User blog:LexPetitxVampire/Manhole

I was never a popular kid; I wasn’t a cheerleader or a homecoming queen – never wanted to be if I’m being honest with you, dear reader, I wanted to curl into a corner and write poetry that was almost as dark as my own soul. As broken as my own heart. And after a week of my first year of high school, I had earned a label that my mother never wanted me to have – loner. Outcast. Freak. It didn’t bother me none though. School was a joke and a half. And while my label was like a flame for bullies, I didn’t get bullied nearly as much as Cindy.

She was a fellow loner. Outcast. Freak. But while I opted out of sneaking into the bathrooms and snorting coke off of the sink counters, or cutting my boyfriend’s name into my thigh or in general being one who puts the “wreck” into recreation, for writing or reading – she would opt out to stand upon a manhole cover and talk to herself.

She’d make a verbal list, she had zero friends, zero party invitations, zero this and zero that. But with every one zero that passed her lips, she’d scream the word zero. I think the reason I didn’t get bullied that much was because of her

I did try and talk to Cindy, one loner to the next - but it was as if Cindy did not hear me or register my existence. Cindy just continued to make that verbal list and yes, I got annoyed with Cindy – how could Cindy ignore me?

I’m not gonna dance around the issue, but the bullies were right, Cindy was pretty weird. And I understood why she was bullied, the bullies were like sharks smelling blood – and the blood was Cindy’s primetime weirdness. I would stand in front of her and speak to Cindy. But one day, one of the school bullies – a transgendered male to female – shoved Cindy off of her manhole cover and onto her butt. The bully took Cindy’s spot and began to scream at Cindy why she had zero friends, why she was not invited to parties and so on and so forth.

I shoved the bully off of the manhole cover and told her to leave Cindy alone. She was amazed that I had stuck up for her and I told her I was just looking out for a fellow outcast. I took my leave as the bully did, satisfied that she finally registered my existence. I don’t know why it was such a big deal for me, but I am glad that it had been a big deal to me. The next day at school, that bully didn’t come to school – and like normal, the kids began to say pretty mean things.

That “he” was getting penis chopped off to become a shefreak. She was a cheerleader and there was no way she’d ever join the ranks of myself and Cindy. We just wouldn’t stand for it. At break time, I walked by Cindy and stopped, her verbal list had changed, she now had one friend, one party invitation, one of this and one of that.

I asked her who her friend was, curious and yet, happy for her. She told me it was Quinn, the tough as nails bully. And I must say, her answer confused me. Quinn hated Cindy and I was pretty sure that Cindy hated Quinn. I nodded and told her I hoped Quinn felt better. Quinn never did come back to school – and honestly, the school was a better place without her. But when Quinn left, new bullies came flying out of the woodwork. They seemed to prey upon me before working their way up to Cindy.

Almost as if sharpening their blades upon me. What words hurt the most and what was the best way to rough up a loner? Of course, I’d just sit there and imagined them as wealthy pill popping housewives of Beverly Hills, faker than a three-dollar bill! And when they were ready, they’d march right up Cindy; but good, weird old Cindy would continue to scream one at them.

As the school year went on and went by, the number changed from one to seven – and every time it climbed up another number, it still made me curious. And when I would ask her who her new friend was, it was always the name of the bully who was out sick – the name of a bully who hadn’t come back to school.

Then one day, Cindy didn’t show up to school, and her counselor and mine called me into the office. Being called into the office was never a good thing, so it wasn’t that surprising that my legs felt like dry spaghetti, weak and stiff. They both had on the most forced and faked smiles I had ever seen before. “Your friends with a Cindy Mangano, right?” asked her counselor.

I nodded. I mean we weren’t B.F.Fs or anything but we weren’t mortal enemies either. My counselor sighed. “Seven people – people that other students had seen harassing Cindy – haven’t come back to school in months. Could you talk to Cindy about them?”

I shrugged. “I asked her about Quinn. She said they were best friends and didn’t seem to even notice she wasn’t in school.”

Her counselor looked at me from eyes which had dark purple crescents beneath them. “Could you talk to her again about where they possibly may have gone too?” asked her counselor. Her nose looked bright red and sore, probably a drinker.

“Couldn’t you call the student’s parents and find out? Wouldn’t that just be easier?” I asked.

“We’ve tried, even the principal has,” said my counselor. “But no one picks up the phone.”

“So, what do you guys expect me to do, I mean, she’s not at school,” I said, still confused as to why I was even at the office to begin with. “Do you want me to go over to her house or something?” They both nodded. “Listen, I don’t even know where she lives.”

Her counselor’s lips curled in delight, and to be honest, it had creeped me the fuck out. “You know that big red house across the street?” asked her counselor. I nodded. I had. Everyone had! It was a motherfucking eyesore! God only knew why the people who had painted the house figured a bright cherry red was a good color! “That’s her house.”

Of course that was Cindy’s house, she couldn’t have been from a normal home, oh no! But for some odd reason, I did as they asked – I guess because I found it cool that during school hours, I got the a-okay to leave campus. It wasn’t a far walk, just across the street, and across a smaller residential street to her house, I mean, I could still see the school! Looking back, it wasn’t that cool. The trees in the yard had tangled roots and leaves blanketed the entire lawn.

But there I was, standing on her welcome mat, regretting my decision full heartedly, but still I knocked, and her pimply-face answered and she sent me a cruel smile. “Hi, Cindy?” I said, almost tongue tied. “My and your counselor sent me over here. You were the last time anyone at school saw Quinn, and the others.”

“They’re sick,” she said.

“Yes, but whenever the school calls their houses, their parents don’t even answer the phone,” I said. “And you gotta admit, that’s a bit suspicious.”

“The parents just don’t want to answer the phone,” said Cindy and she closed the door. And even though doors had been shut in my presence before, something didn’t feel right, but I decided to say nothing to the school about it, annoyed that they’d probably tell me I watch too many horror films. But that’s not to say I didn’t feel bad about not saying a peep to the adults. And I finally did, out of fear.

Not because I thought I was aiding a criminal and would go to jail, no, but I had thought I was hearing voices. But in only one part of the campus, near the manhole where Cindy always stood, and it scared me and I asked to go to the nurse’s office during drama.

The nurse asked me what the voices were saying, and I told her it was a single word, “help.” I explained to her that it was probably from the fact I didn’t tell the school counselors about my odd feelings from visiting Cindy’s home.

The nurse told me to lay on the bed, I was probably getting ready to start my period or something not very serious, she left her office but not before shutting the lights off. And I decided right there in the dark and cool of the nurse’s office to take a nap.

I was awoken to the nurse nudging my arm and urging me to sit up, and I did with no protest. As I did I saw my mother and a slew of police officers standing there, I was taken aback, was it now a crime to sleep at school?

To make a long story short, the chief of police explained to me that they lifted the manhole cover and found all the absent students; every student down there told them the same story, of how Cindy had pushed them down there and covered the hole once more with the cover.

Cindy had told the absent students, that once she reached ten friends, dinner would be served, whatever that meant. I ended the school day with watching from afar as the police raided Cindy’s house across the street from school.

Her parents weren’t shocked by her behavior; they were found strangled in their respective chairs in the living room.