—Hey, just to make you happy, I’m gonna take Rocketman, okay? Now go back to bed. I’m sorry I woke you up.
—G’nite, Andy.
—G’nite, Monty. And thanks.
A Letter of Remembered Joy
Andy’s Letter to Rob’s Parents
JANUARY 18
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Washington,
If I stood on my head and stripped butt-naked in the middle of Fountain Square, screamin “I’M SORRY!” as loud as I could, it still wouldn’t be enough. How can you tell the parents of your best friend that you’re sorry that you killed their son? There’s no words to cover something that awful. I know you must hate me. I wish there was some way I could’ve traded places with him, you know, like I should have died, and Rob should be okay. I dreamed about Rob a couple of nights ago. It made me start to thinking about stuff we used to do together. So, instead of writing, “I’m sorry about what happened” 6,000 times on a sheet of notebook paper (like the teachers used to make us do in elementary school when we were bad), I decided to write you this letter to help you remember the good stuff, instead of the bad. I hope this give you some comfort, and I hope one day you can start to forgive me.
These are my memories of Rob:
I REMEMBER—
Spending the night at your house, and staying up all night watching cable, eating the pizza that we ordered at 3:00 a.m.
—Going for ice cream after practice, even though you always said you weren’t going to stop, but you always did.
—Playing basketball with a rolled-up sock and a wastebasket in Rob’s bedroom, ignoring you and laughing when you said to cut out all that noise.
—Finishing off two extra-large boxes of frosted flakes with ease during those small after-school “snacks.”
—Riding in the backseat of your station wagon, all dressed up and nervous, the night me and Rob double-dated for the Freshman Dance, and you had to drive us because we didn’t have our licenses yet.
—Sitting in your backyard in the summer, eating Bar-B-Q, and listening to stories from Rob’s granpa about “down home.”
—Going to King’s Island with you on family discount day and riding The Beast 47 times in a row.
—Driving backward through the drive-through at McDonalds, and getting in trouble and having to call you, not for driving backward, but because we were so busy being silly, we forgot we didn’t have enough money to pay for the hamburgers.
—Getting chicken pox, both of us, in the eighth grade, and staying at your house for a week, because we couldn’t go to school.
—Eating spaghetti at your house on Saturday night and having “worm-slurping” contests to see who could suck the longest piece of spaghetti.
—Seeing you in the stands during all our basketball games, knowing that you’d always be there, and feeling good about that, even if we lost.
—Wishing that I could be a part of your family because you seemed to have something that my family didn’t.
These are some of the things I remember about you, your family, and Rob. I will always treasure those days, and I will never forgive myself for destroying something very special. I hope that someday you will be able to forgive me, but if not, I hope you will be able to remember without so much pain.
Yours,
Andy.
“Out, Out! Brief Candle!”
“Macbeth” Lesson
in English Class
JANUARY 21
—All right, class. We’ve almost finished our study of Macbeth. We’ve watched Macbeth change from a noble, trusted, dedicated soldier, willing to sacrifice his life for king and country, to a wretched, depraved, corrupt murderer who no longer has feelings of guilt or morality. It’s a fascinating study of the degeneration of the human spirit.
—Ms. Blackwell, does he die at the end?
—Well, Marcus, he’s just about dead inside already. He’s got one little spark left—his refusal to surrender to Macduff and the forces of good—but don’t you think his death is inevitable, Marcus?
—Yeah, he deserves to die—he killed his best friend, he killed women and children, he killed the king. Yeah, I’d say my man deserves to die.
—Okay, what about his wife? Does she deserve to die too? Mary Alice?
—Well, it was originally her idea. If it hadn’t been for her, Macbeth never would have killed the king in the first place. Women have that power over men, you know. Right, Keisha?
—Right on, girl. Now you’re talking!
—Ooh—You wish! You livin’ in “la-la land,” ladies!
—Okay, Gerald, that will be enough. Keisha and Mary Alice have a right to their opinions too, you know. But Lady Macbeth, who seemed so strong at the beginning of the play, had a rather rapid mental deterioration—remember she was walking and talking in her sleep and washing her hands uncontrollably? She finally cannot stand the pressure of the guilt, and she kills herself.
—Kills herself? What a wimp! I’m disappointed. I thought she was pretty cool for a while there.
—Sorry, Keisha. She takes the coward’s way out by committing suicide and leaves Macbeth to face the end alone. But you must remember that she was a murderer. I don’t think Shakespeare meant for her to be a hero. That’s where we’ll start today—where Macbeth learns of his wife’s death. Open to page 224—Act 5, Scene 5, line 16. Anthony, would you read, please?
The Queen, my Lord, is dead.
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
and then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
—Now let’s see what Shakespeare is talking about here. What is he saying about life? B.J.?
—He says, “Life is short, and then you die. And on top of that, life don’t really mean nothin’ anyway.” But I think the only reason that he was so depressed was because he had been the cause of so much death that he couldn’t find nothin’ else good about livin’.
—That’s a wonderful observation, B.J. See, Shakespeare isn’t so bad. You’re doing a great job of figuring out what’s going on. Andy, what do you think about these lines?…Andy…where are you going? What’s wrong? Someone go check on him, please. He seemed pretty upset. Keisha? Tyrone? Go out in the hall and make sure he’s all right.
—Okay, class. Let’s go on.
Baloney Sandwiches and
Bad Breath
Lunch, and a Visit
to the Counselor
FEBRUARY 4
—Hey, B.J. Whatsup? Whatcha got for lunch?
—Nothin’ much, Tyronio. Probably baloney again. I hate baloney sandwiches.
—Don’t you make your own lunch? My mama told me a long time ago, “Tyrone, if you want lunch, you better make it yourself, ‘cause I got more important things to do!”
—Naw, man. My mama loves me—she takes the time each mornin’ to make me a nutritious, delicious luncheon!
—Yeah, baloney sandwiches!!…Hey, Andy. Put your tray right here. You have to sit downwind of B.J. He’s got baloney and mustard again. Where’s Keisha?
—She went to the library to get a book for a report she’s got to do. She’ll be down in a minute. Tyrone, where’s Rhonda?
—She’s got a chemistry lab to finish. I do admire intelligent women. Say, Andy, remember when Rob was tryin’ to go with that exchange student from Hong Kong because she was so good in math? Remember how she—
—Hey! Leave Rob out of this. He’s dead, okay? I get sick and tired of you two always talkin’ ‘bout Rob! Like you try
in’ to bring him back or somethin’! What’re you tryin’ to do—make sure I don’t forget that I’m alive and he’s dead? Okay, you’ve made your point—he’s dead! He’s dead! He’s dead! He’s still dead! Do you hear me? I’m outta here.
—Man, I don’t know how to deal with this. It seems like he ought to be gettin’ better, but he’s gettin’ worse. I still have bad dreams ‘bout that night, but I’m learnin’ to live with it. Andy keeps freakin’ out.
—Yeah, B.J., I know where you comin’ from. Maybe we should talk to his parents or somethin’.
—Naw, man. That’s like talkin’ to this baloney sandwich. Wait a minute, I got an idea. Isn’t old lady Thorne always sayin’ stuff like we should come and talk to her in the counselor’s office if we ever have a problem?
—Yeah, but I can’t stand her.
—Me neither, but she’s got to know somebody who can give Andy some help. That’s her job, ain’t it?
—You’re right. Let’s get over there before the bell rings.
—I certainly am glad that you boys have come expressing your concern for your friend. What seems to be the problem?
—Well, Mrs. Thorne, Andy seems depressed all the time and gets mad at us for no reason. Sometimes he starts cryin’. A couple of weeks ago, he ran out of English class because we were readin’ a play about some dead white guy.
—It was Macbeth, stupid. Anyway, Andy only seems happy when he’s with Keisha or when he’s actin’ weird. And we didn’t know who else to talk to.
—Now it’s perfectly understandable that Andrew is having a difficult time adjusting to Robert’s death. That was a very traumatic experience—for all of you, I might add. His behavior is really not out of the ordinary—anger, depression, even tears—are all positive signs that he is in the process of working it out. If he didn’t show any of these signs, then we’d be concerned.
—But…but…it seems like…
—…like he needs help or somethin’.
—Well, I probably shouldn’t tell you boys this, but he is getting some outside counseling. I tell you this in the strictest of confidences, because you seem to be so genuinely concerned. So you boys can relax and be assured that he is getting whatever help he needs.
—Well, thanks, Mrs. Thorne.
—Thank you, boys. Andrew should be proud to have such good friends.
—If she hada called me “boy” one more time, I was gonna smack her!
—When you do, smack her in the mouth—her breath be kickin’!
Learning to Live
Andy’s Final Visit
with the Psychologist
FEBRUARY 5
—Well, Andy, it’s been a few weeks since we’ve talked. How’ve you been?
—Not bad. No real problems. I’m dealin’ with the situation.
—That’s good to know. I got the copy of the letter you wrote to Rob’s parents. Thanks for sending it to me. That wasn’t really necessary, you know.
—Yeah, I know, but I wanted you to know I got my stuff together.
—Did you send the letter to Mr. and Mrs. Washington?
—Yeah, I did. I wasn’t goin’ to at first. I was scared that it would upset them, but I finally mailed it. I didn’t have the nerve to give it to them in person.
—Did they respond?
—Yeah, it kinda surprised me. Rob’s mom stopped by our house. She cried, and she hugged me and she said she’d treasure that letter forever. I never will figure out women.
—What about Rob’s dad?
—She said he forgives me too, but he’s havin’ a harder time dealin’ with this. I can understand where he’s comin’ from.
—So what about you, Andy? Did it help you to write the letter?
—Yeah, I guess. I’m sleepin’ better and I’m doin’ better in school.
—No bad dreams?
—No bad dreams. Honest.
—Do you still blame yourself?
—Yeah, I guess I always will, but I’m learnin’ to live with it.
—I think if you had said that you no longer felt guilty, I’d be worried. I see quite a bit of improvement in you, Andy. You have progressed from a state of “wanting to die” to the much more positive outlook of “learning to live.” That’s encouraging.
—Do I hafta keep comin’ here? I ain’t nuts. I know what I’m doin’. I got my act together. Whatcha think?
—I tell you what. I think we can cut these sessions to an as-needed basis. I want you to call me if your life starts to get “unbalanced” in any way, or if you have any problems whatsoever, and we’ll see what we can do to get things straight. You call me, anytime, night or day, you hear?
—Yeah, I hear you. I’ll call. I promise. Thanks, man. Later.
—Peace, Andy.
The Importance
of Friendship
Keisha’s English Homework
FEBRUARY 6
Keisha Montgomery
English Homework
February 6
Personal Essay
Topic—The Importance of Friendship
Without friends, life would be boring, lonely, and meaningless. Nobody comes to high school for the teachers—not really. We come to see our friends, to see what they’re wearing, who they’re going with, who they broke up with, and where they’re going this weekend. In between that, we go to classes.
Friends make life exciting. A phone call from a friend on a boring Friday night can bring a spark to an evening that would have been spent just watching TV. Going downtown alone is no fun. Going downtown with a friend can be an adventure. We sit on Fountain Square and laugh at uptight businessmen, all dressed alike in blue suits and red ties. Alone, it’s just another boring trip with no one to talk to.
With no friends to talk to or to go places with, life can be very lonely. It’s sad to be alone—wanting to share your thoughts with a friend and having no one there, except maybe your little brother or sister, to be with. Sometimes I feel so alone I just want to cry. That’s why I’m thankful that I have a good friend like Rhonda, who always has a strong shoulder for me to cry on.
When the bad times come, like when Robbie died, a friend is the most important thing in the world. Rhonda and I cried together, went to the funeral together, and tried to help the boys involved as much as we could. She and Tyrone are doing fine. I’m having a rough time with Andy. I think it’s because he lost his best friend and it’s hard for him to get over the guilt and the pain. He once told me that his life had lost its meaning.
Andy has many good friends who care about him. Even though nobody can take Robbie’s place, all of us, as friends, can survive the situation.
Concern and Denial
Phone Call from Andy’s Teacher
FEBRUARY 10
—Hello, Mr. Jackson? This is Ms. Blackwell, Andy’s English teacher. I’m calling because I’m concerned about Andy’s performance and behavior in class.
—I see. I appreciate your call. What seems to be the problem?
—Well, academically, he’s really slipping. He’s missed four of the last six homework assignments. One of those was a major writing assignment—an essay on the importance of friendship. He’s failed the last two quizzes, and we have a test coming up next week that I’m afraid he won’t be ready for.
—You know, Andy never has made the grades that my wife and I expected of him. Every year I get calls from his teachers, saying he’s not doing his homework, and he’s failing tests. He’s too old for me to spank. What do I do?
—I’m not sure what your course of action should be. You know him better than I do—I only see him once a day for fifty minutes. But surely some parental encouragement on your part would be helpful in reminding him that he’s really only hurting himself. I believe that Andy has the ability—he just needs the desire to get it together. And as a black teacher, it really bothers me to see bright African-American young men like Andy waste their potential.
—I understand where you’re coming from. And I app
reciate your concern. Do you know some counselor there told him he’d never make it in pre-law?
—I believe it. Of course, to be perfectly balanced, we have plenty of teachers and counselors who are fair and would bend over backward to help Andy, but lately, even his behavior has been working against him.
—How do you mean?
—Well, he’s been doing a lot more “acting out” lately. He’s always been a cheerful, good-natured kid, with very few inhibitions, which sometimes does not lead to the best classroom behavior. Let’s face it. That’s teacher talk for: Andy will stand up on a table and sing “God Bless America” at the top of his lungs if he’s giving a report on patriotism. The kids love it, and most of the times the teachers at least tolerate it. But lately, he’s been doing mean, even dangerous things. For instance, last week he shot a bottle rocket out of a teacher’s window, and yesterday he was sent out of my room for spitting on the floor; he was sent out of another class during a test. Andy ripped up a student’s test paper and threw it in the trash—before the student had even finished the test and turned it in. There seem to be more of these kinds of incidents lately, not at all like the Andy we know and care about.
—I heard about the bottle-rocket incident, but the others are new to me. Couldn’t it just be normal teenage stunts that we all do in high school?
—Perhaps, but I see other things in his personality that concern me. When he’s not causing noticeable disturbances, he’s somewhat withdrawn. He’s stopped combing his hair, he slumps in his seat, and he keeps his head down on the desk unless I constantly remind him to sit up and pay attention. Is he getting enough sleep at night?
—From what I observe, kids that age forget to comb their hair half the time anyway. And with all the new hair styles that the kids are coming up with, there’s no telling what he’s planning to do with his hair next week. And, as far as I know, he’s getting plenty of sleep. He doesn’t have an after-school job because of basketball. He’s in his room most nights by eleven o’clock, and from what you say, he’s not using a lot of his time to do homework, so that doesn’t seem to be a problem. Besides, he never was a “morning person.” He doesn’t really get moving until noon.