Losing Hope

with for years, all seem to think if they don’t quietly watch my every move, they might miss the moment that I completely break down and lose it. I hate to disappoint them, but I’ve got a pretty good handle on things today. Nobody’s going to be losing it, so they might as well go back to their regular routine.

By the time I actually reach the table, the entire sound of the lunchroom has dropped to a dull murmur. All eyes are on me and I seriously wish I could tell everyone to go fuck themselves. But that would be giving them exactly the meltdown they want, so instead I keep my mouth shut.

The one thing I don’t do, though, is tell Daniel he can’t say what I’m wishing I could say. I look him straight in the eyes as I approach the table and we have one of our quick, nonverbal conversations. A nonverbal conversation in which I give him the go-ahead to release any pent-up frustration he might still be harboring.

He grins mischievously and loudly slaps his palms down on the table. “Holy motherfucking shit!” he yells, climbing up onto his chair. He gestures wildly toward me. “Look, everybody! It’s Dean Holder!” He proceeds to climb on top of the lunchroom table, pulling all the attention away from me and placing it on himself.

“Why is everyone staring at me?” he yells, motioning with huge, exaggerated gestures toward me. “We have the Dean Holder here! The one and only!” When only a few people look away from him toward me, he throws his hands up in the air like he’s disappointed in them. “Come on, guys! We’ve been anticipating this moment for two weeks now! Now that he’s finally here, you all decide to shut the hell up? What’s up with that?” He looks down at me and frowns, slumping his shoulders in defeat. “I’m sorry, Holder. I thought today would be a little more interesting for you. I was hoping for a Q&A session to kind of clear the air, but I didn’t realize every single person in this school is a spineless dipshit.” He begins to climb down from the table but then shoots his arm up into the air and holds up a finger. “Wait!” he says, spinning to face the entire crowd. “That’s actually a very good idea!”

I look around and expect one of the cafeteria monitors to be making their way over to him to put a stop to his spectacle, but the only monitor in the cafeteria right now is just watching him like everyone else, waiting to see what he’s up to.

Daniel jumps from our table to the table next to us, stepping on a few trays in the process. He spills chocolate milk all over the table and almost slips, but presses his hand onto the top of a guy’s head and straightens himself back up. The entire spectacle is pretty damn entertaining, so I take a seat at our table and watch him like I’m not even the reason behind his whole outburst.

He looks down at a girl seated at the table beneath his feet and he extends his arm, pointing his finger down at her. “What about you, Natalie? Now that we have Dean Holder here and live in person, would you like to ask him if your theory about why Les killed herself is correct?”

Natalie’s face reddens and she stands up. “You’re an asshole, Daniel!” She grabs her tray and walks away from the table. Daniel remains standing on top of the table, but his extended index finger follows her across the cafeteria.

“Wait, Natalie! What if Lesslie did kill herself because Grayson dumped her the same week he took her virginity? Don’t you want to know if you’re right? Don’t you want to know what you’ve won?”

Natalie exits the cafeteria, so he immediately turns his attention to Thomas, who is seated next to Amy a few tables down. She’s got her hand over her mouth and she’s looking at Daniel in shock like the rest of the cafeteria. He points to Thomas, then hops across three cafeteria tables to get to him. “Thomas!” Daniel yells excitably. “What about you? Would you like to participate in the Q&A? I heard your theory this morning during first period and it was a doozy.”

Thomas stands up and grabs his tray just like Natalie did. “Daniel, you’re being a jerk.” He nods toward me. “He doesn’t need this right now.”

I don’t say anything, but I actually hope Thomas gets away unscathed. I don’t know what rumor he started, but even so. I’m pretty sure what I did with Amy was retaliation enough, even though he’ll likely never know about it.

“Oh?” Daniel says, pulling his hand up to his mouth in false shock. He looks over at me. “Holder? Do you not need this right now? Are you like, in mourning or something? Should we be respecting that?”

I try not to smile, but Daniel’s doing a damn good job of turning this shitty day upside down. He steps from one table to the next, moving back toward our table.

“Do you not want to participate in the Q&A, Holder? I thought maybe you would want to set the record straight.” He spins around and addresses the entire cafeteria again without waiting on an answer from me. Several students begin picking their trays up and exiting the cafeteria in fear that they’ll be pointed out next. “Where’s everyone going? None of you seem to mind discussing it any other time. Why not right now when we can actually get some honest answers? Maybe Holder could tell us all why Les really did it. Or better yet, how she did it. Maybe we could even find out the truth behind the speculation that he’s suicidal, too!” Daniel looks at me again and props his hands on his hips. “Holder? Are the rumors true? Do you actually have the date set for when you plan to kill yourself?”

Now all eyes are definitely on me. Before I can answer, and not that I was going to, Daniel holds up his arms and faces his palms out toward me. “Wait! Don’t answer that, Holder.” He spins around to address the quickly dwindling crowd again. “I think we should open it up for bets! Somebody find me a pen and paper! I’ve got dibs on next Thursday,” he says, pulling his wallet out of his pocket.

Apparently the cafeteria monitor draws the line at illegal betting, because she’s now walking determinedly toward Daniel. He notices the monitor stalking toward him, so he shoves his wallet back into his pocket. “We’ll take bets after school, then,” he says quickly, jumping off the table.

I turn and head toward the doors to the cafeteria and he follows behind me. As soon as the doors swing shut behind us, the murmur of the cafeteria returns, but much louder this time. Once we’re both back in the hallway near our lockers, I turn to face him.

I can’t decide whether I want to punch him for what he just did or bow down to him. “You’re messed up, man.” I laugh.

He runs his palms down his face and falls against the lockers with a big sigh. “Yeah. I didn’t really mean for it to go on like that. I just couldn’t take another second of this shit. I don’t know how you’re doing it.”

“Me either,” I say. I open my locker and grab my car keys. “I think I’m just gonna call it a day. I really don’t want to stick around right now.”

Daniel opens his mouth to respond, but he’s interrupted by someone clearing his throat behind me. I turn around to find Principal Joiner eyeing Daniel angrily. I turn back to Daniel and he lifts his shoulders innocently. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. Looks like me and Principal Joiner have a lunch date.”

“More like a detention date,” Principal Joiner says firmly from behind me. Daniel rolls his eyes and follows the principal toward the office.

I grab the book I need to finish Mr. Mulligan’s research paper and shut my locker, then walk down the hall toward the exit. Before I round the hallway, I hear someone say Les’s name and it causes me to stop in my tracks. I peer around the corner and there is a small group of four people leaning up against their lockers. One of the guys is holding a cell phone and they’re all leaning over him, watching the video he’s playing. Daniel’s voice is coming from the speaker. Apparently someone recorded his display during lunch just now and it’s already circulating. Great. Even more fuel for the gossip.

“I don’t understand why Daniel made such a big deal out of it,” the guy holding the phone says. “Does he really expect us not to talk about it? If someone is pathetic enough to kill themselves, we’re obviously going to talk about it. If you ask me, Les should have tried to stick it out rather than take the easy—”

I don’t wait for him to finish his sentence. His phone shatters when I throw it against the locker, but the sound doesn’t even come close to the sound my fist makes when it meets his jaw for the first time. I don’t know if the punches get louder after that, though, because everything around me is instantly tuned out. He’s on his back on the floor of the hallway now and I’m on top of him, hitting him hard enough that I hope he’s never able to open his fucking mouth again. People are pulling on my shoulders and my shirt and my arms, but I continue hitting him. I put my rage on repeat and watch as my fist grows redder and redder from the blood that smears my hand every time I swing at him.