This is What I Did Read online

  She took another breath.

  I still didn’t.

  Laurel: But see, I know what Bruce said about you isn’t true because I asked my mom if she knew anything about you or your last school because she’s on the school board. Remember?

  Me:

  Laurel: Well, she told me the whole story so you don’t have to worry.

  And then she was still picking at another scab but she was looking right at me.

  Me:

  Laurel: Well? Is it true?

  Me: What?

  Laurel: What my mom said.

  Me: How do I know what your mom said?

  Laurel: Oh, well, she totally knew about an incident with kids at your school and she told me the whole story about how a girl did get abused — almost raped, even — and it was at this drug house and the kid and his dad did it and she knows that both the kid and the dad are locked up. They talked about it while they were discussing the D.A.R.E. proposal. Mom said that everyone involved was on drugs. So then I asked her about why you would have anything to do with it.

  Breath.

  Me:

  Laurel: And my mom didn’t know about you specifically, but she said she heard that the kid’s friend may have seen the whole thing happen or something. Was that you?

  Me:

  Laurel: So?

  I just looked at her.

  Laurel: So?

  Me:

  Laurel: Is it true? Is that what happened?

  Me:

  Laurel: Come on, Logan. I know you didn’t do it.

  Me:

  Laurel: And I knew all along that you weren’t a molester or abuser or whatever.

  Me:

  Laurel: So you didn’t really have anything to do with it, did you? Right?

  Me:

  Laurel: Just say you didn’t do it and I’ll know it’s true. You didn’t do it.

  Screw it.

  Me: Actually, I kind of did do it.

  I don’t think Laurel knew what to do after that because she just stared at me and I stared back.

  We kept staring.

  Stare

  Stare

  Stare

  And then I told her.

  I told her about Zyler and how he wasn’t drugged up and how he tried to stop his dad.

  I mean, how he did stop his dad.

  And how he was my best friend.

  Ever.

  Even if he wasn’t what I thought sometimes and I think maybe he was mad at me, but maybe it was okay.

  And I told her how I didn’t actually do it but sort of: I knew and I was there and I didn’t do anything. I never do anything, almost never.

  Laurel:

  Me:

  Laurel: So you actually saw her with her shirt all ripped up?

  Me: I guess.

  She looked at me and then leaned her head against the brick again — her eyes closed. I knew then that she’d never want to be my friend. No one would. It was my fault. It was my fault. I was crapstock.

  Her eyes still closed, she said: But sad Eva saved a stub.

  Me: What?

  Laurel: Duh.

  And then I said: Oh.

  Laurel: Who’s doing your makeup for the play?

  Me: I don’t know.

  Laurel: Okay, I’m doing it. Stacy Beck is trying to say she’s the makeup person, but she’s so bad at it. You should have seen the play we did last year for sixth grade graduation. She made all the colonial women look like hookers. Mrs. Porter almost had a cow because she had no idea how awful Stacy was going to be because Stacy was saying she was so good because she lives in a mortuary and sometimes helps with the makeup; she told Mrs. Porter that she had a ton of experience. You should have seen Mrs. Porter’s face when we came out. We still had to do the whole thing like that anyway. Did you guys do a play at your old school?

  Me:

  And that was it.

  I might meet her at the mall for corn dogs this Saturday.

  The night before the play I went to Scouts.

  I had promised Dr. Benson.

  I could do it.

  At Scouts nobody talked to me as usual.

  We were making canteens out of gourds and mine was really good.

  I was carving out the inside when this: One more word out of you and I’m not going to hold back.

  It was Jack.

  And Bruce.

  Bruce: Dad, I just don’t get how to do it.

  Jack: I explained it. I showed you all. I even started yours and I’m sick of your whining attitude. Now shut up and carve your gourd.

  Bruce: But . . .

  Jack: Shut up!

  Bruce was turning red and didn’t say anything.

  None of us were saying anything and even though I didn’t want to, I sort of felt bad for Bruce.

  Five minutes later he said quietly: Dad?

  Jack:

  Bruce: Dad?

  Jack: Bruce, I am warning you.

  Bruce: I just have one question.

  That’s when Jack hit him.

  He hit him hard.

  Bruce was on the floor.

  We all just sat there.

  Sat

  Sat

  Sat

  And Bruce was huddled and sort of crying and Jack was yelling: I told you to shut up. I told you to SHUT UP!

  Bruce: But, Dad . . .

  Jack: SHUT UP!

  And he raised his fist again.

  That’s when I yelled as loud as I could.

  Everyone looked at me.

  Even Bruce.

  Me: Leave him alone. LEAVE HIM ALONE!

  Silent.

  Silent.

  And then I left.

  The next night: Peter Pan opening night.

  They were all yelling and screaming so loud.

  I didn’t know what to do — how to act or anything — so I just stood on the side of the tree and bowed a bunch of times.

  Then tomorrow is the last day of school.

  Most of my makeup was on my sleeve because Laurel had put so much on.

  She said: You have to have a lot — you’re under the lights.

  I guess she was right.

  There were a lot of lights.

  And the best part was the fight scene because even though I was nervous,

  I was sweating and sweating and sweating some more,

  we did it just like we practiced, but even the spin move was better than I thought it would be.

  And so they were still yelling and even standing up: Mom with her huge stomach, Dad, Mack, Ryan, Dr. Benson (I didn’t really believe he would come) all standing up and yelling and clapping.

  Ms. March said it was the best fight scene she’d ever seen in a school play.

  Laurel gave me a book called Palindromes —The Best of the Best and whispered: You were great.

  Next year we’re doing the Pirates of Penzance because of all the pirate costumes.

  I might be the Pirate King.

  That night.

  subject: Hey

  Date: Today

  1 message

  From: Logan

  To: Zyler

  Hey Zy,

  We moved. To Judge. Over by the mall. And I’m a lost Boy in the play Peter Pan. It’s pretty cool. I also have this friend who’s a girl named Laurel but she might change her name to Laral because she’s into palindromes. Like when the words go frontwards and backwards. I kind of like them too. Here’s one: A Santa at NASA.

  Logan.

  P.S. Maybe we could talk on the phone sometime unless you don’t want to.

  P.P.S. I left my bike for you.

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  None of these pages are blank, Get it?