No one at Deer Valley High pledges their allegiance to the flag in the morning. The custom is not enforced by teachers or the school, and at some point, they had stopped bothering to even ask. The refusal to do so isn’t out of protest for the flag or the country, but rather out of apathy towards such a tedious morning routine. Besides, I’m certain that the Founding Fathers wouldn’t mind. The freedom to, or not to, is what they had all worked so tirelessly for, after all.
Yes, no one at Deer Valley High pledged their allegiance to the flag in the morning. That is, except for that small boy named Kenneth Bain. I wasn’t sure what drove him to do it exactly, whether it was out of religious patriotism or merely his desire to do things by the book, but he would insist every day that he be allowed to take the pledge before the flag. Neither the students nor whatever unfortunate teacher had been assigned to his class in the morning were particularly enthused, but it didn’t eat too much into the allotted class time, so no one exactly bothered to voice any protest.
So, who exactly is this Kenneth Bain character? Well, he’s not a rose. He is not a lily, a daisy, a tulip, or even a sunflower. He was more akin to a prickly poppy. And in addition to his position as captain of the chess club, his reputation naturally became what it was due to that quirky personality of his.
His face, peppered with pimples the size of small beads, cocked upward, jumping the small thin frame of his glasses hanging from his nose as he placed his right hand across the chest of his plaited vest and said the words we all knew so well. The eagerness in his voice was overshadowed by both the subtle lisp that he was almost infamous for, and the sparkle of his braces every time he pronounced a word that required the flashing of his discolored fangs.
Yes, Ken was a rather thorny character. During class, he would make it a point to ask the teacher as many questions as possible about the given topic. It was a habit that irked some of the students, but others enjoyed it as it tended to derail the class and cut into the hour, allowing them to avoid doing as much work or note-taking as they otherwise would have. While we had been seated in a Spanish class that morning, I hadn’t remembered anything about what he asked in particular. What I do recall, however, was the growing frustration that even our teacher had a difficult time concealing, though even that was lost on the eager Kenneth Bain.
I hadn’t seen him again until our lunch break. He was chowing down on his food with his mouth open, the smacking of his lips audible to anyone within his immediate vicinity. His choice of lunch was the same kind of egg salad sandwich he’d eaten every day before then, no doubt prepared for him by either one of his loving parents. Anyone who knew him knew that he would often speak highly of both parents, as his father and mother were both spectacular chess players who had no doubt gifted him their love for the game. It was also worth noting that Ken’s clothes were always freshly ironed and well kept, something that couldn’t have possibly been his own doing, as he was so clumsy with his hands that he’d be covered in burn marks if he were ever allowed to operate an iron on his own.
After lunch, the school headed to the auditorium for the shows that were to be put on. While it had initially been a standalone performance by the drama club, the school had permitted the photography club to project our short film as a sort of opening act for their rendition of Twelve Angry Jurors. Kenneth, of course, being a stickler for the rules, was present, and didn’t appear too pleased with the circumstances. His routine was being disturbed, and it seemed to have put him in a bad mood. His chess club friends found it difficult to talk to him in that state, where his arms were crossed and his brows were furrowed so hard you could see the creases forming irreversible marks on his forehead.
Once everyone was finally seated, the film, which I assume had been screened by the teachers beforehand, was projected onto a large white screen that had been erected onto the stage. Gwen Diaz’s script and my directing had come to life in a spectacular way before a crowd of hundreds of other students, as Lance and Naomi’s acting had given breath to a film that had moved the girls in the crowd so deeply that you could hear the audible “aw”’s in the hall.
Ken’s reaction to the film was something I had expected to take on an indifferent or even unamused shape. It didn’t appear to me, or to anyone for that matter, that he was one to take interest in the interpersonal relationships of others. He had always been in his own world, following his own routine, seeking his own pleasures.
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But something about the film had apparently spoken to him. His eyes were glued. His mouth hung open. His breathing slowed. The boy, who had just earlier seemed to be in dismay over the disruption of his routine, was now entranced by the story we had put together. My father always said that film changes the way we view the world around us. And if that’s the case, then perhaps this would be another example of that. But at the very least, in this moment, Ken had apparently considered something outside of himself and his immediate surroundings.
All the cheers and praise that had come once the film had ended couldn’t take me away from Kenneth Bain. My eyes were intently focused on him as he sat in silence, ignorant to the discussion his friends around him had been engaged in. He was so deep in thought that drool had come trickling down the bottom of his lip. And he remained deep in thought even as the sacrilege the drama club was putting on had long since taken the limelight of the stage.
Once school had ended, Ken immediately headed to the chess club. There, he no doubt played many games with his friends, studied game openings and chess puzzles, and most importantly, enjoyed the time he spent with the other members of his club. And once that was done, he headed out at 5pm which was around when his doting mother had made her way to school after her long day of work was done, and the two of them left to head back home.
Kenneth Bain is not a rose. He is not a lily, a daisy, a tulip, or even a sunflower. He was more akin to a prickly poppy. The limelight will never be his, and he certainly doesn’t inspire adoration in the general student population. Most people go through their lives at school dealing with good things and bad things, but I’m certain that in the back of their minds, there’s a thought lingering inside of there that they can’t repress.
“At least I’m not Ken.”
I know this because, up until today, I was the same. I don’t consider myself to be a spiteful or judging person, at least not any more than the average person is. But even still, I would often find myself looking down on Ken just as everyone else did. But today, when I saw him eagerly pledging his allegiance to the flag, a realization dawned onto me.
Ken was not attractive. He was not sociable. He annoyed almost everyone around him just by being himself. He found it difficult to function outside of the very narrow purview of his routines and interests. And yet, after spending all day observing him, I came to a realization that I was not actually better than Kenneth Bain. Because for all the things people didn’t like about him, at least I could say that he was happy.
He enjoyed pledging his allegiance to the flag. He was passionate about his classes. He loved eating the same food every day. He had fun playing chess with his friends at club. To Kenneth Bain, every day was something to look forward to. Yeah, I’m not Kenneth Bain. I’m not the prickly poppy that no one wants to touch. But at the very least, he seemed to enjoy his days swaying in the wind.
I don’t know when it happened, but I found myself crying in one of the bathroom stalls after class. My entire body was heavy with guilt. I felt like I had been run over by a truck. My stuffed nose made it difficult to continue crying, but I kept going anyway. Perhaps it had been the sleep deprivation. I found it difficult to go back to bed after everything that had happened last night. The spirit had receded into my shadow, which was for the best as I hadn’t wanted any attention from that person today, but feeling its lingering presence was just like carrying an extra weight of guilt.
I wanted to rip my own beating heart out of my chest. It was a worthless thing that had run me down this terrible path. Thinking back, it was all destined to go this way when I allowed her to convince me to hack her mother. I recalled how we partook in the forbidden fruit that day, and how I had been tangled in her web ever since.
How could I have let my desire for one girl cause so much ruin? Was I that weak-willed? Was my life so utterly worthless without her that I would choose to cast my humanity away for just a bit of her praise and attention? Even the taste of her lips hadn’t washed away the stain of my guilt.
A part of me had wondered all day today. What if I was like Ken? What if, rather than being led around by the nose by a girl who barely even recognized my existence, I had simply lived for my own happiness and the people who cared about me? What if I spent my life in pursuit of simple pleasures rather than some fantasy of a magical life with a girl who would watch me drown without batting an eye?
I hadn’t known what the future would hold. But there was one thing I knew for sure. Before I decided how I wanted to live my life, I needed to right my wrongs. The wretched consequences that were eating away at me needed to be dealt with. I don’t care what happens to me in the future, whether Zoey tries to tell everyone about Dream Paralysis or whatever else. My only concern was to clean up my mistakes, and perhaps eventually, if I can even conceivably forgive myself for everything I’ve done, then I would like to try living a life as blissful and pure as the one Kenneth Bain lives.