And Who Will Remember Me?

Baxter sat down on the cold bleachers. He was surrounded by a giant metal monstrosity they called “The Football Stadium” made so that all could get the best football experience. Ironically, his view of the football field was blocked by scads of cheering high school students who failed to sit during any of the game. Whether he decided to stand or sit the harsh wind of winter would clobber him. So, he sighed, stayed seated, and hugged himself. Even through his jeans, he felt the freezing metal of the bleachers jabbing his nerves. He hugged his forest green pullover closer and squinted at the field.
The football team looked like little toys from this far away. He shivered and sighed as the cheerleaders began another senseless dance. A loud hoot came from a few rows above him. He glanced back, and saw "The Peppers." They all wore blue shirts with their team mascot: the barracuda. The barracuda stood tall, frowning angrily, holding a pepper shaker as a sign of school “pep” or spirit. The barracuda’s six pack seemed out of place to Baxter and he laughed. This is why Baxter never joined "The Peppers."
"What are you staring at?" asked a squeaky voice. He noticed that the girl who had hooted was a short chubby girl with glasses and that he had been staring at her chest for at least a full minute. The girl covered her breasts quickly and glared at him. Baxter faked a cough and flipped his head.
He hugged himself more, but something obstructed his arms from his chest. He stopped with a sigh. The heavy camera he had been entrusted with by the yearbook sponsor, Mr. Lapinz, was in his way.
Baxter couldn’t remember why he had even signed up for the class. There was always the fact that he had total control of how people viewed their lives, now, in the future. But that thought went dry after he found out that Mr. Lapinz picked out all of the photos.
The other reason he had decided to join yearbook was Sam. Sam had been obsessed with yearbook class since he'd been chosen as a second grader to be the editor. It was the only class Baxter had ever had with Sam, so, he kept it. Baxter realized that yearbook was completely pointless now, and fought the urge to drop the camera around his neck off the bleachers. To blow up like an explosion! Just like Sam had done to Morgan. Baxter suddenly felt heated as he cursed Sam. He stared at the asphalt below. Going in and out of full consciousness was becoming quite a habit for Baxter who had recently begun to analyze every moment psychotically.
His ears began to ache. He pulled his hair down to shield them from the chill. His shaggy brown hair was a necessity when it was this cold out.
He always wore it short until this year. Why had he grown it out? He was tired of being so...cold? Was there reason behind anything?
He always wanted to make a statement with his actions. When he was planning something, he wanted it to be done with a purpose. Every thought he had was logical reasoning to, say, an ancient math equation, or symbolic wonder one could find in, perhaps, a classic American novel.
All of this seemed like it had been lost. So many ideas, thoughts, and other things had shifted. All of these years he had been serving "the Lord." "The Lord" seemed like nothing now after Baxter had defended the very thing that the Lord opposed. Everything seemed so very pointless. He could see no "Lord" after what Sam had said about Morgan. He shook his head away from the asphalt and pinched himself. He had to take his mind off of Sam and Morgan.
His eyes began to water. The temperature and emotion had caught up with him. He couldn't help it. Had Morgan and he really been friends? Should he have defended her? He groaned. He beat his feet against the bleachers. What was happening? Were his thoughts really becoming what he had once loathed? Was he gay in association? He rolled his eyes, "Of course not." Baxter considered how different his life would be if he were gay. He could never imagine himself with another guy. He still thought the idea was odd, but he didn't shun
it anymore.
Morgan had really bolded the line of reality. He had become the polar opposite of what he was only a week ago. Or was the change a gradual one that he hadn’t noticed?
He shifted in his seat, and rolled his eyes at the game. A purple sky showed magnificently through the screaming lights beating down on the crowds. He stared at the sky for most of the second quarter until a warm body sat next to him. His hazel eyes double took when he realized it was her.
"Morgan?" he asked with a glance.
"Got any good pictures yet?" asked Morgan.
Morgan was a short girl with short black hair. She had on a scarf as she always had. Her hair was cut short down to her mid cheeks which were curved outward perfectly when she smiled. Her hair had playful blonde highlights in it. She wore a baggy black jacket which did no justice to her beautiful figure. Her thin make-up-less lips smiled sincerely at him.
"Nah...I don't think I'm going to take any. Something needs to wake me up Monday. Why not Lapinz yelling?" said Baxter.
"Yeah, I guess,” Morgan said. She wasn't really paying attention. She grabbed the camera and pulled the viewfinder to her brown eyes.
"You can't touch that!" said Baxter, reaching out for it.
"Bax, please! Just one," she said. She snapped a crooked shot of a cheerleader taking a drink of water. She looked at the display for a moment, and then hesitantly at Baxter. She stared back down at the display.
"So, did you ever call Sam back?" Morgan abruptly asked him.
"What? No. How many times do I have to tell you? I don't want to talk to him ever again,” Baxter said flatly.
“Well, he said he was sorry-”
“And I don't understand how you could buy an apology from that - that asshole! He only apologized, because I yelled him into it. He called you a-"
"It wasn't even about you! C'mon, you guys have been friends for like, ever," she said.
"Everything can't stay right forever, Morgan. There’s no reason for anyone to call you that word," said Baxter rolling his eyes. He grabbed the camera from her. She wasn't even annoyed until she was denied her fun.
"You know what your problem is?! You want everything to have some hidden meaning. Jesus, you look for symbolism in Disney movies. You act like everything has to bring some revelation or some - some change of character. God, you're such a drama queen sometimes. We, as in you and I, used to talk about how gay people should die in Hell, and you expect me to forget?! You were just like him," yelled Morgan. The air around them felt deadly as it silenced after her outburst. Baxter leaned back and stretched his neck.
"Why are you even here?" said Baxter harshly. Morgan seemed a little stung by the question and looked away. A minute later, she looked back at him and answered the question.
"I wanted to make sure you didn’t take anymore pictures of Stephanie Williams. Jesus, that girl was all over the yearbook last year," said Morgan. She pulled the camera back to her face and smiled at him.
“Really? That’s why you’re here?” Baxter said skeptically.
“Well, I also wanted to say thanks for sticking up for me,” she added bashfully.
"No problem. I mean, I never really thought of you as a friend until that moment. I think I got more out of it then you did. It was like when Athena was born, y'know?"
"What? For the love of god, what does the Greek Goddess of War have anything to do with me?"
"This whole gay bashing was like the fly, Sam was Zeus, and you were Athena. You see, Zeus swallowed a fly one day, and bam he got a splitting headache. So, Hephaestus came along and hit his head open with a hammer or something, and Athena popped out. It’s like now. You're here. New in Technicolor. All of the sudden, you're...you're my friend," said Baxter with a smile.
“I see, but I still don’t get it,” Morgan said nodding.
They were silent for a few minutes as the game went on. "You know, this is like the second time we've hung out alone," said Morgan.
"I know," said Baxter, "the first was the time Sam threw up, oh yeah, and - and we had to see that movie alone. Yeah."
Morgan laughed. "Wasn't it that terrible Adam Sandler movie?"
"And you threw popcorn at that guy when he kicked your seat?! And - and he threatened to sick his big – big butch girlfriend on you," Baxter said in between hysterical laughs. They laughed as Morgan imitated the guy behind them. A nearby family glared at them and left the bleachers. They tugged on the camera until Baxter finally captured it from Morgan.
As the laughter was stopping, Morgan broke the mood.
"I was lying about Sam, you know. I really can't see him the way I used to anymore,” she said staring at the sky. Baxter shifted in his seat, but Morgan was vehement on the subject. “He seems distorted now. Like a – like a Picasso painting or something. I didn't think admitting I was gay would actually make him so hostile. God damn! It - it really pisses me off," complained Morgan. She whispered the last two sentences.
Baxter seemed too fresh to that cliché teenage topic of “coming out” (of anything, actually) and began to fidget with the camera. Morgan nervously continued, “I just wish people didn’t see me as some sort of word. Some sort of definition. I know it sounds stupid, but it is a part of who I am, and yeah, it changes me, but – but that thing that he called me is not who I am. If I will be forever remembered as the ‘lesbo’ or - or ‘dyke’ or whatever, I wish I could go back. If I knew that words would make up who I was then I’d switch them, y’know? God, I – I don’t even know what I’m saying,” She looked over at Baxter who was adjusting the lens and zooming in on the quarterback. Morgan looked down at her feet with blushed cheeks.
"What are you supposed to take pictures of?" asked Morgan quietly.
"The football players," declared Baxter ignoring her humiliation.
"No! I mean like when Sam said something about how you had to take certain pictures facing the binding of the book, and the type that please the people or whatever," said Morgan.
"Yeah, we have to 'feel the players'," said Baxter imitating Mr. Lapinz.
"I'd like to feel the players," laughed Morgan.
"Now, that would be an odd yearbook. This picture of Natalie Leonard was taken in September and this one in January, but she sort of feels bigger,” laughed Baxter. They chuckled as the night crept up on them.
"Here," she said. She took the camera and photographed a wobbly shot of a football player scratching his crotch. The camera almost fell into the depths of the bleachers as she fumbled to hand it to Baxter.
"What are you doing?!" exclaimed Baxter angrily.
"Why does the yearbook have to be all about the photographed? Why can't we remember the photographer sometime? C’mon, how will Baxter Springer and Morgan Robinson be remembered, huh? Words or photos?" Morgan asked with a grin.
"What in the world are you talking about?" asked Baxter, staring at the display of the picture, "Are you saying I'm gonna be remembered as someone with a crotch itch?"
"No! You know what I mean, Bax! You have to leave your mark or you'll have nothing to remember," she said.
"I don't have any mark to leave. And anyway, I don't get to choose the pictures that go in the yearbook," said Baxter.
A tall girl with long blonde hair and trendy rhinestone framed glasses walked by and smiled at Baxter. She stopped and turned around with a grin. She wore a giant yearbook badge on her coat.
"Hey, hun, got some good pictures?" she said.
"Uh, yeah," Baxter replied.
Sadie grinned. “Well, I was just headin’ over to-
"Hey, Sadie, is there anyway that Bax here can put
the pictures of his choice on his yearbook page?" Morgan said in the sweetest voice.
"Well, Lapinz usually just picks the first seven that aren’t blurry. He's a slacker if y'know what I mean," nodded Sadie.
"Thanks, Sadie, see you Monday," Baxter said.
"See y'all later," Sadie replied.
A buzz signified a call for half-time. Several of the promiscuously dressed cheerleaders lined up with the Barracuda mascot in front on the green of the football field. They had cannons stuffed with white t-shirts ready to shoot. The wet grass crunched through the cheering bleachers and Baxter and Morgan laughed.
"Oh God, t-shirts. Why would anyone want to wear a shirt showing who sponsored the cheerleaders?" Baxter rolled his eyes.
"Lemme see the camera!" Morgan exclaimed. She grabbed at the camera, but Baxter held on.
They started a hopeless tug-o-war with the camera. Morgan's gloves held tight onto the strap and Baxter's red bare hands gripped the silver camera like a clamp.
“Baxter! C'mon!” she yelled. She began to beat him with her left hand.
“I want to get a good picture! You already got your crotch shot! I want one with some meaning behind it-"
"God, will you shut up about meaning already! Let me see it!"
The camera flashed, and they both stopped. Several people turned around and stared at them angrily. Baxter smiled sheepishly and then shot a glare at Morgan. He held up the display curiously and saw it.
They were both trying to decipher what was going on in the snap shot when Morgan began to laugh again. This time they chuckled so loud, twice as many people surrounding them glared in her direction.
"What?! What is it?!" Baxter asked eagerly.
"Holy crap! Look! I think we now know why the barracuda is so ripped!"
Baxter's mouth dropped open when he realized what was going on in the seemingly innocent sort of blurry picture. He let out a vibrating "YES!" and jumped up, nearly slipping off of the bleachers.
The display showed the barracuda dancing carelessly. One of its fins was near its head as if it was about to slap itself. In front of the fin was an oval bullet. A t-shirt had been misaimed. A "B" cheerleader stood next to the barracuda mascot with a "The Peppers" shirt on. The two had recognized that it looked like the barracuda with the six pack set of abs was taking a pill; a steroid.
"It actually means something," said Baxter, “I don’t believe it.”
"Wow, I helped create something with ‘meaning’ behind it. Ugh, that word is so annoy-"
"What's the commotion?! Got a good picture?!" Sadie was bobbing behind them trying to get a good look at the camera’s display. She pushed them apart and stared at it with an “awe” that only a yearbook editor could let out after witnessing a picture of uncoordinated cheerleaders.
"Uh, yeah. It's actually kinda funny-"
"OH I SEE! Great encapturement of half time! We hardly ever get any pics of the mascot!" Sadie said gladly, “Can’t wait to see it uploaded pronto Monday!” Sadie turned toward Morgan, beamed, and took her leave.
Baxter lowered the camera and frowned. “Did she just say ‘pics?’”
Morgan noticed Baxter's disappointment and frowned, "Aw, it's okay, Baxter, at least you tried," She said, "And at least we understand it."
And he really didn't care. He turned to her and laughed.
After the game, Morgan and Baxter walked out of the stadium together. They were chatting about the picture. For the first time in his life, Baxter felt like he hadn't planned something. Meeting Morgan for real - for the first time - was all by spontaneity. Their feet crunched the gravel parking lot behind the football field as their laughs floated through the crisp dead air. The wind had settled and the sun had set minutes ago. The slightly purple nightfall washed over them like a fresh breath of air.
"It's fantastic," she said still gloating over their picture.
"I know," he said.
They both looked up in unison. They both spotted their old friend Sam walking toward them shyly. He gave a smile and nod toward Baxter and Morgan. “Hi,” he said. They quickly walked away from him after Baxter shot him a glare.
"He wanted to hang out with me tonight," said Morgan staring at her converse shoes.
"Oh," said Baxter, following suit and staring at his Nikes. They stayed silent until they reached Baxter's car.
"So, do you want to go see a movie?" she asked as he unlocked the car door.
"Sure," he said.
The streetlights lit the car up every few seconds as they drove down the dark streets of Green Hill. The scathing silence had returned since their movie agreement and settled like a thick coat of dust; never changing as they both watched the scenery fly past them like a colorful montage moving them from one point to the next. Morgan silently flipped through the camera’s display in the car until she reached the barracuda picture.
"I guess we'll always remember how our friendship began," she said.
"I'm sorry Sadie didn't notice. You looked like you were about to die. At least, we get the meaning behind it," she added.
"Logic and meaning make no sense in a world of shunning and cold," Baxter said furiously at the dashboard. The abrupt and short lived silence after his statement seemed to stretch further on than any awkward silence they’d braved that night.
"We're not talking about the picture anymore, are we?" asked Morgan glancing uncomfortably at the sidewalk gliding by beside them. She squirmed in her chair and frowned at the sidewalk. Baxter began to laugh, quietly at first, but it lead into a cacophony of chuckles. It wasn’t long before Morgan joined in with him.
Baxter slowly pulled into the movie theater parking lot. As the car came to a slow halt, he turned and smiled blissfully at her. They opened the door and stepped out of the car.
On the way into the movie theater, they talked about nothing in general. Baxter’s logic and reason had entirely been disintegrated by the world’s lack of it and Morgan’s exuberant words. His thoughts had shifted from meaning to oblivion. Not thinking about what the future held for him or what he could take out of every moment made him feel almost weightless. Baxter pulled the camera out on the way into the theater.
“I’ve got a good one for the yearbook,” he said to her pointing the lens of the yearbook camera at him and Morgan. Morgan didn’t answer with a word; a nod; or a content laugh. She didn’t stop to label him, physically or mentally; she simply sighed, smiled skyward, stood on the tip of her toes, and kissed his blushed cheek. The flash engulfed their smiles, their souls, and their emotion at that very moment; indescribable by words.
“I’ll remember you anyway,” Morgan said staring at a completely white display. Baxter grinned at her and beside his grin were the lip marks stuck onto his face shaped by the light lip stick Morgan had spread on her lips that night.
“And I’ll remember you.”