Suicide Notes

  I mean, yeah, I’m a little scared about the stories I’m sure are going around. Probably by now someone has a website up about me. www.jefftriedtokillhimself.com. With pictures. And a blog. And part of me would be totally relieved not to have to walk into my old school and see everyone looking at my wrists. Seriously, how long can you get away with never wearing T-shirts?

  But would it really be any better in a new place? Maybe at first. But sooner or later someone would find out what happened to me. That’s just how it is. Some kid will know someone who knows someone from my old school, and pretty soon the stories will start flying around. Then I’ll walk into school one day and hear all of this whispering as I walk through the halls.

  That’s what happened when Ginny Mangerman went away for a few months. Her sister told everyone Ginny was doing a semester as an exchange student in Australia, but it turned out she was pregnant and went somewhere to have the baby and give it up for adoption. By the time she came back, everyone knew what had happened. Someone thought it would be funny to cut out pictures of babies from magazines and paste them all over her locker. Ginny ended up dropping out, and now she works at a supermarket as a checkout girl. I try to be really nice to her when I get in her line, but she pretends she doesn’t recognize anyone from school.

  It’s probably better to just go back to my old school and deal with it. Amanda still goes there, and I don’t want her to be the one who gets teased because I can’t face anyone. I know she could handle it, but she shouldn’t have to. Maybe we can both go somewhere new. Or maybe I can convince my parents to move to France. No one in France cares if you tried to kill yourself. In fact, I think they like you better because you’re all tragic.

  This is all the stuff I was thinking while my mother was talking about how great it will be to have me back. Then I guess even Cat Poop got tired of hearing her talk, because all of a sudden he asked Amanda, “How do you feel about your brother coming home?”

  I was actually curious to hear what she had to say, and not just because it meant my mother would have to shut up for a minute.

  “I can’t wait,” Amanda said. “I’m tired of having to do the dishes by myself.”

  I laughed inside. I knew she said that to be a smart-ass. She can be worse than I am when she tries. But she was totally giving everyone this serious face, so they didn’t know whether to believe her or not.

  “Do you have anything you’d like to ask Jeff?” Cat Poop asked her, trying again. Since he’s dealt with me for so long now, he probably knows Amanda operates the same way I do. I waited for him to start doing the staring thing with her.

  But Amanda didn’t look at him; she looked at me. I could tell she was trying not to laugh, so I did my best to look really serious, too. She waited a minute, just kind of biting her lip, like she was thinking about something deep. Then she said, “If you do it again, can I have your room?”

  “Amanda!” my mother said, shocked. My father stopped twirling his thumbs and looked like he wanted to die. Cat Poop got his pencil ready.

  “What?” Amanda said, acting all innocent.

  “I don’t think Jeff appreciated that,” said my father.

  But I did. See, this was kind of an in-joke with us. When we first moved into our house, Amanda and I both wanted the bigger bedroom. She said she should have it because she’s a girl and it has its own bathroom. I said I should have it because I’m older. I ended up locking myself in the room, and stayed there practically a whole day until my parents said I could have it. I was all ready to rub it in, but then I found out that Amanda had set me up. She knew I would fight her for the room, and she only pretended to be upset about not getting it because what she really wanted was a new bike and horseback riding lessons, both of which my parents gave her when she boo-hooed about her whole life being totally unfair. She’s good.

  I played along. “It’s okay,” I said in this calm voice. They all looked at me. I think they expected me to give some big speech about how I have no intention of ever trying it again. Instead I said, like it was really hard for me to get the words out, “You can totally have my room if I ever kill myself again.”

  “Jeff!” my mother and father said at the same time. Then my mother looked at Cat Poop. “You see what we live with?” she said. “The two of them . . .”

  “I think Amanda and Jeff understand each other quite well,” said the doc before she could finish. When I looked at him, he pushed his glasses up. I thought he might be smiling a little, but he wiped his mouth with his hand, and when he brought it away, he looked like his old shrinky self.

  “Well, I wish we understood them,” my mother said.

  Amanda looked at me again, and that’s when I realized that what she thought of me was more important than what anybody else thought. Isn’t that weird? And I can’t tell you why it is. Maybe because I don’t want her to be afraid of me. I think I could handle it if the kids at school were afraid of me. Even my parents. But Amanda’s different. I want her to know she can trust me. One day she might really need me for something, and I don’t want her to be afraid to ask.

  The rest of the session was boring. Cat Poop talked a lot about “transitioning from the therapeutic environment to the home environment” and crap like that. Mostly I made faces at Amanda when no one was looking and tried to get her to crack up. She did, once, but then she started coughing to cover it up.

  When it was all over, there was more hugging. When it came time for me and Amanda to hug, I held her really tight and whispered in her ear, “Next time I’m going to do it on your carpet.”

  She had to pretend to cough again so my parents wouldn’t hear us laughing. But I think she knew I was really telling her that she didn’t have to worry. As they all left, I heard my mother say to her, “I think we should take you to Dr. Leach tomorrow. It sounds like you’re coming down with something.” Amanda turned and glared at me, and I just waved at her.

  “Would you mind staying a little longer today?” Cat Poop asked as I was getting ready to go back to my room. “I thought we might talk some more.”

  I knew that he knew that there was more to my story than what I’d already told him. And suddenly I was really, really tired. Not of talking to him, but of not talking to him. I was tired of all the games I’d been playing, and of holding back. Maybe realizing how much I wanted Amanda to believe that I was okay is what did it. Maybe it was Sadie being dead, or Rankin being gone. I don’t really know. But I knew I was ready to talk.

  I sat down. “Okay,” I said. “Where should I start?”

  “Where every good story starts,” said Cat Poop. “At the beginning.”

  Day 37

  No one ever tells you that when your heart breaks, you can feel it. But you can. It feels like something has crumbled inside you and the pieces are falling into your stomach. It hurts more than any punch ever could. You stop breathing, and for a while you can’t remember how. When you finally do, it feels like your throat has closed up, like you’re trying to suck air through a straw.

  I tried to kill myself because of what happened with Burke. Not Allie and Burke. Me and Burke. During Christmas break.

  It really started a couple of months before that. I guess you could say I had a crush on Burke. Actually, it’s not even a guess—I did have a crush on Burke. Big-time.

  When Burke first asked Allie out, I was happy for her. I knew she liked him, and she was so excited when he finally talked to her. Besides, it was just a movie. She even asked me to go along. She said it was so she wouldn’t be tempted to do too much with Burke. She’d read in some magazine that guys will be more interested if you play it cool, and that the best way to do that is to go on group dates where you can’t exactly climb all over each other without someone giving you a hard time about it. I was her group.

  The funny thing is, Burke didn’t mind. The three of us went to a movie. I don’t even remember what it was. Burke sat in the middle. There I was, right next to him, with Allie on his other side. He even shar
ed his popcorn with me. It was like the three of us were on a date, although I didn’t think about that then. I just thought it was cool of him.

  I remember reaching into the popcorn about halfway through the movie. Burke reached in at the same time, and for a few seconds our fingers touched. I don’t remember who pulled away first, but I remember feeling this strange sensation. I don’t even know what to call it. A tickle maybe, in my stomach. I put my fingers in my mouth and sucked the fake butter off, like I was trying to find out what Burke tasted like. I didn’t touch that popcorn for the rest of the movie.

  After that, Allie started spending more time with Burke. At first they almost always asked me along. Then one night Allie went out alone with him. She didn’t even tell me she was going, but she called me when she got home. “He kissed me,” she said. She sounded all excited, like she’d just won a million dollars.

  “He did?” I asked her. “Why?”

  “What do you mean why?” said Allie. She laughed, like it was the dumbest question anyone could ask. “Because he wanted to.”

  She told me all about it. They went for a walk. Burke bought them ice cream cones. He joked around, getting ice cream on her nose. Then he licked it off. And then he kissed her. I remember exactly what she said. “His lips were soft, like a kitten.” I thought that was a really weird way to describe someone’s lips. At the same time, I knew exactly what she meant.

  I tried to be excited for her. But the whole time I was telling her how happy I was for her, I was really thinking that I wanted it to be my nose Burke was licking ice cream off and me kissing his kitten lips. And the more I thought about that, the more scared I got. I think that was the first time I realized that I didn’t just like Burke, I had a thing for him.

  After that, I didn’t want to be around Burke and Allie. At least not when they were together. It was too much. Every time I saw Burke I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I liked him. He’s got these amazing brown eyes and a killer smile. When he looks at you, you feel like he’s really looking at you, if you know what I mean. I wanted him to look at me like that all the time.

  But of course he was always looking at Allie. And she was always talking about him. To me. And there was absolutely no way I could tell her why I didn’t want to hear it. So for a few months I was all crushed out on him and totally miserable. I got jealous every time Allie talked about him or when I saw them holding hands or kissing.

  Then, right before Christmas, the three of us were at this party at Rebecca Miller’s house. Her parents were out of town, which means we were drinking a little. Or in my case, a lot. I think I had a couple of beers, which really does a number on your head when you’re not used to drinking.

  The weird thing is that I felt happy and sad all at the same time. The more beer I drank and the more I watched Allie with Burke, the more confused I got. I wanted my best friend back. But I also couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like for Burke to be as into me as he was into Allie. I’d never thought about another guy like that—or about anybody like that. The truth is, I didn’t think about sex all that much, because when I did, it scared me. It wasn’t until that night at the party that I knew why it scared me.

  When I realized what I was feeling, I thought I might be sick, so I went upstairs to the bathroom where no one would hear me. I knelt in front of the toilet and waited for everything to come up. I remember my head was spinning a little. I closed my eyes, but that just made it worse, so I hung over the bowl, staring at the water and feeling my insides churn.

  I didn’t throw up, though, and after a while I felt a little bit better. I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. I hated what I saw. I wanted to punch the guy in the mirror in the face for being such a freak. It was like I wasn’t even looking at myself, I was looking at someone I’d never seen before, someone I didn’t want to see ever again.

  That’s when the door opened. I’d forgotten to lock it. And before I could say something, in walked Burke. He looked at me and smiled this big, almost-drunk smile. “Hey, man,” he said. “You done?”

  I couldn’t say anything, so I just nodded.

  “Cool,” he said. “I need to take a major leak.”

  He didn’t wait for me to leave. He walked over to the toilet, unzipped, and pulled himself out. I tried not to look, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t even care if he saw me looking, but he didn’t notice anything. When he was done, he turned around and looked at me while he zipped up.

  “You look wasted, buddy,” he said, grinning again.

  He was standing right in front of me. Even drunk, he was beautiful. “This party is killer, isn’t it?” he said. His breath smelled like beer, but I didn’t care.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Killer.” I wanted to get out of that bathroom, but I couldn’t leave. My feet wouldn’t move.

  “Hey,” said Burke. “There’s something I want to ask you.”

  My heart did this weird flip-flop thing when he said that. For a second—just a split second—I had this idea that he was going to ask me out. I don’t know why, but I imagined him asking me to go to a movie or something. And the thing is, at that moment I really wanted him to. I remembered the popcorn, and his fingers, and that tingling feeling hit me again.

  “What?” I said, barely able to get the word out.

  Burke looked all serious for a second. “It’s about Allie,” he said. He sounded nervous, which wasn’t like him at all. Burke doesn’t get nervous. He’s always cool. Then I got even more nervous, because I was imagining all kinds of things he could say next.

  Burke looked right into my eyes. Everything stopped while I waited for him to ask me his question. Then he said, “What should I get her for Christmas?”

  It took me a few seconds to understand what he’d said. When it finally registered, I was surprised at how sad I was. But I couldn’t let him know that. I had to think of something to say. “Uh, she likes clothes,” I said.

  Burke shook his head. “I’m no good at picking out that shit,” he told me.

  “I can go with you,” I said before I knew it. “We can pick something out together.” As soon as I said it, I felt like a moron. What kind of guy tells another guy he’ll go shopping with him? But all I could think about right then was how much I wanted to do something with Burke. Anything. Even shop for his girlfriend’s Christmas present. That’s how I was thinking of Allie, as his girlfriend. Not my best friend.

  Burke laughed. “Cool,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Cool.” Then he patted my arm. “You’re a cool guy,” he said.

  My heart was racing so fast I thought I might be having a heart attack.

  And then I did it. I couldn’t stop myself. Burke was touching my arm, we’d just made a kind of date, and I was suddenly happier than I’d ever been in my whole life. Before I even knew what I was doing, I leaned forward and kissed him right on the mouth. I remember thinking, for the few seconds our lips were touching, that Allie had been right. His lips were as soft as a kitten.

  He pushed me away, but not hard. “Hey there,” he said, kind of laughing. “Don’t get all gay on me. It’s not like I asked you out or something.” He laughed again.

  I didn’t say anything. I’ve never been so scared in my life. Not because of what I thought he might do, but because of what I’d done. I tried to think of something to say to him to make it all go away, something to explain why I’d kissed him, but I knew there was nothing that would erase that kiss.

  I guess Burke saw that I wasn’t laughing with him. He stopped laughing and his eyebrows wrinkled up, like he just realized he’d been tricked. “What’s up?” he asked. He stared into my eyes for a few seconds. “Wait,” he said then, pulling back and looking at me as if he’d never seen me before. “Are you a fag?”

  Now, I’d been called a fag before. But not in the way Burke meant it. Sometimes guys just say that, like “You’re such a fag,” meaning you’re doing something lame. Burke meant something else, though. Sudde
nly, that word was the most dangerous word in the English language.

  I tried to answer him. “I . . . I really like you,” I said.

  Burke stepped back. “Holy shit,” he said. He had this look on his face that terrified me. “Holy shit,” he said again.

  “Burke,” I said, reaching out to him. “Burke, don’t . . .”

  He put his hands up, blocking me from getting any nearer. He shook his head. “You are a fag,” he said.

  He pushed past me and left the bathroom. A few seconds later, everything in my stomach came up. I puked all over the floor and all over myself. It felt like I was throwing up my heart. I was crying and couldn’t breathe, and I wanted to be dead.

  I cleaned up the mess on the floor with some towels, but my clothes were still all dirty. I just wanted to get out of there. That’s when I remembered that to get out I would have to go down the stairs and through the party. Allie would be there, and I knew that by now Burke would have told her what happened. What I was. I couldn’t face her.

  I thought about going out the window, but I was still feeling like crap, and I was afraid I’d fall and make things even worse. Finally I went into the hall. I stood at the top of the stairs, listening to the people laughing below me. I imagined they were laughing at me, that Burke had told them all about how I’d kissed him, about how I was a fag, and that they thought it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard. I just knew they were all waiting for the big fag to appear so that they could make fun of me.

  There was nothing else to do. I went down those stairs as quickly as I could and went straight for the door. I didn’t look at anyone, and prayed no one would stop me. And they didn’t. That’s the only good thing that happened that night. No one stopped me. I made it to the door and out of that house, and then I ran home and up to my room.