I never did like him really; Jerry I mean. He was a creep to pretty much everyone, but somehow he got the girls, or at least it seemed so. How I just happened to have run into him on a cliff overlooking Lake Superior I'll never know, but there we were, well away from the eleventh grade science class field trip, alone, together, 300 feet above the rocks.
"Ya know Helen Swartout?" he asked out of the clear blue. Of course I knew her. Hottest girl in Raymond Hills High.
"Sure" I said, grinning.
"Did her" he answered.
“No!” I didn’t believe it. Helen was hot, but a holy roller.
“Yup. Preggers. Wait a couple months; you’ll see.”
stared out over the lake, torn between prurient excitement created by
the visual of playing with Helen’s boobs and the horror of imagining her
forever changed life as a single mother.
“That’s not cool” I said. He ignored me.
“Yup” he repeated, “Susan Johnston too. And Leah Sabes, know her?”
knew all these girls. Susan was a friend of my sister, always nice to
me. Jerry raised a hand and spread his fingers, using the other to
“Yea, and Barb Raidtt, and Jennie Comstock and Judy Grawl and …”
ears began to ring, drowning out his litany. He was bragging. To me. To
a kid he’d always bullied. To a guy he didn’t care less about. He was
such a pathetic jerk bragging about wrecking girls lives got him off. He
probably bragged to his dog at night.
I was pretty much deaf by
then, but I could see him still counting off his kills. It was a numbers
game to him, lay and spray, wham bam, notch on the belt; and all those
kids created, and all those girls lives torn apart.
I turned to
go, until I got behind him on the narrow ledge. Then I gave him a shove.
It would be easy to imagine it an accident for the other kids’
purposes, and the police I suppose. But it wasn’t really. I did it for a
reason. I was thinning out the herd.