You Never Cared

8/7/2019 You Never Cared

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You Never Cared

Michele L. Montgomery



“I would gladly trade places with Casper, given the chance. I lifted my head to see Casper’s best

friend standing on the other side of the grave.”

Jordan is a golden child—wealthy, popular, the self-professed ruler of the senior class. Jordan is

also a bully, a bully whose group of friends mercilessly tormented seventeen-year-old Casper for

being different, for being poor, for suffering silently. Random acts of abuse from his classmates

were par for the course in Casper’s life, until one night, the bullying evolved into a hate crime

and he, unable to endure, longing for peace, finally took his own life.

You Never Cared is the heartbreaking tale, told in Jordan’s words, of a life stolen, of love lost,

and of a soul compromised. But ultimately, it is a story of forgiveness and redemption. As

Sammy, Casper’s friend and lover, attempts to cope with the anguish of his boyfriend’s loss,

Jordan attempts to own his part in the crime, trying to make amends but knowing his only hope

is to carry on Casper’s legacy, to work to build a better future for boys and girls who, likeCasper, just need a strong voice to encourage and stand up for them.





Chicago in August sucks. It’s humid as hell; you can hardly breathe, never mind get dry.

And yet there I stood, for nearly three hours, in the back corner of a cemetery, surrounded by

foliage that had recently been watered, adding to the moisture in the air, making it very

uncomfortable. Sweat poured off my face, down my throat, down my neck, down every part of

my body, yet I felt none of it. My hat was sticking to my wet hair, my tee stuck to my back and

chest, even my socks were wet, yet I stood there, studying the area that had been freshly covered

by the earth. Under the dirt and soon-to-be sod, in a wooden box enclosed in a concrete vault, lay

Casper.

He was dead.

He was all of seventeen years old, and he was dead.Being dead at that age just made no sense to me. To me, when you’re only seventeen, you

got that way—dead, I mean—from one of two things: an illness or an accident. Casper was dead

because that was the only way he could find peace.

How in the hell would I live the rest of my life with the knowledge that I’d helped to put

him in the ground? I could have stopped the shit and done something to help him, yet I didn’t.

Instead, I watched and participated in helping to turn him from a happy-go-lucky kid to a

miserable teen, almost overnight, and I did nothing to avert the situation that took his life.

I saw it coming, his end. For months—no, for years I saw this end for him, yet I stood by

and let what happened, happen. And as I think about it, it makes me sick. I will never forgive

myself for my part in his death, and if I could spend time in prison for it, I would gladly do so. I

would gladly trade places with Casper, given the chance. If we could go back six years, I’d

happily walk a mile in the shoes he wore, live the life he had lived and had hated rather than to

see him this way. Rather than to never see him again.

“What are you doing here?”

I was pulled from my angst, sorrow, and guilt by the anger I heard in the voice directed at

me. I lifted my head to see Casper’s best friend standing on the other side of the grave. His green

eyes heavy with tears, his face a picture of misery and loss, his lips turned down in a frown,

almost as if they were trying not to open to give voice to the pain his heart was in.

Sammy, Casper’s only friend, the one I wish I could have been. Sammy stuck by

Casper’s side when no one else would. He was one of a rare breed. Sammy loved Casper and he

did what he could for him. Even tried to detour me and my friends when we harassed them, when



we pushed them around, picked on them, called them whatever name that came to mind. It was

Casper we bullied because he’d never fight back. Sammy was Casper’s voice and it was a voice

we ignored. To think that we were able to get a rise out of one, knowing the other guy wouldn’t

do a damn thing about it, made what we did a lot more interesting. Most of the time all it took

was one of us pushing Casper out of our way in the school hallway and calling him a faggot or

trailer trash, and he’d start shaking or stuttering—he often cried. I’m not talking about sobbing;

no, he cried silently. His eyes would inevitably tear up and he’d try to escape us, trying to hold

on to a little bit of dignity, but we wouldn’t have that. We wanted him to feel like shit; it’s what

made us feel bigger, better. There was no hope for boys like Casper and Sammy. They were

outcasts, they were less, they were minor, they were from the lower end of town, and they didn’tmatter.

Or so I thought.

“Sammy,” I said with a slight nod. “I’m, uh...” I wanted to tell him I was sorry, but guys

in my social position didn’t apologize to people like him. We didn’t acknowledge them. They

were the ones we spit on, laughed at, poked fun at, stepped on, and bullied. We did. I did. And I

hated myself for it.

“You, uh, what?” he asked sarcastically, those eyes of his cold and unwavering. “Lost

your way? Forgot that Hell was in the opposite direction? Get the fuck away from him, you sorry

bastard! You and your snobby friends put him there, and I hope to God you all rot in the deepest

bowels of Hell for it.”

His voice dripped with contempt, with pure hatred, with venom—and I deserved it all.

Had he been a cobra, I’d have gladly walked up to him and let him bite me. I found myself

wishing I had his strength. He knew who I was, as I knew him. He knew I, quote, unquote, ruled

the senior class, and he hated me. He had every right to. I hated me, too.

Sammy and I had been friends in grade school. We grew up together, but once we hit

high school, things changed; we ran with different crowds. We hung with the people in our same

social classes. My family came from wealth, his…not so much. All of my friends are like me, his

friends, like him. There is a dividing line between the rich and poor, and we rich kids kept that

line well defined. Us. Them. That’s just how it was and had been for all time.

Us. When had I started referring to myself as a part of “us,” and just who made up “us”?

What kind of people thought they were better than someone else? In grade school, money, status,



material objects really meant very little to me. I guess I took things for granted and that included

a human life. If I had been a decent person, one with a conscience to guide me, maybe Casper

wouldn’t have died. Just maybe, if I had taken a step up, crossed that damn dividing line, and

tried to put a stop to the hell that poor boy lived in, just maybe he’d be alive, and Sammy and I

wouldn’t be where we were now, looking at each other from opposite sides of Casper’s grave,

him with hate and disdain in his eyes, me with sorrow and grief.

I wanted to go to Sammy on my knees to beg his forgiveness, but I knew he’d tell me to

go to Hell. He wouldn’t listen. He, too, had been hurt. Hurt in ways I could only imagine. I never

realized what my words and actions could do to another person. It took this act for me to see it. It

took an act as horrendous as this for me to wake the hell up and realize what I’d done. Whatwe’d done, was unforgivable. Yes, I wanted to go to Sammy and beg his forgiveness, but I

didn’t.

I destroyed three lives. Or I’d helped to destroy them. Sammy loved Casper, as Casper

loved him. Then there was Casper’s older brother who was blindsided by what his baby brother

had been living with for too many years. But the person who stood before me now, the one I felt

the worst for, was Sammy.

Casper wasn’t only his best friend, Casper was his lover, and when I looked into those

eyes, those helpless, forlorn eyes, I wanted to take Sammy in my arms and make the pain

dissipate. I wanted to go back in time and keep them close to me. I wanted to make his hurts

mine. But I couldn’t. There was nothing I could do but try my best to become a better man.

“Answer me!” Sammy shouted. His body shook from either grief or anger, possibly both.

Most likely both. I was taken back a bit, not being used to disrespect coming toward me from

one of them. I mentally chastened myself right then: there I went again, dividing us.

“I wish that this wasn’t what it is, Sammy.”

“It is what it is because of you! There is no way to undo this.” He looked at me and

spread his arms out, then looked down at the fresh grave. “And don’t you dare stand there, Mr.

High and Mighty, and call me that! My name is Samuel. Casper was the only one who called me

Sammy. You will never be good enough to call me that. Go away! We don’t want you here.”

He fell to his knees in grief and he placed his hands in the fresh dirt.

And he cried.



And I stood there, trying not to be the man my father thought I was. I was tired of trying

to live up to his expectations. I was tired of trying to impress a bunch of dicks who cared for

nothing but themselves. I had my own life and it was time I became my own man. The anger

within me grew to a whole new level. For fuck’s sake, why did it take me so long to see the error

of my ways?

“Do you even know what you and your kind did to him?” he asked, sobbing. “Do you

even fucking care? Did you ever once stop to think that he was a guy with feelings, just like you?

He was a human being with feelings, damn you! He cried sometimes because of what you all did

to him. In my arms, he’d cry and ask what he had done to make you all hate him so much. I

wasn’t enough to keep him alive and I hate you for that! You stole him away and you killed him.Now, get the hell out of here and go play with your buds. Leave us alone.”

I stood to the side, taking it in. I deserved it. I wanted it. I needed it because I don’t know

that I could have done anything different. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t stop to think of what it

would do to him.” That was the main problem here, wasn’t it? I, we, didn’t stop to think of what

it would do to him.

“Are you delusional? Are you blind? Are you going to stand there like the halfwit you are

and tell me that you didn’t know what you were doing? Really?” Sammy shook his head in

disbelief and bit his lower lip to contain the sobs I saw building in his throat. “When we were

kids, I thought the world of you. I thought you were some kind of hero. Jesus, was I wrong. You

aren’t any different than those pricks you run around with.”

“I know. I agree. I’m not and I wish I could fix it.”

“Fix it? Fix it! How in the hell do you fix this?” he yelled, slapping at the dirt under his

hands. “He’s fucking dead! He killed himself because of you and your friends. He took that

fucking gun and he blew his brains out. He left me because of you! How do you plan on fixing

this?”

I cringed at the harshness of his tone. “I wish to God there was a way. I never thought it’d

lead to this, I swear to you. I just didn’t stop to think about it.”

“Oh? Is that so? You didn’t think that the shit you did to him would affect him? Do you

even know the hell you put him through? Put us through? I’ll tell you, with friends like you, who

the fuck needs enemies?”



I backed up against the tree and slid down. I was numb. He was right. I knew he was and

sadly, a part of me did know what I was doing when I’d done it. But, then, why did I keep doing

it? Over and over, day after day, I picked on these guys and never really stopped to think why I

was doing it. Other than I thought it’d make me look better in the eyes of my friends. Some

friends they turned out to be. Say one thing to dispute their comments, they’d turn like hungry

lions and tear the opposing one apart. I was the one who set the rules and I sat back, once I had

them all trained up, and watched them pick on the kids they believed were less than themselves.

I walked away from them the day I found out that Casper was dead. I had no plans to go

back.

Casper killed himself the night we graduated from high school. He was home by himself,waiting for his brother to get off work and for Samuel to come over. They were supposed to go

celebrate at a restaurant downtown. Larry had saved up for it by working overtime at the garage

where he was a mechanic. He was so proud of his little brother and so damn determined to send

Casper off to college so he wouldn’t have to struggle the way Larry did.

From what I heard, Casper was excited about leaving for San Diego in the fall. Ever since

their parents had left them, Larry swore up and down Casper would come out on top of the life

they’d been given. What Larry didn’t know was that his younger brother was absolutely

miserable and had been for several years. And it was because of me and my so-called friends.

Jesus! Why did we do what we’d done that night? Why didn’t we leave well enough

alone? Why didn’t I fucking do something to stop it, to divert it? Why? Because I was as bad as

the next guy. Why ask why? Answers that come too late won’t change what I did. What we did.

But continuing to ask myself why will ensure that I’ll never forget and that’s the least of the

punishments I deserve.

“Why don’t you just go away? Let him rest in peace,” Samuel said softly. He was quiet

for several seconds, then said, “You know what’s so fucked up? He never hated you, none of

you.” Samuel looked up at me, his tear stained face nearly broke me. “He made excuses for how

you all treated him. He took what you all did to him and he kept it inside and he never once said

a bad thing about any of you. He used to get upset at me for saying shit about you assholes, and

when I threatened to tell Larry, he about blew a gasket. He begged me not to tell, he didn’t want

his brother to know and you want to know why?”



I nodded. I needed those hate filled words, and I needed to hear it all so I could be in that

pain. I deserved it.

“He didn’t want his brother to be embarrassed. He didn’t want his brother to be

disappointed in him. Larry was always so proud of him; he thought Casper was on top of his

world. He was the center of Larry’s world, yet…he was treated like a dog by you and your

worthless friends. I wish to God it was you in that casket! He was a beautiful soul, he had an

amazing heart, he loved the idea of a free, peaceful existence, and you bastards took that from

him. Why? Why?”

I watched his hands on the fresh dirt, his fingers kneading the mound of earth that

covered his lover. That was the worst of it for me at that moment, watching Samuel deal with theloss of the guy he loved, and it was all because of me. I took full responsibility. It was mine to

take. If only I had pulled Tim, Drew, and the others away from Casper in the cafeteria that night,

just maybe he’d be alive. But no, I had to go and let my bulldog mouth run with my arrogance.

My eyes were burning; my throat felt like it was constricting, closing off the oxygen

supply to my lungs. I felt a sharp, binding pain in my chest that tied my stomach in a hard knot. I

panted for air; I tried so hard not to cry, not to lose it in front of Samuel. Men didn’t cry—that’s

what I’d been taught all my life. If a man cries, he’s a patsy, a pansy, a—fag. Yet at that moment,

I realized that Samuel was the man here. He and Casper were real; they were more man than I

could or would ever be.

I thought about what I would do in a situation where I was the boy being bullied, being

picked on because of life circumstances, because of the way Mother Nature made me. Casper

wasn’t a very big guy: he stood around five-foot-seven, well toned body, probably from track.

He had a head full of shaggy, honey colored hair; his eyes were what brought him the most

attention, though. One was blue, the other brown. We teased him, ruthlessly.

That night, though, it was exceptionally bad. Drew sneaked a fifth in before the ceremony

and we all killed that bottle in no time. We were drunk the entire night and, of course, we were

being assholes. We’d earned a few glares from the staff, even a warning or two, but what did we

care? We were done with that place; we were graduating, and we made sure everyone knew it.

Casper always sat as far away from us as he could when we had to gather for assemblies and shit,

and he had good reason. If it were me, I would have done it too.



Larry met Casper in the cafeteria to congratulate him. He said something and Casper

hugged him, and one of the guys noticed that Casper had tears in his eyes and that’s all it took.

Larry left and the boys started in on Casper, teasing him, bullying him. They started saying shit

at first, but then it got physical. We took his cap first, tossing it around, then just his tassel. He

watched us silently for some time, then shook his head and turned to walk away.

He didn’t make it far, though; someone grabbed him and shoved him back to the middle

of the cafeteria, calling him names. Fag Boy is the one that stands out to me now. He was shoved

hard a few times and he fell to his knees in the middle of our circle. He wouldn’t give us the

satisfaction we were seeking, though. He kept his tears, his anger, his embarrassment and pain to

himself; he refused to look up. He just remained there, on all fours, passively staring at the floor.A couple of the guys kicked him a few times in the stomach and back; a couple of the boys

yanked his hair and spit on him, the whole while calling him names. It sickens me to no end,

thinking about it now. Why didn’t it then? Maybe it did and I just didn’t act on it. It was no

different than any other time we messed with his kind. I can blame it on any number of things.

Why bother?

“I can’t tell you what you want to hear, Samuel. I know it was wrong, all of it, and I

know I hurt him. I didn’t want him to kill himself. I never thought…”

Samuel rose to his feet then and glared at me with revulsion in his eyes, on his face. He

strode toward me, determined to have his say and I stood as still as I could. “That’s just it! You

didn’t think,” he said, poking me in the chest.

Two weeks ago, I would have grabbed him and thrown him down, but not then. Right

then, I wished he had a gun to take my pain away. But I didn’t deserve to be let off that easily.

“You let them hurt him. The whole school found out what you all did to him that night.

You sorry motherfuckers! You reduced him to tears; you took away his pride. You stripped him

of who he was. You broke him! How long did you think he’d be able to deal with that? I don’t

know who it was, neither do the cops, but one of you raped him in the storage room. The autopsy

showed signs of forced entry; there were blood and semen traces found. Whoever did that to him

ripped him. They used him as if he didn’t matter, as if he wasn’t even a man with feelings.

Raped! Who does that?

“And did he run to someone to tell? He could have, you know, and had that pig put in jail

for it, but he didn’t. Instead, he went home and locked himself in the bathroom and he shot



himself, all because of you and your sorry fucking friends. Does that make you feel better? Do

you feel like big men now, knowing you’re all responsible for his death? I swear to God, Jordan,

if I find out who did that to him, I will make sure that heartless, soulless bastard pays. I will take

his life from him, as he’s taken my Casper from me!”

I didn’t wipe the wetness from my eyes. I needed the tears to keep me human. Tim raped

Casper to show him who the stronger man was. That’s what he actually told the cops who

arrested him. “I turned him in this morning. I gave a full statement,” I said flatly. I turned my ex-

best friend in; I spilled the beans, so to speak. Tim was arrested. He’ll pay for his crime but the

price won’t be nearly high enough. I looked down and closed my eyes. I was at the station when

they brought Tim in. I heard them question him, and I heard him confess to the crime. He pledguilty, right there on the spot. Did it make it better? Not even a little bit. His cruelty, added to

ours over the years, destroyed someone and there would be no forgiving. There would be no

forgetting.

“It was Tim, wasn’t it?”

I could only nod. My voice had abandoned me.

“Why? Why did he feel he had to do that to him?”

I shook my head. I didn’t have the answer. I just had more questions. Why did we do

what we’d done to begin with? Where did it get us? What did that poor boy ever do to any of us

to deserve what we’d done to him? Why did it take me so fucking long to see what we were

doing to him? Over and over, these questions ran through my head. I hadn’t slept for more than

an hour at a time since Casper’s death. I had the weight of the world riding on my shoulders and

it was excruciating. But it was nothing less than I deserved.

Samuel shoved me away from him, not once but three times, all the while I stepped back,

being careful not to trip over the other graveside markers. I didn’t try to stop him; he needed this,

and so did I.

“I hate you! I have never, ever hated anyone in my life, not until you. And to think, there

was a time I thought you hung the moon. You used to be a good person, you used to have a heart,

you used to care about others; then overnight, nothing mattered to you but your snobby friends

who, if the truth were known, don’t give two shits about each other or you. Fake friends are what

you surrounded yourself with. Fake, like you! Goddamn you! Bring him back to me!”



Samuel charged me and we both flew back, hitting a tree, his body crashing into mine,

his fists hitting me where ever they landed. He didn’t care as long as they made solid contact

with a part of my body. He shouted at me, some words slurred, others clear. I let him do it. Then

he caught me across my nose, and I felt it break and the blood spurted, hot and metallic on my

tongue. He didn’t stop, he didn’t notice, so blind he was with rage. As he began to tire, I grabbed

him and held his arms tightly to his side, his back to my stomach. I held him and we cried

together.

I can’t tell you how long we stayed that way, sobbing. All I can say is that we ended up

sliding down the trunk of that tree, the blood from my nose all over Samuel’s shirt and mine. We

were exhausted, sweaty, and emotionally spent. By the time my mind checked back into reality,the sun was beginning to set and the humidity was finally bearable. I can remember holding

Samuel’s shaking body, trying to give him what little strength I had left.

“Did you know that Larry raised him?”

I knew their parents hadn’t been a part of their lives for a while now. But what did I care?

Larry and Casper’s family issues didn’t matter to me. I only cared about myself and my fun.

I rested my chin on his sweaty hair and shook my head. My nose stopped bleeding, only

after I reset it; it was something I was good at since I had broken it at least seven times over a

period of four years. I figured by the time I was twenty, I’d have to have it redone or something.

I actually knew very little about Casper, as sad as that is to say. We just didn’t travel the

same path. What I did know of him came from listening to other guys talking. Did I believe it

all? I just never stopped to think about it one way or another. What an idiot I was.

“Casper’s parents abandoned them when Larry was just sixteen and Casper, twelve. How

the state never found out, I don’t know, but they never did. Larry worked nights after school and

on the weekends to raise Casper. That’s why they lived in that trailer, because it was the only

place Larry could afford and he refused to let Casper get a part time job to help with the bills. He

only wanted Casper to ace school. And he did. Right up to the end, he did. They had a hard life,

they struggled day to day, they went without nice things, but you know what, they had each

other. And yet, there you were with your friends, making life unbearable for Casper.

“You’ve seen how big Larry is, you know he’s a black belt, yet Casper never said a word

to him about you and your friends.” Samuel shrugged away from me then and moved a good five

feet farther before he rose to his feet. “Casper kept all that inside and played like everything was



okay in his world. He did that for his brother so he wouldn’t worry. They loved each other; they

were all they had. Now Larry has no one. He knows now; I told him all of it and he’s angry; he’s

livid, actually, and you know something? I hope he finds you and the rest of them and I hope he

gives you a taste of what you gave to Casper. You all stole a part of Larry the night Casper took

his life. But you’d all taken Casper away long before he pulled the trigger on that gun. And it all

started because he was different and poor. It’s sad that you’ll never get to know what a great guy

he was, how witty and smart he was, how supportive and caring and loving he was. I’m lucky,”

he said with a small, sad smile. “I’m lucky because for four years he was mine and I got to

experience all those wonderful things about him.” Samuel turned away and slowly began

walking toward the parking lot; then he stopped, turned, and said, “Casper always stood by me,and I did all I could for him, but it wasn’t enough and I have you to thank for that.” He turned

and walked down the slight hill and I watched him until he disappeared.

I walked back to Casper’s resting place and sat down, leaning against the tree he was

buried beneath. “Casper, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I looked away from the rise of earth that sheltered him now and up toward the sky.

Through my tears, I caught sight of a pair of mismatched eyes, a freckled nose, and messy,

honey colored hair. The face that looked back at me was smiling. He studied me for a few

seconds before giving me the thumbs up. He turned and walked away, and like Samuel, he

disappeared in the vast expanse of the earth’s darkening horizon.



Epilogue: Two Years Later.

I live in San Diego now. Two years have passed since Casper’s death. There hasn’t been

a day that’s gone by that I haven’t thought of him. There are some days I think I see him and I

want to yell out to him, but I stop myself at the last minute. I know he’s gone from here. I know

he’s having a blast in the heavens above.

I moved to California two weeks after they buried Casper. I’ve lost touch with everyone I

went to school with, and I don’t miss a single one of them, except for Samuel, perhaps. Isn’t that

life, though? We all grow up and we change. Our needs change, our thoughts, our ideas.Everything that was important in school matters not one single bit now.

Our goals change too. Once upon a time, I wanted to be a lawyer. I laugh now and I

sometimes feel guilty for doing that, but I know in my heart Casper likes when I laugh. No, I’m

not crazy; I haven’t lost my mind, but I do believe Casper visits on occasion. He pushes me to

get my ass in gear, to do something worthwhile, and it’s because of him I opened the only GLBT

crisis center in a small town right outside San Diego. I named it after Casper. That’s the name:

Casper.

Larry found me a couple nights after Casper’s burial, and I was prepared to have my ass

beat. Instead, he did something I would have never expected. He hugged me and he said that I

was the one who had to face my demons. I’d have to do that on my own, and only when that time

came would I be ready to forgive myself enough to move on and be a better person. Larry and I

are close now; we actually opened the clinic together. He teaches the kids martial arts and

counsels them, and I do everything else. I need to stay busy. I like it that way.

Samuel came to the opening ceremony for the center but stayed only long enough to cut

the ribbon and open the doors. It was too painful for him to be here. He’s been badly hurt and I

pray every day that he’ll be able to come to terms with it and begin to live again. That’s what

Casper would want.

I still cry for him and I still have a hard time coming to terms with my part in his death,

but all I can do is keep living and try to spread his word, try to help other guys and girls who are

in trouble, the way he was. No More Bullying is our motto and we hope that one day it will

become an action of the past.



“Are you really going to stand out there all day and stare at the sea, or are you going to

get in here to help me with this party?”

I smiled. Larry’s adopted little brother was turning ten and we were having a hell of a

party for the little guy. He wasn’t legally adopted, not yet, but it was in the works. His name is

Shadow, and no, I have no idea where the name came from, but that’s the one listed on his birth

certificate.

I turned and smiled, wiping the tears from my eyes and scrubbing my face dry. “Only if I

get the first piece of cake.”

“Oh, you’ll get the first piece alright. Just come on. We have fifty kids in here chanting,

‘cake!’”I started to follow him, then turned back and looked out over the vast sea, where heaven

meets the earth, and there he was: that same boyish smile, the freckles, the messy hair, and those

lovely eyes. He nodded at me and I swear I heard him say, “I will stand by you.”

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You Never Cared