May 8, 1992
Dear friend,
It's strange how things can change back as suddenly as they changed
originally. When one thing happens and suddenly, things are back to normal.
On Monday, Brad came back to school.
He looked very different. It wasn't that he was bruised or anything.
His face actually looked fine. But before, Brad was always this guy who walked
down the hallway with a bounce. I can't really describe it any other way. It's just that some
people walk with their heads to the ground for some reason. They don't like to
look other people in the eye. Brad was never like that.
But now he is. Especially when it comes to Patrick. I saw
them talking quiet in the hallway. I was too far away to hear what they said,
but I could tell that Brad was ignoring Patrick. And when Patrick started to
get upset, Brad just closed his locker and walked away. It wasn't that strange
because Brad and Patrick never talked in school since Brad wanted things to be secret.
The strange part was that Patrick would walk up to Brad in the first place. So,
I guessed that they didn't meet on the golf courses anymore. Or talk on the
phone even.
Later that afternoon, I was having a cigarette outside by myself,
and I saw Patrick alone, also having a cigarette. I wasn't close enough to
really see him, but I didn't want to interfere with his personal time, so I didn't walk up to him. But Patrick
was crying. He was crying pretty hard. After that, whenever I saw him around
anywhere, he didn't look like he was there. He looked like he was someplace else. And I think I knew that because
that's how people used to say I was. Maybe they still do. I'm not sure.
On Thursday, something really terrible happened.
I was sitting alone in the cafeteria, eating salisbury
steak, when I saw Patrick walk up to Brad, who was sitting with his football
buddies, and I saw Brad ignore him like he did at the locker. And I saw Patrick get really upset, but Brad still
ignored him. Then, I saw Patrick say something, and he looked pretty angry as
he turned to walk away. Brad sat still for a second, then he turned around. And
then I heard it. It was just loud enough for a few tables to hear. The thing
that Brad yelled at Patrick.
"Faggot!"
Brad's football buddies start laughing. A few tables got
quiet as Patrick turned around. He was mad as hell. I'm not kidding. He stormed
up to Brad's table and said,
"What did you call me?"
God, he was mad. I'd never seen Patrick like that before. Brad
sat quiet for a second, but his buddies kept egging him on by pushing his
shoulders. Brad looked up at Patrick and said
softer and meaner than the last time, "I called you a
faggot."
Brad's buddies started laughing even harder. That is, until Patrick
threw the first punch. It's kind of eerie when a whole room gets quiet at once,
and then the real noise starts. The fight was hard. A lot harder than the one I
had with Sean last year. There was no clean punching or things you see in movies.
They just wrestled and hit. And whoever was the most aggressive or the most
angry got in the most hits. In this case, it was pretty even until Brad's
buddies got involved, and it became five on one.
That's when I got involved. I just couldn't watch them hurt Patrick
even if things weren't clear just yet. I think anyone who knew me might have
been frightened or confused. Except maybe my brother. He taught me what to do
in these situations. I don't really want to go into detail except to say that
by the end of it, Brad and two of his buddies stopped fighting and just stared
at me. His other two friends were lying on the ground. One was clutching the
knee I bashed in with one of those metal cafeteria chairs. The other one was
holding his face. I kind of swiped at his eyes, but not too bad. I didn't want to
be too bad.
I looked down at the ground, and I saw Patrick. His face was
pretty messed up, and he was crying hard. I helped him to his feet, and then I
looked at Brad. I don't think we'd ever really exchanged two words before, but I guess this was the time to
start. All I said was,
"If you ever do this again, I'll tell everyone. And if
that doesn't work, I'll blind you."
I pointed at his friend who was holding his face, and I knew
Brad heard me and knew that I meant it. He didn't say anything back, though,
because the security guards of our school came to bring all of us out of the
cafeteria. They took us first to the nurse, and then to Mr. Small. Patrick
started the fight, so he was suspended for a week. Brad's buddies got three
days each for ganging up on Patrick after they broke up the original fight.
Brad wasn't suspended at all because it was self-defense. I didn't get suspended
either because I was just helping to defend a friend when it was five on one.
Brad and I got a month's detention, starting that day.
In detention, Mr. Harris didn't set up any rules. He just
let us read or do homework or talk. It really isn't much of a punishment unless
you like the television programs right after school or are very concerned with
your permanent record. I wonder if it's all a lie. A permanent record, I mean.
On that first day of detention, Brad came to sit next to me.
He looked very sad. I think it all kind of hit him after he stopped feeling
numb from the fight.
"Charlie?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. Thanks for stopping them."
"You're welcome."
And that was it.
