7 Days in November, Part 15 (Monday)

Back before Furball had even toured Cherrywood, someone had planted a memorial garden. The garden was the last reminder of a teacher, or a student, or a coach — Furball had never checked the name on the plaque. Bryan led Ty down to the garden, Furball following close behind, and they sat on one of the benches around the monument. Ty didn’t say anything for a while, she just hunched over, letting out a whimper every so often. Bryan kept close to her, watching for anyone coming their way. He rubbed Ty’s back in slow circles.

“This is stupid,” Ty said. Her voice was hoarse, and it cracked when she spoke.

“It’s not,” Bryan said.

Ty sniffed and looked out over the soccer field behind the school. “It is.” She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “This is high school and they’re just kids and I know someday this will all be behind me and…” She closed her eyes and hunched back over. “I just don’t understand.”

Furball shifted against the discomfort that hung in the air. He looked out over the soccer field, hoping it would tell him what to think. “What happened?”

“It hasn’t stopped. All morning, since I got here. I could feel them just staring at me, and if that were it I could handle that, but they talk, too. They don’t think I can hear them. They think that it’s OK when I leave the room, but I can hear them on the way back in and when I sit down, they just giggle and pretend like nothing has changed.” Ty stared at the field, clenching her jaw closed tight, fighting against the tears that welled in her eyes.

Bryan hugged her. “What are you going to do?”

Ty leaned against him and closed her eyes. “I dunno. I can’t go home. I still gotta deal with TJ about Friday.”

“But,” Furball said, “I mean, what happened? Who keeps talking?”

“Mostly girls,” Ty said, dropping her voice. “They’re talking about me at the party on Saturday. I didn’t think they were paying attention. And they keep saying things. Calling me a slut and a dyke in the same…” She stopped. And then she laughed a little, if only to herself. “They don’t even know he’s my brother, and I don’t want to say anything because if I did, what would they say…?”

“They think you hooked up with Farly?” Furball asked.

Ty nodded. “I hate it here.”

Bryan put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “I know. Me too.”

“I thought you guys loved it here,” Furball said. He shifted again and tried not to look at them. “I mean, when I first got here, you seemed happy.”

“Things change,” Ty mumbled. “Even then, we weren’t happy.”

“They tell you this is a cliqueless school, and that’s totally not true,” Bryan said. “The people that say that are the ones that never interact with any of the students. They just assume, because almost everyone looks the same.” Bryan stopped. He didn’t seem that interested in continuing. He closed his eyes and rested his head on Ty’s shoulder.

Furball pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them. He couldn’t look at Bryan or Ty. Whether they knew it or not, they were the leaders of his tribe, or his group, or whatever. They always seemed older than the rest of the group, like they were trapped in teenagers’ bodies and had to deal with problems that seemed obvious and trivial to them. And maybe, Furball thought, they were never meant to deal with this shitty part of life.

He had been attracted to Ty and Bryan because they had been so confident in seemingly everything they did. As far as he could tell, they rarely did homework, and some how pulled As and Bs in every class. They were both talented musicians, but never practiced. It was in band class where Furball met them. The band practiced in the gym, because there was no band room at Cherrywood; it was never important to the school to have a band room. It was an off-day, when the director suddenly had something she need to take care of, so she hid in her little office while her students did homework they should have done the night before. Furball set himself up in the storage room and played with the drum set. He ran through all the songs he knew, the ones he liked playing, and when he felt like he was being watched, he stopped. He turned to find Bryan and Ty standing in the doorway of the storage room, their tails flicking back and forth.

“Don’t stop,” Ty said. “You’re doing well.”

Furball felt his face flush. He put down the drum sticks and tried not to look like he had just been caught.

“How long have you been playing?” Bryan asked.

“Less than a year,” Furball answered. He didn’t look at them.

“Yeah?” Ty said. “You’re pretty good for less than a year.”

Furball tried to disappear into himself.

“You’re Tycho, right?” Bryan asked. Furball nodded.

“You want to play in a band?”

“A band?”

“Mostly ska and punk,” Bryan said. Ty and I are going to do the horns, and we got some people to play up front.”

Furball looked down again. “I don’t know much about ska or punk,” he said.

“That’s OK,” Ty said. “You should still try out. Or at least come hang out with us.”

Furball blushed harder. “OK.”

And that was it. He had never felt more welcome anywhere else than when he hung out with Ty and Bryan’s group. They were affectionate, especially Farly, and he found himself allowing his new friends to do thing he had never let people do before: a nuzzle when he showed up to hang out, a hug when he left, little things to let him know he was welcome and loved, just for being their friend. And when Bryan started calling him ‘Furball,’ it became who it was, his place in the group. He was thankful for it.

“Did we ever tell you about Darren?”

Furball came back to the cold November day around him. Darren was Bryan’s first friend at Cherrywood. Furball shook his head.

“In April, Darren gave this presentation in class, and he put a lot of really dark humor in it. Well, the next day, some kids in Colorado shot up their school. The day after that, Darren didn’t show up for school.” Bryan shifted. “When I finally got to talk to him, he told me the school had called his parents and told them he wasn’t allowed back until he got counseling. Turns out, he’s on some sort of black list, like he’s a threat to the school or something.

“But, if they actually knew Darren, they’d know he’s harmless, that he couldn’t hurt anyone.”

Ty sat up and held herself. “The same thing happened to Jon, but for different reasons.”

“What happened to Jon?” Furball asked.

“We shouldn’t talk about it. It’s his problem.”

“Anyway,” Bryan said, his eyes fixed on the ground, “that’s when things started changing for me here. You don’t notice all these little things at first, and then something breaks, and they all come at you.”

Furball hugged his knees tighter.

“I think it’s time for class,” Bryan said. He stood and helped Ty up, and they both collected their bags.

“What’s going to happen?” Furball asked. Ty offered him her hand and pulled him up off the bench.

“I dunno. I guess I have to stay here,” Ty said.

Furball looked at his feet. Then, hesitating, he hugged Ty. She smiled and put her arms around him.

“I’ll be OK,” she said. “It’s just one more class.” Furball pulled away and nodded. They started back towards the school.