FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #4

For a long time they said we didn't need one, but then something changed and they said that we did.That’s what she said at his funeral.  A parent shouldn’t have to bury their own kid, but in this case, I guess he dug his own grave. 

            “Hey Henry, are we hitting up that house party tonight?” my friend Jess was laying on the bed tossing my signed Matt Williams baseball into the air and catching it seconds before it would land on the hard wood floor.

            “I mean it’s whatever.  I heard some neighbors might know about it and I can’t risk the cops showing up.  My rents will flip if I get into anymore trouble.”  I was standing by my closet folding some old jeans, distracted by the baseball.  Up, swish, down, thump.  I used to play third base and Matt Williams had been my favorite player.  Growing up in Milwaukee, my dad used to take me to Brewers games when I was little.  He gave me the ball when I was nine, telling me the story of how he had tracked down Matt Williams and asked him to sign the ball for his son. It wouldn’t be until I was twelve when I discovered that in reality, he bought it on e-bay.

            “Dude, you’re such a mama’s boy.  Don’t worry about it for once.  Come on, it’s the last night of summer!”  Jess chucked the ball at me and I caught it in my right hand.  The leather was worn and the red strings had begun to fray.  I tossed it into my closet and closed the door.

            “Alright, we’ll go. But first murmur of cops and we’re outta there.”  I picked up my north face and dug around in the pocket for the keys to my wrangler.

            “Let’s go,” I said to Jess, “I don’t want to miss the keg.”

           

            We headed down Franklin Ave. and stopped at a Taco Bell on the way to the party.

            “Let’s go in,” Jess said.  “I don’t want to ‘grub and go’.”

I ordered a soft taco and a diet coke.  Jess ordered six crunch tacos and a blue Mountain Dew.

            “I swear. I will NEVER get tired of the crunchy chip, melty cheese, old lettuce combination!”

            “Dude, how can you eat that shit? Are you aware that blue is not a natural color for a drink?”  It was all I could do to keep from gagging.

            We finished our drinks and loaded into the car.  I shifted gears and we tore onto the freeway. I remember Jess complaining about my music choice- The Kooks- and me counting mile markers.  We reached marker 13 in about a half hour and I pulled off.

            “I want to get gas before we get to the party.  If we don’t get it now, we’ll both be too drunk to remember afterwards and we’ll wind up passed out on the side of the highway.”

            “The drunk part doesn’t sound too bad,” Jess joked as I pulled into the Shell/ 7 eleven store. “Hey grab me some twizzlers while you’re in there bud!”

            “I unbuckled my seat belt and walked into the gas station to pay for my pump.  It was the kind of gas station where your feet stick to the floor and the “pull” sign on the door is peeling at the corners. “Twenty bucks on eleven please.” I laid the twizzlers on the counter and handed the cashier my credit card.  “Hey can I get a pack of Marlboro Lights too please.”

            “Sure sweetheart, got an id?”

            “Oh nah, sorry mam, I’m used to buying them without getting carded, I guess I left it at home.  Can you give me a break? Just this once?” I added, winking at her.

            “Sorry sweets. No id, no cigs.”

            “Fuck,” I murmured to myself. I grabbed my credit card and the twizzlers and angrily pushed the door open.  When I got back to the car, Jess had his feet on the dash and I threw him his twizzlers before filling up the car.

            “She gonna be your hot date for tonight?” Jess joked.

            “Bitch wouldn’t sell me any cigarettes.”

            “Ew rough. Can you blame her though?  You don’t look a day over twelve in that Matt Williams jersey.”

            “Fuck you man.” I slammed the car into drive and we tore towards the highway.  Six more miles and I was ready to pull off for the party.

            “Hey man, what’s that up ahead?” Jess pointed to the top of the exit ramp and I strained my eyes in order to see anything through the flashing lights. 

            “Dude, I think it’s a check point; bad news already! Maybe we should just head home.”

            “Chill man, we haven’t done anything…yet.”

I slid aside my window, ready to approach the check point kiosk and then I realized it wasn’t a check point.  There had been a crash.  I looked into the midst of the flashing lights and saw two firefighters pulling a kid my age from a mangled Toyota Tacoma.  I pulled up just short of a police man holding his hand, palm towards me.  He began moving towards my Jeep.

            “Hey boys, it’s gonna be a few minutes.  There has been an accident,” the cop pointed to the truck and my stomach did a flip.

            “Oh gosh,” my voice was shaking.  “Is there anything we can do to help?”

            “No, we’ve…” the cop paused and turned back towards the wreckage.  “Actually, we think this kid was headed to a party we heard about in the area.  There is a bottle of tequila and a case of beer stashed in his car, and he reeks of vodka.  Any chance you boys were headed to the same party?”

            I glanced over at Jess before shaking my head no.

            “Well anyways, you boys look about his age, are you up to identifying him?  He has no id.”

            “Uh,” I hesitated before saying, “sure”.  I unbuckled my seat belt and slid out of my car.  The cop led me over to the paramedics and I jammed my hands in my pockets.  I could tell that Jess was lurking behind me; his breathing was uneasy as we approached the gurney. 

We reached the paramedics and I peered over the body.  The boy’s face was streaked with blood and his arm was distorted into an “s” shape.  I gasped as I recognized him.  It was Jess who said the name out loud.

            “Gary Polter,” Jess almost shouted.  I turned away and puked instantly.  This was a kid we knew, he went to our school; I think I even sat in front of him sophomore year in bio 2. 

The next thing I knew, Jess and I were tearing down the highway towards my house, whisking away tears that seemed to pour from our eyes.  I kept hearing Jess whisper, “It could have been us.  We were almost there.  It could have been us.”

Jess and I slept all day Sunday at my house and skipped the first day of school.  By Tuesday, everyone had heard about it and the local paper had done two stories on it.  I picked up a copy and read the headline: “Local teen hits highway sign and dies on the way to the hospital.”  There was an excerpt from the funeral describing Gary’s mom.  The paper had quoted her funeral speech and I skimmed the paragraph before stopping on these words: “I’m not saying Gary was perfect.  In a way, I guess we should all be grateful that no one else was hurt, but he was my son and I loved him.  You can’t appreciate the beauty of motherhood until you experience it first hand.  When you have a kid, everyone assures you that they’ll turn out right; that they will stay out of trouble and grow up to take care of you someday. ‘Don’t worry about rules, he’ll figure it out.  Don’t pressure him about his personal life, if he wants to talk, he’ll come to you.  I’m sure he’ll be alright, you don’t need to plan his funeral anytime soon’ they would joke.  For a long time they said we didn’t need one, and then something changed and they said that we did.  And I believed the first part for a long time.  But a parent should never have to bury their own kid.  I’ll miss you Gary.  I needed you.”

            She was right.  A parent shouldn’t have to bury their own kid, but in this case, I guess he dug his own grave.

back to Contest #4