“You bet it is,” somebody called from the crowd.
Lawrence glared disdainfully at the girl and marched into the courthouse.
“I guess he’ll be on trial next,” somebody said.
“Naw, a guy like that gets a plea bargain and cleans up the road for a week. He ain’t ever going to be coming back here again,” an older man said.
“Good riddance, scumbag,” another voice said.
Although most people, not even considering Crazy Eddie, were wishing the worst for Lawrence, journalists were saying that the jury’s nearly two-week deliberation should make him feel confident. It meant a lack of unity. Most likely somebody or somebodies didn’t want to convict Eddie Cooper of first-degree homicide.
Judge Rhinehart had cleared the courtroom except for immediate family members of the murdered and Wynona. He also had the TV and radio broadcast banished. Hundreds stood outside the doors waiting to hear the verdict.
Jeremy and Carrie stood shoulder to shoulder, the tips of their fingers almost touching. Jeremy felt electricity rocketing through his body. He wanted to grab her hand, mesh his fingers between hers. But he couldn’t. His throat was Sahara dry and his body was stiff: he couldn’t move or speak. She didn’t say a word either and seemed as rigid as they waited. He watched birds returning from the winter, jumping from budding branch to branch. Jeremy decided he was going to touch Carrie, put his arm around her and point to a blue jay hopping in a nearby rosebud when the doors of the courthouse flew open. L.T. and his wife strode out.
“What happened?” somebody yelled.
“Bull crap is what happened. A huge steaming pile of it. There is no justice in America anymore.”
“L.T.,” his wife chided.
“Bull crap!”
Other family members of the murdered piled out of the courtroom looking equally disgusted.
The jury found Eddie guilty of having illegal weapons, misuse of a firearm, and failure to call the authorities, but not guilty of first-degree murder. As the jurors revealed later, they felt the charge was too high. They would have voted for manslaughter or even a lesser murder charge, but Carson didn’t give them that option. There had been a fifty-fifty split, but eventually it became apparent that even as heinous and cold-hearted as the massacre was, those boys had stepped on private property and should have known better. It was as if some idiot went to the zoo and jumped in a lion’s cage. You don’t fault the animal when it tears that person apart; you fault the stupid human.
Jeremy wasn’t sure if he was let down or not. He was glad that Crazy Eddie would be serving time, but not a life sentence—even though a freed Crazy Eddie could only lead to more trouble. It seemed the town of Clover, however, was disappointed. Quietly the masses walked back to their cars saying very few words above a murmur. Jeremy and Carrie walked back to their cars silently. Jeremy wasn’t thinking about the verdict, but was trying to find the words to ask Carrie out. He saw himself confidently asking “Hey, are you doing anything tomorrow?” or straight to the point: “Would you like to go out?” When he looked at Carrie, however, he noticed her eyes weren’t on him, but Zack and Michelle walking hand-in-hand. Jeremy felt the urge to get home and play video games.
The sentencing trial happened the next week, and the judge took the jury’s recommendations, giving Crazy Eddie the maximum time possible with a ten-year sentence. It was reported that Crazy Eddie wasn’t happy, swearing at Lawrence as deputies pulled him away in cuffs. Carson had been on the television and radio stations denouncing “the gross miscarriage of justice in Clover,” though nobody cared what he said. He let Clover down. Lawrence had slipped away unnoticed, probably happy to be out of Clover.
PART 3: HIGH SCHOOL
24. LIFE CONTINUES
Jeremy continued his life almost the same way as before the trial, before the massacre. Smiling and getting along with people, he was good at that. He didn’t think that anything stood out noticeably, but he had changed. He felt hollow. Sometimes when he shut his eyes at night, he would drop into an instant free-fall, his body hurtling into a dark abyss. He’d wake with his heart racing and teeth clenched. He would then play video games into the morning, completely exhausted.
Lawrence Elliot from Lawrence came back to Clover for his own trial. As predicted, he turned everything upside down and mixed and muddled everything until he was convicted on a couple of misdemeanors and given commuted sentence. He had to perform community service, but it wasn’t even picking up trash. He gave talks about the dangers of driving drunk and provided legal advice at community shelters. The girl’s family changed their position from wanting to prosecute and designate Lawrence as a pedophile to publishing a statement that nothing had happened in his car that night; only a simple misunderstanding.
L.T. Diamond dropped out of the church and atrophied into an embittered hermit that even his wife could no longer reach. Jeremy was grateful L.T. didn’t attend his church anymore. Any reminders, whether sisters, brothers, or parents of the dead boys, or even those damn Diamond Contractors signs, could turn a decent mood into a downer.
Jeremy’s conversations with friends stayed on temporary and trivial subjects, avoiding any deep topics. He also found video games to be infinitely more intriguing than homework or people. Although he talked to Carrie often, the ease and comfortableness he had with her over the years were gone. He began to feel nervous around her. She had started dating a jock in the class ahead. Although it didn’t look like anything more serious than hand holding and kissing, it made Jeremy depressed, wanting to fall inward.
In the cafeteria, he had slowly migrated away from “The Table” where Carrie, Zack Utley, Matt Hendershot, Michelle Anders, and all of the cool kids ate to tables of lesser distinction. To be at the cool kids’ table you had to be quick on your feet, as jabs were thrown in rapid machine-gun fire, but with constant respect given to the kings and queens lest they turn their wrath and that of others against you. Zack was an asshole of the highest order who seemed to work hard at it, like it was an obligation because he was the popular guy. He had money, looks, and played quarterback, centerfield, and guard in the three sports that mattered in Kansas—football, baseball, and basketball. He wore his letterman’s jacket almost every day except for the hottest ones. He exuded outward displays of confidence, except when looking into his eyes after he made a boastful comment that was unfounded in reality or common sense. Behind those eyes were layers of fear and insecurity.
To Jeremy, it seemed Zack still wanted Carrie even when he was with Michelle or some other girl. They had dated in middle school and again for a short time before the trial. It was almost as if Carrie had no choice—she was destined to be with him.
Jeremy had hated Zack since the eighth grade, when Jeremy stood alone at a urinal doing nature’s business. Out of the blue, Zack unzipped and stood next to him, even though there was another toilet a spot away he should have used according to man code edicts.
“Hey Rogers, you know when I made out with Carrie, I got to feel up her boobs. They are sweet.”
Jeremy nodded, feeling emotions of envy, embarrassment for Carrie, and anger at Zack’s arrogance. He loved Carrie and would have given a couple of fingers just to make out with her. Boob touching wouldn’t even be on his agenda…unless it was okay with her.
Zack’s eyes watched Jeremy carefully, waiting for a reaction. He was gauging Jeremy, but for what?
“Why are you telling me this, man?” Jeremy said with a flush and zip up.
“What do you mean? Just letting you know that I got some. You’re close to her. Did you ever get any?”
“Boob?”
“Yeah.” The truth of the matter was that they did kiss and hold hands a few times in preschool up until first grade, when it wasn’t cool for boys and girls to be together.
“No, not yet.”
“Not yet sounds like never to me, bro. I’ve had her already, but you better jump on her before somebody takes her away. That is, unless you’re into dudes.”
“Shut up, man.”
Zack laughed. Forced and dumb.
*
Jeremy hung out with friends four tables down whom he had forsaken a few years earlier to be cool. He said hello to everybody at the cool tables—there weren’t hostilities, he just no longer played football or kept the edge needed to be there. He sat with Erik, Graham, Cynthia, and Lisa. They were academically motivated and had aspirations for college.
“How about you?” Erik, a scrawny bespectacled sixteen-year-old asked. “Do you know where you want to go to school?”
Jeremy shrugged. “Don’t know yet. I need to make sure I get through high school.”
The table laughed and Jeremy smiled, but he really meant it.
25. SAM
Somewhere during the middle of the trial, Jeremy stopped losing weight and started gaining it. As he grew in height, so did his waistline. He’d been big boned and might have even been called thick before, but a tummy started to creep over his belt. It would have been called a beer gut, but in reality Dr. Pepper and snacks from plastic bags were the culprits.
“If that belly grows any more you won’t be able to see your toes. You need to get out and exercise,” his mother would chide. But upon hearing the word exercise, Jeremy recoiled, desiring the comfort of his bed.
*
When the school year ended and as the summer progressed, Jeremy got leaner and tan mowing lawns and working on a few roofs here and there. Like his stint in football, he was second string. Only if somebody else was sick or injured—injuries usually happening after work, in a bar or a house party, though it would be reported as a workplace injury for the workers’ comp—would Jeremy work on a roof. The roofers drank in the name of comfort after a day of back straining labor. Jeremy joined a few times, but the déjà vu was too strong. He began declining invitations, instead going straight home to the comfort of the basement.
*
A month into his junior year, Jeremy’s sister, Jessica, brought her boyfriend Sam over from Wichita State. His handshake was so firm that it seemed like he was intentionally trying to break fingers. He was hyper-optimistic and assured, pursuing a Business Administration degree. He had played a year of baseball at Wichita State until he had to “retire” after tweaking his knee sliding into second base.
“Could’ve signed with the Reds out of high school, but went for the scholarship instead. At least now I’ll have a solid business degree. No injury can take that away.”
Jessica and her mother sat almost star struck listening to the one semester college athlete talk between bites of Gail’s homemade lasagna. Jeremy, his hand still smarting, wasn’t impressed. He looked over at his father, who also seemed underwhelmed. Sam came across as a blowhard, like so many other males that women desired. He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t they see past the ego and the veneer of big talk? Carrie didn’t. That’s why she dated morons like Zack.
“Isn’t he great, mom?” Jessica asked.
She nodded as if lacking words.
“So what about you, sport? Do you play anything?”
It took Jeremy a couple of seconds to realize Sam was talking to him.
“Oh, uh…no. Used to play football, but I got a concussion,” Jeremy said, upset that he felt like he was apologizing.
“It was from Crazy Eddie Cooper, that psycho who killed all my friends. Remember?” Jessica said.
“Yeah, that guy was crazy,” Sam said.
“I wouldn’t allow Jeremy to play football after that,” Gail said.
“So what about other sports? How about playing baseball or something?”
“Naw. I’m getting by fine. Football was my sport.”
“And getting fat,” his sister added.
“Hey,” Gary said. “Leave your brother a little dignity. He drives a mean riding lawn mower in the summer.”
The table laughed. Jeremy sat quietly stewing. There wasn’t another sport he could play. He couldn’t hit a fastball to save his life, he was too short for basketball, and there was no way he would even consider cross-country. It hurt that his father was ganging up against him.
A rift had been developing between Jeremy and Gary since the trial. People had been laid off at the power company, and though Gary had kept his job, he worked more hours with a pay cut. When he came home, Gail would gripe about Jeremy’s low grades and lack of motivation. He and Jeremy had a few talks that revolved around moving forward. “The trial is over. They never called on you to testify. Consider yourself lucky and move on.” Jeremy always nodded, saying he would.
“You got to buck up, kid. Get back up on that horse again,” Sam said, bringing Jeremy back to the present.
“My name is Jeremy,” he said, feeling blood rise to his cheeks.
“Okay, Jeremy, even if it isn’t athletics, look into doing other things, like me. I got injured, but I’m still making the most of my college scholarship, you know. I’m vice president of the University Business Club and I’m in a bunch of other organizations. You should look into groups like Future Business Leaders of America or the Debate Club.”
“Oh, Sam,” Jeremy’s mother said. “Jeremy ain’t the academic kind. His grades have gotten to be something awful.”
“I’d like to see Jeremy in drama. Can you see him quoting Shakespeare?” Jessica said, laughing.
“How about chess club?” his mother added before ripping into a snort of laughter.
Jeremy brought up a brave, singular smile. Let the laughs rain down, he thought, I can take it.
*
Jeremy tossed in bed, mulling things over in his mind. Was he a loser? He definitely wasn’t a “winner,” but then again he knew many others who were a lot worse off living in trailer parks, or those who were plain dead. He had survived by some weird combination of good luck and intuition. If that intuition didn’t care whether or not he went to college or had high grades, who was to say he wasn’t on the right track? Or maybe, he thought as he plunged into the darkness of his mind, he had used up his last good luck pass and was existing on borrowed time until a comet or a plane would smack him down. Lord knew he deserved it.