path: root/working
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authorbrian m. carlson <>2013-01-06 18:12:50 +0000
committerbrian m. carlson <>2013-01-06 18:12:50 +0000
commit1aefc1abba8e3fb84dfb3639a700c614aefbd095 (patch)
tree8a38c58377d38a92e9a06cd291364583c446fa2f /working
parent5c20848f4090980f8cb2f11a780e4aac36c665ad (diff)
Update for recent changes.
Diffstat (limited to 'working')
2 files changed, 72 insertions, 1 deletions
diff --git a/working/ b/working/
index e528a72..8026b2a 100644
--- a/working/
+++ b/working/
@@ -18,7 +18,12 @@ lit our way in jokes, conversations,
games of Truth or Dare.
Grown up, you are a slave
- to the Book; your eyes
+ to the Book; its letters
+ tug at you as minature
+ chains, insistent.
+ Your body looks
+ tired; your eyes
sad, mirthless.
Wyoming’s calls are sirens;
diff --git a/working/ b/working/
index 453286a..0e8c446 100644
--- a/working/
+++ b/working/
@@ -9,3 +9,69 @@ I replied that yes, I would be over for dinner tonight. I thought about Mark
and Crystal, how they were ideal parents, fair and loving, how they tried to
provide the best for their kids, both of them. I felt tears in my eyes, and
+When Ethan and I walked to school the first day of our ninth-grade year, he was
+abuzz with excitement. He couldn't stop fidgeting; on the way to school, he
+must have tried to crack his knuckles a dozen times, and it was only a couple
+blocks. When we met up just before the period before lunch, he had already been
+shoved and locked in a locker twice. His view of school was no longer so rosy.
+I saw Ethan walking into the lunchroom that day. He skipped the lunch line, as
+he often did; about half the days all he'd have was a twenty-ounce Coke. Today,
+though, he wasn't carrying anything. His hands were shoved into his pockets.
+He walked quickly, directedly, towards the table where the football team usually
+sat. Ethan walked directly toward Dylan, and he looked up, a sneer on his
+.q "What do you want?"
+he said dismissively.
+.q "Fuck you,"
+Ethan replied. In one smooth motion, he pulled the .45 out of his pocket and
+fired. Dylan's body fell against the wall and went slack. I knew what Ethan
+was going to do next, and I got up and ran towards him, smacking my shin against
+the seat. He put the end in his mouth and fired again. His body crumpled to
+the floor. I'll never forget the way he looked, his face opened up like a
+flower that had bloomed. I just stood there, staring the way you do at any
+.q "More peas?"
+Crystal asked. It jolted me back to the table.
+.q "No, thanks, I think I'm good,"
+I replied quickly, not wanting to seem like my thoughts had been elsewhere. The
+dinner had been pleasant, considering, and I certainly did not want to give Mark
+and Crystal any reason to reflect on the past.
+.q "Saving room for dessert?"
+she asked.
+.q "I'd love to,"
+I lied,
+.q "but I have some stuff to do at home. Let me take a raincheck."
+Her desserts were, in fact, usually the highlight of an otherwise delicious
+meal, but I just wasn't feeling it.
+After saying my goodnights, I walked back the three blocks to my house and let
+myself in. I went up to my room on the third floor and sat down on my bed.
+After taking off my shoes and jacket, I reached into my nightstand, underneath
+the piles of socks, and pulled out Ethan's notebook.
+When we had finally been allowed to get our things from our lockers, two days
+after, I had found five notebooks in the top of my locker. I knew instantly
+whose they were and why they were there. Ethan had always been a private
+person, and I, through repeated questioning, had found out what Ethan had
+suspected: that the police would be all-too-fascinated by every aspect of his
+life, especially his notebooks. Hell, the police were a little too interested
+in \fImy\fP life.
+I had started off with Notebook One, poring through pages after pages of text
+and neat, geometrical drawings. He had for years written in some mish-mash of
+cursive-print, with a fluidity that made it almost an art form. I had noticed
+that as time had gone on, the lowercase letters had gotten smaller, although
+their stems remained, as always, the appropriate full height of the line.
+Somewhere in the third notebook, there were fifty pages where Ethan had adopted
+E. E. Cummings' habit of not capitalizing the first person pronoun. Although
+Ethan had never dated anything in his notebooks, little clues like these helped
+me figure out a rough timeline.