.

  Mr. Sims looked at Jeremy for several uncomfortably long seconds, not moving or saying anything. Jeremy squirmed. What was he expecting him to do? What was he trying to find? There was no way that he would know that he gave the directions to Crazy Eddie’s house. No freaking way. Even if Randy remembered, he wouldn’t have told this counselor.

  “I feel… I almost want to say I know, but that would be presumptive, wouldn’t it? I believe you are holding something back, something that is eating at you, and I want you to know that you can talk about it with me. You have complete confidentiality here.”

  Jeremy smiled with a skeptical upturned lip. He knew better than that and emphasized the point with crossed arms.

  “Well okay, almost complete confidentiality. If you plan to harm anybody or yourself or commit criminal actions, I have to report it. It’s the law, but what I’m saying is that it is not healthy to hold on to things. I’d like you to talk to me if you could. I’ve been trained in handling student interactions and have a master’s degree in counseling, but if you’d like to talk to somebody else I can have that arranged, or if you could talk to somebody at your church or some other place, that is better than holding it in. Trust me. You hold something inside too long it will tear you apart and sap your energy away. You don’t want that. Nobody does.”

  Jeremy nodded. It made sense, but Mr. Sims was wrong. He could hold it in longer. Much longer. He was strong enough. Nobody needed to know, because nobody knew anything about it anyway. The directions Jeremy gave were known only to him and somewhere in Randy’s shrapnelled brain. Everything was fine. Perfectly fine.

  “I’m good, Mr. Sims, really.” He held a smile for as long as he could, hoping it looked sincere enough.

  27. KCCC

  Early into the school year the Kansas Community College program announced a new satellite campus in Clover. They broke ground days after buying the land. This caused a little bit of a celebration: Clover was big enough to have its own college. Although there were only two buildings and a parking lot, the campus sat on twenty acres and could expand. Instead of just ROTC recruiting on campus, representatives from KCC talked to high school classes, telling students who weren’t sure if college was right for them to try KCC.

  What Jeremy didn’t like about KCC planting a campus in town was that his mother, who had given up hope that he would go to college, now believed her son might get a degree. An associate degree was good enough.

  Jeremy maintained C minus scores, either because there were always a few imbeciles in every class or teachers liked him enough so that he barely passed with a minimal amount of effort. Again he mowed lawns during the summer, but did fewer roofing jobs because there were other kids hungrier for work. He had made new “friends” playing World of Warcraft, Tour of Duty, and other online games where combinations of teams were necessary. Sometimes if he wasn’t too careful controlling his subconscious, he’d imagine that he and his team of players from around the globe were the Clover boys sneaking up on the Coopers’ house. Whether shooting Nazis or hacking up orcs with an axe, for a moment he’d think of Crazy Eddie and exact revenge on his ass.

  His senior year began with the same low grades. Jeremy was called into Mr. Sims’ office again.

  “Hello, Jeremy. How are you?”

  He shrugged. “Okay, you know.”

  “You know why you are here?”

  “Grades?”

  “Yes. They are quite low. You might be in danger of not graduating.”

  That was news to Jeremy. Sure he wasn’t trying, but were they that bad?

  “How are things at home?”

  “Fine. No problems.”

  “Hmmm.” Mr. Sims leaned
forward with wide eyes and an open expression. Jeremy felt the creepiness again.

  “I just want to graduate, you know,” Jeremy said, mumbling. “I don’t need a scholarship. I just want to get my diploma and move on.”

  “College?”

  “Don’t think so.”

  “What about KCC opening up?”

  “My mom wants me to go, so I may not have too much say about it.”

  “Any idea at all what you want to do for a career?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “I’ll look for work. I can do just about anything.”

  “But you won’t get hired to do many things unless you have a degree.”

  “Most of the things I don’t want to do require a degree.”

  “So you know what you don’t want to do, but do you have any idea what you want?”

  The first image that popped in Jeremy’s head was Carrie, but he threw it out. She’d made up with Zack over the summer, and they were going strong. He drew a blank.

  “Jeremy,” Mr. Sims said, bringing him out of his trance. “Is there anything at all that you want?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “No sir, I guess not.”

  “But you want to graduate?”

  “Yes, I do. I’d feel pretty stupid spending all my time here and not making it to the end.”

  “Well,” Mr. Sims said with a sigh. “At least you’ve got a goal.”

  “It seems I do.”

  28. PROM

  Jeremy managed to keep passing grades through his senior year. Then a wave of anxiety hit. It was a four-letter word: prom. He felt he could ask a couple of girls, but really didn’t want to. What he wanted to do more than anything else was to dig a hole, jump in, let prom happen, then crawl back out, graduate, and be done with all of it. Girls seemed to talk about it nonstop, and dudes discussed renting tuxes.

  “Who you asking? Cynthia or Lisa?” Erik asked Jeremy, with Graham hovering nearby.

  “Neither.”

  They both had smiles of relief. Jeremy understood: they wouldn’t have to fight over one girl now.

  “You aren’t going to ask Carrie out, are you?” Graham asked.

  “No, I just don’t want to go.”

  “You heard that Carrie broke up with Zack the other day?” Erik asked.

  Jeremy felt his throat catch. He hadn’t heard, but nodded as if he did.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “You guys have been close for years,” Graham said. “If I had a shot at Carrie, I’d take it.”

  “Me too,” Erik added enthusiastically.

  Jeremy smiled to himself. He didn’t want to go to prom. He didn’t deserve it. His goal had been to just graduate and get out. But if Carrie was available for the prom…

  He saw Carrie the next afternoon walking to her car. Not that he planned on seeing her, though he happened to park his Ranger next to her Buick. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her eyelids were heavy.

  “Hey, Carrie.”

  She looked up, startled for a second.

  “Hey, Jeremy,” she said with a smile of relief. “I’m heading home. I don’t really want to talk now.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, it’s…” then she shook her head. It wasn’t okay. She looked at him, biting her lip. “It’s stupid. Zack cheated on me, again. Right before prom. He says…” she bit her lip again. “He says he’s got to get some…some action because if I don’t give him any, he can’t help himself. He says it’s a male thing. Is that true?”

  Jeremy’s mouth dropped open. It was true he had urges, strong urges he tried his best to ignore and often took care of in the shower. But he also knew that deep in his heart that he would wait and be the absolute most chaste monk in the world rather than pressure Carrie.

  She put her hand on his chest. He stiffened.

  “I don’t mean to put you on the spot talking about personal issues. I guess I needed to vent a little, you know. You’re a good friend, Jeremy. You really are.” She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  As Carrie drove away, Jeremy stood unmoved, realizing he was tomato red. Why hadn’t he said anything to her? What about prom? Had she made a decision based on his silence and blushing? What was it?

  *

  Carrie and Zack were back as a couple the next day, and it seemed that Zack had an extra swagger in his step. Jeremy made sure Zack wasn’t around before he stood at a urinal. Even though Jeremy knew, he didn’t want to know. The couples’ names were on the ballot for prom king and queen, and they were expected to win. Jeremy made his intentions known loud and clear to anybody who asked: he was not going to prom.

  29. PROM NIGHT

  The week of prom, Jeremy fell into a depression. The hysteria, the immaturity, the emphasis on one temporary event that was supposed to define the time of your life seemed so incredibly stupid. It took extraordinary effort to get out of bed, and on Saturday he stayed under the covers, barely able to move. He turned off his phone and unplugged his computer. That evening, Jeremy had supper in bed, and when his parents had settled into a movie on TV, he snuck out the back door.

  He had a destination in mind, though he wouldn’t name it. He didn’t want to attract his parents’ attention by starting up his truck so he walked, one foot in front of the other, for almost two miles. The hike relieved some of the tension that had been compounding all week and it felt good to let his mind wander in the fresh air.

  Jeremy, out of breath, opened the creaking gate and then ambled over to Kevin’s grave first. It was no longer fresh, blending into the lawn perfectly. Trevor’s was nearby and all the other boys were in the yard, except one buried in a family plot up in Nebraska. Jeremy didn’t know what to do now that he was there, but it was where he needed to be. He was sure of it.

  He sat leaning against the back of a gravestone looking at Kevin’s.

  “I should have brought you some beer, huh?” he said to the stone and then chuckled. “And a can of Skoal.”

  Talking to gravestones and the decaying bodies below on prom night. Is this what your life has come to? He shook his head, wishing he had some kind of alcohol. It seemed right. Would a sober person walk two miles to talk to stones and bones? And why would he drink? Would it help him forget what happened by destroying those pesky brain cells that clung onto the horrid details of that night? Or would drinking help to bring him back to those primal emotions? To go back to when the shit hit the fan and relive the moment, but without the filters of the mind that intentionally block negative self-evaluations? Drink up and let the booze dissolve those filters so you can see what a human turd you really are.

  Jeremy laughed out loud. These were the deepest thoughts he’d ever had and nobody was around to witness it. Maybe the long walk pushed blood to his usually dormant brain. He laughed some more. It felt good.

  He heard thumping in the distance and realized it came from the old gym, location of the prom. He closed his eyes and listened to the far-off music. It was a cycle of mass appeal: country, followed by a pop song, then a classic rock song, and back to country. He hummed to a few of them and for a while stopped thinking. It was pleasant until he imagined his classmates dancing, singing, and having the requisite “time of their lives.” Then he thought about Carrie and then the dead boys. Two failures.

  Jeremy bundled up in his jacket as the night wore on and beads of dew rose from the ground. He felt he should go home, but after hearing the sounds of tires squealing, he decided to wait. No need to endure the humiliation of being seen walking alone on the road. But the hike ended up not being an option when a police cruiser drove through the graveyard shining its high beam searchlight.

  The white light cast long shadows from the gravestones that Jeremy tried to hide in. Then the sheriff heaved himself out of his cruiser and walked through the yard with a foot long MagLight. Moments later he found Jeremy.

  “Whatcha doin’, son?”

  Jeremy looked straight into the beam of light, barely able to discern the o
utline of the wide man holding it. Blocking the light with his hand he tried to grasp onto words.

  “I…uh…just sitting…”

  “Sitting and what?”

  “What?”

  “You’re sitting and doing what in this graveyard in the middle of the night?”

  “Thinking, sir.”

  “Stand up, son. Now.”

  Jeremy did. He had a slight shake. He wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or if he was a tad bit frightened. He didn’t feel scared, just caught and embarrassed.

  The officer shone a light in his eyes.

  “How much you been drinking?”

  “None at all.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “I’ll breathe into a machine…if you want.”

  “Touch your nose with your right index finger. Slowly.”

  Jeremy did as he had seen on television.

  “Do you want me to do my left, sir?”

  “No, you’re sober. You mind telling me what you’re doing out here? Nobody suppose to be here after sundown. Often have teenagers, usually younger than yourself, come out here and cause trouble.”

  “No, just thinking.”

  “I can write you up a citation for trespassing. Just tell me why you’re here.”

  Jeremy looked down at the ground and then towards Kevin’s grave. Why was he here?

  “I didn’t want to stay at home, didn’t want to go to the prom either.”

  “Are you feeling suicidal?”

  “What? No. Just started walking and ended up here.”

  “Did you know the boys that were massacred?”

  Jeremy nodded and took a few moments to compose his words. “Worked for a while with Kevin Diamond and his dad. They went to our church and all. I talked to him and that whole group of guys the night they got shot up.” Jeremy was surprised he let that out.

  “You couldn’t have been with them when it happened.”

  Jeremy felt the blood drain out of his face, but told himself to breathe before answering. He had to be careful. He shook his head.