Chapter Text
“The tragic death of Melissa Bates was just that, a tragedy,” speaks an older, balding gentleman in a crowded high school gymnasium. “From its manner of execution, to the way her suicide was carried out, it was, all in all, a tragic, tragic occurrence.”
As the man continued on, the open makeshift casket behind him drew the attention of the students in the room, taking focus away from him and placing it on the dead girl, whatever her name was, and the casket itself, which happened to be one of those boxes magicians use to fake saw people’s legs off. Why the school had one of those in its possession, no one would ever probably know. Apparently, as far as Ryan had heard, she had hung herself in a physics classroom with a spring balance, which seemed like quite the feat of engineering if Ryan knew anything about physics, which he didn’t. If the class’s teacher were awake when she managed to do it, he probably would’ve given her top marks for that stunt alone. Maybe then, Ryan thought, she might not have killed herself.
Ryan wasn’t in the girl’s (what was her name? Marina?) physics class, but a friend of a friend, Brandon Flowers was, being that it was an advanced class and Brandon was a smart-ass. According to Brandon, most of the students in the class didn’t even notice what she was doing, and the ones that did figured she was just trying to figure out some mechanic or other using lab equipment and she must’ve needed to climb on her desk to accomplish it. If Brandon’s word was anything to go by, she wouldn’t be missed anyway. One of those quiet types, Ryan guessed.
“Miranda Baker’s death will haunt the name of South Las Vegas Community High School for years and decades to come. It will remain in this fine institution’s memory for generations, and will plague the consciousness of the faculty and the future students that reside in this academic stronghold’s halls.” Ryan wished Principal Barlon would hang himself with a piece of physics equipment.
—
“You going to the visitation during 6th period?” Brendon lightly tapped Ryan on the arm.
Ryan scoffed, “Why should I?”
“Seems like an excuse to miss class, why wouldn’t you?” Brendon was right, of course. Brendon was always right, but Ryan had skipped Mr. Mufflin’s 6th period Algebra too many times to count (smoke breaks with the boys) and was worried the old Muffler was starting to take notice.
“Yeah, we’ll see.” Ryan replied, “Got enough trouble as it is.”
“You know it's like, excused, right?” Ryan hadn’t considered this possibly.
“God I don’t even know what’s worse, math with Ol’ Muffy or staring Margaret’s dead body in the balls.” Ryan thought he may just take a smoke break with the boys after all.
“I thought girls didn’t have balls?” Brendon was right again, Ryan thought as he gazed into his eyes. God how he wished he would reject the Mormon church and run off with him into the city. He’s never told him, but he always dreams of the two of them slinging crappy jobs at some casino, getting their own apartment, and living out their futures together. But of course, Brendon’s future’s already been planned. He’ll marry a nice Mormon girl or five, have lots of strapping young boys and carry on Joseph Smith’s glorious legacy, complete with their own planets after death. Ryan’s shocked Brendon even still hangs out with a faggy guy like him. Ryan figures he may as well take the chances he gets to spend with Brendon while he can, before him parents send him off to BYU or some bullshit.
“You know what, I’ll come to the visitation,” Ryan agreed. “Pick me up?”
“You know it!” Brenny said, with a smile that sent shockwaves up Ryan’s spine as he awkwardly smiled in reply before glancing down at his shoes in embarrassment.
“Well, I uh… better head to class,” Ryan said, and took off in a direction.
—
Ryan sat in the back of 5th period English, writing song lyrics in his notebook instead of paying attention. Who gives a fuck about Hamlet anyway? He’s seen the Lion King and he’s pretty sure that’s all he needs to know about the play. Despite being lost in his own musings, he catches an exchange from the front of the room.
“Now, we all know now that Hamlet’s infamous ‘play within a play’ was a test from Hamlet to Claudius, but who can tell me if Claudius passed or failed the test?” Ms. Smolak, Ryan’s butt-ugly, probably lesbian, English teacher asked.
Of course, from the front row, a spikey-haired preppy boy raised his hand immediately. Ryan rolled his heavily makeup-ed eyes.
“Yes, Brandon?”
“He failed, Ms. Smolak,” Brandon answers matter-of-factly. “His guilty expressions during the play betray his guilt to Hamlet, making it okay for Hamlet to kill him.”
“Very good Brandon! And who-”
“But of course, Hamlet still doesn’t kill him when he catches him praying after, believing his soul has been saved through the Lord our God.” Brandon interrupted, continuing. God, Ryan didn’t know how Brendon could stand him.
After what feels like an eternity more of Smolak’s droning and Brandon’s smart-assery, the bell finally rings and Ryan perks up, knowing Brendon would be on his way to the classroom, but still a bit disappointed to know that Brandon would likely be tagging along with them, being that him and Brendon were Mormon buddies. Ryan closed his notebook, pleased with his latest work (a song about a prostitute who dies in a fire he had entitled “Don’t Play With Matches If You Don’t Want To Burn And Don’t Go To Brothels If You Can’t Wait Your Turn”) and packed up the rest of his belongings, heading outside the classroom to wait for Brenny.
Once he got outside the classroom, of course he saw Brandon waiting around too. Ryan wished that Brandon had been aborted and he felt no remorse for this thought even though he was strictly against abortions. It is a woman’s choice to be pregnant and she should have to live with the consequences of that decision, or at least, that’s how Ryan saw it. Needless to say, this wasn’t something he would ever have to deal with, being that he was a self-proclaimed faggot and despised the female species.
“Hey Ryan!” Brandon smiled as Ryan glowered. “Brendon picking you up for the visitation too?”
Ryan nodded, hoping his fringe covered the hatred that shone through his eyes. “Can’t wait.” He added.
“Yeah, I know it’s hard to believe but this morning was actually my first time seeing a dead body. I’ve been kinda rattled, you know? I just- I wish there was something I could’ve done…” Brandon trailed off.
“Weren’t you ther-” Ryan’s questioning was cut off by a cheery, nerdy face bounding towards them down the hall.
“Hey guys! Ready to go?” Brendon smiled at the two of them. They exchanged a look and followed him gladly back towards the gym.
The walk was short, they were just a hallway down from the gym after all, and they had hardly any time for conversation before reaching the room’s doors.
“Where’s the body?” Ryan heard a booming voice ask the moment he, Brendon, and Brandon approached the gym. Ryan recognized the voice as belonging to Skip Hawthorne, massive brute, prettyboy, all around king of South Las Vegas Community High School, and, of course, captain of the Tennis Squad. Skip had had it out for Ryan and Brendon since the moment they first stepped foot in South Las Vegas, and though his harassment had, at times, felt like torture, he was glad to have shared the experience with Brenny.
The question stopped the three dead in their tracks outside the gym as they exchanged a glance before walking in. In the gym, everyone crowded around the magician’s box, Melinda’s dead body nowhere to be found.