OWEN
“We should consider modeling ourselves after Palo Alto’s Project Safety Net.”
Mr. Gorton is leading the Gatekeepers’ first official meeting and I’m here because our family therapist thought it’d be a good idea. If there’s anything I can do to fight what’s been going on, I’m all over it. Dr. Kincaid said being a part of the Gatekeepers would help me heal. I don’t even care about me now; I’m just real motivated to keep other people safe.
Mr. Gorton says we should roll out strategies to help safeguard classmates. ’Bout damn time. Looks like a lot of the peer counselors are here. The organization’s open to the whole student body, though. For us seniors, there’s only so much my class can do in the six months before graduation. Glad to see some freshmen in the mix because help for four years? Major impact.
Kent and Simone are here, and she brought Liam with her. I should be jelly, but I’m actually real glad about that. People follow him. If he’s into a program, everyone’ll follow suit. Even Jasper showed up because of Liam. If he misses me as a customer, he hasn’t said anything. Maybe he’s getting out of the game.
Hope so.
Mallory and Theo are sitting with me in the front row. He and I have matching casts on our right hands. When he asked me about mine, I told him that my only regret is hitting a screen and not O’Leary’s actual smug face.
Mr. Gorton tells us, “Project Safety Net is a suicide prevention and youth well-being collaboration and they’ve done great work so far because they’ve garnered community support. Theirs is a multifaceted approach. They focus on a few different areas, such as decreasing the stigma around mental illness and improving mental health, reducing academic pressure, limiting access to means of self-harm, like rallying around efforts to fence in the Caltrain, all in conjunction with working to improve communication. It’s my opinion we model ourselves after them. But what do you think?”
Everyone nods and I raise my good hand. “We gotta focus on drinking and drug use, too. I mean, that’s a thing.” I notice Jasper start to study his pants. Red-and-green plaid today, exceptionally festive. “My therapist was telling me about this study they did at Yale. He says that the number of kids who drink and take drugs and smoke and stuff at rich-kid schools is a lot higher than in poor ones. He says we also have higher rates of anxiety and depression.”
“Do you have any idea why that might be? Would you like to elaborate?” Mr. Gorton probes. I get the feeling he already knows the answer, but wants us to come up with it.
“Maybe our houses are too big?” I suggest.
I like that Mr. Gorton doesn’t laugh at me. Instead, he gives my idea consideration. He says, “Tell me more about that.”
“Yeah, I guess I should explain what I mean ’cause that sounds dumb, but hear me out. So, we live in these huge homes, right?” Everyone nods. “All of the, like, physical space is kind of a barrier to families spending time together. Live in an apartment house with one bathroom, you’re gonna run into each other, you know? But kids here, on these estates and stuff, some of them have their own wings of the house. Whole days can go by where they don’t see their parents.”
I know of a couple of families in town who’ve built entire separate buildings for the teenagers, so they don’t mess up the parts of the home where the parents entertain.
Mallory and Theo look at each other, like they’re both just realizing something important.
“At Casa Foley-Feinstein? Both my parents work, all the time. We never had dinner together, didn’t hang out and watch TV or anything. There was no, like, family suppers or group outings. Everyone had their own shit to do on the weekends. That’s how it was for us. Real detached. ’Course, after Braden, everything changed for us.”
Saying Braden’s name makes Mallory catch her breath. She’s on my right. Theo’s on her other side. I notice his left hand clenching into a fist and Mallory wraps her arm around him.
I say, “For the first time, I feel like my folks are there for me. I’m not gonna lie, in the beginning, I was in a real dark place. I wasn’t sure what was gonna happen and I pushed everyone away. I guess that was a wake-up call for my folks. Now, one of them always leaves the office early so I’m not alone. We’re having meals as a family. Usually it’s just something from Seamless, but that’s, like, whatever. No one’s gotta make a roast, it’s just kinda nice to have a conversation over a box of breadsticks, you know? But the way it was for me before is still how it is for most kids. We were...disconnected. Not anchored.”
“You were there,” Theo says, his voice catching. “With Braden.”
I nod. “That day changed my life. I live it over and over in my head.”
“Can you tell us what happened?” Theo asks, in barely more than a whisper.
“Yeah, but I gotta tell you the whole story, that’s what my therapist says. I can’t keep pushing it down. But I gotta start at the very beginning, for context.”
Mr. Gorton clears his throat. “Hold on. This story could be a trigger, so why don’t we have those who weren’t friends with him clear the room for a few minutes? Maybe get a soda, use the washroom?”
Almost everyone scatters, save for Mallory, Theo, Kent, and Jasper. I don’t blame the others for leaving. Wish I could run from this story.
I look over at Theo before I start. “You cool?”
He nods and swallows real hard.
“I’d, um, just picked up some Chronic and wait... Is this, like, a safe space? Can I say stuff without being all incriminatory?”
“Absolutely,” Mr. Gorton confirms. “Please. Go on.”
“I’m chillin’ in the little valley under the railroad trestle just down the street from the school.”
I don’t mention that I was meeting Jasper there—none of this is his fault.
“I figure, it’s secluded and no one’s gonna see me. I pack my bowl and I have a couple of hits. And sheee-it, the Chronic is intense. Like, my lungs are on fire, but with pleasure. The white trichomes are—Wait, you know what? Not important. Anyway, I’m down there and I’m rocked.” I notice Mr. Gorton’s expression so I add, “I mean, I’m not trying to make this sound so great, because I haven’t touched anything since that day, not even a cough drop, and I never will again. You guys gotta learn to say no.”
Jasper nods and that surprises me.
“Point is, I’m not in my right mind and my reactions aren’t what they shoulda been. I’m having a hard time living with myself for being baked when everything went down. Like I wonder if there wasn’t something I could have done, had circumstances been different. These doubts, these questions? I feel like they’re gonna be with me for the rest of my life.”
I watch Theo’s jaw clench and unclench. To most people, he looks like a tough guy trying to keep his temper in check. But I know this is what he does when he’s trying not to cry. He reacted the same way when his family had to put down Monster, their ancient golden doodle. He was an awesome dog, always catching tennis balls in the deep end of their pool. Monster was Theo’s best friend until he met Braden.
I take a deep breath. “This is hard, but I think if I share what happened next with you guys, we can take something from it, we can maybe figure out some fixes. I don’t want anyone else to go through this again, not someone like me, and definitely not someone like Braden. He was a good Joe.”
I take a swig from my soda, clear my throat, and continue. The only sound in the room is that of warm air being pushed through the heating vents.
“So I see someone walking up and at first I panic, thinking whoever it is will bust me. As he gets closer, I realize it’s Braden and he’s cool. I knew he didn’t partake, but he also didn’t judge. I wave and say something like, ‘S’up, stargazer?’ ’cause we went to the same astronomy camp. But it was like he couldn’t see or hear me and we’re maybe twenty feet away. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept the night before.”
“He’d been having insomnia,” Theo said.
“There’s a strong link between chronic insomnia and suicide,” Mr. Gorton adds.
“I didn’t know that,” I said. “He was usually so, like, up, you know? Supercharged. Remember the thing with the forks?”
“Manic behavior’s another red flag,” Mr. Gorton says.
“Whoa,” I say. “Maybe we all need to get better at spotting the signs?”
Everyone nods.
“Anyway, I thought that was weird he didn’t say hey, but maybe he wanted to give me privacy, you know? Then, um, the tracks start to rumble a little bit because the train’s on the way.”
I stop and rest my face in my good hand. I hate reliving this. “I just wish I’d been more clearheaded. I wrestle with this a hundred times a day, no lie. We’re working on it in my sessions, so now I’m down from thinking about it a thousand times a day. I’m trying to move on, but sometimes I find myself going back to the spot. Not just in my head, in real life. I do drills—I time myself running up the hill, to see if I’d been focusing, if I could have gotten to him before... I wonder if I’d have been better off learning how to recognize warning signs?”
I feel something warm and wet hit my arm and I realize that Mallory’s crying. Didn’t know she was capable of tears.
“Are you sure you want to hear this?” Mr. Gorton says, addressing her and Theo. They both nod.
“Go on,” she says. “Please.”
“I should have known what was going to happen when he put down his backpack. I should have and I didn’t. I picture that goddamned backpack all day long, too—it was black and it had a couple of yellow eyes sewn on, like when you walked behind him, this evil bug would be staring back at you.”
“The bag looked like a roach’s face,” Theo says in a choked voice.
I nod. “He was always doing stuff like that. Remember his Hello Kitty hat?”
Mallory smiles through her tears, just for a second, and wraps her big hoodie tighter around herself.
“He puts his backpack on the ground, and I guess I thought he was gonna pull something out of it? But he doesn’t, he just sits it down all neatly and careful-like. Then the tracks start really humming because the train’s close. The spot we’re in isn’t close enough to the station to slow down yet, so it’s rolling right along, probably forty-five miles an hour. The conductor obviously sees Braden, so he begins to pull the horn. The sound is just, like, overwhelming. I can feel it in my bones and the pit of my stomach, it’s that intense. I try to climb the hill, but it’s real wet and I’m slipping all over the place and my reaction time is for shit. The engineer guy’s just honking and honking and honking and the wail of the air horn’s getting more and more desperate and Braden’s standing there, right next to the tracks. I start yelling, ‘Train! Train!’ but he’s in a daze, like, mesmerized by the sound of the wheels on the track. Then, calm as anyone doing something they do every day, like climbing into the shower or walking out the door, he takes a big step and stands in front of the train. At the last minute, he raises his arms in front of his chest, like he’s suddenly trying to protect himself. And, honest to God, I think I’m hallucinating, I think this can’t be real. But it was.”
Mallory is openly weeping now and Mr. Gorton dabs at his eyes with a handkerchief. Kent is curled up with his feet on the chair, clutching his knees and quietly sobbing into his jeans. Jasper has his arm around him, trying to give him some comfort. Poor Kent’s gotta be thinking Stephen’s last moments were probably like this, too. Theo begins to quake, but makes no sound.
“Thought that’d be the worst part. No. He doesn’t die. He isn’t killed on impact, just thrown real far.”
I don’t share what happened next. They don’t need to hear that he was still alive. I ran to him, I fucking dug in and made it up the hill. I held his hand while I dialed 911. I’ll never forget the worst part—the worst part is that he still looked like him. He wasn’t all disfigured. He was just there, regular old handsome Braden, only spread out real weird by the road, like a broken doll. People aren’t supposed to bend that way.
I need a second, so I take another sip of my Coke and I struggle to get it down.
“We weren’t tight but I was there in the last minute when he needed a friend the most. I just wish I’d been sooner. I can’t forgive myself for not being there sooner. Working on it but not there yet.”
Theo’s tears have come. Mallory pulls him into her arms and he weeps like a little boy. He looks and sounds and acts like a man, but as he cries, I realize he’s still just a kid.
We’re all still just kids.
“I ride in the ambulance with him and I’m still at the hospital an hour later when his mom finally shows up. He was already gone by then. She said she was having coffee with a friend and didn’t hear her phone at first. She’s in shock. She starts babbling, saying that Braden had been depressed because she and his father are having marital problems. They want the big D but neither one of them is willing to move out of the big house, so they’re just there, fighting all the time, like the War of the Roses.”
“I had no idea,” Mallory says, more to herself than to anyone else. “I’ve been out of my head about the why. Why couldn’t he have told us? Why didn’t we figure it out?”
I look around and say to Mr. Gorton. “I think I know why. And I’m glad you cleared the room. People don’t need to know about the DeRochers’ private business.”
“What was happening?” Mallory demands.
“She said his dad had a girlfriend. She told me Braden had been depressed about everything and withdrawn at home, but she figured it would pass. Assumed it was a phase and eventually he’d get used to the new reality of his parents dating other people in this fucked-up arrangement at the house, where everyone wanted to make sure they got every penny coming to them. She told me she and Mr. DeRocher were having affairs and that they’d been horrible to each other.”
Thinking about this now, I’m pissed off. You don’t want to be married anymore? Then don’t be married. But, like, excuse yourself first before you begin this whole new life. Live under a different roof. Don’t drag your kids into your bullshit.
A torrent of tears roll down Mallory’s face, but it’s like she doesn’t even notice them. Some splash onto my pants.
Theo looks devastated. “I can’t believe it wasn’t an accident.”
Mallory hugs him harder. “I’m so sorry, Theo.”
I say, “I keep going back to that day in the ER, wondering if I should have reacted differently with his mom. I didn’t want to hear whatever else she had to say, but I couldn’t stop her from talking because she seemed like she needed to confess or whatever. I just sat there and listened. Like, maybe that was my penance for not being quicker. She kept saying again and again, ‘We thought it would pass. We thought he’d be okay.’”
I take another long breath. “It didn’t pass. He wasn’t okay. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I want to be a Gatekeeper. I failed ’cause I wasn’t there for Braden.”
“No, you didn’t fail,” Mallory insists. “Those of us in his life failed. The signs were there and we didn’t see them.”
I say, “Then I think you’re with me when I say I’m not about failing again.”
* * *
It’s dark by the time we finish our meeting. We covered so much and I’m completely wiped, but hopeful. I feel like it’s possible for us to make a difference, not just here, but everywhere. I’ve been looking for a documentary subject but didn’t have enough passion about any topic before. I do now. I feel real strongly about this, about being a Gatekeeper.
We’re putting a bunch of strategies in place to help everyone manage and deal. Not just monitoring for red flags, but fun stuff, too. Mr. Gorton gave us these suggestions from this Dr. Sonja Lyubomirsky lady on how to be happy, like keeping gratitude journals and savoring positive experiences and connecting with friends.
What’s most important is that Mr. Gorton’s talking to the school board this week to see about reducing the academic pressures, maybe decreasing our workloads, cutting down on homework. We can’t keep up this pace. It’s not possible. We’ve gotta relax the standards. Lessen everyone’s burdens, help us all chill a little bit. If we lower the bar across the board, we all benefit. The group feels like if everyone has less of a boot on our necks, the whole student body would change for the better.
We figure maybe we can tell everyone they can stop trying to be so excellent.
Maybe we can settle for just being real good.
I exit the building via the door to the student parking lot, which is ringed in halogen lights. There’s only a couple of cars left in this massive parking area. Theo and Mallory are a few paces behind me.
“Hey, this might be weird,” I say, trotting back to them. “I feel like we’re not done talking to each other, you know? Do you guys wanna, I don’t know, come to my house for dinner? Tonight’s pizza night, nothing fancy, but we’re getting Lou Malnati’s. We could order a salad for you, Mallory.”
“Um, no,” she replies.
“Cool. I’ll just see you guys at the next meeting.”
I thought maybe we could all try being friends again despite our parents’ feud, but I guess not.
Mallory stops me by tugging my sleeve. “Wait, I’m so sorry, Owen, please. I meant, no, you don’t have to order a salad for me. Theo and I absolutely want to come. I’d love to see your folks and pizza sounds freaking amazing.”
Theo stands there with his mouth hanging open.
To him, she says, “What? I’m starving. Let’s roll.”