My four years at high school were a wreck. There was so many things going on, so many people saying things and doing things, and time went by so fast everything was a blur. It was like driving by a bill board on the highway – you have just enough time to see it before it rushes past you.
It didn’t go fast enough for me.
There was too many nights spent alone in my room. The stars at night, especially during the winter, were shining so bright, but they were always so far away, in another world. Hey, I thought. Who am I, really? Just a lonely guy in a big world.
  There were too many lonely treks in the hallways. How long did it take for me to realize? We were all just a school of fish, going from class to class and not getting anything done.

      * * *
I got kicked out of my own car once.
It was one of those rare breaks we got, and we were cruising along in my tan convertible, the radio on loud. Derek was the driver with Laura in the passenger seat, and I was sitting in the back seat of my own car. It wasn’t too late in the season for the air to be cold yet, and the hood was down. Football hadn’t even started yet. The air was crisp and fresh, and the sky was blue. The empty countryside desert was flashing by us, and the cactus looked strangely like men jauntily waving their arms.
The convertible slowed to a stop. Huh? We were in the middle of  nowhere.
Derek and turned around to gaze at me.
“Your car broke down,” he said. “Fix it.”
Laura turned around to look at me too.
I undid my seatbelt, threw open the door, and walked over to the trunk to get the tool box. Man, I thought as I started to undo the latch, how did my car just break down in the middle of nowhere?
Suddenly, the car lurched and zoomed forward, and I was knocked right off my feet. With a loud thud, I sprawled hard on the dirt road. Sand and stone rubbed hard into my face. I choked on the dirt.
I looked up and I could see them, Laura and Derek, driving my tan convertible off into the sunset, leaving me lying in the dust. I could still hear Derek’s laughter. Those jerks! Those cheating, lying jerks, what are they playing at?
“Hey!” I screamed. Jumping to my feet, I raced after them. I could still see them, turning as the road curved to the left. I took the shortcut, cutting through tall tumbleweeds and cactus, sand flying at my heels.
“Hey!” I yelled, waving my arms. “Hey!”

      * * *
I remember this other time, this night at school. The lights were dim, and the dance was long over. The hallways were deserted, and the classroom doors were all locked. I’m not sure why, but I was still there, just wandering around in the semi-darkness.
There wasn’t a particular reason, but I wanted to look in the gym. I peeked through the glass window. An hour ago, all the kids were in there, kicking up their heels and dancing like crazy. Right now, it was all dark, except for this one beam that the janitor must have left on. It was a powerful white light, and normally, five of them would be on to illuminate the whole gym, but tonight it was just one.
There they were, right in the middle of the of the gym floor.
Catherine and Joseph, holding each other’s hands, were swinging round and round in a circle, not exactly dancing, but just spinning. Their faces were illuminated with that strange white light, but their smiles were big and their eyes were bright.
I turned away, my hands deep in my pocket. I kicked open the front door of the school when I reached it, and the cold February air blew into my face. Snow sank into my shoes as I walked to my car.
I'm sure how I got home. The picture of Catherine and Joseph, swinging round and round, couldn't leave my vision. The two of them. Together. Was I the only one left behind?

* * *
March break came too fast for me to process. It was like, whoa, it's March? Already?
Thank goodness.
We were driving along in my tan convertible again, driving along a lonely dirt road in the desert. I was in the passenger seat, absentmindedly tapping out the rythmn to a song on the radio. The spring air made it warm enough to pull down the hood. The wind was still damp, but it sure felt good after that long winter.
Suddenly, the car stopped.
I looked at Derek, who was driving.
He only asked, "Want a drink?"
"Yeah," Laura said from the back seat.
"Why not?" I said, smiling.
"Go get the beer from the truck then," Derek told me.
I swung open the side door and climbed out. Walking over to the trunk, I looked inside. There were a couple of empty coke cans and an ugly old sweater, but no beer. I frowned. I pushed aside the coke cans and some of the remaining drink dribbled out, but I still couldn’t find the bottles.
Lifting up the sweater, I discovered something that horribly resembled my lost history homework. The beer wasn’t there.
“Hey, Derek, Laura,” I called. “I don’t think we brought the beer.”
No reply.
Suspiciously, I walked from behind the trunk, and sure enough, they weren’t sitting in the car anymore. Then I looked up ahead and saw the two of them, holding hands, skipping down the road, getting far away from the car, away from me. And both of them had beer bottles in their hands.
“What the….” I muttered. I looked to the back seat and saw the cooler, just sitting there, and cold realization washed down me. The cooler was there, right next to Laura the whole time, and I didn’t know. ’Cause they didn’t tell me and they didn’t want want me to know.
Those cheating, lying jerks...what did I ever do to them?
I looked up and saw the two of them, going down the desert highway, probably looking for a big shady cactus far away where they could sit down together. Hoping that I won’t see them disappear down the road.
You idiot, I told myself. Why do you keep trying when you know life’s no use?
      ***

Boy, it felt like summer! July was still many, many weeks away, but everyone was in such a swelter. It was the big game, the cheerleaders were screaming like crazy, and the players were running around like lunatics. I was in the crowd on the bleachers, and we were shouting ourselves hoarse and deaf.
“Come on, come on!” I screamed, even though I knew it was no use. “Come on, guys,” I yelled.
Our crowd groaned. Number 14 from Vincosville did it again with flourish, and the football was at the wrong end of the field. Behind me, Alex and Kevin moaned. Next to me, Sarah said, “I think I’m going to leave now.” John gripped her hand.
Then the half time began, and the marching band got onto the field.Our football players, sweaty and faces flushed, took off their helmets and threw them onto the lush green grass as they made their way to the sidelines below. Meanwhile, the other team was slapping each other’s backs as their coach handed them yellow gatorades. I couldn’t see any of their expressions, but it sure felt awful to hear their laughter and taunts drift over.
The marching band saved us.
Their music floated upward, drowning out the despair, and the half time air was sweet perfume. The crash of symbols, the steady beat of drums, the well practiced notes of the brass somehow aroused us. Our boos and moans evaporated into the air, air that was as sweet as summer, and they were replaced by cheers. Somehow, we all found ourselves on our feet, waving our hands and calling to our fallen players.
“We can do this!”
“Whooo! This is our school, our game!”
“GO! GO! WE WILL WIN!”
Those words seemed to wake them up. Jumping to their feet, not caring that the half time wasn’t over yet, our team started running onto the field, crossing to Vincosville’s side. They shouted insults, shouted challenges, saying they were ready to play again.
The marching band was pushed aside, and the music stopped. But by now, the other team had awoken too. We had to start playing. With a shrill blow the referee blew his whistle.
“Come one, come on!” I screamed again. “Come on, Derek, we’re depending on you!” Our hopes were high, and we were screaming, yelling, waving our flags, shaking our banners, just jumping and clutching one another, and I hadn’t so hopeful in such a long time, the spirit of the game was getting to me and lighting me up….
In just five minutes, the other team scored on us again.
Come on! Why am I still alive? I think I’m done with life, and life is done with me.

***
It was graduation. Finally.
It was on a nice spring afternoon, when the rains had already stopped because sweet summer was approaching. The sky was blue, the forget-me-not blue a poet would dream about. All of us, dressed in our black gowns and black caps, paraded down the rows of chairs that had been set up in the football field. Last year’s major defeat here had been forgotten. The music was playing. The nice, spring wind blew across us, rippling the grass, and it almost felt like an invisible hand was brushing over us, guiding us and soothing us.
Almost.
Well, we sat down and the progression began, and what happened next was a dream.
I can see it, how every student, one by one, walked up there onto the stage. And when Derek climbed up, he shook the principal’s hand and took his certificate. I can still see it, that dream-like moment when he took it. Then he turned towards us, so he was facing every student and every parent, and he stretched out his hands. The certificate in his hands softly curled up, fluttered, and with a soft sigh turned into two white birds that slipped out from his hands and soared across the sky, flew through the spring wind and disappeared in the distance.
He was liberated from high school forever!
And then it was my turn, and I slowly walked up. The principal handed me my certificate, and I don’t even remember if he smiled. I had a disasterous, sinking feeling that nothing was going to happen, and sure enough, I was right. I turned toward the crowd, where every single eye was focused on me, I stretched out my hands. Nothing happened. My certificate did not turn into birds, did not liberate me from my cage like it did for everyone else in my grade.
My certificate was only a piece of paper.

     * * *
I burned it. I burned my certificate and I watched it erupt into flames, melt into ashes. I watched the smoke rise up into air and it sure felt like Satan was watching me.

     * * *
It was the last day, and Laura asked me to sign her yearbook. It’s the end, she told me, it’s finally over. Can you believe it? Winter is over, spring has come. We were done with high school forever.
I didn’t sign her yearbook. There wasn’t any point.
     
      * * *
Well, all the people I ever knew and ever talked to left on a train for the coast. I was there at the station, till the very end, and I waved goodbye as I watched them slowly file onto the train. Then I drove my tan convertible down the highway, across the desert, back to where I started, and where I’ll stay until the day that I die.