Go Back to Main PageThis is a story I wrote for Creative Writing class. I like it, so I'm putting it here. I want to do more with the ending, but I"m not sure what. If you have any suggestions, let me know. I'm not gaurnteeing that I'm going to use all sugesstions, but any can help. Thanx! E-mail me with any at Rinswing@yahoo.com. To return to the main page click here So, without further adieu. . .
"Thank you for coming, officers. She wouldn't have been able to handle talking to you in some impersonal interrogation room at the station." Mr. Welch welcomed the two police officers into his home. "Cassie is waiting in her room." "Don't Thank Me Now"
The three men entered Cassie's room cautiously. Across the room, Cassie was sitting on her bed clutching her stuffed dragon like a helpless child. The room certainly did not reflect the mood of its inhabitant. The cerulean carpet and mural of a shoreline sunset gave the room a peaceful glow, but the skittish teenager was far from peaceful. She was about to tell these men the traumatic events that had passed in the last few weeks.
"Cassie, they're here."
"Hi daddy," she greeted her father almost timidly, "hello, sirs."
"Cassie, are you sure you're ready for this?" one of the visiting policemen asked gently.
"If I don't do this now, I never will," she replied gathering as much composure as her state of mind would allow.
"Ok. I'm going to tape record you. That way there won't be any miscommunications," the other officer told her as if asking her permission.
"That's fine. Where should I begin?"
"How about when you first met Bart."
"Ok. Here goes. I first met him at a swim meet. The meet was great. We won on both levels, and I made my best times in all my events. The whole team was pumped throughout the meet. After the last event, I got my things together and made my way to the balcony to meet my spectator friends, as usual. As I crossed the balcony toward the door, I heard someone call my name. "Cassie Welch?! Cassie Welch!" I turned around and saw him trying to catch up to me through the herd migrating to the exit. I stood to the side and waited for him to get through.
"Thanks for waiting. I'm Bart Hajavsky. I'm on the newspaper staff, and I need to ask you a few questions," he said as he got out a mini notebook and pen.
"Sure. But, walk with me; talk with me. I've got to get home." I replied as we began to walk again.
"Ok. First question: How many of your personal records did you break tonight?"
"All four. I usually swim four events: The two hundred free, five hundred free, two hundred free relay, and four hundred free relay. My times now are 2:00.34 for the 200, 5:56.14 for the 500, 26.1 for the 50, and 1:00.21 for the 100."
"Great! What other activities are you involved in?"
"I'm in the Chorus and on the Speech team. Between those, school, and my friends and boyfriend, my time is pretty much eaten up."
"What do your parents think about your juggling all these activities?"
"My dad has always been supportive. He says that as long as I keep my grades up, activities are 'good for forming a well rounded personality.' My mother doesn't have much to say about anything these days. I haven't seen her in four years."
"I'm sorry."
"That's totally allright. You didn't know. Well, this is my car. I've really got to go."
"That's ok. Those are all the questions. See you around!"
"Yeah! See ya!" I called over my shoulder as I ducked into my car. I drove home wondering why the newspaper would ask questions of only me. I'm not a captain; I'm not the top swimmer. I'm simply an ordinary member of the team. I shook it off and figured I'd ask Bart if I saw him around school. Now that I knew who he was, I figured I would see him around. I just didn't imagine just how MUCH I would.
The following day, during first hour English, Bart walked into the class room looking a bit confused. He examined the small yellow piece of paper he gripped in his right hand while attempting to juggle his disordered pile of books in his left arm. He came to the conclusion that he was where he was supposed to be and balanced his pile between both arms. He talked briefly to Mr. Wheeler and took a seat next to me.
"Well, hey there again," he said to me with a smile, "I didn't know you were in this class. I had to get my schedule changed. I dropped PreCalculus. It was bringing down my GPA too much."
"Hey! Cool. Say, I've been hoping I'd run into you-" I started, but couldn't finish as he cut me off.
"Really?!" He looked somewhat excited.
"Yeah. I was just wondering why the newspaper decided to ask ME all those questions at the meet."
"Oh, my editor decided not to run that story. I don't know why. She's just a bit fickle."
"I see, but that really doesn't answer my-" again I was cut off.
"Places everyone, places. Today we will be beginning drama," Mr. Wheeler told the class as if it were the highlight of our lives.
Throughout the day, Bart showed up in five out of my seven classes due to his schedule change, but I never did get a straight answer to my original question. I decided not to push it. I was curious, but maybe he didn't know either. I did however get to know him quite well through the course of the day. We talked before, after, and on the way to each class. He was an interesting guy and fun to talk to. I like making new friends, so I welcomed him readily.
Bart and I became good friends. We talked every day, and he would call me sporadically on the phone. About three days after I met him, I saw Tina, the newspaper editor, in the hall.
"Tina!" I shouted to get her attention across the almost impenetrable river of students in the hallway. I finally got across to her, "Hey! So, how come you didn't run the swimming story?" I teased sounding hurt.
"What swimming story?"
"The one from a couple of weeks ago."
"Swimming hasn't been assigned yet. We weren't going to cover swimming until Sectionals or at least Conference."
"But Bart interviewed me at the swim meet."
"Bart?"
"Bart Hajavsky"
"Cassie, there's no Bart Hajavsky on the staff."
"What?"
"Sorry, I've got to get to class."
I just stood there puzzled for who knows how long. I finally snapped back into reality when a freshman ran directly into me as if I were invisible. She apologized and kept moving at her unnaturally swift pace.
Bart was absent that day; therefore, I had to wait to ask him about this mix-up until the next day. I dazed through seventh hour and remained in a state of bewilderment throughout swim practice. The reason we had MET was because he was on newspaper staff. How could we have become such good friends and he not tell me the truth? How could I have not figured it out sooner? I figured he was simply trying to find a non-threatening way to meet me and impress me at the same time. I was flattered and thought it was cute.
That night, when I talked to my boyfriend Carwyn, I told him the whole wacky story. He went to Pleasant Valley, so I didn't see him at school to tell it to him. He didn't think it was so "cute." I believe he used the words "creepy" and "scary."
"Well, thanks for your opinion," I responded sarcastically. "Where do you get off? We haven't been able to talk for a week and a half and you're deciding to bash my friends ALREADY?!" I blew up, not realizing that he was simply making an observation.
"I'm not BASHING your friends! I'm simply giving my opinion based upon what you've told me! He's borderline STALKER! He changed his WHOLE schedule for heaven's sake!"
"He dropped PreCalc. He had to."
"Dropping one class doesn't require an entire schedule change."
"Maybe it did in this case."
"What about the newspaper thing?"
"I told you. He just wanted to meet and impress me. You have nothing to get all jealous about. I've told him all about you, and he knows how madly in love with you I am," I told him with a smile, only half joking. I did love him, I just didn't know how much then.
"I know I have nothing to worry about, but-"
I cut him off, "No buts. Your girlfriend is a very intelligent person, correct?"
"Yeah."
"And I can handle myself, right?"
"I hope so."
"You know I can. I like to think I'm a pretty good judge of character. If there REALLY was anything to worry about, I think I'd be able to tell."
"Ok. Just, be careful. I've got to go. My mom is nagging me to get off the phone."
"Allright. Sweet dreams."
"Sweet dreams. I love you."
"You too. Bye."
"Bye."
As he hung up the phone, I thought a bit more about what he said. For a moment, I felt as if I should be a bit wary of Bart. I kicked myself mentally, and thought, "Bart's cool. He's a great friend, not a stalker as Carwyn seems to think."
The next day, Bart was late for first period, so I had to wait until the passing period to confront him about newspaper. All through class, whenever I looked at him, it seemed he was staring at me. I was nervous at first, but then I thought talking to Carwyn had made me paranoid. After class, Bart and I walked into the hall.
"Bart, hey, I've been meaning to ask you something. I talked to Tina yesterday," I started.
"Tina? Tina who?"
"Tina. Tina Goretti."
"I don't know her."
"She's the editor of the newspaper."
"OH! THAT Tina Goretti! Oh, yeah. Did she tell you what an awesome job I'm doing?"
"Not exactly. She said she'd never heard of you. Now, I figure you lied to me to try and impress me when we first met. But never-the-less, you still lied."
"Yeah, I'm sorry. I was only trying to impress you. You're gorgeous! You know that! I had to meet you, but I didn't want to come off as desperate. I'm sorry."
"I understand, but from now on, for the sake of our friendship, let's be completely honest. Ok?"
"Yeah, but then I have a confession to make."
"Ok, shoot."
"My name is really Grongar, and I'm from Pluto."
"Shut up. I'll see you third hour," I told him as I broke from the stream of people into my second hour class. That proved it. I was right. He was only trying to impress me, but now we were completely honest with each other.
That night, I had a chorus concert. Carwyn came and sat right up front. He brought me a single red rose and a card that simply read, "For a beauty with a beautiful voice." Ok, so it's corny. He was a hopeless romantic; it comes with the territory. Surprisingly, Bart also came; I didn't even know he knew about the concert. I didn't tell him about it, and it wasn't advertised at all. I wondered how he found out but forgot about my curiosity before I could ask him. He sat right next to Carwyn which I thought would cause some sort of war or opening of a porthole to some parallel universe or something; however, no riots broke out, much to my surprise and relief.
Almost the same situation occurred two nights later at my speech meet. Carwyn seemed to be tolerating Bart's presence for my sake, but I could tell he still found him creepy. Every once in a while when I looked at Bart, he wasn't staring at me, but I noticed that if he wasn't staring at me, he was staring at Carwyn. That made me a bit wary, but I brushed it off.
Three days later, I was lying on my floor in my room doing my homework hoping that Carwyn would call soon. I had the phone right next to me and was just waiting for it to ring. When it finally did, it startled me. I practically jumped at it to pick it up.
"Hello?" I answered almost too anxiously.
"Hi, Cassie?"
"This is."
"Cassie, sweetie, this is Mrs. Alers, um Carwyn's Aunt."
"Yeah, hi. What's up?" I asked knowing that something must be wrong. Why else would Carwyn's AUNT be calling me?
"Dear, I don't know how to say this, so I might as well just say it," she stumbled through sniffled tears, "Carwyn is dead."
She went on explaining what she knew, but I didn't hear any of it. I was in shock, and my entire world went black. For that single moment, I knew how it felt to be blind, deaf, and paralyzed from the neck down all at once. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. The only thing that I could see was blackness despite the three lamps lit in my room.
Slightly regaining my hearing, I heard on the other end of the line, "Honey, are you ok? Go get your father."
OK? Was I OK? What kind of question was that?
"Ok." I set the phone on the carpet and regaining sight, stood up. I moved as if I were some sort of zombie. I walked into the den, and daddy knew right away that something had happened.
"What's wrong?" He asked as he stood up worried.
"Phone," was all I could squeak out.
He picked up the receiver of the phone on his desk, "Hello, this is Mr. Welch." He listened as Mrs. Alers told him what she had told me. After the first few seconds he looked suddenly at me with sorrow, pity, and worry. I just sat in his arm chair looking at him wishing he would tell me that he could make it all go away, wishing he would tell me that he could make everything better. My wish did not come true. As he listened, he simply stared at me as if I were a dying bird who could not be helped. I must have stopped thinking at that point, because I don't remember anything from then until Carwyn's wake.
I dressed in all black. I wore an old black dress that had belonged to my mother. I always liked to wear bright, loud colors, but I felt more than dark that day. The funeral home was typical. Multicolored yet somehow morbid flowers filled the room. The lighting was so dim I could hardly make out the faces coming through the door. Candles stood burning with motionless flames near a beautiful picture of my beloved. I realized then how much I had been in love with him. You know what they say, "You don't know what you got till it's gone." I don't believe there was a moment in that day when tears were not in my eyes. Carwyn's mom knew how much I meant to him and he to me, so she asked me to stay with her during the day. I had already been planning on it.
Most of the students of Pleasant Valley High School made an appearance, plus other friends and acquaintances from other schools. Teachers, neighbors, coaches, all came to bid their last farewells and offer some sort of condolence to the family. All day I heard, "He was a great kid. . . He was a great friend. . . He always had a good word. . . He was well liked. . ." Nothing made it any better. He WAS all those things, and now he's gone.
About mid-day, Bart came to that dark mournful room. I greeted him in an embrace. I cried on his shoulder for a minute or an hour. I don't remember. I had lost sense of time by that point. He looked at me.
"I'm not going to ask how you're doing. That's a stupid question. Do you want to talk?" he asked looking into my eyes. I simply nodded, too numb to cry. We went into the back room where family could take breaks from the endless monotony of mourners.
"Thanks for coming. I really need someone who I can talk to right about now," I told him, now wiping the salty tears from my cheeks and chin.
"I had to come be here for you. It was just so tragic how it happened."
"How DID it happen? I haven't heard. No one will tell me."
"I've only told police and a few close relatives and friends. Who they told I don't know, but -"
I cut him off, "YOU told? What do you mean?"
"Oh! You don't even know that! I was the only witness."
"What happened?"
"Well, this is going to be hard for you to hear. Are you sure you want me to tell you now?"
"Yes."
"Ok," he took a deep breath,"I was coming home from the watch shop over near where Carwyn lives. I pulled up to the stop sign across from the Mobil station on the corner of Lincoln and Jackson. I saw Carwyn at the pump and tried to get his attention to wave "hi". He never did see me. He began to pump his gas, reached into his pant pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. Then he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a book of matches. I didn't notice it then, but there must have been some gas on the ground near him, because it seemed that as soon as he lit the match, the entire station was in flames. I only wish I could have yelled and maybe stopped him from lighting that fateful match."
Again, I was in shock. I always did tell him that smoking would be the death of him. I couldn't contain myself. I began to sob uncontrollably. Bart put his arms around me and just held me while I cried. I thought to myself, "I'm so lucky to have such a great friend."
I didn't go back to school for two days. My dad was very understanding of the mourning process. I finally figured that I should probably get back to the normal routine, if I were ever to recover. I needed the support of my friends.
The school day went as usual. I went to class, lunch, class; I walked through the halls on the same route; I heard the same teachers lecture about the same subjects. That day, however, was far from normal for me. All day, people who never knew I existed before were telling me they were sorry, and giving me hugs and such, as if they thought their little bit would make it all better. I spaced out in most of my classes and didn't eat lunch. I hardly even talked to Bart. After seventh hour, a girl from that class stopped me before I got to the hall.
"Cassie! Wait!" she called as I began to gather my books,"Do you know who I am?"
"Aletha, right?"
"Yeah. People call me Ali. I HAVE to talk to you."
"I've gotta get going. I'm supposed to meet Bart right after class at my locker."
"NO!" she said forcefully and urgently.
"What do you mean, NO?"
"I have to tell you something about Bart. He told you what happened to Carwyn? Or, he told you what he told everyone else right?"
"Yeah, he told me at the wake."
"I was there too, and what he told the police isn't EXACTLY what happened."
"I'm not following you."
"I was in the field on Jackson bird watching for Zoology class and saw the whole thing. Carwyn pulled into the gas station and began to pump his gas. I thought he was kinda cute, so I focused my binoculars on him. He was simply standing there. Then I saw a car pull to the stop sign, but it didn't proceed as a normal car would. The car parked, and Bart stepped out. He looked across the street at Carwyn. There was no one else at the station. Then, and this is the part that, I'm sorry, but you might want to sit down. Bart leaned into his car, and I made out that he pushed some sort of button. As he did that, the gas station was engulfed in flames."
"What are you saying?"
"What am I SAYING?! BART KILLED CARWYN!"
I could feel my eyes widen by four hundred percent. I almost screamed, but Ali cut me off, "Don't go meet him at your locker. Don't even talk to him. Just get home as soon as you can. I'm going to the police station after school to tell them what I just told you. I had to tell you first. I don't know why. Something just told me that you needed to hear it most."
I tried to speak, but no words came out.
"Don't thank me now. Just go. Get home quick."
I bolted out of the room. I didn't go to my locker, but as I exited the building and began the walk across the seemingly endless parking lot, I heard him.
"CASSIE!" Bart called, "Hey! Wait up!"
I dropped my books and began to run. I was frightened of this guy who I had thought to be my friend. He had been my confidant, my shoulder to cry on, my best friend. I came to Middle Road and looked to cross. Luckily, I knew I could get across before the car in the distance reached where I was. I flew across the street to the sidewalk and slowed down a bit. I was about to begin to sprint again, when I heard squealing tires, the blast of a horn, and a horrible thud. I turned around and saw Bart under the tires of a seemingly monstrous black car. I couldn't move. I could see and hear, in fact those senses were magnified to the tenth degree, but my limbs were paralyzed. The next thing I knew was that I was crumpled in a heap, sobbing and convulsing, in the middle of the sidewalk. Emergency crews arrived, and all went black.
I don't remember anything else, officers. Did I tell you what you needed to know?"
"Everything and more. Are you ok after telling us all that?" the friendly officer asked concerned while handing me a tissue.
"I don't need this kleenex. I have nothing to wipe. I think I'll be ok. It was just Hell to go through it. Talking about it is nothing compared to actually going through it. In one week, I lost my love, realized that my best friend was a psycho killer, and then watched him die. I don't think I'll have any tears to cry for a long time."
