ARE THERE VIDEO GAMES IN HEAVEN?

*** WARNING: Disturbing imagery, language, mental illness ***

* * *

Jeremy Small, age 13

Monday, 8:54 p.m.

Ugh. Tomorrow’s Tuesday. Tuesday’s such a nothing day. It’s like being the second child, or somewhere in the middle; not the first or the last.

It’s not as weird as Wednesday though. I really don’t get Wednesday being hump day. They couldn’t come up with something better than hump day? All I can think of is Rocco, our French bulldog, on dad’s leg when he answers the phone and Rocco feels slighted. 

But Tuesday has no real distinction beyond it just being there.

Doesn’t matter though. I’m ready. I studied for the math quiz, I’ve got clean socks for gym and I finished my English essay.  Now, if I can just stay out of Benford Turner’s way, maybe I’ll get to eat lunch tomorrow. The big jerk took my lunch money three times last week and again today. 

Why does he hate me so much? I never did anything to him. I should tell someone probably. One more time and I will, I’ll go to Ms. Smith. She always listens to me. I really lucked out getting her for homeroom. She’s the nicest teacher in the school.

* * *

Candace Smith, age 31

Monday, 8:55 p.m.

Another Monday. 

Well, maybe not just another like any other. Yep, that is a ring on my finger, so that must mean I’m engaged! So, I didn’t just dream it! 

I know I should have prepared more over the weekend for this week’s classes but being away with Matt was everything.   

He’s the one! I’m so happy I can’t see straight. It really happened, it really . . .

All right, snap out of it. Back to tomorrow’s quiz. Focus! You’ve got a class of 26 fresh minds thirsting for knowledge. 

Oh God, who am I kidding? They’re thirsting for higher scores on their games, and I’m a distraction, here to fill their free time with learning things they can’t imagine they’ll ever need to know.

I tell myself, though I’m not totally convinced, they’ll look back and appreciate these days, maybe even appreciate me. 

I want to love my job, dammit!

And that reminds me. I need to try to get in touch with Mrs. Johnson again. I dread dealing with her. She’s so defensive and difficult when I talk about Benford, but I’m very concerned about him. He’s been even more removed during class.  He’s so pent up and I don’t know what with. If there’s something going on at home, I should know about it so I can properly deal with it.

There’s something about Benford that scares me.

* * *

Benford Turner, age 15. 

Monday, 8:56 p.m.

I fucking hate my fucking life.

I should’ve never been born.

If I hear my foster mom say ‘you can take the baby out of the crack head but you can’t take the crack out of the baby’s head’ one more time, I’m going to blow her off the map.

Why take me in then? Bet it wasn’t foster dad’s idea, unless he was thinking about the money from the state.  He left anyway. If it was the money, I guess there just wasn’t enough to keep him around.   

Did you know, Foster Mom - Janice - what your partner in crime was doing to me when your back was turned?

I often wondered if he did the same sick things to you. Did he threaten you to keep quiet about it, or maybe he didn’t have to.

You two were made for each other. Soulmates without souls, hate-mates. 

That would make me collateral damage.

We learned about collateral damage in history, not that I give a fuck about any of it, the forming of a nation, wars fought, lives lost for freedom’s sake. Fuck freedom. So where is it? What is it? I’m about as free as a rat in a trap.

Well, tomorrow things will be different.

* * *

Jeremy

Tuesday, 6:45 a.m.

I’m up, I’m up. I'm just not awake. Ugh, why is school so early? 

Oh, yeah, the dream!

I had a dream last night that Benford took my bag lunch. I was really mad until he opened it and then yelled bloody murder. Mom had packed a loaded mousetrap in there! It was great. No more Benford bully problems. What a great dream!

Yeah, I should tell her about Benford. She and dad would know what to do. I just don’t want to bother them right now. Grandma’s got Alzheimer’s and they’re all wrapped up in what to do with her. She’s lived with us for the last couple years and it’s getting harder to keep an eye on her.

It makes me sad when she doesn’t remember me. She’s always been my favorite and now it’s just hard. I love her, but . . . it’s just hard.

All right, mind on math. Quiz today. Ugh. If Benford gives me anymore grief, I’ll see Ms. Smith about it. Maybe Tuesday can be my own Independence Day.

* * *    

Candace

Tuesday, 6:46 a.m.

“Morning, Candace. You’re in early.”

“Morning, John. Yeah, I just have to finish grading these papers. Ever fall asleep mid-sentence while grading and wake up with red marker on your face and your back and shoulders one giant crick?”

“Sounds familiar. I’ve got aspirin if you need it.”

“I’ll live.”

“Say, how’s that problem student of yours? Benford. I ask because he’s gaining some notoriety outside school.”

“How do you mean?”

“Have you seen this?”

“Is this yesterday’s paper?”

“This morning’s.”

“More desecrations at the cemetery.”

“New twist this time. Someone’s been leaving dead birds and animals at the grave sites.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Rumor has it Mr. Turner’s been seen leaving the scene.”

“I wish I could be shocked.”

“You’re not, I take it.”

“I’ve been trying to reach his mother.  I want to get her in for a conference.  Either she’s being elusive or I have terrible timing, but I have to keep trying. Her son’s a mess.”

“Have you spoken with Principal Halverson?”

“Soon as I can get the mom in, we’re going to have a group conference and make some decisions. The boy needs help.”

“Well then, sounds like you’re on top of it.”

“I'm not as confident as you sound.”

“He’s lucky to have you, Candace. If all teachers were like you . . .”

“It’s a damn crapshoot, John. I don’t have to tell you.”

“No, you're not wrong, but I'm sure you're doing what you can."

"I think you're familiar with how little that really is."

"Well, finish your papers. It’s almost first period.”

“Right. Thanks, John. Go learn something. And have a good day.”

“I'll try.”

“Me, too.”

* * *

Benford

Tuesday, 6:47 a.m.

I’m so fucking psyched.

Everything’s ready. I’ll take the car. I can figure out how to drive it. Janice certainly won’t be needing it anymore.

Wait for the first period bell, and then on with the show.

They’ll have a lot to say about me but they’ll never be able to say I’m nothing. I’m not nothing.

I have priorities.

Priority Number 1, Brice Thornsby. Jock extraordinaire. Hot shit. Weak attempts to humiliate me, like getting all the jocks to call me ‘Crack-Head-Jack’ or ‘Bend-forward Turner.”   

Priority Number 2, Stephanie Millman. Always whispers and giggles when I walk by. Refers to me as ‘Human Waste.’ I know because I saw her notebook when she left it open on her desk – accidentally on purpose. 

Priority Number 3, Sherman Brown.  Practical joker. Broke into my locker and left me a little present.  It still smells like dog shit no matter how much Lysol I spray in there.  Still hasn’t been caught. Well, no matter. I’ll deal with it.

And how opportune is it that all three of these first class kids have math for first period? Won’t they be surprised to see me crash the quiz I’m not planning to take.

So, how do you like me now?

* * *

Jeremy.

Tuesday, 8:15 a.m.

Whew, I’m so glad I studied for this one. I’ll still be lucky if I pass.  

If I finish early, maybe I’ll write a note to Leslie and see if she wants to go to the movies this weekend. There’s that new Star Wars I really want to see. They’ve already come out with a video game based on it and I don’t want to try the game until I’ve seen the movie. 

Leslie’s great. I never knew a girl could be that much fun just to hang around with. She was ready to knock Benford’s block off when she heard he took money from me – again. And she doesn’t make me feel like a wimp. 

Let’s face it. Benford’s a sick puppy and a bully and I’m serious, one more time he crosses me, I’m going to Ms. Smith and Mr. Halverson. I’ve had enough. 

I’m just glad he’s not here today. Someone up there must be looking out for me.  

* *  *

Candace.

Tuesday, 8:16 a.m.

This is my favorite time in the classroom. I can hear the wall clock for a change. Tick. Tick.

I have to admit I’m pleased Benford Turner is absent today. Should give me a chance to formulate some kind of a plan going forward.

I can’t let the mom intimidate me. If I don’t have any luck reaching her this time, I’ll have to pay her a visit. Benford can’t slip through any more cracks and we should work together to see that he doesn’t.

Who am I kidding.  

Now, taking off the rose-colored glasses, the reality is he’s been in foster care his entire life.  His birth mom was an addict and he was born with crack in his system. She died of an overdose when he was four. His father is nothing but a damn question mark. How does a child build a life with that sort of a start? 

I’ll do what I can, but this kid needs a lot more than what I can offer him.     

* * *

Benford

Tuesday, 8:17 a.m.

I’m ready. 

Besides leaving, the other good thing foster dad did was leave behind most of his guns. An arsenal fit for an arse. He never let me look at them, much less touch them.   He punched me in the head once just for asking about them.

Foster mom, on the other hand, kept the key handy – for me anyway. I found it in her jewelry box while she was at work, and then took an occasional day off from school for target practice.  Foster dad was a hoarder when it came to ammo. Good for him, better for me.

So, let’s take a look at what we have here. 

Here comes Stacy Walsh, late for class! Run, Stacy, run.  Get yourself inside. I’ll catch up with you later if you’re not lucky.

Okay, God, I’ve been thinking. I don’t think you’re there, but if you are, this is your chance. If you ever want me to know you exist short of a face-to-face intro, this would be the time. These are my terms.

For one minute, which I will time, if another person enters or leaves the front entrance of the school, I’ll turn around and go home and give up the plan. If the time is right and no one else leaves or enters the school, that will be my signal to go ahead.   Starting . . . now.

* * *

Jeremy

8:30 a.m.

Well, I handed in my quiz and now my grade is what it is. I feel pretty good about it.  Let’s get this note to Leslie. 

“Ms. Smith?”

“Yes, Jeremy.”

“Could I please have a hall pass, to go . . .”

“You may. Just be sensitive to those who haven’t finished the test.”

Subtle move past Leslie as I hesitate briefly to give her a chance to retrieve the note from behind my back and . . . yes.  Well done, Leslie. 

I approach Ms. Smith’s desk as she finishes scribbling on a hall pass. She smiles as she hands it to me.

BANG

* * *

Candace

8:31 a.m.

BANG

BANG BANG

What is that? Oh my god, oh my god! 

“Active shooter!  Everyone to the back of the classroom. Get down, children. Don’t make a sound!”

Lock the door, lock the door. Turn off the lights. 

BANG BANG BANG

“Shhh, Marcie, don’t cry, honey. Shhh.  Here, take this, hold it to your . . . good. Breathe, sweetheart. It’s going to be all right.  Shh, I think I hear something. Not a sound now.”

BANG

“Benford! No, Benford, stop! Please!”

BANG BANG

Please, no! Not now . . . Matt . . .

* * *

Benford

8:32 a.m.

“No God? No problem.”

Let’s see if anyone’s lingering in the hallway.  Looks like you two are late for class. 

BANG BANG BANG

Oh, well, now you’re really late.   

All right, well, behind that door is math class. Wonder if I should knock. Nah, let it be a surprise.

BANG BANG

Good morning, Ms. Smith, and goodbye. I set you free.

BANG BANG

“I set you all free. Don’t thank me.”

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG . . .

Now, me.

B-BANG

Free . . .

* * *

Jeremy

9:00 a.m.

Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t move.

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don't look.

I pray the Lord my soul to take.

I pray the Lord my soul to take.

I pray the Lord my soul to take.

I pray the Lord . . .

“EMS! POLICE!”

. . . my soul to take.

“Over here! Over here!”

“Fire Rescue! Make way! Fire Rescue.”

“Okay, son. Keep your eyes closed. We got you. You’re going to be all right.”

I pray . . .

* * *

Candace

Saturday, 10:11 a.m.

“Candace Smith is a fallen hero. She gave her life while attempting to save others. Each and every child in her classroom she thought of as her own and she taught them with care, courage and with love. She encouraged free thinking, free exchange, with plenty of laughter and fun along with structured learning. She was, and is, an angel.”

I am free. Do not cry for me. 

* * *

Benford

Sunday, 11:11 a.m.

“Janice Johnson, foster mother to Benford Turner, was laid to rest today in an intimate service attended by her ex-husband and a handful of family members.  

It has yet to be determined if charges will be filed in connection with the firearms used in this latest in an unprecedented rash of school shootings throughout our nation.

Questions remain.”

* * *

Jeremy

One year later.

“Well, Jeremy, how’s physical therapy going?”

“Good. I can do this now.”

“That’s great! Does that mean you could regain full use of both your hands?”

“Hope so. The doctors are optimistic and I’m determined.  My legs are next.”

“Good for you, Jeremy. You should be proud of your progress. I know your parents are.”

“They’ve been great.  But do you want to know who's really helped, Doc?”

“Besides me, you mean?”

“Yeah, Doc, besides you. My grandmother.  My grandma’s helped me almost as much as you. Maybe more.”

“Really. How so?”

“I’ll try to explain. I'm not sure I can. 

Right after it happened, that terrible Tuesday, all that time in the hospital, I wasn’t sure if I was ever going home, or if I even wanted to.”

“And we discussed how normal a reaction that is to what you’d endured, Jeremy.”

“Yeah, and I understand, but I never told you about my grandmother.  I guess I didn’t know what to make of it.

During that time when I didn’t want to leave my bed, my grandma started coming to my room. She hadn’t done that before. And she just sat with me.”

“Go on.”

“We didn’t talk. Just once I remember.  I was having a bad day, remembering. Grandma was sitting next to my bed and I said something like, ‘I’ll never be free, I’ll never be free of this.' You know? Well, she took my hand and said, ‘Come with me.’ I saw that her eyes were closed so I closed mine, too.

I was back in school again, Ms. Smith’s class. She was there, everybody was, but this was different.  Grandma was sitting at the desk next to mine. She looked young and pretty and she was smiling, looking around. She pointed to my friend Leslie.  Leslie was at one of the side tables playing a video game. She looked so happy.”

“It’s all right to cry, Jeremy. It’s good actually. Here.”

“Thanks. Yeah. Well, then I noticed all the kids were playing video games. The classroom was like an arcade.  Ms. Smith was going from desk to desk, smiling. Then she came to me. I started to apologize for not having my laptop but she stopped me and then gestured to Grandma.

My grandmother was playing a Star Wars video game and smiling. I asked her if I could play, too, and she just said, ‘It’s not your time, love. Come back when it’s your time and not a moment before. Then we’ll play.’

When I opened my eyes, I was back in my bed and still holding hands with my Grandma. She looked like she was sleeping, but I knew that she'd been set free. 

She was young and playing video games in Heaven. And I felt real happiness and peace for the first time since that terrible Tuesday.”