Chapter one

From the decrepit second floor of the old school building, Thomas looked outside the window. It was snowing.

He was surprised. When he came to school in the morning the weather was clear, but now it was snowing.

It was the second day of October. It was unreasonably cold, but he didn’t think it would start snowing this early. It was the earliest winter he had seen.

After taking a second to appreciate the strange occasion he left the window side and continued onwards to his classroom.

The old hinge door creaked as he entered. He saw thirteen people in their seats. He was not the last to arrive.

This high school was the only one in town. He knew the names of the fathers and mothers of everyone, and most of their life story. Except for the one not here.

“You’re late Tom,” said one of them—Emma the fake blond who dyed her hair last year. Somehow he didn’t like her hair like that.

“I overslept,” Thomas said, sitting on the chair beside hers, as he had since kindergarten.

“Doing what?”

“Nothing.” A more polite none of your business.

She harrumphed at him. Another thing he didn’t like to see a girl doing.

Thomas sighed “We just had a barbecue at home, and a small party. I slept late and woke up late. That’s all.”

“A special occasion?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Thomas sighed, more profusely this time, lowering his head in mild dejection. Though he didn’t know what exactly was it he felt dejected for. “We made a barbecue to say goodbye to Edson, our neighbor.”

Emma didn’t quip as fast as she usually would. She lowered her head, looking at the old wooden desk in front of her for two seconds, before speaking again, “Another one is going away. What is he going to do with his house?”

“Nothing,” Thomas said. “He will just leave it. There’s no one to buy it, and he doesn’t have any relatives willing to live here.”

Emma turned to him again. “At this rate, this will become a ghost town won’t it?”

“Once the school closes we might really become one.”

Both fell silent then. This was the last semester of this school. There weren’t enough students to make the existence of the building worthwhile. The students would merge with the student body of a school in the neighboring city, and this town would become even emptier.

Without a school, families wouldn’t want to live here, and many would move; the already dwindling jobs would reduce; students would have to go by bus, or move out of town. It was a sad affair.

The sudden creaking of the door claimed Thomas attention. It was the newest and latest student of this school—Charles. He had the same stoic face as always as he entered and closed the door without stopping (he closed it while walking,) and went to his desk. He didn’t sit however, but just stood there looking at his chair with an amused expression.

Just as Thomas was wondering why he was not sitting, he caught a glimpse of the top of the chair—red liquid was dripping along the legs and onto the ground. Above the chair was the corpse of a dead bird, which what appeared to be a bullet hole.

Charles made a disgusted face, sighed, and rummaged through his bag. Surprisingly, he produced a plastic bag from inside, dropped the bird in it, and walked away with it.

The door opened before Charles made to it to the exit. Teacher Dolores opened it.

“Where are you going Charles?” she asked.

“I found a dead bird in my chair, so I will throw it away,” Charles said, with a light shrug of his shoulders.

Dolores fell silent in surprise, and looked at the bag with undisguised disgust. She silently let him leave, closed the door behind him, and turned a glare at the classroom. “What the hell! Who did this? It was you wasn’t it Michael? Your father will know about this. You hear me?”

“I didn’t do anything,” proclaimed Michael, making gestures of innocence towards himself. “Maybe the guy likes dead birds. Who knows?”

“Your father will know of this, Michael,” she said with finality, going towards the board.

Will anything even come out of this? Thomas wondered. The school was soon going to close. The last thing Dolores wanted right now was to deal with stupid pranks on the new student. In short: no.

“Did you see the way he left? Lame,” Emma whispered to Thomas.

He frowned at her. “Was it you doing that? Haven’t you done enough already?”

“Hey!” she, exclaimed, putting on an irritated and irritating face. “I am not the one with the hobby of shooting birds, Mike is.” Emma pointed with her chin.

Michael was sitting laidback in his seat, with Colin and Joffrey at his side. The three had smiles in their faces as they whispered to each other.

Thomas simply couldn’t believe the situation. He banged his head in his desk. “My god, I can’t believe you guys are still at it.”

“Hey!” Emma said, angrily. “I have nothing to do with it this time.”

Thomas glared at her. “Doesn’t change what you did to him already.”

She snorted. “You think that guy is a saint or something? Let me tell you, that guy is absolutely insufferable. So what if they do some pranks on him? I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even care.”

It was this attitude of hers that Thomas despised. Last month, she and Charles were going out. They broke up, and in revenge, she spread the rumor—with Michael’s help—that Charles was gay. Breaking up, then spreading rumors. What’s wrong with her?

If Charles was gay, why would he even go out with Emma in the first place? Thomas didn’t believe it, and couldn’t believe people believed it.

Charles came back five minutes later, with two towels and a bucket. The teacher looked at him for a moment as he went without even pausing to close the door (he closed the door walking) to his desk and cleaned the chair while saying nothing. Then he put the bucket with the two towels inside beside his chair and sat still for the remainder of class.

“He is a bit strange, you know,” Emma whispered to Thomas.

Thomas glared at her. “He was pretty normal—actually very great, verbatim, while you were going out.”

Emma kicked the floor and glared, making another harrumph that Thomas didn’t like. “My god, you’re so annoying. It’s always like this with you. Lay off, will you?”

Thomas wasn’t interested in arguing with her. He just ignored her and paid attention to the lesson.

*

After another painful toll, the bell that marked the end of classes rang. Dolores halted her hand that was in the middle of writing some poetry belonging to a long dead European and made an audible sigh. She was probably the one who wished for lessons to end the most.

Charles picked his bag and left in his always hurried strides, not even bothering to stop to slung his bag across his shoulders (he slung the bag while walking) He left before the teacher and left the door open. He took the towels and bucket with him.

Dolores had an ambiguous expression as she looked at the leaving Charles. Thomas could almost make the word “worry” in her face.

Thomas left the classroom without bothering to talk with the others. While walking along the corridor, he saw through the windows gently falling snow. It was colder now. Through the window, he also saw Charles squatting by himself on the ground.

Curious, Thomas walked down the stair and left through a side entrance to a garbage dump. There was an incinerator to burn what could be burned and a pit dug on the ground filled with trash that couldn’t be burned—there was even a broken water drinker and several pipes in there.

And there was he, Charles, looking at Thomas with his usual stoic face.

“Hello Thomas,” he said. Without even asking why Thomas was here, he turned around and used a shovel to dig on the ground, the plastic bag with the dead bird inside beside him.

“Are you making a grave for the bird? Why?” Thomas asked.

Charles stopped and turned around, with a slight frown. “I am not making a grave, I am just burying it.”

“Why aren’t you just burning it then?” Thomas inquired, pointing to the incinerator.

Charles turned to the incinerator. “It’s not working.” He paused for a bit and blinked a long blink. “No, sorry, that was a lie. I just hadn’t thought of it, but I don’t think the bones will turn to ashes in there. And burying dead things is the proper thing to do.”

“If you are burying it, then how is that not making a grave?”

“A grave implies emotional attachment,” Charles said, going back to his digging. “It was not my bird. I feel nothing for it. I will just bury it, because it’s dead.”

He dug a small hole in the ground, tossed the bag containing the bird with his feet and covered it with the earth, using the shovel.

“Now then,” Charles said, turning around with a smiling face. “What matter could Thomas possibly want with this one?”

Thomas, a bit taken aback by the weirdness, stammered a response. “Nothing really. I just wanted to know if you are alright.”

“Oh, nothing to worry about. I’m perfectly fine. Perhaps a bit angry, but no suicidal thoughts pervade my mind as of yet.”

Thomas had no prepared reply for that, so the two remained quiet for a moment.

“Are you going home?” Thomas asked.

“And where else would I go?” Charles shrugged.

“You know, you sound really annoying sometimes,” Thomas said.

Charles looked at him, his stoic face returning for a second, then breaking into another smile. “My sister often says I make no sense when I talk. You’re sounding just like her.” Charles patted his dirty gloves on his clothes and started to walk away.

“I’m going with you,” Thomas said. “Our houses are in the same direction, and it would be bad if you were caught alone by, say, Mike.”

Thomas followed Charles. Both entered the school and walked on the corridors heading towards the entrance.

“Mike won’t get me alone,” Charles said. “He is too bothered with your future girlfriend for that.”

Thomas exhaled sharply. “Are you talking about Emma? I hope you’re not talking about Emma.”

“Shame for you,” Charles said with a perceptive, probably meaningless nod. “She’s pretty cute you know.”

Thomas scratched his head, a bit uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “She broke up with you, you know.”

Charles stopped walking, cocked his head to the side, then resumed his stride and nodded. “And now people say I’m gay. Now that I think of it, don’t you think people will think you’re gay too if you’re seen walking with me for no good reason?”

“People here have known me for my whole life, they know I’m not gay.”

“Really?” Charles said, sending a dubious glance toward Thomas. “Because that friend of yours is really cute you know, and you doesn’t look the least interested in her.”

Thomas felt a strange surge of indignation. “I’m not gay Charles.”

“Don’t worry,” Charles said, resuming his walk. “I know you aren’t. But just in case you are, know that I don’t really care.”

Thomas sighed as he followed Charles. He was always like this. Sometimes he would begin a phrase with a topic, then suddenly say something that was a long way from the current conversation, then go back to the first topic as if nothing had happened.

It was frustrating.

Leaving the school, they walked toward a road that stretched from left to right, cutting through their little town. Turning to the left, they passed by few homes, many of which had been abandoned—left for the rats to pass winter—and passed by a roofed bridge, above a shallow river.

“How sad, this town getting torn down like this. Doesn’t this make you sad Tom?” Charles said, suddenly.

“Yes,” Thomas said, sighing. “I grew up here. It’s sad seeing everyone going away, but next year I would leave anyway, for college.”

“How unfortunate,” Charles said.

Thomas gave a rueful laugh. “You must be happy, that you get to leave this little town too.”

Charles looked around for a moment, pensive, then nodded. “I suppose I must be.”

Snow was falling gently, with not much wind. There still hadn’t snowed enough to cover the ground, but soon there would be a white carpet that would cover the dirt of this road.

Midway through their trip the road fell into slopes at the left and right, leading to a park in lower ground. In spring, many flowers bloomed among the trees. It was a romantic spot. As kids, Thomas and Emma often played around here.

A bit more away, was a small forest and a lake that would soon freeze because of winter. When he was a kid, Thomas and Emma would play in the lake. It was not a much visited place now. There weren’t many kids left in Bellmare, and not many people wishing to visit a cold lake.

In front of them the road parted in two. Thomas lived toward the right road, Charlie to the left.

“I will be going then. Goodbye,” Thomas said, going to the right.

“Goodbye,” Charles said, going to the left, towards his home.

*

Thomas arrived at home with snow still falling. Apparently it wouldn’t stop anytime soon. He looked briefly at Edson’s home and sighed. It was one of the last neighbors he had, and now he was gone.

Sometime ago a small textile industry where Edson worked went bankrupt. It was not the first business to end abruptly, and Edson was not the first to leave town in search of a new job. There was nothing more to this town than the home-grow vegetable farms and a broken rail line for a farm that now used trucks. It was no wonder that everyone was leaving.

Thomas opened the door. His father—Gordon Landerson was sitting at the lounge, watching TV. Noticing that Thomas arrived, he turned to him. “How was school Tom?”

“It’s begun snowing,” Thomas said, passing by him toward his room. “It’s early this year.”

“Really?” his father said looking out the window. Of course, it was snowing.

Thomas was baffled at the fact his father hadn’t noticed until now that it was snowing.

“Good,” his father said, turning back to the TV. “I always liked snow.”

Thomas sighed, went to his room and threw his bag to the ground. He fell in his bed, thinking of the many things that happened recently.

First Charles moved to this town from where everyone was moving out, and went to a school that was about to close. He was an easily likeable fellow and soon Thomas became friends with him. Then Charles and Emma started to date. One month later they broke up and Emma spread the rumor that he was gay.

The bullying began with Michael. He was a good friend to almost every classmate. People liked him. After a few incidents, they were picking on the “outsider” who should never have come to their town. The truth was that Michael was dumped by Emma before, and now he was venting his resentment.

Thomas was not sure about Charles. He didn’t seem bothered my Michael, and sometimes even Thomas was fooled into the impossibility that he didn’t care about it. There was no way someone who didn’t care existed.

While thinking about those things, Thomas closed his eyes above his bed and drifted to an early sleep, from which he would wake up, read a book, and return to.