Page 26 of Shamed
Me: That’s really great. I’m happy for you.
Jersey has always wanted to be a teacher and is getting her Bachelor of Education.
Even though jealousy tries creeping its way in because everything has been so easy for her, I truly am glad things are working out in her life.
Jersey: Oh! Do you remember Jason? He was friends with Jacob and came to UIC for a bit?
I grimace at the mention of Jacob, but I nod to myself because I do remember him.
I also remember Dylan and the guys, and even Jersey and Marni, harassing him for a while afterthat nighthappened.
While I don’t know if Jacob’s friends knew his intentions beforehand, I never agreed with my friends bothering any of them and often told them to just leave them alone. Jason was a specific target since he went to the same college.
The memory of me crashing into Mase on the sidewalk that one Halloween pops into my mind. I’m not sure if he was ever harassed by the guys.
I actually think I saw him last week when I was dropping off cookies at the homeless shelter.
I clear my thoughts with a shake of my head.
Me: Yeah. What about him?
Jersey: Apparently, he overdosed and his funeral was yesterday in Plainfield. Isn’t that crazy?!
I stand straighter while gripping my phone, forehead bunched. He’s . . . dead?
Me: What?? Are you serious?
I didn’t even know him, but a weird sensation crawls up from my stomach and squeezes my chest tight at the thought. Dead?
Jersey: Yeah. And someone told me that Mase and Campbell got into a fight right there at the gravesite. Can you imagine?
No, I really can’t.
Jersey: I feel bad for his parents. Anyway, I’ll text next week so we can hang out.
I drop my phone on the counter beside me without replying, staring out at the cloudy sky through one of the large windows in this large penthouse apartment my dad got me. He thought I’d be less depressed living here, but I think it has too much space.
My eyes blur and I blink back the tears. I don’t know why Jason’s death feels so bothersome to me. Maybe it’s because I know my friends harassed him on my behalf and it has never sat right with me. I know it was a long time ago, but still.
And what is up with Campbell and Mase fighting at his grave? I can’t even imagine what could have spurred that on at such a time, though I’m sure emotions were running high.
Returning to the living room, I sit back down on the couch with my heart irrationally hurting for a person who was friends with my attacker. It’s not like I’d want to be stuck in a room with any of them, but he never did anything to me, and it was still a loss of life, which is sad. And he was so young.
I puff my cheeks and blow out a breath, dropping my head back to look at the ceiling.
The journal my mom got me catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. It sits on the overpriced end table, unused.
I pick it up and flip through the empty pages. I’ve never been a diary type person, and I’m not sure what I’d even put in there.
DEAR DIARY,
My life sucks.
Talk to you later.
It’s funny how Dad got me this apartment, but didn’t offer to spend time with me in it. And Mom got me this journal, but didn’t offer to be a listening ear.
They took care of things all right, just not me.
