The teachers crackling dry throat forced the names of already bored students as the roll was called. The smell of spring was in the air, the flowers bloomed and the sun shone bright. It was a lovely day. Well in the aspect of the clear blue sky’s and suns hot rays beaming bright it was. But all the tired gloomy students of this typical suburbia school did not yet know one vital fact that would soon impact each one of there lives so significantly it would stop more then ones very desire to live.
Peter sat in the left hand corner right at the back. His chair was old and weak, it churned under the pressure of his weight. As he sat there limp and tired, the taste of crisp brown toast still fresh in his mouth, Peter couldn’t help but wonder where Dan his best mate had gotten to. He had seen him that morning before the bell, Dan said something about having to go to the toilet, and after a long hapless stare of desperation was shared, he ran off, tears in his painfully broken eyes.
Remembering only the haze in his friends glazed over misty blue eyes, Peter reassured himself Dan was just having a bit of a cry in the bathrooms. Dan had always been a pessimistic, never too bright, and had always seemed to let things get to him too easily. He was some what depresses at times. He never talked about it much though, didn’t like to seem week, like he needed help. Not knowing much about some one with a different perspective to himself, Peter didn’t mind Dan keeping it to himself.
“Miss, can I please go to the toilet?’” asked the girl sitting directly in front of Peter, her wavy chestnut hair shinning in the sun light that peered through the misty windows, clouded form dirt.
“Be quick Sally” coughed the teacher, clearing her throat.
Sally walked steadily and quickly form the class room, her gaze directed at the floor. Peter smirked quietly to himself; Sally looked funny as she walked. Her hair hung over her face, hiding her hazel eyes rich in their colour. The emerald green pendant that hung from a chain around her scared neck hovered in the air, parallel to the ground from her slumped posture. What an emo he chuckled. Peter had always been a bit closed minded, anyone different in his eyes was an emo or a skank.
“Open your text books to page 117, and read the poem…” Mrs. Moagenberg seemed upset about something and not in her usual perky mood, motivated to inspire her students. But Peter didn’t even notice, or hear what she had instructed. Shakespear was boring he thought, too focused on the clock to be bothered to follow instructions. Watching the pearly white reflections sting his eyes with there bright and forceful glare Peter Stared as the seconds ticked by slowly, he wondered when the bell for the next lesson would ring. But like it would matter anyway. They were in a double.
Drifting off, lost in his own thoughts of boredom, Peter slowly noticed that it was now twenty minutes until the next bell. He was first thankful for the time that had passed, but then realized Dan still hadn’t come to class. Opening his tired eyes, peter glanced around the room lazily. Sally had just returned after a very long trip to the bathrooms and was sitting stern in her seat, all the other kids in the English class worked quietly. Even Mrs. Moagenberg was looking through some papers on her desk. Nobody seemed to have noticed that Dan still hadn’t come to class. Slightly confused and a bit concerned peter begun to raise his hand to ask if anyone knew where Dan was, but before he could get it to a height noticeable, the loud speaker abruptly sounded.
“Mrs. Moagenberg and all other teachers of year 8 please report immediately to the head office…”
Mrs. Moagenberg’s tired eyes widened as the message continued, repeating it’s self over and over through the static.
“Be good.” she said, standing hastily and almost running form the room.
What could this be about? Peter wondered.
It had been over half an hour since the message over the loud speaker, and Dan still hadn’t come to class. Maybe he was found smoking or something and got in a heap of trouble? Maybe that’s what the announcement was about? Peter wondered. The double lesson seemed to drag on, and every second that passed Peter’s stomach tied it’s self in tighter knots of worry. Sally had moved herself to the seat next to Peter and stared directly at him, her big hazel eyes transfixed on his worried expression.
“Is it Dan?” she asked, her voice something of a horror movie, standing out form the mellow conversation in the room.
“What?” asked Peter, his strong concentration broken by her words.
“Dan, he’s not here. Is that why you look so worried?”
“What?” scoffed peter, unaware he had been showing his confusion, suddenly determined to hide his emotions.
“It is isn’t it? He’s a good friend to you, I know he is. I see you two talking all the time. He isn’t in class, and you saw him this morning, is that what’s bothering you?”
Even more confused then before Peter turned himself to face Sally, her blunt words drawing his attention.
“How did you know Dan was here this morning?” asked Peter confused.
“I saw him, I always see him.” she said her voice slightly deaden.
“What do you mean, you always see him?”
“Do you know where he is?” she continued, Peter’s words passing through her.
“He said he went to the toilet, but it’s been ages now. So no, I can’t say I do at the moment.” He replied casually at first trying not to show his concern, but sneering with sarcasm at the end of his statement.
“I know where he is.”
“Where?” asked Peter leaning forwards in expectation, realizing Sally wasn’t asking him about Dan before but trying to tell him.
“Well it depends what you mean, do you want to know where his body is, or where his mind is?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Peter said, raising his voice at her, eyes screwed up in perplexity.
“I saw the blood. It was all over the floor… everywhere. Dripping across the tiles… everywhere. It was everywhere.”
Sally spoke calmly, and sounded some what disturbed. Lifting the books on her lap she gazed back at Peter, then down to her school dress again as though to guide his eyes. It wasn’t blue like all the other girls. It was red, drenched in crimson red.
“Is that… is that…what is that?” Peter’s pupils dilated centimeters and stared at the blood on her lap where the books sat moments ago.
“It’s Dan’s. Well it’s not all Dan’s.” she said her voice empty and with out emotion as though she was recording the over head announcement for a train station.
Sally directed her site over to the left, and began to slide a black and white checkered sweat band up her arm, exposing her wrist. More vibrant blood was smeared across her pearly white skin. Two deep, throbbing red cuts from what looked like the result of some type of metal, trailed vertically form juts past the bottom of her hand to half way down her arm.
“I should have stopped him. I knew that he was going to hurt himself, he wanted to, but nobody deserves that…” Sally paused, sight focused on her torn open veins. “Well nobody but me.” she whispered, emotion apparent in her once dismal voice.
Peter was without words, nothing could articulate what was passing through his mind. What had happened to Dan? What did sally know about what happened to Dan? Why had she done that to herself? Why was Mrs. Moagenberg still not back from the office?
Leaning upright against the cold brick wall, hazed over mint green eyes wondering the busy classroom, Andrew’s sleepy vision caught sight of Sally’s torn wrist. Suddenly the boy’s empty mind clouded with shock and confusion. His droopy eye lids forced themselves open in disbelief. Were they cuts?!
“Sally what the hell, are you emo?!” scoffed Andrew, eyes fixed on the pulsating veins exposed on her blood stained wrist.
Turing slowly to Andrew, her eyes fixed on his, not a worry shown upon her haunting face, Sally simply said. “Define emo.”
Peter sat perfectly still as she spoke, not one shallow breath did escape his mouth. Frozen by Sally’s calm reaction he was once again without words to say. Sally’s wide open eyes reflected Andrew’s stunned expression. She stared directly at him, not a blink in her deep soulless eyes.
“QUIET!!” bellowed Mrs. Meve as she burst abruptly into the now dead silent class room. Mrs. Meve was one of the oldest and definitely scariest teachers at Bennant Hills High. Her screwed up eyes glared a daunting look of disdain at each and every student in the now frozen room. The class had been alone for what seemed like hours now with out any teacher, supervision or bell for the next lesson.
“Now as you know Mrs. Moagenberg and the other teachers of year eight have been called away to the office for…” her words trailed off, she didn’t know what to say to the children who stared at her intensely awaiting news of where Mrs. Moagenberg was and why they had been left alone for so long.
“Miss where is Mrs. Moagenberg?” asked a short boy sitting at the front of the room directly in front of Mrs. Meve, his messy dark brown hair covering his eyes and the frames of his thick black glasses.
“She’s …busy, and so are the other teachers of your year, so Mr. Quing has decided we are continuing this period until further notice. Now everyone one is to be quiet and get on with there work. I’ve been told your grade is studying the fine work of William Shakespeare and you are instructed to continue reading the play Hamlet. ”
Andrew hadn’t heard a single word spoken by the teacher that stood before them all, angry and stern with her words. His stunned eyes were still fixated on Sally’s wrist. He wanted to look away, but when ever he told himself to, nothing in his brain responded. Sally still stared at Andrew, her eyes hadn’t left his since Mrs. Meve had entered the room. All three kids just sat there. Andrew and Peter sat backs upright and stiff in their chairs. Sally continued to stare right at Andrew sitting loosely, it was as though she expected him to say something, to literally define the word emo.
Everyone else in the class sat limply in their chairs the conversation lulled about the children, their voices blending into a dull wave of blank noise.
“Well?” said Sally darkly, her ghostly voice full of tranquility.
There was a pause, Andrew could think of no safe answer.
“Oh just fuck off Andrew, Sally isn’t emo. She’s messing with you.” said Peter in a joking voice, defending Sally.
Peter was unable to believe of what he had just said. Only a few hours ago did he to believe Sally was nothing more but another kid. But know he saw her as so much more, she seemed so much deeper and mysterious, with more knowledge of Dan then he himself had at this point in time.
Andrew was more then relied to have the silence between them broken and simply took Peters words as a queue to turn and away and escape the situation. But even though he had moved seats and attempted to start a conversion with the boy behind him, Sally’s eyes still stayed focused on him, mesmerized with fixation.
“You okay?” asked peter, some what concerned.
“Fine, I’m just fine.” Sally spoke slowly with no expression to her words. She continued to stare at Andrew as though he was some sort of exhibit, but her vision was concentrated only on his shallow pale blue eyes that tried hard not to look back at her.
“Are you sure your fine? You don’t look fine. Don’t worry about him he’s just some idiot who...” Peter stopped he could tell Sally wasn’t listening to him. “Why are you looking at his eyes?”
There was a moment of silence, a type of pause. Peter too now stared at Andrew attempting to find Sally’s cause of interest.
“The window to the soul aren’t they? You can tell a lot form person’s eyes. Dan’s were deep, dark, meaningful. Almost black, like he had no desire to see the world. As though he had closed them off, already made up his mind on how he would see this place, didn’t need another opinion, another opportunity for a different point of view.” Sally had broken her focus on Andrew now, and instead looked at nothing at all. As though there was another dimension in front of her she could see into, looking right through the air, past Peter and into something non existent.
“Were? What do you mean were? That’s past tense. What happened to Dan? You said you knew where he was before.”
“Correct, past tense. Dan is in the past, so past tense would be correct.”
“What do you mean in the past? Where is he? What happened?” questioned Peter know more desperate for answers. The hapless confusion shown in his frightened voice.
Was Dan no longer in the present, but the past?
“Well answer me! Come on, tell me.” Requested Peter growing more impatient for Sally’s answer to the where bouts of Dan.
Sally didn’t answer him; her big eyes grew somewhat wider, and darkened as she leaned towards him. She had not one movement of her focus, and stared straight through him.
“Okay look I’m just worried about my friend, and you seem to know something about him that I don’t. Now please, sally, I’m asking, hell I’m begging you, please tell me what happened to Dan.” Peter’s eyes faded and tears began to rise to the surface of his glance. For what seemed to him like the first time in his so far average and happy life, he was crying.
Confused and frustrated out of concern for Dan, Peter couldn’t help but feel over whelmed. Sally’s dismal gaze became increasingly haunting, did she have any remorse for another? To peter it seemed that Sally had no strong or positive feeling towards anyone or anything.
“Dan wanted me to give this to you.” said sally in the same soulless voice, handing Peter a piece of scrunched up paper form a school exercise book.
Peter unfolded the paper and became a wear of the messy distressed writing spread out over the dirty blood stained page.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t see this world through your eyes Peter. I’m sorry I can’t go on and keep pretending I’m fine, I’m sorry that I’m not fine like everyone else. I’m sorry that I could hide my emotions so well, maybe being able to let it out in a way that didn’t result in blood would of helped, but I didn’t know how else to.
I’m sorry for everything. and I have come to realize that no one ever loving me is the greatest gift I could ever have been granted, because now that I have found my place I feel comfort knowing I can leave without a trace or a tear in my shattered eyes. Because I know no one would have left one for me.
So please just excuse all flaws with in my filthy soul and go on as though I had never been, like everyone else has always done.
Reading the note hastily at first peter rushed through the empty sadden words of acceptance. He had not yet come to realize that what he had just read was the suicide note of his best friend. Protected by his strong sense of denial Peter refused to accept what he was yet to process. For what he had just read, were the last thoughts Dan would ever have escape his dismal mind.
“He wanted me to give it to you” said sally in her same emotionless voice as Peter continued reading the note over and over.
Peter paused, and removed his eye contact form the words on the note to Sally’s haunting eyes, “W-Why?” he asked softly.
“Why not?” She said much louder then her usual whisper of a voice some what offended.
“When did he give it to you?” questioned peter not breaking her strong eye contact.
“Why not? Why wouldn’t he give it to me?” she said ignoring what Peter said, her voice now irritated and incensed.
“You had never even talked to him! why of all people would he of given YOU his suicide note!?” bellowed peter now angry.
“Back to work Peter, there is time to talk with your little friend later.” glared Mrs. Meve.
“Never talked! What the hell is your fucking problem you idiot! Why would you assume we never talked! Didn’t he tell you that we were in love!? Didn’t you ever see us together? Are you fucking blind!?” echoed Sally her voice full of distain and frustration.
Peter sat frozen, what was Sally talking about? Love?
Sally grabbed her tattered back pack as she started to cry, her falling tears seemed to consume Peters empathy beyond his awareness. Stumbling around desks Sally tried to escape form the cluttered now silent and stunned room.
“Sally!” yelled peter after her.
But it was too late, she was gone.