The Novelist

I remember when I used to be jovial. My life was like a piñata, and I was that over-sized five year old at a birthday party who always succeeded in beating the candy out of it. Every aspect of my life was successful and I became the most perfect perfectionist that ever existed. Unfortunately, that passion did not accompany me through my whole life. My happiness faded until a thick layer of apathy glazed my heart when I learned that evil prevails over good in this world. 1

My story is one which explains the wickedness of this wretched world in which we dwell. Much of my past is blurry; I chose to forget it. I shall relate to you why I am miserable, why I distrust every living being I come across. I shall teach you that the world is like a sinking ship, and you must escape it’s debauchery before it completely engulfs you and suffocates the last trifle of decency within your mind. 2

“Hey!” I called, as I saw my best friend Ron walk through the door of our very large, overcrowded high school. 3

“Hey,” he casually echoed back at me. 4

Class wasn’t due to start for another ten minutes, but we started walking to first period anyway. The students pushed and shoved all through the hallways, and we had to squeeze our way through the corridor. In the morning there were always groups of people congregating in the middle of the hallways and it made me so irate that people could be so inconsiderate. But, I would plaster a smile on my face and keep walking. I always thought if I could a birds eye view of my high school, it would look like an ant farm with busy little ants scurrying all around. 5

Ron and I had almost all of our classes together, though I considered him to be intellectually inferior to me. He was still a very smart young man, but I was brilliant. We both desired the same candies out of the piñata. The two of us shared the same goal of attending Yale, becoming journalists, and writing a novel sometime in our lives. He was my best friend and I would have done anything for him. 6

That day, after our calculus class came to a conclusion, I heard my name being called by a deep, mature voice. A voice that could only belong to a teacher.  My math teacher, Mr. Torres, was calling my name continuously, signaling that he wanted my attention. I gave him my utmost attention and walked zealously to the front of the room. He asked if I would stay a few minutes after the bell rang. I obliged, returned to my seat, and waited for the bell to sound it’s piercing foghorn-like ring. When it did, I went to speak with Mr. Torres. 7

“Somebody has told me that you have cheated on numerous occasions,” he boomed at me. 8

I was stunned. I didn’t know how to refute this accusation, so I answered with a very humble and confused, “Okay,” and left the room. I didn’t even defend myself. I was a very honest person, and the only time I ever cheated was in fifth grade on a history test. I couldn’t remember who Benedict Arnold was, so I looked at Ron’s paper and transferred his answer to my test. 9

That day at lunch, I went to Ron for comfort. He provided it, and I felt much better. I wondered how Mr. Torres would handle the situation, and the next day I found out. He was going to put this accusation on my permanent record. My school record was like a perfect white wedding gown, and an accusation of this sort was going to be a like a stubborn bloodstain that resides forever on the precious clothe. 10

I knew that it was foolish for me not to speak up, but I felt that an untruthful accusation could be successfully refuted by my displays of moral conduct. I was wrong. Mr. Torres followed through on his word. He stained my record, but I could not hold a grudge against him. I would have done the same. 11

I cried and told Ron that my chances of getting into Yale had slipped from the realm of possibility into the highly unlikely category of life. 12

“That’s all I ever wanted, Ron,” I told him. 13

“I know, I know. But don’t worry. Going to a prestigious school really doesn’t matter, anyway. You can still be a writer and fulfill all your dreams,” he assured me. 14

“Thank you, that means so much to me. I hope you still get in, though,” I said. 15

I really did want him to go to Yale. He wanted it as intensely as I, and he really did deserve it. I helped him through our next two years of high school, tutoring him every free minute of my days. 16

Soon enough, graduation day arrived. Ron wanted to give a speech at graduation, so I had helped him write the most amazing discourse ever delivered by a man of just 17 years. When it came to writing, I was like Zeus, and my words his lightning. I had a way of electrifying my listeners, and I took much pride in my communicational talent. 17

Although I felt that it was impossible to be accepted into the school of my dreams, I still did apply. Ron applied too. Acceptance letters were kept very personal between us, though, and the subject of Yale was very sensitive, especially for me. On graduation day, however, Ron approached me after the ceremony. He gave me a hug and a kiss, and whispered into my ear with a very positive, hopeful voice, “Did you get in?” 18

It amazed me that he maintained such a high level of faith in me. That was what kept me from crying at that moment. I hadn’t gotten in, but he believed that it was an error on their part. 19

After he asked me if I was accepted, I viewed it customary and polite to pose the same question to him. 20

“Well,” I said, as I looked at him with a grin on my face, “did you?” 21

“Yes!” he exclaimed, and I jumped up and hugged him. I knew he was going to make it. He really did deserve it. 22

“Ron,” I said, “I’m taking you out to dinner tonight to celebrate.” 23

I took him to a little Italian restaurant called Benny’s. It was his favorite restaurant. While we were waiting to be seated, he turned to me, and with a quivering voice said, “I have a confession that I must make.” 24

I told him to wait until we were seated so we would be more comfortable. When we finally got to our table, I noticed that there was something wrong with him. He looked pale and nauseous. I asked him if he was feeling okay. 25

“I’m fine,” he assured me. “Can you promise me something?” he asked me. 26

“Of course,” I answered with my famous smile, “Anything for you, Mr. Yale.” 27

“Just promise me that no matter what, we will always be best friends.” 28

“I promise.” Even after we went our separate ways, I really did plan on staying in touch with him. 29

“Ron? What was it that you had to tell me?” 30

A tear formed a trembling cloud over his innocent eye, and then he told me. He confessed everything. He was the culprit that told Mr. Torres I was a cheater. 31

As he was telling me all of this, I just sat there and absorbed his words. When he finished explaining this to me, I turned to him and said, “Thank you for telling me.” I got up from the table and left. 32

That was the last time I had ever spoken to him, the first time I had ever broken a promise. It’s been twenty years since that horrendous ordeal, and I’m still bitter. I spend my evenings sitting in my modest apartment that I maintain with my very modest salary. One day, as I sat in my rocking chair reading the first novel of Mr. Ron Arnold, Yale graduate, my twelve-year-old daughter walked in the room. One of our two dogs, the large one, was sleeping on the floor. The small one was as attentive as ever, staring at the sleeping beast who was guarding the steak bone he received after dinner. I thought of how much stronger the large dog was. When my daughter entered, she sat on the floor next to me. 33

Then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. As I turned my face, I saw the little dog pounce on the bone and carry it out of the room. By the time the large dog realized it, the small dog had vanished into another room. He had allowed an inferior dog to steal his bone. 34

My daughter started to giggle and said to me, “What a stupid dog. You have to be pretty naïve to allow something so much weaker than you to creep up on you and steal something.” 35

I turned to her, smiled, and said, “You’re right, sweetheart. You have to be very stupid, indeed.” 36

As it turns out, some people try very hard to fulfill their dreams, but they never can. When there are cheaters in the world, an honest person cannot win. With the advantage of dishonesty, evil always prevails. The inferior steal the bones of the superior.37