8

                                    

                                          
     It was my birthday, 3 weeks and 4 days after Dinger had gone missing. For three weeks and four days, I had felt like the moon in Le Voyage Dans La Lune, and i'd just been shot. Every day had a new haze. Every time I sat down in chemistry, I looked over at an empty desk, so cold and still. I pictured Dinger's body, thrown in a ditch with bruises and lacerations. 
     I walked into school, my arms wrapped tightly around my notebook. Taped inside it was Dinger's handwritten note.
The biggest nerd in all of Cleveland, and I get to call her my girlfriend.
     Those were the words that loomed over my brain, glazing my mind in anxiety. It seemed like everyone that I grew close to was torn apart from me. Everyone that I had ever loved had met some perilous end. Given that conclusion, I didn't want that for any of my lasting friends. So, for 3 weeks and 4 days, I hadn't said a word to Shelley, Lainie, Joel, or Bobby. 
     I kept thinking back to that night, sitting in a gutter, grasping Dinger's backpack and crying into it as the blue and red lights sped toward us. My hearing felt blocked, it was all white noise. Bobby was knelt next to me with his arm around my shoulder and his chin resting on my head. I could tell that he was crying too, but he didn't want me to hear. In a blur, I saw Joel's silhouette in the lights, pointing back at me. I dropped the bag, hands shaking, as careful, gloved hands scooped it into a plastic container. 
     I watched them carry it away as I rose to my feet. I felt like he was even farther away. Bobby's mom picked us up and drove us home. I sat wide awake the entire night, making myself certain that it was all my fault.
                          
Why do my woes trail behind me like a cloud of smoke?
                          
•••
                          
     I heard a knock on my bedroom door. I figured it was Bobby again, or maybe Mrs. Keller. When the knob turned, I saw Lainie. I figured she hated me by now, I had ignored her for weeks. She didn't seem all too well herself. She carried a heavy spirit, like she had her own lingering troubles. 
"Sit, talk to me." I said, smoothing out the spot on the bed beside me. She sat and her shoulders dropped, her body leaned into mine. "what's wrong?" I asked. 
     "Nothing is right anymore. Joel's alcoholism is engulfing him, my mom has  my existence on a string, one of my best friends is probably dead, and another hasn't spoken to me." She looked up to me. Her pain radiated. I pulled her into a hug and we both just cried. We cried until we felt like we couldn't breathe, then we took a deep breath and cried more. I felt awful for shutting down and pushing everyone away. I hoped that holding Lainie for a while would compensate, but I knew it wouldn't.
     After what felt like years and seconds all at once, we looked each other and smiled. For a moment, I felt the sinking feeling of fright and anxiety melt away. We walked out and downstairs to meet Mrs. Keller. "hi mom." I said, still a little choked up. She looked at us for one second and came back with ice packs. 
"For your eyes, it'll help with the swelling. Go sit in the living room and see what's on TV." We watched as she pulled out a baking sheet and a mixing bowl. We walked into the living room and curled up on the couch. I flipped on the TV to see that Beetlejuice was on. I rolled up into the gray blanket and watched as the Maitlands' car sank into the depths of the river. 
     After about 20 minutes, I heard Mrs. Keller walk in. She had chocolate chip cookies and two huge glasses of chocolate milk. She set the plate in between us and put the glasses on the side tables. She gave me a kiss on the forehead and left to do the dishes. "Thank you, Mrs. Keller." Lainie said softly. 
"Thanks, mom." I smiled.
"Of course, I know you two are having a really hard time." She said, turning the corner to do the dishes. We laughed as the movie went on, using it as a distraction from our worries. The cookies didn't hurt either, but the sight of Winona Ryder always cheered me up. 
•••
After the movie ended, Lainie gave me a hug and headed home. It was getting cold, so I lent her my jacket. I could see that she appreciated it, not necessarily to keep her warm, but to give her an excuse to come back and get away from her family. 
     I knew that if I needed to make amends with anyone, it was Bobby. He had given me nothing but love and I had thrown all of it away. I crept up the stairs and held my arm in anxiousness. I knocked quietly. I heard a groan, then a bed creak, then soft footsteps. He had his own way of coping with the loss of his best friend, which basically included getting high every hour and drinking a hell of a lot of coca cola. 
     As he opened the door, I saw his eyes blink repeatedly to adjust to the light. He looked down at me with a blank expression, then slowly inched the door back to let me in. 
     Through the mess, I saw the room I had once seen. I saw Dinger and I asleep on the cot by the right wall. I saw the Pepsi bottles lining the nightstand. I could almost see his footprints illuminated on the floor, the tracks going back and forth, then pacing around, then heading into the bathroom. I sat on the cot and put my head in my hands.
•••
When movie characters talk about seeing a lost loved ones face at every corner, they're not right or wrong. You know completely that they're not there, especially after a long time. But you want them to be there so badly that you pick out the tiniest hint of them in everything. 
     As autumn approached, I couldn't help but see him everywhere. The leaves falling blended into the crowd of children walking into school in the morning, giving off a far too familiar red hue. Joel wore a green jacket one morning and, when I stepped into the front lawn, I felt my heart stop. As the breeze blew on our walk to school every morning, I could catch a hint of the cologne that would follow both Dinger and Bobby like a cloud. 
     I hated to say that my grades were falling behind. I could never focus in class, then when I got home I was constantly going out for search parties or spending hours in the sheriff's office. 
     As I sat in a booth at Patty's Diner, curly fries in hand, I stared blankly. This was how I spent most of my time these days. All of a sudden, I felt like someone was watching me. As I refocused my glance, I saw Joel walking towards me. He sat right next to me and put his left arm around my shoulders. I Ieaned into his side and slid the curly fries his way. "Hey, let's get out of here. I don't know if this is where you need to be right now." He rose to his feet and reached for my hand. 
     I knew he was right. It was unhealthy to limit myself to the places where I had been with Dinger. As the days ticked by and Dinger had a less and less chance of being alive, these were the places that I could feel his presence. He had been here, he had stepped on that tile or done a cartwheel on that curb. He had been everywhere, and I felt the need to follow his steps to feel sane. My head pounded as Joel pushed open the glass door, the entrance bells chiming as we stepped out. As we wandered down the sidewalks, Joel told me about where he thought Dinger might be. 
                          
"Yesterday I found a patch from his jacket near the middle of town, I don't think the police have any hell of a clue." He frowned.
                          
     "There's a good chance he's dead. I'm past the thought that he 'just ran away'. He was taken and then moved to a secondary location. Even in a 24 hour time frame, it's a slim chance he'd come back alive. It's almost been a month. I'm just waiting for the police to find his body in a box somewhere. Maybe that would bring everyone some peace of mind." It was a sad thought, but it was how I really felt. I wasn't expecting a knock on my door from him anymore. As we approached my house, Joel put his hand on my shoulder.
                          
     "Call me if you need anything, kid." He flipped his hair back, rung my doorbell, then turned and left. When he reached the end of my driveway, he turned back to me and lifted his flask. I knew that it was a flip of a coin as to whether or not he would remember this tomorrow morning. Bobby opened the door in full PJ's with a bandana wrapped around his head. He looked like Ralph Macchio in Karate Kid. 
                          
     "Get in here, it's 1 a.m. And quickly, it's cold as shit." He yawned. As I looked down instinctively and walked through the door, I noticed that I had stepped on something. Under my left foot was a letter addressed to me with no return address. I picked it up and walked inside. As soon as I walked in and locked the door, I opened the letter immediately. Inside was a piece of notebook paper with a phone number in all too familiar handwriting. I walked up the stairs hesitantly and walked into my room. I locked the door and slid to the floor. I was officially caught in this grand scheme. I didn't know what to do, what to think, I didn't even know if it was real. It could easily be a stupid prank from some boring, cheeto fingered douchebag. I set it on my dresser and crashed on my bed. 
                          
 •	•	•
                          
     I walked into the police station shaking. It was a cold, rainy morning, and the baby hairs that sprung from my ponytail had been cemented to the sides of my face. My gray raincoat made a shuffling sound behind me and my boots tracked wet footprints through the building. I met with Sheriff Morris, who I had grown to know. I didn't say a word and handed him the envelope with Dinger's note. As he compared the two, he nodded to himself, then turned in his office chair and pulled out a thin file from a shelf behind him. As he set down the folder and opened it, I saw his silly school photo clipped to the edge. I smiled a little. Morris flipped through the papers then looked at me.
                          
     "Here's what's happening. The man who took Holfield is as narcissistic as they make 'em. He thinks he can't be caught. So far, we've gathered evidence scattered all over town. A jacket patch, a clump of red hair, one size 9 converse shoe, and now this. Here's how this is going to work. We're going to get a burner phone hooked up to a recorder and call this number. You're going to answer it, with us right beside you, telling you what to say. Until we've made progress with this case, you and your family will be in protective custody. Now I need you to go home, let your household know, and come back with a bags packed." He closed the file and escorted me out the door. I ran all the way home. I felt like I was being watched constantly. I closed and locked the door. I knocked on the Kellers' bedroom door. Mrs. Keller opened it.
                          
     After i had caught my breath and explained the situation, everyone packed their bags. I pulled out my bag that I had shoved under my bed on day 1 and shoved all of my clothes, toiletries, and shoes into it. Lastly, I tucked in one old movie ticket to theater 4, The Blob. I walked downstairs with Bobby and threw my bag into the trunk of the car. As we pulled out of the driveway, it all hit me. I was most likely going to be on the phone with a psycho pretty fucking soon, and I had no idea when I would be home again. This has got to be interesting.