Lance Harley’s connections within the student body are almost comically arbitrary. His ex-girlfriend is the captain of the Volleyball team, his friend James is in the school band, and then there was Taylor from the drama club, who invited us to sit in on their rehearsal on my first day back since my suspension. Compared to myself, who had barely formed any connections throughout the entirety of my high school journey, he may as well have been the king of England. His social life and mine are as comparable as an Adam Sandler movie is to Bladerunner.
Speaking of movies, the drama club was spending their Friday morning rehearsing a rendition of the play “Twelve Angry Jurors”, where a group of adults are tasked with deciding the fate of a juvenile in a homicide case. The twelve actors sat on stage in a semi-circle at a table facing the audience, while the drama teacher sat next to the stage to help guide them through the script. Lance and I, though completely out of place, acted as a sort of makeshift crowd for the entire thing along with the rest of the drama club, who had been charged with handling the more tertiary aspects of the production. But all of that aside, there was something that had been bugging me about the whole ordeal.
“Wasn’t this movie called Twelve Angry Men?” I asked.
“What are you talking about? There’s no way they made a movie out of this trash.”
“No, there is a movie. More than one, even.”
“Seriously? Why would anyone watch someone do a play then?”
I shrugged. “The version of it that I saw is really old. though. Like, a hundred years old or something.”
“Wow, didn’t know they even had video cameras a hundred years ago.” He must have been joking, I thought. We were in the same history class. He should at least be familiar with what the world was like during the great depression. “So was there sound? In this movie? Or was it like one of those Chaplin things with the words on the screen?”
“Oh yeah, there was sound. They talked in that funny transatlantic accent, so I remember it well. Like the ones you hear in those old videos they make us watch in US history.”
“Was there color?”
“No, it’s in black and white.”
He spat on the floor in disgust.
“Lance, what the fuck.”
“If it came out before color did then it probably belongs in the trash. Actually, if I’m gonna be honest, nothing made before Back to the Future could possibly be considered a good movie.” He leaned back confidently and returned his attention to the stage as if his comment were insightful and witty enough to deserve a mic drop.
His lack of appreciation for the classics troubled me when I thought back to the sheer number of stellar black and white films my father had introduced me to, but I decided not to say anything. If there’s one thing I know about Lance, it’s that you didn’t want to get stuck in the weeds of an argument with him.
“So why is it called Twelve Angry Jurors, exactly?” I asked.
“I dunno, man. Probably because there’s girls in the drama club too. There’s no reason the cast has to be twelve guys.”
“Oh, I guess so.”
The two of us went back to observing the rehearsal in silence. We had been there for about ten minutes at that point, and I was confident enough now to say that whoever was overseeing the script took more than just a few creative liberties. Not that it took that much pondering to come to that conclusion, anyway. After all, the jurors were all wearing clown suits for some reason.
It seemed like each juror had his or her own unique quirks, almost like they were all mascot characters in their own right. For example, Juror #4 was the angry clown who refused to laugh at the other clowns’ jokes, and Juror #7 was more concerned with squirting water at people with the prop flower on his collar than resolving the actual case. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t that I didn’t find it amusing or anything, but it was so different from the original screenplay that the whole thing may as well have been parody. Twelve Angry Clowns, maybe?
“So, how’re they doing? Think they stack up compared to the movie? What about Taylor?”
Taylor was playing Juror #8, the main focal point of the story who makes it his purpose to flip the opinions of every juror in the room away from a guilty verdict. However, the issue is his character was essentially reduced to a comedian who took shots at anyone who spoke up by using played out one-liners that made me want to gag.
“Oh, uh yeah. This is really good,” I said.
“You could at least try to lie better.”
“What? I mean, it’s good right?”
“Is it?”
“Haha…”
To be honest, the movie had had a profound impact on me during my first viewing, so it may have been painful to watch it bastardized like that for a school play. I didn’t want to be a diva about it, though. The important thing for club activities like this is that everyone was having fun, so I decided not to voice my displeasure.
“Hey teach, Trist thinks your play sucks.”
“What? No I don’t! Dude, shut up!”
At his sudden outburst, the drama teacher suddenly turned to face us with a scowl on his face.
“Hmm? And whoooo, exactly, are you two? You’re not club members, are you?”
I gulped. Had this not been arranged properly? Lance gave me the impression that we had permission to be here.
“Oh, nah man. We’re friends of the cast,” Lance said.
“Okay. And what, pray tell, are friendssss of the cast doing here during rehearsals?”
Jesus Christ, even the teacher sounds like a theater kid.
“Can’t we just watch for a little? Please? We’re totally super invested in it right now! We like what you guys did with uh, Juror #4. Right Tristan? It’s a great take on the character, right?”
“No, not really.”
“Right… huh?”
His mouth hung agape as if he’d just been betrayed, and the teacher clicked his tongue.
“Okay, I believe I’ve seen enough. I’m going to need you two to leeeeave.”
“Huh? Wait, but-“
“Hey. No buts, young man. You heard me quite clearly. Off you go.”
Lance looked like he wanted to interject, but it was probably for the best that we were sent away. If I had to suffer through such a blasphemous play for much longer then I’d probably get on stage and start arguing with people on my own. No, I probably wouldn’t. But I’d get the urge to, and that’s enough to make the whole thing completely unwatchable for me.
“It’s fine, Lance. Let’s just leave.” I stood up from my seat.
“Hey wait, Tristan.” He tried to stop me, but when he noticed that I was already halfway to the door, he conceded with an exasperated sigh and followed me out.
The two of us found ourselves in the open hallway with about fifteen minutes left before classes would start for the day. We could only walk aimlessly and in silence after that confrontation in the drama club room. At least, that’s all I could do. The awkwardness of the situation was too heavy for me to break through on my own.
“Whatever, I’m sure we can find someone else to hang out with,” Lance reassured me.
He’s always kind like that, ignoring my shortcomings and keeping the temperature down. But I did feel bad about holding him back from his usual morning spot. The music room with James. Because of my outburst last week, it would have been too awkward for me to step in there and just pretend that everything was okay. Zoey and her mom’s influence on me made me react to his friendly advice with more vitriol than I had intended. Playing around with Dream Paralysis, with something I had no idea about, created so many fires last week that it’s a miracle the whole school hadn’t burned down yet. And imagining myself attempting to put any of them out was making me sick to my stomach. So much so that I decided to suggest a different locale rather than addressing the issue.
“Uh, what about the Volleyball team?” I asked.
“Good idea, I love watching volleyball girls.” He smiled, then rolled his eyes as if suddenly remembering something. “Ugh, nevermind. Basketball team usually has dibs on the gym in the morning.”
“Oh right.”
“Those guys think they run the school, don’t they? Let the people watch the volley babes for fuck’s sake! Thank God they lost last week. Maybe now the school will stop favoring that team of retards over everyone else. Can’t believe they messed up like that.”
“Yeah.”
“Embarrassing, I swear. They dragged the school’s name through the mud. Played like shit and decked the ref like a bunch of neanderthals. What a joke, dude. Almost makes me want to move to Alaska and never show my face again. I’d rather just fish and play Dota for the rest of my life.”
“You? Fish?”
“Hey I can fish, man. It’s been a while, but I have done it. My parents took me out a few times when I was younger. We’d get this tiny cabin in the forest near Lake Irma. During the night we’d make a campfire and melt smores, and when the sun came around, we’d spend most of our time fishing and hiking over the border to South Carolina.”
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“Oh, really? I’ve only been to Lake Irma like once, but I never got to fish or anything. We just went for a boat ride.”
“Hmmm. You sound pretty interested. Do you wanna try it out?”
“Huh? Uh, maybe.”
“Hey, I’d much prefer gaming over the weekend, but I’ll give it another go if you want to.”
“Oh, sure. Maybe some other time.”
His jovial attitude made me want to walk off a cliff. Why was he being so nice to someone who’d done so much wrong last week?
“Hey, Trist. What’s wrong man?” he asked. “Those clown losers still bothering you?”
“No, just… sorry. You can go hang out with James if you want.”
“What? Why? Are you gonna settle your beef with him today?”
“No, I don’t think I can right now. I… I just think you’d have more fun over there than with me.”
“Oh, dude.” Lance scratched the back of his head through his beanie. “It’s your first day back from being suspended. Of course I’m gonna hang out with the man himself.”
“Yeah, right…”
I decided to drop it right then and there. There was no point in using conventional wisdom with Lance. He is the textbook definition of an enigma. He broke up with the girl that he loved for no conceivable reason, after all. What kind of normal person does that? If he was this hellbent on boring himself with me, then I’d just have to play along. Speaking of which, I thought, there was someone we could hang out with before classes started.
“Hey. If Naomi’s not practicing Volleyball right now, then why don’t we go looking for her?”
“Oh, yeah… Uh, not right now.”
“Not right now?”
“Yeah, we’re not really on an ‘exchanging verbal communication’ basis right now if you’re feeling me?”
“What?”
“We’re not talking,” he said finally.
“That doesn’t make any sense. You guys were fine at homecoming. You went to the dance and even sat together at the game.”
“Yeah well, things happened.”
“Things? What kind of things?”
He scratched his head. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? But you just said-”
“Alright, look man! I don’t wanna talk about it, okay?”
“Uh, right…”
Naivete. That’s all I could call my belief that he’d actually be open with me. Sure, he promised me that he’d tell me about it, but it was Lance. Only a fool would believe that he’d actually talk about it. Lance would never lay everything out on the table like that. I knew that when I decided to be friends with him, so why was I getting upset about it now? My only recourse was to weather the storm with him and pretend that nothing was going on. Hopefully he’ll fix it sometime soon. But for now, there was nothing I could do.
We silently continued on our way through the daunting halls of this prison we called school, still without an aim or goal in mind. It was frustrating how disappointing my first day back was already. Brushing past small crowds near the lockers as we idly hoped that something interesting would come our way. As if we had been wading through tall grass in search of a rare encounter. Well, we were bound to run into someone we knew eventually. I suppose that was the idea. But the familiar face we happened upon hadn’t been the one that either of us expected.
There she was, chatting it up with a group of female students near the end of the hallway. I stopped in a hypnotized daze at the sight of her braids swaying with each movement of her head as she nodded and laughed along to their conversation. Her authentic bursts of energy as she shared that moment with the other girls were like a sugary dessert that sought to cleanse the bland taste of mashed potatoes and string beans I’d just cleaned up earlier. Social butterflies like her make me envious. If only I could so easily converse with others the way she did, then perhaps my morning wouldn’t be quite as dull as it had been. But unfortunately, I am no social butterfly. I am but a skittish deer, terrified at the sight of even my own shadow.
“Oh!” As if sensing us through some supernatural connection, Jazmine Lee turned in our direction then immediately ran over. “Tristy! Just the person I was looking for!”
“Huh? For me?”
She grabbed my hand and I felt her soft palms envelop my own. It was so surprising that I found myself shifting my gaze to Lance, who seemed to be looking away as if he wasn’t about to get involved in whatever it was he had just seen.
“Well, both of you, really!” The friendliness of our conversation seemed to surprise the girls she had just been talking to. They didn’t seem too eager to follow her, so they quickly returned to their group conversation without her.
“Huh?” Lance gasped as if genuinely surprised. “Dude, don’t lump me in to make me feel better. I know you only want your boyfriend Trist.”
“Oh, okay.” She nodded as if he was one hundred percent on the money and decided to drop the pretenses, pulling her hands away from me to talk. “So anyway Tristy, the truth is, the photography club’s in a little bit of a predicament right now.”
“Really? What kind?”
“Okay see, don’t be surprised, but… we kiiiind of don’t have enough members to keep the club going, since, you know, school rules say each club needs at least four members. So uhh, I guess I’m kinda just wondering... Do you want to join the photography club? Or actually, please join! Please please please!”
She clasped her hands together as if praying for me to go along with her request. But that request had shocked me like a bucket of water to the face. Join the photography club? The club that Zoey was in? And right after all that stuff with Benjamin? Don’t get me wrong, I doubt that Jaz would ask if it weren’t urgent, but would that really end well? Just what was the right choice? Should I help her and Zoey out, or should I take the cautious route and avoid any more pointless conflicts?
“Uhm… Jaz, I...”
“Why would we do that?” Lance suddenly interrupted. “Do you know how much trouble this guy’s been through just by associating with Zoey once?”
“I’m sorry, who’s ‘we’ again?” Jaz asked, rolling a braid up with her finger.
“What?”
“I only want Tristy, remember? You told me not to lump you in.”
“Oh, you’re just precious.”
“P-precious?” Jazmine’s baffled expression came in stark contrast to the cool look she’d been wearing earlier, but Lance continued as if he hadn’t noticed it.
“Now correct me if I’m wrong, but you just said that you needed four members, right? Now unless Trist’s got like a Jekyll and Hyde situation going on that I don’t know about, I’d say you still need one more person.”
“Yeah,” she said, pouting. “But don’t worry, we can find someone else.”
“No, you can’t. Cuz Trist and I are a package deal. Right Trist?”
“”What?””
“We are, aren’t we?”
I was suddenly being tugged and torn at two sides in a conflict I never asked to be a part of. Jazmine was offering me the forbidden fruit: an excuse to spend more time with Zoey than I’d be able to otherwise. The offer was enticing, I’d never deny that. Most guys at school would kill for such a chance, and I was no different. But, this is Lance. He’s been my only friend since I enrolled at this school. Could I really abandon him just for something like a chance to hang out with Zoey some more? It was a dilemma.
“W-well, before all of that, shouldn’t you ask if Zoey would even be okay with the two of us?” I asked.
“Wait, so you’ll join if Zoey’s cool with it? Really?!” I turned to Lance, who also seemed surprised by the high energy levels she was emitting, then I turned back to nod at her. “Awesome! Hold on.”
She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her phone.
“Tristan, are you really thinking about joining that club?” Lance whispered.
After navigating to what I could only assume was Zoey’s contact, she hit the call button and switched the call to speaker mode so that we could all hear the conversation.
“Well, I don’t know… maybe.”
“Dude, come on… Zoey again? That girl’s gonna ruin your life. You just got off from the whole Benjamin thing…”
He was right. There was no telling how that guy would react to me suddenly snuggling up to Zoey after what happened last week. But truth be told, my hesitation had nothing to do with Benjamin. It was Zoey herself. When I first told her about Dream Paralysis, she explicitly spoke about keeping our relationship a secret. I could only assume it was so that, if the knowledge of that power became known, it would be difficult to link the two of us as co-conspirators. Joining the club goes in direct opposition to that idea. We’ll become close acquaintances. That’s why it’s something that could only happen if she approved it. And besides, it’s not like I’m against hanging out with her more. It’s Zoey, after all.
“Hello? Jaz?”
“Hey Zoey! Quick question. Would you be okay with Tristan and Lance joining the club?”
“Tristan and… oh. Those two?”
The way she pretended not to know me kind of made me want to hang my head in shame. It’s just an act, I told myself repeatedly. It’s just an act. I am cool. I am important.
“Hmm. Well, I don’t see why not.”
“Woahhh! Awesome, awesome! Thanks Zoey! I’ll see you in a bit!”
She ended the call and immediately turned towards us with eyes brimming with genuine joy.
“So? What’s it gonna be?”
“Well, obviously we’re both joining,” Lance said with a smug look.
“What? No, I only want Tristy.”
“But she just said that-“
“Yeah, that she’d be FINE with you joining. The thing is though, and this is important: I still don’t want you.”
“Why not?”
“Rude,” she said.
“Me? You’re rude,” he replied, but she shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter, I’m the one recruiting.”
“You should quit being such a sore loser and listen to your boss.”
“This isn’t about being a sore loser, though? Listen. I know you’re Tristy’s best friend, which is why I was going to let you join the club too. But to be honest, you really were kinda rude to me earlier, and now you’re just digging yourself a deeper hole by not apologizing. Seriously. With that attitude, I don’t know if having you join the club would be a good thing.”
“The hell are you talking about, woman?”
“Wo-“
“Trist and I go way back. He’s not gonna let some random chick he met last week get between us. Not when you can’t even give me a real reason. I was rude? Fuck off, you were rude too. So let’s call it even and you can let me join the club.”
“That is absolutely not how it works.”
“Yeah? Well guess what? it’s either the both of us or nothing. Right Trist?”
He really didn’t care about how badly he was antagonizing her, did he? Could I even get him into the club now that things were this tense?
“Tristy, what do you think?” Jazmine asked. “I don’t really like him, but I like you. I’ll go along with it if you want.”
To be honest, I understood her hesitation. Lance does come off as a tad… disagreeable at first. But once you get to know him, he’s actually one of the kindest, most caring people you’ll ever meet. He’s just, you know… A little blunt. I could never leave him behind if he truly did want to join the club.
“Then, if you’ll have us both…”
“WOOO! Let’s go! That’s my fucking guy!” He grabbed my shoulder and pointed at me. “You heard him, we’re a package deal. So it’s either the both of us or nothing.”
“Well, if that’s what you want...” Her sigh was accompanied by a slight smile. I guess she had already forfeited the fight once I made my feelings known. I admired her for not pushing the envelope. For all the trouble he causes, he is still my friend. After everything we’d been through, I wasn’t about to abandon him just for a chance at getting closer to Zoey. She reached into her bag and pulled out some paper. “Here’s the membership forms. Bring them to the club room after school.”
I reached out and grabbed the papers. They were simple forms that asked for information that was vital for club registration. Information such as your name, date of birth, school ID number, e-mail, phone number, club of interest and reason for joining. Jazmine flashed me another smile and started walking backwards while sending me off with a small wave of her hand.
“I’ll see you after school!”
“Uh, yeah. Later.”
She turned around and walked away. Zoey aside, I didn’t hate the idea of spending more time with Jaz either. She has this aura that makes her easy to be around. It’s not something I’m intelligent enough to properly comprehend let alone express, but ever since that day we spent together last week, I definitely found her to be a pleasant person.
“Trist…”
But I wasn’t sure if Lance was as happy as I was about my decision.
“Come on dude,” I said, turning to face him. “Let’s just try it out. We can just be ghost members if it sucks.”
“You sure sound excited to hang out with Zoey.”
“Haha, what’re you talking about man? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m never gonna say that she’s out of your league, okay? Because guess what? Contrary to whatever your opinion of me is, I actually think you’re a pretty cool dude when you’re not ruining my Dota games.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“But are you sure you wanna risk Benjamin messing with you right after you finally got him off your ass?”
“Well, Jaz and Zoey can also help deal with it, so…”
“Jaz and Zoey aren’t going to be around you 24/7, you know. And neither am I.”
“I know, man. Quit lecturing me.”
Lance shrugged and threw his hands up behind his head.
“I’m just sayin’, you should pick your battles. I get that you’re really into her, but…” He stopped. “Nevermind. Just do what you want.”
“Huh? What does that mean?” I asked.
“Nothing. Nevermind.”
“Not nevermind. You just told me to do what I want, but this affects you too. I mean, we’re in this together, right?”
“Yeah, but… I dunno. I’ll think about it.”
With those vague, ominous words, he also left me behind and walked off to his classroom. There was something off about the conversation. It was as if Lance wasn’t talking to me at all. Was he lost in thought about something? Where was his head at? I wasn’t sure. But I decided that it would have to wait until later. After all, I needed to figure out how to navigate the upcoming Zoey Brahm situation.