18 December 2015
An object must travel at approximately 11.2 kilometers per second to break free of Earth’s gravity. This is known as escape velocity. Escaping the pull of a town like Calypso requires much higher velocity but is easier with money and a car.
The days between Thanksgiving and Christmas break passed in a blur of exams, aliens, Diego, and Audrey. I haven’t been abducted since the barbecue, but I’ve been thinking about the sluggers more than I care to admit. I want to believe the sluggers told me about the end of the world and gave me the choice to prevent it for some purpose other than because they simply want to see what I’ll do. That they chose me for a reason and not at random. But if that’s true, then it would mean they’d considered what would happen if I do decide to press the button. It would mean the sluggers had thought about my future beyond January 29, 2016, which is something I’ve been afraid to do.
If the world is irreparably fucked, it doesn’t make sense for the sluggers to give us a second chance. If my life is meaningless, it makes no sense for the sluggers to spare it.
Unless that’s part of the experiment. They want to see if I’m willing to endure a lifetime of misery simply to keep breathing.
I’ve been driving myself mad thinking about it, but I haven’t come any closer to an answer.
Diego hasn’t kissed me since Thanksgiving, but we still spend much of our free time together. He even tagged along with me to visit Nana in the nursing home. I tried to find a way to ask him about the article I’d dug up but never found the right time.
The last day of school before winter break, Ms. Faraci played a movie about the life of Nikola Tesla. I tried to pay attention, but the monotonous voice of the narrator kept lulling me to sleep. I was grateful for the distraction when Marcus sent me a text.
ALL-STAR PLUMBERS: behind the auditorium at lunch?
ME: why?
ALL-STAR PLUMBERS: want 2 talk
I glanced at Marcus, but his head was on his desk with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up. I didn’t answer because I didn’t know how to. It should have been an easy decision—don’t acknowledge the guy who attacked and humiliated me—but Marcus had been there when no one else had, and I couldn’t ignore him when he needed me.
I was still debating whether to meet him, when the bell rang. I lingered behind, waiting for Marcus and his friends to leave before gathering my things to walk out with Audrey.
“Have a nice break,” Ms. Faraci called after us. I wondered whether she had family or if she was going to spend her vacation preparing lessons and grading tests. I wondered if teachers were people who, for whatever reason, couldn’t reach the escape velocity of high school. Ms. Faraci deserved better than to be marooned on such a lonely planet.
“Tell Diego I’ll catch up with you guys in the cafeteria in a few minutes.”
Audrey eyed me suspiciously. “What’re you up to, Henry?”
“Who says I’m up to anything? There’s just something I’ve got to do.” I tried not to sound evasive, but I’m pretty sure I failed miserably.
“Please tell me you’re not going to see you-know-who.”
“He just wants to talk.”
“Are you stupid or what, Henry?”
I pulled Audrey to the side of the hallway to avoid being trampled. “Jesse called you before he killed himself, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you regret not answering, right?”
Audrey glared at me like she was considering kicking in my teeth. “This is different. Marcus attacked you!”
The bruises were gone, but the memories persisted, especially when I closed my eyes. “If he needs help and I ignore him, I’ll never be able to live with myself.”
“If you have to,” Audrey said, “you can learn to live with anything.” She shook her head. “Be at lunch in ten minutes, or I’m coming to find you.”
• • •
Marcus was waiting behind the auditorium, pacing in front of the back door. It was an open space with few hiding places, and I scoured the area for signs of a trap, but as far as I could tell, Marcus was alone. The weather had turned cooler, but I was still sweating, anxious to get this over with, paranoid that Adrian and Jay were going to jump me and do worse than pour paint over my head.
Marcus looked up when I approached, and broke into a splintered grin. “I didn’t think you were gonna come.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You look good.”
“You . . . don’t.”
Marcus stopped pacing and stuffed his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. “I miss you.”
“Is that why you wanted to see me?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Whatever we had ended when you jumped me in the showers.”
“You used to like it when I jumped you in the shower.”
“Good-bye, Marcus.” I turned to leave, but he called for me to wait. His voice cracked, as did my resolve. “What do you want?”
“You’re with that Diego guy, aren’t you?”
“No . . . it’s complicated.”
“Does he make you happy?”
“Marcus . . .”
“We were happy, weren’t we?”
“You were horny, and I missed Jesse.”
“It was more than that,” Marcus said. “For me, anyway.”
“Then how come you never told your friends you were fucking Space Boy?”
Marcus looked at the sidewalk, the grass, rarely at me. “Why didn’t you?”
The question caught me off guard. “Obviously because you didn’t want me to.”
“Did you ask? Did you ever think maybe I was hoping you’d tell people because I was too scared to do it myself?” His voice was colder than the Boomerang Nebula.
I tried to recall the many opportunities I’d had to out Marcus. There was the time his parents came home early from Greece, and I hid under his bed while his mother recounted the horror of nearly having to fly coach because the bastards at the airline had overbooked first class. Or the time Adrian nearly caught us making out behind the English building. Marcus shoved me to the ground to cover, and I skinned my palm. We had quite a few close calls, but I thought Marcus liked the thrill. I never once wondered if he was hoping we’d be caught. “Did you really want that?”
“Remember when you asked me if I’d save the world?”
“I didn’t think you’d heard me.”
Marcus snorted like I was stupid to think otherwise. “Well, I would.”
“Why?”
Instead of answering, he pulled a folded envelope from his back pocket and handed it to me. “Merry Christmas, Henry.”
Marcus tromped off, leaving me standing behind the auditorium still trying to think up a reply. A sane person would have reveled in seeing Marcus brought so low, but I hated him that way.
I tore open the envelope. The Christmas card sported a picture of a hunky frat boy who resembled Marcus in a revealing Santa suit. Across the top it said I’ll jingle your bells. He’d taped a prepaid calling card to the inside and written Space Boy, use this to phone home. And if no one answers, I will. Love, All-Star Plumbers.