Crumbling

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

“The man who removes a mountain begins by carrying away small stones.”

Chinese proverb

Chapter One

My name is Marshall Gerald Gourde. So many changes can happen in such a short time. But the more things change, the more they stay the same. I saved myself that first year of high school by mere luck. You see, my family went to New York that whole summer on holidays, and that is why nothing happened to me while everything happened to the people all around me. Those I saw as innocent and almost angelic befell the cruel and cold hands of peer pressure and the everlasting conflict over wanting to be part of the "in" crowd. Sometimes the stakes are too high, and in some cases, you can lose it all. I shan’t bother you with lengthy and mysterious messages; I will instead take you deep into my world - into the lively characters that I call friends, the ones who surround every part of my life and fill me with energy, the ones I dearly tried to save from a certain doom created with their own two hands. For people create their own futures; there is no set path in which our lives travel, we can twist and bend and create a path through the jungle that is life.

Well without further delay let’s begin. It was the beginning of the new school year, I had finally finished grade 9, and it had been the worst year of my life. I had almost failed the grade; you see, I wasn’t very bright, and I still don’t think I am. All I am good at is some sports, and being a good friend – well, at least I think I am a good friend. I mean I try to help everyone, I don’t care who it is, or if I even know that person. I believe it is my vocation to help other people deal with the issues of their lives. And I am really good at it too. In junior high, the issues everyone came to me for advice were things like: if that guy liked this girl, what should he do? Or who should dump whom and how do I ask a certain person out? These were the most complicated things that were going on in grade 8 and 9. When I came back to school in grade 10, everything changed however, and I was shocked at how quickly things had changed.

I still remember it as if it was yesterday. It was still practically summer, and I remember my father driving me to the school in his convertible. Man, did I like his convertible, even more the fact that he had promised me he would give it to me if I did well in school this year. The light breeze strolled through my hair and blew it back, making my hair look sleek and cool. My dad stopped the car, and I got out and got my backpack from the back seat. I waved goodbye to my father and left, dressed in my new black leather jacket and my jeans. It was the first day of school and as any other kid would feel, I was very nervous. My stomach turned and twisted; I felt like leaning over the garbage can and vomiting this morning’s breakfast. I kept steady though for my reputation – I really didn’t want to have a bad first day of school!

I walked over to the doors and recognized many of my old friends. I waved at them and they waved back. Then I proceeded inside. There was a tall professor in the middle of the hall and he was telling everyone where they were supposed to go. I went to him and he instructed me on where to go. I then looked at my information sheet and found my locker number. I walked around the halls until I found the right number; it was in the row next to my homeroom. I put my things in the locker and got out the notebook and pen I was required to carry around on the first day. I went into class and sat down in the middle of the room. I watched as everyone else came in, recognizing almost everyone. We had been together since kindergarten and all through elementary. Some people had left, others had come. Overall however, most people knew each other personally from a long time ago. They knew each other’s parents and where they lived.

I said hello to everyone and introduced myself to the people I didn’t know. There was Michael, or Mike for short – we had known each other since grade 1. We had been best friends ever since, sometimes exchanging girlfriends and taking blame for something the other did. We were good buds, we trusted each other with everything, and before doing anything, we discussed it thoroughly.

There was also Michelle. She was the girl of everyone’s dreams; she was sweet and soft, and she could cheer you up on your worst day or kill you with her eyes on another day. She was the best friend I ever had next to Mike; I liked her ever since I met her, which was in grade 4. I knew she was something special, someone I would be happy around no matter what life threw at me. She was that special someone everyone has, or should have. She must have known I really liked her because in grade 8 she came over to me and explained to me what she thought, what she felt. She told me that she really cared about me, and that she liked me, but only as a friend. My heart sank when she said this, and the words she spoke killed me softly; like a knife slicing through butter, it stabbed at my heart and pierced it with extreme scrutiny. It killed me inside and I struggled to keep a straight face. I didn’t want to show how much her words were hurting me at the moment. And the way she said it didn’t help either – she seemed so sure, so determined, and so cold. Every time she spoke, she was focused on what she wanted and nothing was going to stop her. The words slipped and slithered out of her mouth like King Cobras ready to poison me and lead me to my death. Yes, she told me that she cared about me, but that she couldn’t love me, as we were too good friends for that. She went on to tell me that instead, she loved Mike. I couldn’t believe she was doing this to me. Mike was my best friend, and she knew I really liked her, yet she went on to love my best friend. It knocked me down; I said that I was fine with that with as much neutrality as I could. She hugged me, and I just wanted to keep her for another second, but she retreated and I sullenly walked home. I was grim the whole week. I mean, I was well liked, and I knew I could get almost any girl I wanted, yet the one I actually cared about liked someone else.

I never quite got over that, or the fact that Mike and Michelle dated for a year and a half. They seemed happy, but he cheated on her with a cheerleader whose name was Debbie. She was good friends with Michelle, and I was shocked when Michelle came to me crying, telling me how Mike was cheating on her with Debbie. Rage overwhelmed me. Mike didn’t know what he had, and now he would lose it. I stalked over to his home and sure enough there were two cars parked there. One for Debbie, one for Mike. I found the key underneath the doormat and I stalked inside. I remember grabbing Mike by his shirt and punching him as hard as I could, square in the jaw. He stumbled back and fell on the couch. Blood poured from his chin and mouth and now he was angry too. We fought with Debbie’s screams in the background. Then Michelle came and tried to stop the fight. We separated and Mike actually pushed Michelle down and went off to his car. Debbie chased after him, but not before giving us a dirty look. She shut the door with a bang and went off to her car. I heard them leave and then I was left in his house, cleaning his mess. I started cleaning up when I saw Michelle in a corner, crying. I comforted her and we stayed there for hours. We finally left in my car and after I drove her home, she thanked me for trying to do well. She went inside and I didn’t see her the rest of the week. Mike and I didn’t speak to each other until he and Michelle broke up. Then I came to him one evening and told him that it wasn’t worth it to lose a friendship over a girl. He agreed and we became friends again, yet it was never the same. We still trusted each other but it was just sort of, well, awkward.

Anyway, that is the story of me, Debbie, Michelle and Mike. But there are also many others, like Noel. He came to my school in grade 7 but he was a shy kid and didn’t talk to many people. Then I saw him one day and he was backing away from two other boys. It was clear that he was in trouble, and I hate seeing people get mauled over by big guys who think it’s cool to beat on smaller kids. I am not a small kid, and although I am not extremely muscular, sports have been a part of my life since I can remember, so I have a pretty good build. I also took six years of martial arts lessons, so I can defend myself really well.

So when I saw those guys trying to beat little Noel I stepped in behind them and told them to back off. They refused and kept on coming. Noel and I were about to hit a wall when at the last second I saw Noel bring out his switchblade. I wished he hadn’t done that as the other two brought theirs as well. Now I was getting nervous because this could turn out bad. I took off my sports jacket and wrapped it around my hand. This way if things got heated and they took swings at me, I could deflect the blows without injury to my hand.

The little fight didn’t last long. The biggest man on the right went to me; he swung like a thug, raising his arm around his head. I had time enough to anticipate what he was going to do. His move was really powerful, but too slow. I ducked out of the way, then came up in a straight line with a punch to the jaw. My fist hurt and I bruised all of my knuckles that day. The guy was stunned for a second though, and I stepped on his foot and kicked him in the crotch. He bent over himself leaning towards me; I grabbed his hair and pulled on it tight, then kneed him in the face. He stumbled backwards and I grabbed his shirt. I then pushed him backwards so he fell on his back. I looked over to Noel and the other man; they were struggling to get their knives into each other’s chest. Alarmed, I went over and banged the man from behind as hard as I could with cupped hands over his ears. He looked stunned, so I grabbed his hair and pulled back, then I kicked his knees so they would buckle underneath him. He bent back and I saw from the corner of my eye that Noel was about to thrust his knife in the man. I let go of my enemy, who was now on the ground and vaulted over him to catch Noel’s hand. I tackled him back and then twisted his hand so he would drop the knife. I kicked it away and got back up. He stood up beside me and I shoved him away while the second man got back up. I waited for him to make a move as we kept on walking in a circle. Finally he jumped at me trying to grab me. I jumped back, evading his attack and returned one of my own. I kicked him hard in the stomach and when he bent over I went over him with an elbow to the neck. He slumped forward and fell face first. For a second I thought I had killed him, then I bent down and felt his heavy breathing. I looked over at the first man and noticed he was out cold too. I then went to a very scared Noel who told me his story. He was walking home from school counting the prize money he had gotten in a 50/50 raffle. He thanked me for the help and walked away, I saw him again several times around the school but we never really talked.

The next person that I recognized was Tom. He looked worse every day. And from what I heard from other people, I didn’t blame him either. He led a hard life. His parents were apparently druggies and beat him every day. Because of this, he was very shy and some bullied him for being emo. I once had tried to get to know him a few years ago, but he rejected me. Even when I kept on trying to get closer to him, he never let me or anyone else be his friend. Eventually I stopped trying and I moved on. If he didn’t want to be friends, I was fine with that. He came in and I waved at him, as I did with most people. He didn’t wave back and went to the back of the classroom to sit in a corner instead. I dismissed the fact that he was so unsociable and instead turned to face my new teacher.

Her name was Samantha Briggs, she was very sweet and barely a day over 30. After introducing herself, we all introduced ourselves. I was amazed at how many races and religions I could find just in this one classroom. There was a group of Hindus at the front of the class, in the middle there was a group of Latin Americans. I noticed that each race and culture grouped together as one. It seemed strange to me, but I guess that I did the same. I looked at those who sat around me and I noticed that every one of them was Caucasian. It was strange but I guess that’s how it is in the world too. I mean you could probably look at a map and point out the majority of the people there and what race or religion they are from. I don’t mean to be racist, it is just an observation I have made.

Well back to my point; we rumbled through the halls, meeting every teacher who would be with us for the first term. They all seemed nice enough, though none of them stood out as much as Mrs. Briggs. They all seemed to fit the stereotype and common image that students have of their teachers. They are old and wise and, well, pretty boring. Though not all of them are like that, again, that is only a small observation I have made. When the clock struck 12, the lunch bell rang and we were dismissed for our break. I took my lunch I had brought from home and proceeded to the cafeteria. I looked over the hundreds of heads that were in the crowd to look for my buddies. Finally I saw a waving hand fly out in the air and I saw that it belonged to my beloved Michelle, whom I still had feelings for, even if she was too blind to see that. I slowly made my way through the crowd to the table that they were sitting at.

I saw Michael across from Michelle and Debbie on Michelle’s right side. I went around the table with my bag of food and sat next to Michael. We did our handshake and then I said hi to the girls. We ate and talked at the same time. Retelling our best stories from the summer and where we went and who we hung out with. Debbie looked over at Michelle and they grinned from ear to ear. I wondered what they were thinking but decided it was better not to say anything. Finally Debbie spilled the beans over what they were thinking. Turns out they had gone to a super fun party at this bar; of course they weren’t allowed to drink, but a friend of theirs got them fake IDs. When I asked them who their friend was, they only said that his name was Noel. I realized that it had to be the same Noel I had saved from the two guys that day. They said that they had gotten boozed up and had a wild night. They didn’t say what wild included and my imagination ran away with me over what exactly wild included. They seemed proud of having gotten drunk too. This hurt me a little inside. I always thought of Michelle as a true lady, the best girl one could possibly get, and when I heard this, my heart sank and died a little.

When we had finished our lunches we went outside the building for some fresh air. Michael excused himself as he said he had to go to the washroom and then came back five minutes later. Everything seemed well enough, actually better than it was before we went away for break. Yet I could not have known just how bad things were then. How messed up things had become ever since we had gone for summer break. Never did I know to what extents I would have to go to make everything come back to normal.

To Be Continued...