Near the end of the fall semester Toni Magyar (still nothing to link to but rumor has it there might be something soon!) and I attended a reading hosted by Dr. Sejal Sutaria, one of the English faculty at Monmouth. Attendees were asked to read something on the topics of hate crimes and/or peace. I thought this would be a great time to do a reading from War Prayers, the hypertext novel I wrote in 2004. I never quite finished working on it, and was never totally happy with it anyway; however, recently I decided to dust it off and begin putting it up online.
To begin, here is what I read at Dr. Sutaria’s event. Obviously this will be broken down into smaller entries for War Prayers.
Drew squinted across the hall at the poster on the wall. Checklist For Girls For Homecoming. He rolled his eyes; why should the girl be the one to have to worry about all that shit? A little to the right was a leftover poster for the recent student council election. Immediately he recognized the face on the poster. The girl whose campaign was being advertised was the younger sister of Drew and Theresa’s high school friend Stephanie.
A few moments passed while memories flooded back to him. Two students walked by, hall passes unchecked. Stephanie was one of Amber’s friends; she met her at the mall or maybe on IRC. Amber always met new people.
Stephanie attended the regional school across the county. She was never that close to Drew or Theresa in the beginning. Drew awkwardly tried to make out with her at a party once before she politely informed him that she was much more interested in making out with his female companions.
Once at the mall Drew saw Theresa talking to her in hushed tones while returning from the bathroom. Theresa gave him a look. Drop it. Do not ask. For once, Drew did drop it and did not proceed into his usual rambley, awkward, string of thoughts and questions. Later Theresa quietly told him that a few neanderthals tried to grope Stephanie at school that day. The larger one slammed her head into a locker when she did not acquiesce. They proceeded to grab at her pants to “make sure she was really a chick.†She cried on the floor. They taunted her. “Dyke. Lesbo.†No one dared stop them for chance of being the next target. They got away with the bare minimum punishment. The upcoming regional championship was much more important.
Theresa gave her a bandanna to hide the bruises. Like Theresa, Stephanie kept her hair cut in a dreamy, very butch, buzzcut. From afar she looked like a boy with largish breasts. Drew was too preoccupied with his unrequited love for Amber to notice how that particular look really made him feel.
A few weeks later Theresa and Drew were watching a movie in his room when the phone rang. It was Amber, who was barely comprehendable between screams and tears. Drew gave the phone to Theresa, who calmed her down enough to find out that Stephanie had been assaulted on the way home from school. All Stephanie remembered afterwards was a bottle smashing against her head. She had been kicked and punched repeatedly. One of her assailants even stopped to urinate on her. Two broken ribs, a nasty scar over her eye and on the back of her head. Bruises and cuts all over her body.
They arrived at the hospital just in time to see Stephanie’s alcoholic mother berating her. Her assailants were sons of important people in town; one of whom’s younger brother was Ms. Roscoe’s boss. Her mother was more concerned with keeping up appearances at a minimum wage food service job than caring for her beaten, and broken, lesbian daughter.
And broken Stephanie was. Knowing there was no way she could return to school she transferred to the school her friends attended. People knew about what happened but left her alone for the most part. The guidance counselors made sure she had at least one of them in each of her classes.
Drew and Stephanie had photography together. They barely spoke. For once, Drew just kept his mouth shut and did not blurt out any number of random forms of bullshit. They did, however, share a small spiral bound notebook which they passed back and forth. Drew opened up about his feelings for Amber, whose hair was growing back after being chopped off the year before, and Theresa. Once he even thought about writing to her about his own sexual assault by a male his age a few years before… but twenty three hours of the day that was still just fragments of repressed and unbearable memories.
Stephanie wrote to him about the nightmares she had every night. On days when she could not cope they would find an excuse to work in the darkroom. She would cry on Drew’s shoulder for most of the period. Sometimes she was so hysterical she would punch him in the back of the head repeatedly. He let her take it out on him. He had no idea how else to react other than to be there. For some reason, their teacher never asked why they had no completed work. They never spoke of it.
All Theresa remembered from her class with Stephanie was the way she silently stared straight ahead. They talked on IRC at night. Drew did not think it was his place to uncover what they discussed.
After graduation Stephanie disappeared. Drew and Theresa had a bad falling out with Amber and fell in love with each other. Upon reconciling with Amber years later, Drew found out Stephanie had been in and out of psychiatric wards. She would be fine for months at a time and then suddenly try to hang herself with her own shoelaces. An abusive relationship with a lover finally broke what little resolve she had left. She downed some pills, drank a glass of milk, and checked the fuck out.
In the coming weeks and months, inspired by Scott Rettberg blogging Frequency, his current in progress work, I will be posting a piece from War Prayers on this blog, hopefully, every evening. I will also be posting mp3′s of me reading the text in question. Links to the in progress hypertext novel will also be posted.
