Three Sides to a Story

Mark opened his eyes and hoped his father was no longer in his room. He heard him down the hall hitting his mother now as he wiped away the tears from his cheeks. The clock read 5:30 it dads usually anger before work. He pulled the covers over his head and waited for the sound of his dad’s car pulling out of the garage before he got up to get ready for school.

He walked out into the kitchen, his mom sat at the table her face cupped in her hands. He loved his mother, but despised her at the same time. Why couldn’t she just take them away from this? He grabbed his lunch and left without saying a word.

He got hit at home and picked on at school, but she just sits there and lets it happen.

The sun was hot as he walked to school and the extra weight in his backpack caused him to sweat. Mark paused and placed the backpack on the ground and took his windbreaker off and shoved it into the backpack He slung the backpack back over his shoulder and carried on with his walk.

He stopped at the top of a hill that overlooked the school and stared down at the line of buses and minivans as they dropped off his classmates. He thought about turning around and not going to school. He thought about running away from home: running from his tormentors.

He continued on his path.

Mark walked into homeroom and saw Jared who stood there laughing and laughing probably at another student’s expense. Jared laughed at him daily and knew the torment to well. Just watching the lanky bully laugh angered Mark.

He put his backpack down on a desk and removed his jacket and put it back on, the air conditioning cooled him from the heat outside. His sweat began to give his body chills. He dug his right hand back into the black Jansport pulling out a silver handgun he took from his father. As usual no one noticed him. He was nearly invisible unless he was subjected to some type of torment.

A shot rang out.

                A woman gently stepped through the dark past mounds of clothes and matchbox cars. She reached down and shook awake her son.

                “You have to get ready for school, sweetie.” Jared rubbed his eyes, and sat up. His mother smiled at him, “Come on honey.” Jared looked over at the dark alarm clock on his night stand.

                “What time is it Ma?”

                “Time for you to get up. I need to go to work so ill leave your lunch card on the counter. Love you darling.” She kissed his forehead walked out of the room. Jared sat up in the darkness of his room. He knew at this point when the lights were out his dad bailed on the child support payment. He wouldn’t be able to shower, or even have clean clothes to wear.

                His dad did this most of the time, so the lights were constantly off. He grabbed a pair of jeans from the pile on his floor and smelled them. They seemed ok so he put them on and then he picked up a extremely worn tee shirt and did the same.

                He walked into the kitchen. He grabbed some bread and slathered it with peanut butter. He sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the darkness, his sadness overwhelmed him this time every morning. He never let his mother see it he needed to be strong for her. He acted strong around other people, his exterior a brick wall that not even the big bad wolf would be able to blow down, but inside he was full of sadness and anger: only the anger ever spilled out while others were around.

                With a few bites Jared ate his breakfast and headed out to the bus and to school.

                He looked around at the kids with clean clothes, a full stomach, and two parents and his infamous anger began to well inside his heart. He saw one of his usual targets standing by the flagpole talking with a girl that Jared had interest in. He knew the girl would never feel the same about him: he was poor, un-athletic, and unintelligent while the kid she stood talking to was the opposite of him. So Jared’s instinct was to bully him relentlessly. He knew once they hit high school and this kid finally got his growth spurt he would lose one of his favorite targets, but he knew he always had Mark.

                He really wanted to be Mark’s friend he saw similarities between them, but he didn’t know how to make friends. So he joked with him, to others it seemed like he was bullying him the same as all the other kids, but Jared saw Mark as another loner and outcast someone who may understand him. He thought maybe one day he can explain himself to him.

                “You’re such a dick Jared.” The girl said to him after he bullied the smart rich basketball player. Her words hurt him, but he didn’t show any sign of it. Instead he smiled and headed to homeroom.

                “Morning Mr. Jenkins.” he said to the young teacher as he headed to his desk.

                “Hey there, Jared, come here for a moment.”

                Jared walked over to Mr. Jenkins desk, “Yeah?”

                “Your mother called, she asked that you stay a little later today. She got to work and said they asked her to work a double, so we will go over the last test and homework until she can get here, ok?”

                “Ok.” He didn’t want to stay at school any longer than he had to but it beat going home to a dark house and an empty refrigerator.

                “We’ll get some pizza again.”

                “Thanks Mr. Jenkins.” He forced a smile and walked back toward his desk, but was stopped by another student who pulled out a new comic book from his backpack and handed it to Jared.

                Jared opened it up and began to laugh at the newest issue of Deadpool.

                A loud bang echoed off the world maps and literature posters that dotted the walls. Jared felt a sharp pain in his side as he slumped forward across his classmate’s desk.

A second shot rang out.

                A sound of a grandfather clock ticked in the living room as Peter laid wide awake in bed and twitched with each tick of his wife's grandmother’s clock. He always hated it but had kept it for her. Even with her gone he struggled to let it go.

During the day it was a lovely reminder of her, but at night it tortured him with a reminder of her absence. He glanced at the clock, his alarm was about to go off and he would face another school day physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted.

He climbed out of bed and went into the kitchen. His coffee was done brewing. He grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured himself a cup. He carried it back into his bedroom and flicked on the light. He put the cup down on the nightstand and stared at the alarm clock. The time changed to 4:30 and the radio started blaring. Peter shut it off and sat down on the edge of his bed and sipped his coffee. Staring out the window wondering when his mind will finally let him sleep again.

The grandfather clock ticked away.

He stood up and dressed himself for another day at James Madison Middle School. He walked down the empty hall past the closed door of the unfinished nursery and into the living room.

He grabbed his keys off of a end table and paused for a moment to stare at a picture of him and his wife. She smiled back at him. He picked up another frame and stared at a ultrasound photo: his little boy who never got a chance to take his first breath.

Peter put the picture down, wiped away a tear and headed out the door.

He parked and headed into the building to room 203. He placed his stuff down and sat at his desk when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

"Hello?"

"Good morning Mr. Jenkins, its Mrs. Praga. I'm sorry to bother you so early I was hoping you can stay after with him again until I can come get him after work today."

"Of course, I will try and get him caught up on the homework he missed last week."

He said goodbye and hung up the phone. He looked out over the empty desks and hoped all of his effort with Jared wasn't going to waste. He tried to be the male role model the boy needed. He wondered what type of man his son would have grown up to be. He imagined summer nights like the car accident never happened, his lovely Mona tending to her garden while his son ran around the yard.

His thoughts were broken by his homeroom students as they filed through the door.  He called Jared over and explained his mother's phone call. Jared walked away and began laughing with another student over a comic. Peter began writing in his notebook when he heard a loud bang followed by screams of the students. He jumped out of his chair.

                As Peter ran toward Jared slumped over the desk a second shot rang out and ripped through the teacher’s chest and he dropped to the ground. Mark stared passed Jared who he wanted to hit with the second shot and saw as Mr. Jenkins struggled over toward him.

                Tears flowed from Mark’s eyes as he put the gun under his own chin.

                “Mark, no!” Mr. Jenkins shouted.

A third shot rang out