I don’t really get to talk with either of my two close comrades until lunch, which for some reason the guidance department decided to put exceedingly late on my schedule. By the time 7th period finally rolls around I can feel my stomach crying itself to sleep, so I grab whatever gourmet crap the cafeteria ladies have so lovingly whipped up today first before heading into the beautiful summer weather and towards the stone steps Em, Morgue, and I usually meet at. Strangely, as I make my way through the huddles of students toward the steps I only spot Em crunching on some nachos while flicking through one of her girl books– you know, stuff like The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and all that. She’s usually a cool kid but I guess everyone has their flaws, and Em’s seem to be horrible chicklit– that, and talking for hours about it to people who don’t care...mainly, me and Morgue.
I take a seat beside her and steal a chip. “Where’s Morgue?”
She blinks and finally exits out of her little fantasy world of sluts and stars. “Oh, what? Morgue? Oh, yeah...did you say something mean to him before?” She’s closed the novel– it appears to be Vampire Academy, one of her all-time favorites...wow, this must be serious.
“No, not really...why?”
“Well, I saw him in that little nook by the library– you know that place, where it’s supposed to be like only for janitors but no one cares if you go there?” I nod. “Well, during 5th I was going to drop off a book and I heard a sound...it sounded like sniffling or something...so I peeked over there and it was him. I don’t think he knows I saw him, though...and I don’t know what happened that made him cry. Are you sure you didn’t do something stupid again?”
“No,” I repeat again emphatically, “I didn’t do anything. I barely even saw him today except in Chem when he came by to take a test...in P.E. he was totally avoiding me. Maybe we should go check it out...”
“Oh, no, let’s just sit here and talk about stupid shit while our best friend suffers.” Em says it so forcefully I realize too late she’s being sarcastic, and it’s with an exasperated tug that she leads me back through the cafeteria and through the carpeted halls to the library.
“Where’s the nook again...?”
“Sssh!” She hisses and points to the side, where a small, barely noticeable doorway seemed to lead into pure darkness. “Over there,” She whispers. “I don’t know if he’s still here though, I came by like an hour ago.” Clutching the sleeve of my polo like we’re adventuring into some trap-filled Mayan temple, Em pulls me into the room as quietly as possible. We both gently stay against the first wall we find and follow it with our hands, but eventually the darkness got to be too much and we instead pooled our energy into finding a light switch.
“Here,” Em says and within a second it’s like Las Vegas at night– there must be a billion lights in this room. I gape in agony to myself as my eyes readjust, and once I do I see Morgue. He’s sitting on the floor, his back leaning against the shelf and his limbs as limp as putty– he reminds me of a deflated balloon. Just like in the storeroom at work, his eyes are glazed over and he’s staring at the walls around him without really seeing anything at all. It’s not a pleasant sight.
“Morgue?,” Em says, dropping to her knees beside him. I do the same, though a bit more hesitantly. This is beginning to feel a lot like the time right before he tried to kill himself, and I can’t help but feel nervous about it. “Morgue, honey, what’s wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing,” He says in a cracked, wounded voice, and ironically that one word tells us so much. Or at least it tells Em so much, because she’s doing a rapid-fire session of questions and beginning to remind me a bobble-head with all her nodding. How is she able to comprehend everything when I still have no idea what’s going on?
“It’s Shane, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, but...”
“I fucking told you,” She moans. “I told you this could happen.”
“I know, but I thought...besides, it was my fault...”
“No it wasn’t! Don’t ever fucking say that again. And...” Her eyes shift to me before she leans in towards Morgue, whispering frantically into his ear. He bites his lip and plays with his hair and begins to get teary. Em utters a final phrase to him and he closes his eyes tightly, fully displaying the dark mixture of eyeliner and red eyeshadow decorating his lids. After it seems like he’s going to keep them closed forever, his eyelids rise and droplets of salt-saturated water begin to drip, then stream, down his skin, pausing at the base of his chin while they ready themselves to make their final descent...and then they fall– onto his shirt, onto the floor, making everything they touch appear dark and dismal. Em’s straight chestnut hair falls over his face as she embraces him tightly, tears beginning to grace her face as well, and I come to the conclusion that at this moment I’m the third wheel. I don’t know what just happened, but it frightens and depresses me as much as it does Morgue and Em. I mean, something really horrible happened to Morgue...but what? And why can’t they tell me? Why do they have to speak about it in hushed tones out of my earshot, as if I can’t handle it?
I get up from the floor and dust off my shorts as Morgue and Em continue hugging and crying and crying and hugging, and I’m getting a little angry because I deserve to know.
“Morgue...can’t you tell me what happened?”
Slowly, he pulls away from Em and looks up to me as best as he can, and now I can see how red his eyes are, as if he’d been drinking and smoking weed and swimming simultaneously. “No.”
“No?”
“Not...not yet.” He can tell that made me even madder, as he quickly continues. “I will, but it’s too hard right now. It’s too hard.”
“Then why could you tell Em?”
“Because...” His front teeth dig into his lip, and he looks at her questioningly. She looks down and shrugs...why the hell is everyone being so dramatic right now?
“Because what?” I say a little too forcefully.
“Because she’s been through what I’ve been through!” He blurts out, and Em grimaces to herself and stares even more intensely at the floor like it’s the fucking ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
“Really? What, heartbreak? Relationship issues? I’ve been through all that shit, too!”
“No,” For some reason, he’s grinding his teeth and all in all treating me like an annoying child. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“I beg to differ.”
“I beg for you to shut the fuck up already and leave me alone, I’ll tell you later,” He barks back, curling back into a fetal position and obviously believing he got the last word.
“No, tell me now. I’m your best friend, too. Hell, I knew you way before she did. Even if you can tell her, you can tell me.”
“Later,” He begs.
“Now.”
“Please, I can’t...I just can’t.” Again he’s collapsing into sobs, but I’m not going to let that be the trump card this time.
“I can’t help you with it if you won’t tell me.”
“You can’t help me with it anyway. You’ll only hate me even more.”
“Really?” I reply skeptically. He can tell me he’s gay, that he’s in love with me, but yet this little secret is somehow going to be the one thing that tips the boat? “I won’t hate you, I swear. I couldn’t ever...you’re my best friend.”
“I’ll...I’ll just tell you that it had to do with Shane, okay? It had to do with Shane. Take what you will from that.”
“He dumped you?”
He moans softly to himself and leans against Em as she gives me a scandalized look.
“Go finish your lunch or something,” She hisses to me. “For such a supposed best friend, you’re not doing shit to make him feel better.”
“So I was right, he dumped–?!”
“No,” They both groan to me; Em actually reaches out with her sole free arm and pushes me away.
“Go be useful somewhere,” She says, turning her attention back to Morgue, signaling she would ignore any further attempts at analyzation from me. I groan in reply and back slowly out of the room, flicking the lights back off once I’m in the hall. I lean against one of the walls and slump to the ground, running my fingers through my hair as thoughts circle in my head, tornado-like.
Would somebody please tell me what the fuck is going on here?
...
I hope you don't take offense, but you seem like someone who'd excel in writing novels like "Vampire Academy." I haven't read it myself, but I looked up a summary for it. Stuff like that flies off the shelves you know. But not only that, I'm sure you could even write up more serious stuff. There's I think much versatility in your talent.
Short Stories 
