The Understorey

In retrospect, my first clue should have been when I caught him as kids on two separate occasions trying to mutilate live animals. The first time, he made an excuse and I shrugged it off but the second time there was no mistaking what he was doing and I had proceeded to scream and yell and explain until I was blue in the face how cruel it was. He had bowed his head and apologized and I was naive enough to think that I had gotten through to him, that it was just a phase because I hadn’t caught him doing anything else since, but I could no longer deny that my best friend was insane.



Then there was the way he treated women, yet another red flag. The puzzle pieces were fitting together and I could no longer make excuses for him. I knew now that somewhere in this world there was probably a hidden pile of cruelty that he was responsible for and I wondered where the hell it was and I hoped to God it was only animals. You’ve only begun to frighten me. I repeated it to myself so I could fully absorb it.



   “If you refuse to let me have her, then I’ll just take her and I’m betting you’re not going to like what I plan to do with her if it comes to that.”



Rage.



   “Touch a hair on her head,” I said, surprisingly even for the explosion coursing through me, “and I will tear you limb from limb. Remove her from your thoughts Jesse. That is the kindest warning you will get from me. Don’t underestimate me.”



“Suit yourself but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He tipped his head toward the ground and shook it.”



“God but did I warn you.”



He lifted his face and his expression shocked the hell out of me. He appeared extremely pleased with the direction our conversation was going, like I was saying all the right lines. It was paralyzing.



“Jesse are you psychotic?”



   “I wouldn’t say such a word if I were you.”



“Why? Does that accusation hit too close to home for you? I can see it in your eyes Jesse.”



“Choose your words wisely Gray.”



“You are aren’t you? You’re a bona fide psychotic. How could I have not seen it before?”



“Say that word one more time Gray. I dare you.”



Go ahead Gray. Provoke the deranged psychopath.



“Psychotic.”



He slowly slid his eyes closed and took two deep breaths. He hurled himself at me and I began my second fight for that year.



He crashed into me with pathetic force, or maybe it just seemed that way because the adrenaline streaming through my veins might as well have made me a brick wall. I yanked my hands from my pocket and stood up. He let go of me, straightened himself, and rubber banded his right elbow behind his back, forming a tight fist.



I shoved my chair behind me with my right foot and steadied myself for the next blow. He swung his right fist toward my temple and I blocked it with the back of my left forearm. I swung with my right hand swiftly under his pitiful chin and knocked his head back.



The blood and spit spilled from his lips and I watched as it splattered across the same vinyl tile he had so closely been studying just a minute before. He stuttered backward into Katie Shannon and she shoved him off of her body and ran toward the door where the rest of the class hovered, waiting for our scrap to die out or for Coach Miles to enter and intervene.



He regained his balance and the hate emanated from his eyes. I’ve never seen eyes that looked like that. It was as if I could see into the depths of his wicked heart and it sent chills down my spine. I held out my hand and told him to back off but he sprinted toward me with unspeakable rage billowing from his stare. Great.



He attacked again, but I didn’t even give him the chance to get near before kicking my right leg in front of me and striking the middle of his chest. I heard the huff of his breath break short. He groaned in pain. His body listlessly curled around my foot, his hands brushed against my knee in reaction to the force and he stumbled drunkenly over several desks rolling onto the floor just as Coach entered the room.



***



I sat in the Principal's office and could see the idiot across the lobby laying unconscious still in the nurse’s office on her pleather padded bench. When Coach Miles came out he grabbed my arm and tugged me into the hallway. I leaned against the cold tiled wall with my arms folded.



“The kids in class told me you were just defending yourself Elliott,” he said, “but what I wanna’ know is why.”



“Am I in trouble?” I asked, not truly caring if I was or not.



“No, since every one’s stories check out you’re free to go back to class with me, but first, I want you to explain to me what happened. What started it?”



“He’s insane,” I said, honestly.



“Elliott, I thought Jesse was your best friend?” He asked, confused.



It probably was more unsettling to him that we had a game Friday and he didn’t want two of his players at odds. I didn’t feel like explaining something to him that he would just shrug off anyway, so I lied.



“Nothing. Really Coach. It’s a misunderstanding and I think we’ll be okay soon.”



I almost said for Friday’s game instead of soon but caught myself. He would have seen right through that as my way of only appeasing him. I guess it was an acceptable enough answer for him because he started down the hall toward his classroom and I followed. I had never looked forward to Mrs. Kitt’s class so much in my life. I sat in History following the sluggish tick of the second hand paying absolutely no attention to the lesson.



My thoughts turned back to the disastrous turn of events. I’ve only begun to frighten you, he had said. Acid from my stomach began to creep into my throat. I couldn’t sit there any longer. I grabbed my bag and jacket and rocketed from my desk into the hall. Coach started to protest but I had already started for my truck and wasn’t about to turn back.



I sat in the cab, shivering from the cold, wrapping my jacket closer to my body, collecting my thoughts. I thought about how I was going to handle Jesse and wondered if I was overreacting. Stop trying to find an excuse for him. He’s not the same Jesse anymore.



I wondered if I was going to tell anyone about our conversation, I wondered if they would believe me, but mostly I wondered how I was going to keep Jesse away from Jules. I still hadn’t decided what I was going to do when the bell rang.



It startled me from my dark thoughts. It startled me because it meant something to me that it had never meant before. Its shrill tone marked the end of a euphoric existence with Jules and the beginning of an uncertainty. I was scared and I never get scared because, I realized, I had never had anything worth losing before.



“Jules!” I called when I caught a glimpse of her across the hall. My hands shook at my sides.



She smiled and did this little funny dancing jig to make me laugh, not caring one bit about the pairs of eyes staring right at her. She was blissfully unaware of how effective it was, temporarily melting away the fear of my morning from my mind.



“Hi,” she flirted.



“Hi sweetheart,” I said, kissing her neck, reigning in my feelings of fear just enough not to tip her off.



“Gross,” said Taylor behind us, rolling her eyes and shrugging past us to her next class.



Of course, we ignored her. Jules and my world was an amazing one. World War III could be clamoring around us and she’d be asking me if I remembered to write down the name of that obscure Indie film we had wanted to see.



She snuck her left hand into my right jacket pocket, as she always did, and let it set there to get warm against my body. Her hands were always frozen. I dipped to get her to remove her hand so I didn’t reveal anything through touch but she thought nothing of it. We moved to the tile wall behind Mrs. Kitt’s door to let traffic through.



“What happened in Art today?” I asked, avoiding the inevitable.



My heart was beating at a million miles an hour. I breathed deeply to regulate, hoping I wouldn’t give it away. I knew I had to tell Jules what had happened but I would have paid an exorbitant amount of money in that moment not to.



“Not much,” she said, scrunching her nose.



Uh oh.



“What happened?” I asked.



“Well,” she said, “Taylor Williams.”



“Enough said.”



We both laughed.



“Exactly. How was History?” She asked innocently, asking the very question that usually deserved a mundane answer.



“Well,” I sang.



“Uh oh,” she said, repeating my previously unspoken comment.



“Jesse Thomas and I got into a fist fight.” Guess what else baby? He’s also a psychopath.



I tried to make it sound like it was not a big thing. No sense in worrying her at school



“What?!” She almost screamed.



Heads whirled our way. They would find out soon enough but I wasn’t going to be the one to tell them.



“Shhh,” I said, placing my forefinger to my lips, “I don’t want to talk about it now. Besides, class is about to start.”



“Okay,” she said pointing her finger at me, “but at lunch. Everything.”



I nodded.



“Elliott?”



“Yes honey?”



“I can read you from here you know? You’re nervous and that’s making me exceedingly nervous.” She paused, her bottom lip began to quiver. “Are you sure you can’t tell me now?”



I shook my head and we drifted into class.



“At lunch, I promise. Just not now. Let me gather myself. I’m just glad to have you next to me.”



On our way to lunch we walked slowly behind the rest of the class.



“Spill,” she said as soon as we reached the threshold of the door.



“Jules, what if I asked you to run away with me? Right now. This very second.”



“I’d say you were avoiding telling me what happened this morning.”



I stopped her and grabbed her arm, swiftly removing it before I bombarded her with my fear.



“Would you do it? If I asked you to? Would you do it without explanation?”



She sighed, “If you could look me straight in the eyes and say it was absolutely necessary. Yes, I would. I trust you.”



Alright, that was good to know. No sense in worrying her anymore than needed. I decided to tell her the bare minimum.



“Alright,” I said, steadying myself to blurt it out. “Jesse Thomas told me that I needed to break up with you and that I needed to give you to him.”



She thought seriously for a moment.



“As in, he wants to be with me?”



“Yes.”



“Why?”



“I don’t know.”



That was the truth. I didn’t actually know why but do the insane need to justify their reasons to anyone? Their reasons are their own. I got the distinct impression that Jesse didn’t feel the need to divulge his reasoning at all.



“That’s really sad.”



“Why?”



“Well, it sort of confirms a suspicion of mine.”



“What Jules?” I asked seriously.



“ I wasn’t sure at first, but at the movies,” she hesitated, “now don’t get mad, but he kept staring at my legs.” I let out a deep breath. “So, he must like me. Hmm. He must be suffering and all on account of me, that makes me feel terrible.”