There was no questioning that the ending to this particular story was an anticlimax. After everything that had happened, you would expect that there was an epic battle to the death, and against all odds, the hero survived and defeated the villain. I mean, after years and years of mutual antipathy, you would think that there would be careful planning, charts, playbooks: the whole nine yards. Instead, just a dirty trick, and one single car crash.
Personally, I didn't play any part in this. I was the random extra you see in the movies that has one close up, and is never seen again except in the crowd with the rest of the cast, somewhere buried deep inside the faces of the actors that have lines. But that doesn't mean that I didn't feel anything when I heard about it. How could I not? I grew up with them! I knew them! And now, one of them is dead, and the other is in jail.
First, let me explain my part in the story. As previously stated, I'm the extra. I've always been pretty antisocial, so I didn't know them very well. I would occasionally see them on the streets, and they were in a few of my classes since middle school. I'd tell you my name, but it doesn't really matter, and there's not enough time.
This story is about them. Them is referring to Cameron on Alex, the underdog and the guy that had everything handed to him on a silver platter.
I get pulled from my thoughts as a hand touches my shoulder. I look up to see Brooke, my best friend. Unlike her usual pink outfit, it's all black, and it doesn't fit her. Brooke is the type of person who's smile is an antidote to a cloudy day. She's always trying to cheer somebody up. But not today.
"We'd better go in," she says in a flat voice. I follow her out of the anteroom and into the main room of the church. Flowers are everywhere, and at the front of the room, a single coffin lies.
We sit down in the middle of the room, surrounded by the main actors.
I can't seem to tear my eyes away from that coffin. The picture of the underdog, Cameron, is smiling happily at the occupants in the room.
Once again, I remember what events brought us all here, all of the mourners.
Cameron and Alex had never gotten along. I think that somehow, we all knew that their arguments in seventh grade would lead to war. Those were the antebellum fights. The war was much bigger.
Their fights were antecedents to the "Final Battle," as Brooke calls it.
I know that I said that I wanted the hero to win, but the truth is, neither Cameron nor Alex were heroes. Sure, Cameron was the closest thing to a hero in this story. He did the things he did because he had no choice. But still, the things he did were unforgivable.
Both of them were arrogant, idiotic, and egotistical. Cameron was the leader of the underdogs, and Alex the successors who lived off of Daddy's money. In this town, the antitoxins were the rich kids, who could save you from much more than a passing disease going around. They brought you popularity, fame, and bragging rights, the most important one of all.
But in all of the extras' eyes, they looked like medical surgeons, living in their too antiseptic world, where one spot of dirt ruins you.
Because of their completely opposite social classes, the two boys were sworn enemies. In seventh grade, it was harmless name calling. In ninth, it was fist fights that would get them sent to the principal's office. And in their senior year, both of their lives ended, because the fights were taken too far.
A week ago, Alex took it all too far. He was always the bad guy in this story. Sure, Cameron wasn't innocent, but he never did anything as bad as this. Alex had antedated a check to buy a car, and he put an fake name on the owner's documents. He was arrogant, as always. He didn't think that he would be caught. Apparently, Cameron won the previous fight. I don't know that story. All I know is that Alex was pissed to the third degree.
Can you see where this is headed?
You would think that after all the fighting, the ending would have been more exciting. Instead, it ended with a closed coffin, and an overdramatic idiot behind bars. Quite anticlimactic, isn't it?
A.N.: It sucks, I know. I wrote it for my weekly vocabulary story in English class. I got an A though, so maybe it sucks less than I'm making it out to be. If you think it's bad, tell me in the nicest way possible.