Timber Tantrum, Part 3: Logic Strikes Back

I should've jumped out the window. I would have saved so much time.

There isn't much to say about my thought process as I charged towards my destination. I sprinted most of the way, so you could say I was tired of hearing my own breath. That statement is too ironic.

I think we should ban irony.

Each inhale was ice. If you're going to go change something about your life, don't do it first thing in the morning. It only hurts more.

Let's jump to the point where I stopped. My breath caught up with my heart, but my chest made a bold dash for the finish line. I sat against the edge of my poor, broken fountain. Any water it had collected from rainfall was a cold, slushy mess. I felt for it.

I glanced at my watch. Six-thirty.

My legs were comparable to dangly pasta noodles. Yet, it had taken me an hour and a half to grab one item and get here.

As the sun poked its way through the horizon, I studied the digital screen of my watch. The bolded black numbers, the blue framing. I thought about life and stuff like that. I remembered when Kyle wore this watch. I remembered reviewing divergent series in math last night. I remembered writing events I didn't want to relive. Nothing out of the ordinary.

My heart throbbed at me. It proved to be one of those moments when the adrenaline never leaves your chest. The anticipation is too much for you to handle. You know what's coming, but you're too terrified to think about it. Let alone live it yourself.

Just like the end of Romeo and Juliet.

I pulled the object out of my pocket. The thing I'd snagged from that Boy Scout bag.

Brace yourselves. I know I've been melodramatic, but this lighthearted tale might take a wee-bit dark turn and freeze your body into the lead that mine was. Don't mistake me for Edgar Allen Poe Junior. I would love to be related to Poe because it would explain so much. Unfortunately, I couldn't blame lineage.

The pocketknife was larger than when I'd first snagged it. I swished it with a press of the blade, my face distorted off its glint.

I ran it along the palm of my hand.

Tiny Person bombarded me with a thought. Well, two thoughts.

One: Aw, Crap. No. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. No. No.

Two: How to make this quick?

Why didn't I just jump out of that stupid window? It would have looked like an accident, with less suspicious background objects. A knife with my handprints all over it might give away the idea of it.

I slapped my hand against my forehead. I don't know how to think on the spot. It was too late to go climb on top of a building and jump. Too obvious. Maybe some gangster would come and do it for me. The cop guy had said this was a dangerous place to hang out. I wish I had been listening to the "why" part of his lecture.

Too late now.

My eyes inched to the point of the blade. Thump. Plenty of people put a little slit in their veins at a major artery. Thump. But was bleeding out from the wrist really the best way to go? Thump. That didn't sound quick and painless at all. Thump.

"Shut up," I breathed to my heart.

It didn't listen. Thump. It kept going. Thump. It was getting on my nerves. Thump.

The knife shook. This was just like anything else. You're always nervous your first time around. Unfortunately, your first is always your last in situations like this. If you succeed, that is.

I couldn't admit to myself what I was going to do. If I was going to do what I was going to do. No, when I was going to do what I was going to do. If, and when, I was going to do what I was going to do. It was one word, but my thoughts couldn't form it out.

Come on. Say it.

With this vagueness, I'd make a movement and shock myself. Alright, I'm…

"Ben?"

My heart skipped a beat. The blade jumped into hiding behind my back, and Tiny Person jabbed me. You have pockets, Stupid.

Julia White stood in front of me in all her glory.

She moved my arm for me, and I followed her command like I was a frame by frame replay of a film. My jaw dangled, every effort to act like a human being failed. I don't like the robber in the White House analogy, but I'm not sure how else to describe the situation. I couldn't help taking in her expression.

It was impossible to read, yet obvious at the same time.

It wasn't understanding and sympathy. She didn't widen her eyes and frown. She wasn't horrified either. Her mouth didn't fall open. She wasn't "unable to blink out the moment," whatever that means. It wasn't what I wanted. It wasn't what I expected.

Her eyes narrowed and forced contact with mine. Full eyebrows furrowed, along with every part of her face that could. I saw clenched fists.

Julia White was ready to enter the arena and knock out Dwaine Johnson.

Julia White was angry.

"Are you kidding me?" she cried. I'm pretty sure she was speaking into an invisible megaphone. Good thing no one was around. "OF ALL THE STUPID, SELFISH THINGS-"

Step one when encountering a suicidal person: don't do this.

My eyebrows climbed my forehead like the peak of Mount Everest. "Excuse me?"

"Benjamin Wood, you are a spoiled brat!"

"What?"

Step two: react calmly.

"Let me clarify." She shook me like Hurricane Katrina. "The world doesn't revolve around you. You judgmental, naïve, selfish little pig!"

Step three: apparently therapists' offspring have no idea what they're doing.

My eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

She was in the midst of a tantrum. Freaking out for no logical reason I could muster.

"You know what?" She folded her arms over her chest. "I didn't mean to interrupt. Go ahead."

I was tempted to listen. My confusion got the better of me. This girl looked about ready to throw me off a cliff. Now she was backing off? My urge to yank out her bangs flickered.

"That's it?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." She was the queen bee in a lousy chick flick. "Did you want some privacy?"

"Yeah, kind of."

"No, I think I'll stay right here. I think that you're going to make me watch. And if you try, know that I will wrestle you to the ground and you will have to pry that thing out of my cold, dead fingers."

Why the hiccup… This girl hardly knew me. We'd never spoken. Was she mistaking me for someone else? Was there another Benjamin Wood I didn't know about? Maybe this wasn't Julia White. Was there another girl with long brown hair, bangs that covered up her forehead, grassy pupils, pale lips, and designer clothes? Scanning her again, I doubted this was a clone.

I brought the knife closer to my wrist. "Are you trying to be sarcastic or something?"

"You're unbelievable." Her voice lowered an octave. "No, I'm not being sarcastic. If you're going to do it, then you must have a good reason."

Needles jabbed over my chest. This girl's anger, whatever the reason, was starting to get to me. I had no intentions of hiding it. "What are you doing here anyway?" I said, "Did my parents send you? Because I think that's ridiculously desperate on their part."

She furrowed her brows. "I always walk through here."

"By this fountain?"

"Well, duh, it's a nice place to…" Her face could've been mistaken for a tiger when her cubs are threatened by a crocodile. "Don't you go trying to change the subject here."

That's a good idea.

"It's not safe for a girl to go walking through here alone."

She looked at my knife. I realized her point after a good ten seconds of scratching my head.

"Touché," I muttered.

Julia crossed her arms again. The cold air seemed to have no effect on her. Even if it did, her face was always so full of life and happiness it was hard to tell. Just thinking about her and all that sunshine and stuff makes me want to puke. Then again, here she was breaking all the rules of a suicide hotline.

"Would you stop staring at me?" I demanded.

She didn't.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is-"

"What my problem is?" she cried, "I'm not the one about to-"

I smelled metal off my shoulder. "You're doing this wrong."

"What?"

Pause.

I'm going to treat you like you're stupid for a second. Time for a lesson from yours truly.

People who want to kill themselves, that's a big deal. I'm a nobody. This was a special situation. If you encounter someone who resembles me in a similar situation, please, I'm begging you, treat them like they're your best friend. Treat them like any friend. Treat them like a person who doesn't deserve to die. Because, chances are, they probably think they do. They're just waiting for someone to tell them they don't have to.

Don't act like they're a serial killer holding the gun at you instead of themselves. Unless, of course, they do. In which case, call the freaking cops.

Rant over. Back to the nightmare.

Play.

My face became a brick wall. "You're supposed to stay calm and ask me why I feel the need to do what I'm doing. And then slowly pull me away from my thoughts with reverse-psychology."

That's what they all did.

"I'll do that just as soon as you give me that knife." Julia grabbed for me, but I yanked past her. "Do you have any idea, when they found out, what your parents and my dad and…"

She fell down beside me.

"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…I know that you're supposed to…" Julia raised her eyes into mine. I wish I knew what she saw inside when she banged her head against the fountain and said, "Crap!"

"What?"

"Just give me the knife."

My grip tightened. This time, when I looked at her, I saw something different. Replacing the beast of lectures was a desperate victim. Her head sunk into her painted nails. We'd swapped shoes in that weird expression about perspectives. If I did this, it would hurt her too.

Not that I cared. This was supposed to be my moment. Don't mistake selfishness and self-pity for sympathy.

"Please, Ben."

Everything about this scenario was so weird.

Deep consideration. I shoveled past my conscious into a twisted logic, buried beneath the thoughts of my tiny person. Julia smudged a wet spot on her cheek…it stained into her shirt. Had that been there before? Crap, now she was crying over me. Her eyes were distant. Was she praying over me? Nah, that was impossible.

"Ben…"

She firmed her muscles. Her eyes traveled to the knife once more, ready to pounce if I made any sudden movements.

At least, that's how I remember it.

I sighed. Unsure of my motives, I folded the blade into its handle and dropped it in her lap. Fingers needling the object, she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. I stood up and walked the opposite direction from home.

She just had to ruin my silent exit.

"Where are you going?"

Good question.

Julia jumped to her feet, inching towards me like some tiger before it devours its prey. She folded her lips into her mouth. I was surprised to find my height over her considering I felt two feet tall.

"Why don't you come to my house for brunch?"

That was a bad idea on so many levels. A million excuses formed.

Apparently, Julia wasn't asking. Her hand snatched mine. For some odd reason, my legs went alongside her. When her hand dropped from my skin, I was still moving. I told my body to knock it off. It was being very disobedient that day.

"You know…" Julia sniffed the cold air and pocketed my knife. "If you really were selfish enough to commit suicide, I think you would've done it already."

"Clearly, you don't know me at all." I felt my tone change as a dark realization nailed me over the head with Satan's hammer. "You won't say anything?"

Teal penetrated my eyes. I watched a silent debate throw its arguments between her ears. My chest dropped. This was it. She would tell the world, I was dead, and it couldn't even be because of me. This sucked.

"Let's make a deal," Julia said. "If you walk me home, let me treat you to breakfast, and start going to therapy, I won't say anything."

It's a trick! Tiny Person shouted.

No way no how would a therapist's kid be this stupid and grey in such a world, the white heart amidst it. Had she even read her dad's stupid book? Maybe she had. Maybe Doctor White raised such a cynical child with the intention to build his robot army of diseased teenagers.

Julia extended her arm. You have no idea how much I hated this. Yet, my options were pretty limited.

One: I could die.

Two: I could have everyone find out that I planned to die.

Three: I could go to therapy and feel like dying, but no one would know.

"Deal," I said.

I pushed aside her hand instead of shaking it. Unlike our previous situation, she didn't take it personally. A laugh escaped her mouth.

If only we had noticed the figure hiding on the other side of the fountain.