attempted to, years ago. Once he actually threatened to hit me. He was suspended for three days.
âIâm looking for James! He killed my brother!â
âYour brother ran off the road,â I said, trying not to feel the words I was saying.
âJames knows how drunk Gabe gets! He shouldnât have let him drive!â Gerald looked at me sideways, like a dog about to bite.
From the back of the room Ray Jackson spoke up. âJames couldnât stop him. Nobody could. Nobody can make Gabe do anything.â
âYou tell that little sucker heâs dead. When I find himââ
âGet out of here, Gerald,â I said. âGet out before I call the police.â
He killed me with his eyes. Then he slammed out of the room. The kids were frozen at their desks.
âDonât worry,â Ray told me. âJames can take care of himself.â
âRight,â I said. âLike Gabe took care of himself.â A wave of despair engulfed me. Gabriel is dead. I saw this coming in his eyes. I saw this coming and I couldnât stop it.
Iâve heard that Jennie is not in school. Nobody has seen her. At first I was afraid that sheâd been in the truck with Gabe, but they said no, Gabe was alone. He was always alone, in the long run.
I wanted to talk to Jennie about Gabe. I wanted to warn her, but it was not my place. I should call her house and see how sheâs doing, but teacher has no answers today, no words that will take away her pain. Nothing I could say would explain what has happened. It was an accident. If something that deliberate can be called accidental. He threw his life away; batting aside every helping hand, thumbing his nose at every offer of assistance, as if he were entitled to unlimited chancesâ
Incredible. The kidâs dead and Iâm still mad at him. He was a splotch on my record, a reminder that Iâd failed. The master teacher could not reach him. He shot through life like a falling star. Look, there goes Gabe! we said, dazzled by his brilliance. Then he burned out.
Iâve been sitting here, reading the pages he wrote for the weekly writing assignment in senior English. He hated that assignment. He didnât trust words. Theyâd been used to hurt him too many times.
Looking at what he wrote, at that brave, childish scrawl, I can see Gabeâs face, I can almost hear him speaking.
6
Gabriel McCloud
Dear Mrs. Sanders,
I donât like this asinement. I donât think its fair. You say just write like your writing to a friend but if you donât Iâll flunk you.
Thatâs not to friendly.
I think it should be up to us if we do it or not. I am not the kind of person who likes to write. I donât read much. The stuff I like to read (comix) you would say doesnât count. But some of them are really good I like them a lot. There funny and they tell you stuff about life.
Like this one, this guyâs name is SHADOW MAN . He has powers over the weather and the stars and he makes something happen just by thinking it. Mostly he does stuff for good but donât get him pissed off or its tornado time!
I like the way he looks his eyes are like stars I mean they flash. Did you know that when you see a star twinkle its not really happening now it happened a long time ago in the past. It took all that time to get to your eyes because its so far away. Thatâs the kind of thing I learn from this comic and its true.
I donât know what Iâm supposed to write. You say write 250 words but I canât its torcher. Anyway its not like people are going to read it just you and its not like Iâm going to be a writer or something. We donât have to many books at our house exsept in my motherâs room. You canât write at my house its to confusing but thatâs another story. Anyway my spelling is pretty bad.
282 words! Do I get extra credit?
SHADOW MAN
Gabriel :
Who says you canât write?