Miss Burns looked up, surprised, when Charlie finally made his way into the English class. By the moaning around him, he could tell this one was brutal. He didn’t make eye contact as she looked up at him as he took a test from her desk. He glanced around the room, but the only seats open were at the front. Probably for the best anyway. No need for more people to see his wet pants. He took a seat in front of Mallory. He sat down and put his test in front of him, panicking as he realized he had left his backpack beside his locker.
He sighed and started to stand up. Then he felt a tap on his back. He flinched. Great. Even Mallory was going to make fun of him. Fearing the worst, he turned around, to see her smile shyly as she held a pink pencil out to him. He melted and returned the smile. He mouthed a quiet “thank you so much!” as she blushed a little and looked down at her paper.
He turned back to his test. At the top, it read, “Hamlet asked, ‘to be or not to be.’ How would you answer this question?”
He groaned.
Why!?
He laid his head on his desk.
To be… or not to be?
Not to be. Not for a while, at least.
Charlie saw a small, powder blue box covered with flowers. Benny was in that box. Charlie was standing next to Grandma Margaret, his thumb in his mouth, clutching Butterfield Bear with his other arm, waiting to give him to Benny. But Benny never came out of that box. His grandma kept reminding Charlie that Benny was in heaven. But everyone else said Benny was resting in the box. He was, but he wasn’t. He was in heaven, but he was in the box.
He saw another box. This one was open. Grandma Margaret was resting in this one now. His parents told him she was in heaven now too. But… she was also resting in that box in front of him.
It had taken Charlie a long time to understand. He wasn’t sure if he did, even now. Who was in the box, and who was in heaven?
Some day, he’d be in a box like that too. Would there be something of him that would continue to heaven, while he was in his own box? Would his problems vanish if he chose not to be? Or would the part of him that returned to heaven always be troubled by the problems he had left behind for everyone else to solve? Or would he just… stop being?
Charlie shuddered. He wasn’t sure which scared him more. He hoped he wouldn’t have to find out for a very long time.
But now, he’d have to decide who he wanted to be while he still was. While he was still here, before he was just another person resting in a box and remembered in pictures.
Charlie wanted to cry. He’d pretty much been trying to answer that question all day. And he really had no idea.
Charlie glanced at the window, wishing he was close enough to see if the lawnmower boy was out there somewhere.
To be… what? Charlie secretly envied that guy outside the fortress, seemingly unbothered by the reality of a bunch of hormonal, confused people trying to answer the “to be” questions inside. That guy…. tan, half naked, listening to strange music, driving that ancient truck, he seemed like someone who knew who he was, regardless of what anybody else thought. But inside the fortress were a bunch of confused people who had no idea, but were just acting out roles they thought were expected of them.
And Charlie felt like he was the most confused of all. Who was he? Hero? Villain? Liberator? Destroyer?
Was he destined to be like poor Alonzo Quijana, convinced he was a hero, when everyone else saw a damn fool in fake armor fighting windmills?
Charlie felt a tear roll down his cheek. He didn’t want to stop being… but he wished he could at least start over.
The bell, with it’s persistent regularity that cared nothing for the lives of the students it dictated, screeched that it was time to move on.