Jeremy Stone (5 page)

Yeah, We Needed to Talk

Can we go outside? he said.

I know you have a free period now.

So I followed him outside into some drizzling rain.

Dogs were barking somewhere.

There was a lot of litter on the sidewalk.

Why me? I asked.

Old Man said you'd help.

I laughed. Of course. What did he do, Google you?

Something like that, Jenson Hayes said.

He's very cool.

My grandfather invented cool.

Does Caitlan know

that you are around?

Not yet. But I saw you two

talking in Fred's closet.

You saw us? You were there?

Not exactly but … you know.

I guess. Okay, so here you are.

Here I am and Old Man said

you'd be the one person

in the universe who would accept me

for who I am now

and not ask too many

bullshit questions.

I guess I could be that person.

But you really are …

well ... you know?

Yeah, he said, brushing the long hair

out of his eyes.

And in some ways it's all okay now,

but in other ways

it really sucks.

At least you don't have

to go to school, right, dude?

That's one of the perks.

But I miss a lot of things.

I miss being a vegan,

I miss trying to change the world,

and I even miss arguing with

greedy assholes.

I miss being who I was.

But at least you don't have to go to school

and you probably don't even have to

deal with assholes.

He nodded. True, but one more thing.

I miss Caitlan.

What Love Is

Love, Jenson said, stays with you even if you move on. Love takes up a whole lot more of who you are than most people realize. You think you are all about arms and legs and your big fat brain with ideas and all those opinions—let me tell you, I was the king of opinions. And you think some things are important: like what to eat and what you look like and what people think of you and how you are going to make it through life and what kind of grade you are going to get on the final exam.

But none of that is important.

Guess you're right on that, I added.

So when me and Caitlan had this thing going,

I was stronger than I'd ever been before.

I mean strong and in a good way.

Nobody could get to me

like they had all my life.

Not my asshole father.

Not the mean teachers.

Not the creeps at school.

But then we had this

little argument,

Caitlan and me.

And we stopped

talking.

And I got stubborn.

Felt isolated.

All alone

and

weak.

He smelled it.

He knew I was weak.

He pretended to

be my friend.

Told me things about Caitlan that were not true.

Who did?

Thomas Heaney.

Paper Clip, I said.

I call him Paper Clip.

He had some of his buddies

say all kinds of weird crap about me.

And Thomas

told Caitlan some stuff about me

that wasn't true.

I stopped going to school.

I should have been angry

and fought it.

Sometimes it's not that easy, I said.

Instead, I got weaker.

And then I got a text message

that came from

Caitlan.

At least it came from her phone

and it said

we were over

and she was going out with Thomas Heaney.

Fuckin' Paper Clip.

Just Standing Around in the Drizzle Talking to a Dead Dude

That pretty much sums up the situation

but I knew Jenson wasn't just here to shoot the shit.

So, Jenson, what now?

I need you to help set things straight with Caitlan.

She can't hear you

or see you

like me?

No. I tried. I really did.

She might not believe me.

She might think I'm damaged in the head.

Many people do. Lots of people.

But she likes you, Jeremy.

She's pretty intense.

That's one of the things I like about her.

Me too, I said,

although I realized now

that maybe he'd see

I really did “like”

her.

I guess you could

say I

had a

crush.

I was thinking

maybe I shouldn't

get involved

with this Jenson Hayes.

I guess Jenson saw the look on my face.

Jeremy, he said. Old Man told me

to tell you that you should

always drink

from the mountain stream

and not

city water.

Of course.

I knew what Old Man was saying.

Sometimes my grandfather

can be a pain in the ass.

But we really have to do something

about Thomas.

Revenge? I asked.

That didn't sound right.

My grandfather never

believed in revenge.

He never even spoke of getting revenge

against all the Europeans who stole our

land and fucked up

a sweet way of life.

No, dude. Not revenge.

We need to change him

so he can see

the light.

Back With the Living

Final period at school French class

I am wondering why I am learning French

and not the language of

my grandparents. Old Man

kept trying to explain to me when I was young

that what language you use shapes the way you think.

English, he said, is

a language of things. Every
thing
has to have a name.

Our old tongue

was better at showing relationships. Even people's identity

showed connections. Your name

in the old language would not be Jeremy Stone

but something else

and you would be

“Boy with strength and rock-hard courage

but kind heart.”

I thought he was goofing

but maybe not.

OM also told me

there were no curse words

in our old language.

When you wanted to curse someone

and say something really unkind, he said,

you had to use English 'cause

there are so many really unkind words

in that language.

Language expresses the heart and soul of a culture,

he lectured to me when I was young

but he could tell I wasn't paying good attention.

Funny to think that that was

way back when

my grandfather still had a body

to put clothes on each morning.

Someday, he'd say,

I'll have to give back this ole body you see here.

It's only borrowed, he said,

to trap my spirit for a little while

so I can walk upright

and give advice to my

grandson.

Thomas Heaney in French Class

I knew it was too soon to confront

Paper Clip. And I knew he'd be pissed

at me

for beating him fair and square in wrestling.

He saw me looking at him

and shot me

a really nasty look. Silently mouthed something that must have been Fuck You Indian.

Well, at least he didn't think I was Italian anymore.

Just then, Ms. Framboise

called on me

'cause I wasn't paying attention.

Monsieur Stone, she said, or perhaps you would be Monsieur Pierre, Oui?

Monsieur Jerome Pierre sounds like the name of a Parisian movie actor.

Paper Clip made a face and held his nose.

Ms. Framboise asked me a question in French.

I had

no clue

but I answered anyway

with something stuck in my head from a previous class.

I said, La neige est froide aujourd'hui.

Which she told me later meant:

The snow is cold today.

Which was not the answer to the question.

The class laughed.

Paper Clip, I think, nearly peed himself.

I did my usual:

turned to stone, me Jerome Pierre,

and that's when I saw

Jenson Hayes sitting in what had been an empty desk over on the side of the room near the windows.

He too was mouthing some words.

And then the words were clear as a bell in my head,

so I added,

Pardonnez moi, mademoiselle. Mon francaise est terrible. Excusez-moi.

And I could tell Ms. Framboise was impressed.

Jenson had given

me just the right thing to say

and everyone stopped laughing.

Hey, Jenson, I said silently in my head.

Will you be there for me on the final exam?

I could really use your help.

Jenson nodded but then I heard him say,

That's cheating, you know.

And I realized it was

but then having a dead dude give you answers for a final exam

seemed like

a cool way

to survive French.

The Troof

When I was young

the Th sound always came out like F.

I'm better now

but sometimes

I retreat and talk like I did

when I was

little.

But then, I still don't talk much;

mostly listen

and watch.

I don't know why

but I don't think I was ever capable of lying.

My mom

sometimes when she was high

in a weird way

(she wasn't always weird when high,

sometimes she was funny, sometimes nice)

but when it got ugly

she'd accuse me of stealing her smokes

or eating all the food in the fridge

Jeremy, come here, she'd screech

Did you do this?

No, Mom.

Are you lying to your mother?

No. I'm telling

the troof.

The troof.

But she didn't always believe me.

and she'd get weirder, angrier

and more and more not-my-mom.

So I'd go ahead and say,

Yeah, Mom. I ate the food in the fridge

(even though it was moldy sometimes

and green and smelled bad)

and I stole your smokes and sold them to kids

(which I would never do, believe me).

But my mom would hug me then

and cry and say, I love you, Jeremy

and I forgive you. I wish your father

was here.

So I guess I was lying about

saying I never lied.

But my mom settled down mostly and got rid of all the really bad addictions except smoking and drinking and sometimes thinking too much about men. And my dad was still Out West.

And me

I was sticking with

the troof as best I could.

I, Jeremy Stone, swear to say the troof, the whole troof and nothing but the troof, so help me God, which is why you have to believe me when I tell you about Old Man and about Jenson Hayes. I wouldn't, couldn't make something like that up.

Yeah,

so help me God.

And by the way, God

please help me figure out

how I'm supposed to help Jenson.