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Keep it on the DL3.25.07That was it...I couldn't take it any more. Keeping that horrible thing inside, I had to tell someone. Anyone, just to get it out of my mind. I was so horrible, and my conscience continued to nag me about it. I couldn't stand it anymore.
Knock knock knock. I hit the principal's door three times with my knuckles, then backed away slightly, shoving my hands into the pockets of my dark blue Dickies Jeans. I waited for about thirty seconds, and the door opened, Mr. James poked his head out, and told me to come in.
Mr. James was a tall man. Well built too. Then again, he was a veteran. His electric blues held memories of gunfire, screams, and watching friends die.
His graying hair was still cut short like it had been in the marines. Even his brown overcoat looked like a uniform from Vietnam.
"Well Ty?" He asked me, sitting down. I took the cue, and sat down across from him.
"Mr. James... I need to tell you something." I said quietly, turning to make sure the door was fully closed. I could feel sweat start to form under my black and white DC cap, and under my black and red Quicksilver shirt.
"My friend John...he told me not to tell anyone, but...I care for him like a brother. He's...tried smoking...and he liked it. He's hooked, and I can't get him to stop." I breathed in, preparing for the next part. The part where Mr. James would give me a speech about how I did the right thing, and all that garbage. I hated speeches like that.
"Well Ty, if you care for him so much, why did you tell me?" He asked in a fatherly voice that shocked me. I wasn't expecting to be questioned.
"Because...it's bad for him! He could get lung cancer, and die!" I half-shouted. I hadn't meant to be loud...but it was the life of a guy I thought of as a brother.
"So...why do you feel so bad about telling me?"
"Because...he asked me not to tell anyone." I lowered my head, grasping my left hand in my right, and squeezing. "But...I don't want him to die...at least, not yet."
"Well, what weighs more in your mind? John's trust, or his life?"
"His life of course!"
"Then you've done the right thing. I'll call his mother and talk to her about his problem." Mr. James told me, using that same fatherly voice.
"Thank you...sir."
"Now you'd better get home."
"Yeah, thanks again."
And when walking out of the office, I saw John standing there, talking to his girlfriend, Ashley, the office aid. He smiled at me, and I weakly smiled back.
I hoped to God this wouldn't hurt us.
3.27.08Two days....two days John hadn't come to school. Two days since I ratted him out. Two days since I'd betrayed my brother.
But still...it was for his own good. I'd done the right thing. I was sure of it. No way would I have ratted out the guy I had considered a brother if I didn't trust my own judgment.
But still...he hadn't answered his phone for those two days. He hadn't signed in on AIM. Not even a quick check on MySpace.
What was going on? I needed to know.
"Ty!" Mrs. Denman yelled at me. I woke out of my thoughts, and said the first thing that came to mind. "Hitler killed himself the day after marrying his mistress, Eva Braun!" Everyone, even Mrs. Denman laughed at my answer.
"So, it seems you were paying attention...last week!" She yelled, chucking her marker at me. I caught it, and threw it back at her.
"Sorry Mrs. D, I already have fifty sharpies at home. I don't need that Expo you're using." Once again, everyone laughed.
"Ty, what am I going to do with you?"
"Well...since class ends in five minutes, nothing really." I told her nonchalantly. She sighed, and turned back to the bard, starting to erase the notes on the board.
"Remember class, read chapter 18 of your text book!"
"Yes Mrs. Denman!" Came a chorus of voices, followed by the bell. Paper and pencil were hastily shoved into backpacks, folders, or pockets. Those brave enough hopped out the window. We were only on the second floor.
I, however, went down the stairs to the office. Ashley should still be there, and hopefully she'd know what was up with John.
"Ash, what's up?" I asked Ashley at the office desk. She looked up at me with a glare, and turned back to her keyboard.
"Sorry Ty, I'm a bit busy right now." She coldly stated. "I kinda need to get this done as soon as I can. So, please leave."
"Alright..." I took her request, leaving, slightly confused. Why was Ashley pissed at me? Did it have to do with John?
"Hey! Bones!" Oh great...it was
them. John's cousins, the ruffians. They called me Bones for some reason...maybe because of that jacket they had given me? I was wearing it today for some reason. It was a bit too big, but hey, still pretty comfortable.
"Sup?" I asked, turning my head to see them. A bunch of big Mexican guys, broad shouldered, and pretty tall.
"We gotta problem here. Seems you let it slip that Little J liked smoking joints. And his old lady sent him to rehab." The biggest one, Frank, or as they called him, Toro growled.
And suddenly, I was on the floor, my jacket gone, and a developing bruise on my stomach. I coughed a bit, then rolled over on my side. I knew what happened, I just couldn't comprehend it.
I had gotten slugged, but it felt like a bull just rammed into me. No wonder they called him Toro...
And then, it went black.
3.29.08I'd stayed at Brenna's house for two days now. She had a seventh period, and saw me knocked out on the grass.
Oh yeah, I haven't told you about Brenna yet. She's my girlfriend. Yeah, I know, I have a girlfriend, yet I write in this journal. Weird, I know.
Anyways...
She called her Dad, and they took me home. I woke up when they were about ready to have dinner. They were all glad I had woken up, but still told me to just stay on the couch to recover my strength.
But hey, I couldn't complain when Brenna hand fed me. Heh, I'm so sprung...
But yeah, I went home today, and sulked for a bit. Did letting that one secret out really mean punishment? Even if it was for the good of said person!
I couldn't believe it! Stupid freaking John! He probably got Toro and his friends on me! And all I did was save his life!
After beating a hole in my wall, I calmed down a bit. There had to be a better way to take out my rage from letting this secret out. I though a while, and then found a solution.
A voodoo doll. It'd be perfect. I could beat and abuse it, thinking it was John. Or whoever else had tried getting at me because I told a secret of theirs for their own good.
So, I walked down to the nearest craft store, bought a bit of burlap, stuffing, a zipper, needles, thread, and some cool looking orange yarn. Yeah...I like orange, shut up.
Wait, why did I just tell a journal to shut up? Man, I must still have a concussion.
So, when I got back home, I started making my little creation. First, I burned the burlap black, to represent how my head felt when I had woken from my unconsciousness caused by Toro and his gang's beating of me. Then, I stuffed the thing full of stuffing, because a non-stuffed doll would be idiotic. I sewed a DC logo on it's stomach, John's favorite brand of shoes. Hmph...may as well put a target around that area. Next, I sewed the zipper onto his mouth, and it looked like he was grinning. Strange...but I shrugged it off. Probably just my cruddy sewing skills. The zipper represented my own mouth, how it could be opened to let things out, or closed to keep things in. Finally, I sewed the fiery orange hair on. Glad I bought enough.
"I'll name you...Zippo. For that stupid lighter John used." I smirked at the completed doll. Still, that creepy grin persisted. I grinned too, pulling a fist back.
"Welcome to LA you sorry sunuvabitch!" I shouted, punching him in the stomach. Hopefully that hurt John and the thugs as well. The force of the punch had actually made the zipper unzip a bit, making him grin even more.
I did feel better, however, and took the needle I used to sew him, and stuck it in his stomach to my wall. After releasing that anger, I noticed something about Zippo.
"Crap...I forgot to buy buttons." Ah well, that just added to his creepiness...which was actually pretty cool.
"Heh, I can see we're going to be friends...Zippo." And as I dwindled off into my sleep, I could have sworn I heard a demented little laugh. Probably just my imagination though. Concussion and all.
4.12.08Alright, sorry I haven't looked in you or written in you for a while. It's just...nothing interesting has happened lately. Well, except for yesterday. Which was really...revealing...but not surprising, for some reason.
Well...I suppose I should start with a few days ago. Zippo, the little doll I made, had started growing on me. And, I wanted the little guy to have eyes. So I needed buttons, but the local craft store had closed; it went out of business or something like that. So, I had to go to Mom's room. Yeah, the room that I never dared go into. Whenever I went in there...I would got a strange feeling. One that I couldn't put a finger on.
But anyways, I knew Mom had buttons in her old room. So, I forced myself to go in. It still smelt like her perfume, and her bed was as neatly made as ever. Old jewelry was on her bedside table, and the window was shut, just the way she liked it.
Under that closed window was her dresser. Of course, all of her clothes were taken with her when she left with that d**k. Frank was his name. Ever since he had gotten with Mom, and they left to Florida, Dad had been depressed. He stayed with friends a lot, because he didn't want me to be subjected to his depression. I loved him for that, and everything else he did for me. The support checks, the birthday gifts, and even the occasional times he'd drop by to check on me.
Anyways, I'll stop talking to you about my loving father. So, I opened the off-white dresser, and found the buttons I was looking for. A ruby button, that was supposed to be in a set. But...mom had used one for a brooch or something. What matched ruby, I asked myself. emerald, duh!
So, looking through my Mom's dresser drawers, I found that emerald button...along with something else. A picture. It was Mom and Dad, while they were still together. And they were in suits, holding a kid. Wait, why would they be wearing suits? And who was that holding that document next to them? Mom had the habit of writing the occasion on the back of the pictures.
So, I flipped it around. The words shocked me, and I dropped the picture. I heard footsteps behind me, and I saw a shadow on the wall. Short, stocky, and thinning hair. It was Dad, I knew it before I turned around.
"Ty?"
"D-dad?" I broke down, I ran over and clung to him, tears welling up in my eyes. He patted me on the back, and attempted to soothe me by rubbing my back. I continued to cry on his shoulder, while he lead me to the couch.
"Dad...why didn't you tell me?"
"I was going to tell you when you put two and two together...I mean, I know you've thought about it before."
"I have Dad...but it's just...the whole reality of it..."
Everything is a blur after that. The only thing I can really remember is Dad leading me to my room, and draping a blanket over my shoulders.
He left an hour ago, and I sewed those buttons onto Zippo's face.
Anyways...here's what the picture said; "Ty's adoption, 1991."
