If we look to the past to learn from our mistakes,
Can we change the future by correcting those mistakes today?
Can we change the future by correcting those mistakes today?
Life During Wartime by Thomas Pluck
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Come on, grab her pussy. Grab
her by the pussy or you’re a fag.
Trip’s voice echoed in the
empty coat room. Trip and Mike Reilly and Angelo Cundiff huddled in the dark
corner around the girl.
The rest of our class was at
recess. I’d snuck into the empty classroom to read my book so I wouldn’t get
dragged into playing with the other kids. Pokémon Border Patrol isn’t my thing.
I’d heard a whimper and thought
maybe Hamilton the class guinea pig had escaped again and I could be the one
who saved him. No such luck. I peeked in
and Mike Reilly grabbed me by the shirt and then there were four of us
around the girl at the end of the long coat room, the worn brass hooks all
empty, pointing at us like accusing fingers.
Come on, do it. Do it, you
fucking pussy. You never grabbed one before?
The girl shivered in the
corner. Her name was Marissa Gutierrez. She liked to read in the library, like
me.
She’s a fucking Zee Girl. We
can do whatever we want.
I was there when the school
librarian told Marissa she couldn’t take non-approved books home anymore.
I don’t make the rules. I’m sorry,
but I can’t lose this job.
Marissa said she’d put Slaughterhouse-Five
back on the shelf and Mrs. Heller said no give it to her and Marissa dropped
the book and ran out holding her wrist to her eye. I read Slaughterhouse-Five
in seventh grade. I didn’t get some of it but I liked Everything was
beautiful and nothing hurt. Dad said that was supposed to be a joke when
Vonnegut wrote it, and that it was a worse one now. I wanted to give Marissa my
copy, but he Dad we couldn’t risk getting in trouble.
Angie’s a fa-ag!
No I’m not, Angelo
said. I’ve seen pussy before. He
avoided my eyes.
If you like cock, mine’s huge. Trip
wasn’t taller or bigger than the other boys but he had hooks of his own. One of
my mom’s favorite songs goes words are weapons sharper than knives. I
didn’t know what that meant until I met kids like Trip.
Angelo’s grabbed pussy before, I
said. The words came out of my mouth like I was spitting up stones.
How the fuck do you know,
Ronan?
Angelo froze.
I was there, I
tell them. He put his fingers right in. Like a boss.
Yeah,
Angelo said, and held two fingers to Trip’s face. Bet you can still smell
it.
Gross, Trip
said. You’re disgusting. What about you, Ronan? Did he do it too, Angelo?
Angelo’s eyes skirted the
floor.
I’d known Angelo since first
grade. He sucked at lies but he could keep secrets. I tried not to hate him for
betraying me. No one helped each other anymore. It wasn’t his fault.
We’re all hanging by our own
strings, Mom said.
Marissa shoved Mike Reilly and
made a run for it. I scooted back to give her room but Trip grabbed her by the
ponytail and yanked her to the wall. She was short and the coat hook only
grazed the side of her head above her ear. She clutched her head and squealed.
You make noise and it’ll be a
lot worse. A lot worse.
Marissa clenched her eyes shut.
So Ronan’s the real faggot, Trip
said. Show us you got balls, Bone-in. Grab her pussy.
Oh I got balls, Trip. Big ones.
Not like yours.
Whoa! Ooh! Mike
Reilly did the school fight duet by himself.
Trip turned red.
He was always pulling his thing
out in the locker room. Standing on a bench, biting his lower lip and showing
it off. Like it was anything special. Like we wanted to see it. Not even Angelo
did. I’ve seen a lot of them and his looked like the naked mole rats at the
zoo, a little orange maggot.
Well let’s measure up.
Whoever’s is bigger gets to grab her pussy.
Okay you go first, I said.
No way.
I called it, I
said. What, you scared you’re gonna lose? Loser.
Trip looked between Angelo and
Mike Reilly and saw he couldn’t back out.
Block the Zee bitch, I don’t
want her to see.
Trip reached into his pants.
Mike Reilly blocked Marissa against the wall. He watched just as intently as
Angelo did.
Trip unzipped slow. In the
closeness of the coat room it sounded like skin tearing in a horror movie.
He bit his lower lip and stuck
his middle finger out the zipper hole. No way faggot, you go first. Show us
your puny dick!
But I didn’t have one. Not yet.
Dad said I have balls, they’re just on the inside. When I turned sixteen, we were
gonna to drive to Montreal and start the process.
Show us your dick or grab her
pussy, faggot! Bet you have balls like little cafeteria chicken nuggets.
Mike Reilly laughed and his
stinky breath hit the back of my neck. That set me off. I grabbed Trip’s balls
as hard as I could. His mouth made an O and he
doubled over.
Angelo always freaked out in
fights. He blurted I’ll get a teacher! and ran.
I wanted to tell Marissa to
run. To ask Trip what the hell was wrong with him. But nothing came out. I
heard myself screaming like I did in the bathroom sometimes when the hand
dryer’s blasting and no one can hear.
Big Mike Reilly grabbed me from
behind and pulled me off Trip. Holy shit Rone’s got tits!
I keep them strapped down and
wear my t-shirt on in the locker room like the chubby boys do. But he could
tell.
Holy shit holy shit Ronan’s a GIRL.
Trip coughed and panted,
red-faced. Bet you liked touching my balls you cunt freak. We’re gonna tell.
You’re gonna get GRACKED!
GRAC was Gender Role
Affirmation Camp. Electroshock until I was eighteen, if I was lucky. No more
hormones. My stupid body would turn soft again and not be me anymore.
Mike Reilly looked at his hands
like he had touched fresh dog shit.
Then Trip looked at me the same
way. You’re going to Utah, freak!
Utah is an orange desert hell
of rocks and highways. I read what they do to people like me there. They can do
anything they want in the name of the cure. Anything.
Trip drew back a fist and it
was my turn to freeze.
I was done. Mom and Dad had talked
about what we would do if this happened. Drive to Vermont and sell the car and
hire a border crosser. They made friends on a forum, a family in Ontario who
said they would take us in. All I could think of was leaving everything except
what was in my go-bag. Our dog Iggy would probably get gassed. Stupid hot tears
ran down my cheeks. I wanted Trip to smash my stupid face.
Hit me! Go on and hit me! Do
it! Who’s the pussy now? Who’s the pussy now?
But Trip just smiled. That ugly
smile when he knew he had you and he was God.
Marissa snarled and charged
him. What the hell’s wrong with you? Why you gotta be like this? What’d we
ever do to you?
Trip swatted at her hands until
she hooked him with a good swing. Then he shoved her, hard. Her face screwed up
and she shoved him back into the wall. Trip’s face froze mid-laugh.
Mike Reilly gawped. What’s
wrong bro?
Trip’s eyes darted right to
left, like one of his trapped victims. He reached back, like to slick back his
hair but his arm fell limp and blood oozed out both nostrils.
Mike Reilly ran first. Marissa covered
her face and stared through her fingers. Hurting a Great American. She was dead
now.
Just go, I
said. Just go.
She ran and I watched Trip claw
at his invisible cage until he slumped on the hook and Homeland Security dragged
me away.
***
My parents can’t afford to
visit but they call. Angelo writes a lot, under fake names, from all over the
country. He says he’s living on peanut butter, that his people have a van
loaded with weapons, locked up and ready to go. They’re just waiting for the
right time.
Sometimes passes messages
Marissa sends from over the Wall.
I talked it out with my lawyer.
Didn’t matter that they were born here. Marissa and her family got deported,
but it was better than them all getting executed, if I hadn’t confessed. And prison
don’t give a shit if I buzz my hair or do push-ups ‘til I puke. I get my
testosterone from a CO. In exchange, he does me in an empty cell and yells take
it all, you fucking dyke.
Nothing is beautiful and
everything hurts. But at least it’s not Utah.
