Three minutes into his now-habitual journey to school, he passed by a house with a familiar blue door. Devon was standing by his mother and her car, bouncing from foot to foot in order to warm himself. Jonathan was too busy hiding his face from the cold to notice them, but Devon didn't miss out on seeing Jonathan.
“Jon!” Devon exclaimed, running to his friend. Jonathan looked up and stopped.“What are you doing?”
“Walking to school,” Jonathan innocently replied, and he shrugged back into the warmth of his jacket.
Devon scrunched up his nose and asked, “Why?”
“Devon, are you coming?” his mother called. Devon waved his hand without looking back, and she sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Because my mum won't drive anywhere anymore.”
“Oh.” Devon spun around and called to his mother, “Mum, I'm walking with Jon!” She looked at him like he was crazy, but just shrugged and got into the car without saying anything. When he spun back to Jonathan, he also looked at Devon like he was crazy. “What?”
“Nothing,” Jonathan answered. He nodded in the direction that he'd been walking and said, “Let's get going then.”
They began to move their feet, and the sidewalk whirled by beneath them, silently and without even a speck of protest. A few minutes along the way, an icy chill ran it's way down Devon's back, and he twitched and groaned, “It's so cold.”
“Yeah, it is. But you didn't have to walk with me, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” Devon sassed, mimicking Jonathan's hiding-in-my-jacket appearance, “I just thought I'd walk with you because we haven't hung out in ages.”
“Well, you've been grounded for so long,” Jonathan defended. “I never even see you outside of school.”
“I'm not grounded anymore. And I went to your house yesterday, but you weren't there.”
“Seriously? When?”
“A bit after school,” Devon answered. “I was at home, but Kirsten was giving me a hard time about... something or other. I went to your house to see you, but no one answered.”
“Oh, right. I was walking around town,” Jonathan lied, and quickly coughed, though he realized it was a bit conspicuous. Devon hadn't noticed it, fortunately; he appeared to be deep in thought. “So, you guys had, like, a fight or something?”
“Huh? Oh, well, it wasn't so much of a fight, she was just getting on my nerves.” Devon took a deep breath, but he could still feel something building inside of him. “She does that a lot, though, and sometimes I just wanna...”
Devon visibly clenched his jaw, which provoked Jonathan to ask, “Devon, is there something, like, really bothering you? Do you want to talk...?”
“No, I'm fine,” Devon replied, but a fierceness was large in his tone.
“All right. It's just that yesterday I talked to Kirsten, and she-”
“Yeah, well, Kirsten's pretty stupid sometimes,” Devon snapped, and Jonathan looked at him with a great amount of fear shooting through his eyes. “It doesn't take a genius not to get pregnant.”
Jonathan wasn't sure how to respond to Devon's rashness, and Devon was too riled up to say anything else, so the pair walked the rest of the stretch in silence. By the time they got to the school, the only boys still outside were in a group gathered by the door. Jonathan watched them, but as he walked by, Chris kept his head down. He wasn't even talking to any of the other boys. They were talking to him, but it was obvious that he wasn't fully there.
In the few hours that passed between the time they split to go to homeroom and the time they met up for lunch, Devon had not seemed to calm down too much, or so Jonathan thought. Even as he stuck his fork into the mashed potatoes on his tray, Devon's anger was quite apparent.
“Mashed potatoes aren't alive, you know. You can't kill them,” Jonathan said in an attempt to lighten the mood. He should have known that it wouldn't work.
Devon shot him a nasty look and said, “You want me to talk? Fine. How about the fact that I'm not grounded, but my parents still won't let me do anything, thanks to Kirsten? Does that seem fair to you?”
“Devon, I was kidding, you don't have to get-”
“I mean, she's the one who went and got herself pregnant, I don't see why I should be punished for it.” Devon stabbed his fork into the mountain of mashed potatoes, nearly splattering them all over the place. He glared at the food, then decided he no longer wanted it. He quickly scanned the cafeteria scattered with boys, some walking, some sitting, and muttered, “I'll be back.”
Devon stood up, carrying his tray, and began to walk away when a spaced-out Chris bumped into him and exclaimed, “Oh!” Devon didn't have such a great hold on the tray, so the bump from Chris sent it crashing to the ground.
As Chris backed away, Devon spat at him, “Watch where you're going next time.” Chris nodded.
“Of course. Excuse m-” Chris tried to walk around Devon, but was stopped by the presence of Devon's hand on his chest.
“Of course? You think you're better than me, don't you? You think you're better than everyone.” Chris stared at him, wondering what the hell was going on, and Devon just kept getting threateningly closer. “But I'll bet you've made more mistakes than anyone else in this room.”
“I-I, uh...”
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” Devon sneered.
Chris tried to back away, and was helped with a shove from Devon. As Chris regained his composure, he said, “Listen, Devon, I told you how I feel about... what I did.”
“What, that you regret it? A lot of good that does.”
“It's not like I wanted any of this to happen! I didn't even want to...” Chris looked like he was going to throw up- or cry- but Devon didn't pay it any attention. The confession that Chris was never even interested in Kirsten pissed Devon off so much that he grabbed Chris's wrist, squeezing it with so much effort that Chris gasped in pain.
Through teeth clenched in fury, Devon gritted, “If you didn't want to, then why did you do it?”
Chris started to panic, and he was heaving breaths as he said, “Your- your sister's very convincing.” Devon wasn't pleased with this answer, so he twisted his arm, slowly bending Chris's wrist back with it. Chris whimpered, but didn't fight back; he was honestly too afraid. Someone decided to fight, though, and Devon felt a hand fiercely smack his arm for attention.
“Devon, stop it! He didn't do anything to you, he didn't hit you or anything. Have some control over yourself!” Jonathan yelled. Devon shot him a look and flared his nostrils.
“Control?! You wanna see control?” Devon raised his free hand, left it in the air for a fraction of a second. Jonathan blinked, and the next thing he knew Devon's hand was back at his side once more, the back of his hand fresh with the red of collision. Jonathan turned his head. A giant blotch of red seeped and colored Chris's cheek.
“DEVON!” Jonathan bellowed, forcefully pushing Devon backwards and releasing his hold on Chris. Devon retaliated by throwing his fist into Jonathan's face.
Then everything slowed down. Jonathan's vision blurred; Devon had hit him mostly in the eye. Devon stood frozen, stunned by his own aggressiveness. He looked down at his hands, breath shaking, then looked back up at Jonathan.
“Jon,” he said as an authoritative hand grabbed his shoulder, and just before Jonathan passed out, he cried, “I need help.”
*
When he came to, Jonathan opened his eyes to a view of the ceiling of the nurse's office. He was laying on some sort of cot, and it soon became apparent that only one of his eyes was open. The other was being smothered by an extremely cold ice pack. He grabbed the pack with his hand and sat up.
He must not have been out for very long, because sitting in a chair by the door was Chris. The nurse seemed to be in some other room, and Chris was waiting patiently for her return. He'd only been slapped, so surely the nurse wouldn't keep him in there for an extended period of time.
Chris was staring down at the floor, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the armrest of the chair. That's when Jonathan noticed a dark gray wrist wrap around Chris's wrist. He'd forgotten about Chris's wrist, but judging by the wrap, it was probably sprained. So, maybe he actually had been there for a while.
Chris sighed and slowly began to look around the room. When his eyes caught sight of Jonathan, a bright grin stretched from one ear to the other. He looked as though he was about to say something, when suddenly the door opened and the nurse walked in.
“All right, Christopher, you may leave now,” she said as she walked over to her desk, a mess of paperwork in her hand. She grabbed a pen and marked something on the top sheet, and Chris held his hand to his heart before he left. The nurse quickly glided over to Jonathan as the door shut, and she demanded that he lower the ice pack so she could get a good look. “Yeah, you're gonna have a nasty bruise.”
“Great,” Jonathan lamented. The nurse raised one eyebrow in return, as if to say that that was just the way things were.
“Keep that ice pack on for an hour or so. You can go back to class, but I'd like for you to stop by again before you leave school today.”
Jonathan nodded, and within a minute or so he was out the door and into the empty hallway. He realized how weird he must look holding an ice pack up to his eye, but it wasn't like there was anything he could do about it. He'd probably look weirder with a black eye, anyway.
News spread like wildfire in that school, and it seemed like everyone had heard about the fight even before it was over. Not that it was much of a fight, anyway, but even the tiniest bit of drama was wondrous to the boys whose lives were otherwise astonishingly empty and plain.
It seemed like everyone had chosen Jonathan to be the hero, because even though he was the one who ended up being injured the most, Devon was just totally out of his mind, and Chris hadn't put up a fight at all. And so, for one tiny bit of a day, Jonathan's name was all around the school. People actually knew who he was. Even though they hadn't known what he looked like before- now he was easily distinguishable by the black eye- almost every boy acknowledged him as he walked out of the school. It was as if he was some sort of celebrity to them. He couldn't say that he particularly liked the attention.
Penny was in the kitchen when Jonathan arrived home, much to his surprise. She was simply sitting at the table, staring across the room, but Jonathan was sure it was the first time he had seen her in days. She looked up at him as he walked in, and immediately stood up as she saw his bruised face.
“What happened?” she quietly asked.
“It's a long story,” Jonathan answered. “And I kinda don't feel like talking about it. I think I'm just gonna go lay down, if that's all right.”
“Yeah, that's fine,” she said. Her voice was so soft and sad, a sort of grief lingering behind every word she spoke, but there was also a very maternal light shining through her tone. “Just tell me if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” Jonathan left his mother in the kitchen and slugged his way up to his room. He collapsed on his bed as quickly as he could, and laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling as he always did.
He didn't have anything to think about, though. It was as if he'd thought about everything so much over the past few weeks that his brain was just empty now. That, or maybe Devon's punch affected him more than he thought. The only thing he could think about was how badly his eye hurt. The pain was pretty much screaming at him, flamboyantly flailing its arms around, so it wasn't as though he could really ignore it. The pain was so boring, though, to think about, and so he found himself drifting off.
After his nap, which was long enough for the sun to turn everything a pinkish orange, he shifted a little in his bed, but not much. By the time he was done shifting, he'd only moved his head maybe about an inch across the pillow. His ears steadily tuned into the world around him, and he could hear his mother's voice speaking gently from downstairs. A minute or so later, footsteps were approaching, but Jonathan remained exactly where he was.
“Jon?” Devon was at the door, and he looked pretty calm, but Jonathan couldn't be entirely sure. He cautiously stepped into the room, after a welcoming grunt from Jonathan, and lamented the sight of his best friend. “How's your eye?”
Jonathan sat up. His eye, while only a bit swollen, was completely purple. And it hurt like hell. “How does it look?”
“I'm really sorry for flipping out on you like that,” Devon said. Jonathan sighed, and moved his legs so Devon could sit down. Devon did so, a horrible guilt rising in him all the while. “They're sending me away, you know.”
“Who's sending you? And where?”
“My parents. I'm not sure where exactly, but it's some... mental institution.” Devon stared with a maniacal glare in his eyes, then he started to laugh. “Jon, I'm crazy.” He looked to Jonathan, and his smile began to fade. Jonathan's head was down, disheartened by this news.
“You're my only real friend, you know that?” Jonathan quietly said.
“You're my best friend. Certainly the last person I would ever want to hurt, 'cause you're really nice, and you don't deserve it. But...” Devon sighed, “Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“Why were you so defensive?” Jonathan looked up at Devon. The answer was simple, but he didn't know if he should say it. Devon was his best friend, and he wasn't going to be around for much longer, so trust wasn't an issue. But he wasn't sure how Devon would react. “Because, I mean, it's not like you and Chris are even friends, right? I know I was acting really, really horrible, but I didn't think that you'd stand up to me like that, especially since I wasn't hurting you.”
“Devon, Chris...” Jonathan paused for a while, and chuckled at his inability to speak. “I don't know how to say this.”
“You're-you're not... right?” Devon asked, his voice a slight mixture of concern and confusion. Jonathan shook his head, and for a second or two Devon relaxed a bit.
“No, I'm not, but... well, Chris and I are sort of together.” Devon didn't respond, didn't even change his facial expression. In fact, his entire visage was just blank. Even his eyes had lost their lunacy. Jonathan wasn't sure what to make of this; Devon's lack of expression, while it may have seemed better than Devon going off the wall again, did not necessarily mean that he was handling it well.
“How long?” Devon croaked after what seemed like hours, though it had really only been a minute or two. Jonathan released the breath he'd been holding, glad that at least Devon was staying calm.
“A few months.”
“Months?!” Devon shrieked, but Jonathan noticed that his face had changed to something resembling concern. “So, you mean that when he and Kirsten... you two...?”
“Yeah,” Jonathan muttered.
“And I hit him.” Devon's eyes were scanning the air in front of him, invisible memories haunting his vision. “The first time... I could have killed him... Jon!” He forcefully grabbed Jonathan's shoulders, but he didn't mean any harm. “If I had known... I'm sorry.”
“Yeah, but I didn't want you to know, I didn't want anyone to know, so don't worry about it too much.” Devon stared for a few moments, then his face light up with realization.
“You stopped me,” he smiled, pointing at Jonathan. “You were trying to save him from me. That's sweet.” Jonathan laughed.
“You're taking this a lot better than I thought you would have,” Jonathan said. “Maybe you are crazy.”
“Oh, I'm definitely crazy. But I think that's a good thing, because I don't know how I'd have dealt with this before.” Devon frowned at the thought of his possible alternative behavior. “Am I the only one who knows?”
“I hope so, because I haven't told anyone else,” Jonathan replied.
“Cool. Well... I guess it's time for me to go home.” Devon stood up, and Jonathan soon followed. “And pack for the crazy house.”
“Good luck, man,” Jonathan muttered.
“I don't know when the next time I see you will be,” Devon said. He winced again at Jonathan's bruised face, and Jonathan hugged him. “Thank you for telling me. And your secret's safe with me. Not like I have anyone to tell, anyway.”
“Don't be gone long, yeah?” Jonathan said, patting Devon's back as he let go.
“Definitely. I mean, this place sucks as it is, but I can't imagine that wherever I'm going will be much better.” Devon sighed, “I'll miss you, Jon.”
“I'll miss you, too...Dev.” Devon chuckled and raised his hand in farewell.
“See ya.” Jonathan returned the hand motion, and sat back down on his bed as Devon disappeared. The sun was slipping away more and more by the minute, and Jonathan knew he should probably go downstairs for dinner, but he was still tired. So, he laid back down and closed his eyes, and he realized something: for the first time since his father died, something had changed. Quite a big change, too, since now Jonathan was practically friendless. Sure, there were still all those other kids he sometimes talked to in school, but he didn't like any of them, which he was assured of by the time he had to spend with them while Devon was suspended.
Steve and Crack were always quarreling, even if it was only in jest, Tom was always talking about things no one cared about, Spencer was still collecting stuff, and Matt was always making fun of everyone. He'd lean over to Jonathan and point to some random boy walking by, say something really nasty about him, and Jonathan would give a fake laugh like he was paying Matt any attention. In actuality, he was just silently praying for the day to end. Or for something really heavy to fall on them, so he wouldn't have to deal with them anymore. Of course, he realized that was pretty cruel, so eventually he settled for the day ending.
Then the day would end, and he'd be happy until he realized that he'd have to go back again the next day. Seeing Chris after school helped, though as of late Chris seemed rather out of it. He was always staring off, thinking, but when he actually was focused on Jonathan, he was always smiling like mad. It was almost confusing, this weird mixture of actions, but Jonathan figured that if something really was wrong, Chris would talk to him about it.
Jonathan couldn't sleep. He stared up at the ceiling and clasped his hands on his stomach. The ceiling tiles were the same, but soon nothing else would be. Something had actually changed, and Jonathan knew there would be some sort of domino effect. It was only a matter of time.
As the last remnants of daylight dawdled in the air, Penny called up to Jonathan for dinner. Hesitantly, he got out of bed and walked downstairs. At least he was still alive. Not all change is bad.
