what_fourth_wall

The end would come when Jennie’s family would move to a better section of town. Someone got a raise or promotion, and that meant escape. Wade would watch from afar as he lost her in slow motion, box after furniture after box loading into a truck. Jennie would be the last to be packed into a car with her puppy. She would look back. She would wave, and he would wave back.

“I thought about killing her, you know,” Leo would say beside him, watching with a serene smile.

Wade would punch Leo in the face. Leo’s nose would shatter.

For the rest of the school year, Jennie would leave Wade alone. He avoided her as much as possible, and she respected his space with the exception of one time, weeks later, in the lunchroom. That day, Leo was out sick, and Wade sat alone. She very pointedly walked up, set her tray down, and sat across from him. For the entire lunch hour, she would not speak, not even once. He didn’t speak either.

With that act, she highlighted his choice to be alone. The company of a devil was no company at all.

But he made that choice.

What Wade saw when he arrived for Watson’s walk was the end of anything that could have been. A dog’s shrieks of pain were not quite so human as a raccoon’s, but there was at least as much feeling to them. Watson looked to Wade, and his eyes pled for release. He was dying, and slowly.

There was only one thing to do. Leo offered a knife. Numb, Wade took it. He killed quickly. Behind them, a scream of the purest anguish split the air, like a raccoon. Wade looked back.

“I’m sorry.” He fled, tears streaming.

“Bullseye.” Leo smiled.

“Drop her.”

“What?? Aw! Is somebody getting jealous? Want a little cuddle?”

“No. Drop her or something bad will happen.” Leo’s voice on the other end of the line was even, calm, and in that perpetual state of amused yet cold.

“What? Now you sound like Derrick. Ass.”

“You’ve gone soft. You’re better than this.”

“Shut up. I have not. Just because I’m not spending as many hours in detention-”

“What are you doing later? Want to hang out? The K-Mart wall needs tagging again.”

“Can I do it tomorrow? We’re walking Watson.”

Leo hung up. Wade felt no guilt.

Once, and only once, did Wade try having Jennie over to his house, and only because she insisted. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his dad – but he knew what his dad was and he was embarrassed. It is sad that the visit did not go worse than imagined.

“Pick it up you little shit.” Derrick stood over a tumbler that he himself had drunkenly knocked over. Wade complied, hoping to end it quickly.

“Bastard left me alone in the world,” Derrick looked up at Jennie. “And you know what, little girl? He’s gonna ruin you too. Mark my words.”

Jennie had a dog. It had been a birthday present from her father once upon a time after a business trip, and now it was several years old. He was a mid-sized mutt of a hound named Watson. Sherlock would have been too cliché, she said. She liked Watson better, because he worked for his intelligence.

They took walks with Watson. He had never told her about his wanting a pet, but as with most things, she just seemed to know. Those walks were some of the best times he had that year. She loved that dog. And he smiled.

When he saw her on his bus stop, Wade froze. The rain drove down in sheets between them, cold and nasty. Jennie lived somewhere near him. She shivered and folded her arms under her chest, rain dripping down her face. For some reason, she didn’t have an umbrella.

Jennie had been the butt of several pranks since that first one, but none by Wade. The smile had disarmed him. Nobody had ever smiled at him like that. Leo, however, had done his best to make up for Wade’s lack.

Wade walked up to her and shared his umbrella. She smiled.

Wade found escape in being the class clown. Leo found pleasure in other people’s pain. Wade craved attention. Leo craved anonymity. The friendship that followed was that of a fool and his patsy, but despite that it thrived. Under Leo’s influence, Wade’s pranks, ever outlandish, took a violent turn every now and then. Under Wade’s influence, Leo learned to make things entertaining. Both were loved and hated, as most class clowns are.

They would meet the one to change their dynamic in the seventh grade. Her name was Jennie, with an “ie”, and she would be Wade’s very first love.

Wade stared at fading bruises in the mirror. At twelve, he had realized that his father was no war hero. At thirteen, he had called Derrick on it. And at thirteen, he had learned that his father believed his own fantasies so much that he would hurt his own son to protect those lies. His world was that fragile. The truth would break him.

He resolved something right then. The boy would not become the father. He would never lose himself in his own fantasies. No matter how bad it got.

It was not a promise that he would keep.

Derrick Wilson was not a Canadian. His son was, because he had been born there, but he was not. He was an American that had fled the Vietnam draft many years ago. He had been an expatriate then, and his son, following in his footsteps, was now at the ripe old age of thirteen. Deeply conservative and unable to reconcile that with his lack of patriotism, he had a dozen stories of his time as a war hero in ‘Nam. Not even his son believed them any more, and he was the only one who ever had. But Derrick believed.