Jared Johnson’s eyes fly open as the beep, beep, beeping of his alarm clock rings in his ears like the sound of a jackhammer beating apart concrete at a construction site. His hand quickly flies over to the bedside stand and slams the snooze button. He moans as he closes his eyes again for a few moments. It is 7 o’clock in the morning and school starts in an hour and a half. His hands go to his face as he lies on his back, his pillow cradles his head. He rubs his cheeks and eyes for a few moments. His eyelids flutter as the sunlight comes in from his bedroom window. They fight to stay open. There’s no point in lying here, he says to himself as he rolls off the mattress and sits up. He plants his feet on the floor and cradles his head in his hands. He stands and stretches. His right arm scratches his six-packed, too skinny abdomen and then ventures to his boxer shorts briefly.
He opens the door to his room and ventures down the hallway, but the moment he arrives at the bathroom his alarm’s beep, beep, beeping starts again. His heart races in his chest as he pivots around and back into the bedroom. He taps the button to keep the alarm from sounding again and goes back to the bathroom.
He stands in front of the toilet and rids his bladder of its contents, after flushing, goes to the sink. He looks into the mirror at his reflection. His cheekbones are high and defined. His eyes are a deep, almost black coloring. His hair has been dyed to be an unnatural ebon. His eyelashes long, his lips are full, more-so on the bottom one than the top, and skin is pale, he is youthful, only 17. He is an only child whose parents don’t seem to pay him very much attention, that’s how he likes it.
Jared goes to the shower, turns it on, tests the temperature of the water, sheds his boxers, and steps in. He slides the curtain closed behind him. It touches his skin momentarily giving him a quick chill. The vinyl is cold against his flesh. He submerges and stands under the water for what seems to be hours. The warm water runs down the frame of his 6-foot, slender body and makes its way to the whirlpool at the drain. Jared lathers up, rinses off, stops the water, retrieves his towel from the rack, and gets out. After drying completely, he wraps the large, white towel around his scrawny waist and goes back to his room.
He rummages through his closet and gathers his clothing, setting it onto the unmade bed as he does. A black T with a white skull and crossbones on the front, black jeans with numerous pockets and chains running randomly, and his black boots. When he wore the jeans, he looks off in presentation due to the fact that he’s so skinny and the pants are ballooned at the legs to the feet. He puts everything on and returns to the bathroom. There is one more morning ritual he’s yet to complete. As he slides open the medicine cabinet with his black, fingernail polished fingers, he grabs the mascara and eyeliner. He then gets the lipstick. All of these things are black, just the way Jared likes things to be. After a well concentrated application, he admires himself in the mirror. The hair, he says to himself as he places a thick glob of gel into his palm. He rubs the chemical around on his hands and then goes to work on his hair. He grabs tufts at a time and forms them into spikes at the tip. Now he’s satisfied.
Jared feels better about himself today than he has in a very long time. Today is the day, he reminds himself happily. A quick smirk forms as he grabs the black backpack from the corner of his room and begins his short walk to the high school. He doesn’t pay much attention to any of the cars passing. Jared doesn’t have any friends and that’s the way he likes it. So, he’s told himself so many times that he’s begun to believe it. Birds chirp and sing from a tree near the sidewalk, he ignores the beauty of it. He watches the ground about forty-five degrees to his front and continues on his way. He’s made this trip so many times he could probably close his eyes and find his first classroom with ease. He rounds the sidewalk that arcs the flagpole and rounds to the front steps of the school. He ascends the staircase with his backpack slung over his right shoulder.
He opens the heavy, metal door and steps inside. The hallway is littered with students. The time is 8:20 a.m. The double-stacked, red metal lockers line the white hall. He walks calmly toward his locker which is located on the opposite end of the school. He passes the gymnasium which doubles as a cafeteria during lunch on his right, located on the interior of the school’s walls. He strides passed the library next. He glances into the narrow, vertical rectangular window as he steps.
A thick, muscular football player walks toward him. He goes the extra mile in crossing from the opposite side of the hallway as he sees Jared approaching. The jock’s shoulder smashes into the quiet boys and slams him into a set of lockers. The metal of the lockers combine with one of the pant’s chains loudly. The chain digs into Jared’s thigh for that lone second and then subsides. He knows there is redness on his shoulder and his upper leg, but he ignores the pain.
“Outta my way fag,” the jock says to him as he walks away laughing. A flushing heat tears at the gothic boy’s insides for a moment. This is an event that happens almost daily and, though it’s something one never gets used to, Jared has. He gathers up his composure as he pretends he is alone in the hall, hoping nobody has noticed his embarrassment. The hotness inside his body goes back to where it came from. He adjusts the pack on his shoulder and makes his way to his locker. He retrieves a couple of books for classes he didn’t have homework for the night prior and places them carefully inside the backpack according to class hour, first to last. He wasn’t sure when he was going to do it, it is better to be prepared. He closes his locker with a metallic crash and reports to his first subject of the day.
Mrs. Ford is rummaging through her desk as he enters the English Literature classroom. Her hideous, dark green sweater-vest hides the main body of the yellow blouse beneath. Her blonde hair is puffy and her glasses are thick. She is a woman in her late forties, but looks to be in her mid to late fifties. She retrieves the black, dry erase marker she’d apparently been searching for. With a look of eureka and self-accomplishment, she shoots an awkward smile at Jared. He returns the uncomfortable gesture. He passes the desks of three other students, his seat is next. The row he’s assigned to is closest to a row of windows that look out in the direction of his house just a couple of blocks away. He keeps his eyes fixed at the ground. The boy who sits behind him is the jock who’d locker-checked him a few minutes ago.
Jared rests his backpack against the wall on the floor next to his desk near the windows.
“What’s up faggot?” The locker-checker whispers from behind Jared. He ignores him still. Not much longer, Jared reminds himself in order to keep calm and to wait. He fishes his literature book, a notebook, and a pencil from his bag and places them neatly onto his desk. The aluminum framed desk he’s sitting at begins to resonate with a tapping. The vibration is annoying, but he knows that it’s the jock’s foot antagonistically knocking one of the desk’s metal legs with his boot. Not much longer, Jared, stay calm, stay calm, he reminds himself repeatedly as he breathes quietly so nobody notices his stress.
“How’s your boyfriend you little bitch?” The voice attacks from behind again. Chills flow down Jared’s spine. He’s not gay, but he seems to be the only one in the world who believes the fact. Tap, tap, tapping. His mother and father hardly talk to him. Tap, tap, tapping. He has no friends. He’s tried without success. Tap, tap, tapping. About two years ago, Jared fell into a place of solitude. He’s happy, but lonely. He comes to school every day and does everything that he’s supposed to do. Tap, tap, tapping. The bell rings, marking the beginning of the school day. Tap, tap, tapping. The guy sitting behind him has been picking on him for the last two years. Ever since he’d started playing on the varsity football team, he’s gained an undeserved sense of confidence. “F’ing faggot.” The voice invades his senses again. The tapping continues as the desk vibrates.
Mrs. Ford surveys the classroom as she marks those who aren’t sitting in their desks. Jared calmly unzips and reaches into the front pouch of his backpack. The silver glistens against the sun’s rays coming in from the window. He quickly jumps from his seat and points the pistol at the jock.
“I’m not gay you piece of crap!” Jared yells at the boy as the tip of the gun dangles before the boy’s eyes. The hole at the end becomes a double-vision blur as his eyes try not to involuntarily cross. “Even if I was, what difference does it make to you? It’s none of your damn business!” The classroom is silent and in shock. One of the girls on the other side of the narrow classroom had let out an initial gasp, but she stays in her seat in awe.
The jock’s eyes begin to well up with tears and his mouth is gapped open. The sound of flowing liquid sounds in the silence of the room as a yellow pool flows from the boy’s pants, to the seat, and to the tiled floor. He has nothing to say. There is no defense, this isn’t football. “I hope your god is more tolerant than I am.” Jared announces as he squeezes the trigger. The bullet flies directly into the jock’s skull and through the back, splattering the wall behind. His body slumps in its chair. The other children gasp and some begin to cry.
Mrs. Ford tries to go for the door, Jared notices as he spins around to face the front of the classroom. “Mrs. Ford, unless you’d like to join this guy, you might want to sit.” Jared makes the announcement calmly. She stops dead in her tracks, her outstretched arm, which had been reaching for the handle, lowers. She returns shakily to her desk and sits on the front of it. Jared maintains control of the room as he holds the gun to his side. “I don’t want to kill any of you. You all have ignored me, made fun of me, and talked about me behind my back. I forgive you.” His voice is calm and relaxed. “Now, forgive me.” The pistol quickly goes skyward and is placed under his chin. Jared pulls the trigger and falls to the floor.