I'm with Stupid by Geoff Herbach

so? They stuck a mic pack in my pants and clipped a mic to my shirt. Jerri and I got very sweaty while people told us how to sit, stand, where to look, and the gym filled up, up, up…
    Not good enough.
    Okay, imagine this:
    I am thinking about my dad hanging. I sit behind a table on the floor of the gym. I am surrounded by TV lights and a TV crew and there’s a camera pointed at me. The stands are filled with people not just from the school but from all over the state of Wisconsin. I’m serious. Maybe from the whole damn world. Who are all these people?
    I’m shaking in my boxer shorts. I think of my dad in a body bag.
    Coach Johnson sits next to me. He keeps patting me on the shoulder. “Good stuff, my boy. You earned this,” he says.
    Jerri stands behind me. She’s a little twitchy. “Wow,” she keeps saying.
    Boom…Boom…Boom. (That’s my heart pounding.)
    â€œLooking cool, my man. Use this towel to wipe your forehead, all right?” An ESPN guy hands me a towel.
    â€œUhh…” I say, taking the towel.
    â€œYou’re fine, man. You’re fine.”
    â€œUhh…”
    9:14 a.m. The crowd gets louder. They’re really packed in.
    I find Gus. He sits next to punk girl Maddie. Her bleached hair explodes off the top of her head like a big white chicken. Her black eyeliner makes her eyes look like bat caves. She gives me the finger, laughs.
    Jerri sees. Jerri says, “Nice manners.”
    I wonder if my dad made an official announcement when he decided to go to Northwestern, when he was alive, when his body wasn’t dangling from the ceiling of the garage.
    Karpinski, Abby, Cody, Jess, and Reese sit twenty feet away from Gus and Maddie. They’re all clean shaven and dressed in their Bluffton black and gold. They’re all laughing and joking, except Abby, who stares off into space. Her face is hot. She’s blinking. I can tell her face is on fire, even from the gym floor.
    And then a crew of freshmen comes in. At the back of that line, wearing his BULLY ME, PIG BOY T-shirt, is Tommy Bode. He’s back. He’s here. He looks skinnier. He looks confused. My number, 34, is on his back. He squints to the front of the gym and sees me. His mouth hangs open.
    I nod. My heart pounds. His brother, Curtis, is buried in the ground. His brother, Curtis, is decomposing. Don’t think what he looks like in that coffin. Don’t think…
    Tommy nods back. He gives me a slow thumbs-up.
    â€œWho is that?” Jerri asks.
    â€œDead kid’s brother,” I whisper.
    â€œHe’s staring at you weird,” Jerri says.
    â€œI know.”
    Coach Johnson leans over to me. “Are you friends with him?”
    â€œI’m his protector,” I say. “I’m not a great protector.”
    â€œOh?” Coach Johnson squints at me. “You okay, buddy?”
    â€œFine,” I nod. I see Dad’s zombie body in the ground, his neck cracked to the side.
    Pig Boy. Friends? Abby. What am I doing here? Pointless shit.
    The ESPN guy points at me. He nods. It’s 9:15 a.m. and the TV lights come on for real. It’s so damn bright I can’t see the people in the stands. I can’t see anything.
    Coach Johnson says, “Get ready.”
    My heart pounds in my throat.
    The ESPN guy says, “Here we go. Nick’s going to ask you a few questions, then you’ll make your announcement.”
    I nod. My throat is dry leaves scratching. I cough.
    There are baseball hats from the four schools sitting on the table in front of me: the Not to Be Named, Wisconsin, Stanford, and Northwestern. I’m supposed to put the baseball hat on my head from the school I chose when I make my announcement.
    â€œWe’re live,” says the ESPN man.
    The whole gym explodes in shouts and cheers. Kids chorus, Bluff-ton High-School! Clapping and repeating. Bluff-ton High-School!
    A voice comes over the sound system, a voice from