Miss Me Not

I moved right from destruction to a daredevil stage, by climbing anything and everything. I became an expert at scaling heights. My mom would find me perched on top of the fridge, the top shelf of my closet, and my all-time favorite, the roof of the house. The first time I climbed on top of the house she called the fire department to get me down. The kind fireman who scaled the roof plucked me up like a sack of potatoes and carried me down. He lectured me on safety and the harm I could have come to. I soaked his words up like a sponge, and the next time I scaled the roof, I waited for one of the tragic events he'd claimed would occur, but after an hour had passed without a sudden fall resulting in multiple broken bones, I was highly disappointed. None of his prophecies came to pass, so I was once again plucked off the roof by another fireman. This one wasn't so kind and told my mom to keep a better eye on me since their services were needed for real emergencies. I guess I should have expected bars on my window after that, but Mom solved the problem by limiting my time at home, which meant more time at church. So, in a way, she found the ultimate punishment. Church always won. It stole every hour I was supposed to have with my parents. I hated the thieving bastard.

"So, what do you think?" James asked, breaking through my thoughts.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" I asked.

"I said, do you want to hang after school? My dad's working double shifts all week, so I'm free. Maybe we can hang at your house. You know, talk about 'it'."

"It" was how we referred to our pact. We always avoided the word suicide, feeling once it was uttered someone would somehow find out and try to intervene. Who would have ever foreseen that the actions of one would be the very thing that would seal my fate? For four years I had done nothing but contemplate snuffing out my existence. No more judgments, no more glares and most of all, no more gossip surrounding things I had done. All of that was swiped away. In the end, they would still win. They always won.

"Can't, I have freaking tutoring," I said, finally answering his question as I grimaced at the idea of staying at school a minute longer than I wanted to.

"Tutoring? I thought all your teachers had given up on you," he said, trying to hide his disappointment. He hated his house even when his father wasn't home.

"Not that bitch Ms. Jones. It's either tutoring with some know-it-all, or she wants to schedule a meeting with my mom.

"Would she even show?" he asked.

"Probably not. You know her rules though—either I keep my nose clean here and my grades passing, or she's sending me to that bullshit trade school for troubled teens in Jackson County."

"I can tutor you," he said as a last-ditch attempt.

"I told Whore Cat that, but she said either I used her approved tutor or it was conference time. I'll try to duck out early and we can meet at my house. I'll give you my key and you can head there to wait for me."

"Nah, that's okay. I can go to my house," he said reluctantly.

"James, it's fine. Hang at my house."

"You sure?"

"Sure. No one will be home. You'll have the house to yourself until I get there."

"Thanks, M," he said, looking almost happy at the rare solitude he'd have.

In our own demented way, we were made for each other. He craved solitude while I felt solitude was a just punishment.

"So, who's your tutor?" he asked, laying back down next to me.

"I'm not sure. Whore Cat was pretty much closemouthed about it. Knowing my luck, it'll be some eager beaver freshman."

He nodded. "That sounds like something she'd do."

"Strangle me now," I said sarcastically, wrapping my fingers around my throat to emphasize my point.

"M, can I ask you a question?"

"Um, yeah."

"You think you'd still go through with it?" he asked.

He didn't need to clarify.

"I want to. I mean, I just want to disappear, leave nothing behind, but today showed me that's not possible. I don't want anyone here to falsely mourn me. I don't know. Maybe if I make it to grad, I can disappear and no one here will ever give me another thought once we walk out the doors the last day of class. What about you?"

"I guess I feel the same as you," he said, sounding anything but sure.

"At least we have each other. One day you'll be away from your dickhead father and I'll be away from my void of a life."

"If I make it that long," he said, running the stick in his hands against the metal railing of the walkway.