Nobody Knew
How does one explain Darren Grace? Loner. Loser. Outcast. Geek. Freak. Unwanted. Unneeded.
Perhaps there are more words that we could utter upon his behalf. The strange boy with the curly hair and oval glasses, who sat in the corner and played video games and never tried to reach out to anyone, turned away when you looked at him, hurried away when you tried to touch him.
He was a moving target for bullies. The dickheads who were the 'top of the world, I'm so great, everyone pay attention to me' guys. They taunted and tormented him for just being Darren Grace. They made everyone laugh with their cruel jokes and impersonations. They threw apple cores at him and chased him home only to beg rocks at his house.
Darren cried once. It was in the middle of science, last period. The dickheads had been nonstop at him, simply because it was his birthday, and even had gone so far as to sing a mocking birthday song in front of the school at lunch.
One of the dickheads, lanky, sandy haired Daniel, had stuck a piece of the lung we were dissecting, down Darren's shirt. Darren, who was tittering on the edge, lost control and broke down crying. Just like that, in the middle of science. Everyone went deathly silent as he howled like a wounded animal. My stomach churned as our teacher escorted him outside to calm down.
He didn't come to school for two days.
When he did come back he had a haircut. It was short, almost to his skull, and he wore a baseball cap, which a teacher confiscated during class. One of the dickheads made a snide comment about him 'crying to his mummy'. Darren went bright red and didn't say anything.
I've only ever seen Darren stick up to the dickheads once before. It wasn't even for him. It was for me, actually. I was nine and had just gotten my period, being an early bloomer. It stained the back of my dress for everyone to see. Of course I didn't know, although the sniggers as I walked by and the whispering should have been a red hot indicator.
It was third period that I realized, only because Daniel got up and shouted, "Look at Jessi's dress!" The whole class roared with laughter, even my best friend at the time, Sasha.
Tears had gathered in my eyes, a burning feeling ran down my throat and I was choking on my tears of embarrassment. While everyone was laughing and making snide remarks, it was Darren who got to his feet.
"Shut up, you insensitive morons! Go find some freaking decency and grow up!" He snapped, his chubby cheeks painted pink.
I had been so amazed by Darren's remark I was as shocked as the rest of them. There was a long stretch of silence, much as it had been when Darren had cried a few years alter in science. Then Daniel had gotten his dickheaded snide back on. "Ooh what are you, Grace? Her boyfriend."
When I came back to school, two days later, I gave Darren a cupcake as thanks. He took it hesitantly, as though he expected it to be some kind of cruel joke.
"Thanks." I mumbled in embarrassment, before running off.
I didn't talk to Darren after that. He went back to being quiet and unsociable, never meeting my eye. I went back to my life, although I ditched Sasha as a friend. My whole primary year moved into High School together. It was easier, you know, to have people you know and grew up with, makes life more comfortable. Although I suspect that Darren wanted nothing more then to move countries.
When we were fourteen there was a rumor that Darren cut himself like an emo. Nobody believed it. Apparently Francis, the biggest liar ever, had seen him with a bloody piece of metal behind the hall. There was no more evidence to confirm or deny the rumor, although the dickheads, led by Daniel, did take great delights in using it as a method to torture Darren further. Darren became 'emo boy' and crude impersonations of arm cutting jerried him in the hallways.
Once I was on office duty, where you spend the day running errands for the office ladies, and I had to go take a message to the school physiatrist Mr. Elsie. I knocked on the door, his office is around the back of the school, away from the general population, and when he answered I could see Darren sitting on a chair, rubbing at his eyes.
I didn't tell anyone. It wasn't my secret to share really.
One day we had an inspirational speaker visit the school. They guy was thirty and had accomplished every goal he wanted in life. Seriously, he had started a successful program to school children in three third-world countries, sponsored a village and even met Aaron Smith. He was kind of cute too, with boyish looks and a crocked smile. When he finished speaking he went around and talked to people. The amazing thing is he talked to Darren the longest and about video games no less.
Daniel made fun of Darren, but we all knew he was just jealous.
Nobody ever saw Darren's family. In primary school he never brought a relative to any of the family day advents or concerts and in High School they didn't go to the information nights. Daniel said it was because Darren's mother was so fat she couldn't fit out of the back door. One of Daniel's friends said it was because Darren's family was ashamed of him.
All those small trivial things are overshadowed by the one thing that everyone remembers about Darren Grace. The day he died.
We were camping, which I always hated, Darren was in base camp with practically all of us. He brought ratty, small things and looked generally delighted that Daniel and his comrades were hiking. It was three days of camping in the middle of the bush lands, the 'heart of the true Australian spirit' our outdoor ed teachers explained. I thought it was wasted time.
We were all sixteen, our last camping trip, ever, with the school. We were all in good spirits as we had gone trekking up a hill to the look out. Let me tell you the view was magnificent. A patchwork quilt of land lay at your feet, stretching to the corners of your vision. A gully snaked down its belly, the crystal blue a stunning change to the greens and browns of the bush.
Once we reached camp we were singing and laughing and in a heightened mood. We sat around the campfire and ate melted marshmallows and drank hot chocolate while we listened to ghost stories and ridiculous jokes. When it was time to turn in I was surprised to see Darren hovering on the edge of the girls' tent area. Some of Sasha's friends leered at him, making bitchy comments about how he was in the wrong tent area.
When I walked by he stopped me, his voice soft and unsure. I was curious as to why he had bothered to talk to me now of all times. We had known each other since we were six and now he chose to talk?
"Hey, what's up?" I asked, waving my friends on.
They gave Darren funny looks but continued on their way. Darren was looking at his worn and dirty sneakers, which had the beginning of a hole at the top. I waited patiently for him to speak.
"I just wanted to…to…" He glanced around. The teachers and other students were preoccupied with their own agendas so we were virtually alone. Quickly he leant down, as he was taller then me, and kissed me hurriedly on the lips.
To be honest I had no time to react. I couldn't even kiss back nor say anything because he was gone, walking quickly to his own tent and I was left standing there wondering why Darren Grace had kissed me suddenly.
It was Alison's screams that alerted everyone. It was about 2 am but everyone was out of their tents, pulling on jackets and UGG boots as they ran over to the UNI sex bathroom. The teachers and boys were just behind us as the girls' tents were closer.
Alison was pale, shaking and sobbing, slumped against the doorframe as she stared at something horrifying inside. I looked over her head and I felt a wave of cold nausea. Lying on the floor, blood flowing from his cut wrists, his face pale, his eyes open and lifeless, was Darren Grace.
I was frozen in place, sick to my soul as I looked down at the teenage boy who had kissed me barely hours ago. He looked like a broken toy lying on the cement floor, his blood pooling around him.
It took the teachers an hour to calm us down. We all sat around the burnt out campfire, waiting for the emergency helicopter to come. Alison had calmed down and was now hiccoughing into a mug of coco. I was sitting motionless, staring at the door to the bathroom, which was being guarded by one of the teachers. Nobody was talking. Nobody dared to say a word.
When the helicopter arrived the teachers steered us into the covered area we used for a dinning area. Everyone except me.
Mrs. Williams, a kindly, young woman who always cried in inspirational movies they showed at school, took me away from the other students, who watched silently, around to just behind the girls' tent area.
"Jessi, did you know Darren well?" She choked on his name and I could feel my own throat burn.
"Not…really…"
Mrs. Williams nodded. "Jessi, it would seem that Darren has left you a note." With a shaking hand she handed me a folded piece of lined paper, my name scrawled across the front.
Mrs. Williams sat with me while I read it. She held my hand comfortingly and hugged me when the tears finally fell, dribbling down my chin and neck, disappearing into my collar in its sad endless trail.
Jessi,
I know you don't really know me, so it would seem strange for you to receive a letter from me after I've killed myself. I suppose you don't remember, but when we were nine I stood up for you and you gave me a cupcake as thanks. I've treasured that moment for all my life. Every time Daniel taunted me, every time someone cursed me, I would open up that memory and I would replay it over and over. Why I have sent you this letter is simple. From when we were nine to the night I died I've been hopelessly in love with you. I've admired you from afar; I sent you jellybeans on your birthday, anonymously. I dreamed of kissing you and of being able to just talk to you. I know you have never, and never will, love me in return and I've been resigned to that fact for all my life. I wish you the greatest happiness the world can bring and for you to not be saddened by my death, for I got my life's wish, I got to kiss you, for that brief glorious moment.
Why I have killed myself I will share with you. It has not only been Daniel and his friends' torments, although it played a significant role. My mother is a heroin addict (and I hope with this knowledge that you will find some help for her, help I could not) and my life from the word 'go' has been one endless cycle of disappointment. I will not complain, for I have been given my relief and escape in death.
Again, my love and best wishes for ever,
Darren.
-Fin-