November Blues Read Free

ought to be driving to school by now, November looked out the grimy window and recalled how the local papers and television stations had covered the story of Josh’s death. Even CNN had broadcast it, the reporters shaking their heads at teenage foolishness.
    â€œThe death of sixteen-year-old Joshua Prescott has rocked Frederick Douglass High School to its core,” a reporter had cried that Saturday from his post in front of the school, she remembered. They were filming the informal student memorial assembly for Josh. “Young Prescott had been pledging for a school club called the Warriors of Distinction, a highly reputable, long-established organization known for its good deeds in the community. The dark, deadly secrets of the club, however, have become horribly apparent.” November knew she’d never forgethow oddly excited the journalists looked, like scavengers after a kill.
    One particularly pushy reporter, with her hair so heavily sprayed it didn’t budge in those January winds, had spotted November and jammed her microphone into November’s face while signaling to her cameraman to record.
    November had tried to avoid her, hurrying to the corner to catch a bus home, praying it would come soon. Her eyes were swollen from crying, and she had tried to keep her back to the camera, but the reporter had been determined. “Aren’t you Joshua Prescott’s girlfriend? We’re very sorry for your loss, but—”
    â€œYou’re not sorry for my loss,” November had interrupted. “People say that all the time. It doesn’t mean anything.”
    The reporter, undaunted, had continued, “You’re right, young lady. So, let me ask you—are you angry that the club made him perform that deadly stunt?”
    â€œNo, I’m angry that you’re asking me dumb questions!” November had responded, thinking back to how she and her girlfriends had been thrilled that their dudes were going to be in such a hot club, with hookups to parties every weekend and cool privileges like keys to the teachers’ workroom at school.
    â€œDid Joshua share with you any of the dangerous activities the Warriors of Distinction were involved in? Why didn’t you try to stop him?”
    November stared at her, incredulous. “How was I supposed to know? It was just supposed to be stupid high school fun,” she had replied, trying again to walk away. But the reporter, and her cameraman, had followed her.
    The reporter continued speaking to the camera. “Only club members and pledges knew of the secrets the Warriors of Distinction hid. Not until Prescott’s untimely death did the community find out what really went on.” Excitement rose in her voice. “New members had been made to undergo a series of hazing rituals that included having their heads flushed in a toilet, being dragged around on leashes like dogs, and, on the final night, jumping from a second-story window.”
    â€œPlease, leave me alone!” November had begged. The close-up of her crying had appeared on every major news outlet the next morning.
    The reporter turned back to the camera. “Fourteen of the fifteen pledges survived Friday night’s ‘Leap of Faith,’ as it was called. Eleventh-grader Joshua Prescott did not.” The reporter kept talking. November had run back into the school and had called her mother to pick her up.
    The Warriors of Distinction had been abolished by the school board shortly after Josh’s death, as November knew it probably would be; the club’s faculty adviser had been fired; and at least one of the members, Eddie Mahoney, had received some jail time. Everybody at school felt that Eddie got what was coming to him. He was a nasty piece of work. His cruel comments had made more than a few students miserable. None of this had changed the outcome of that horrible night, as far as November was concerned, but it seemed to put a little