CHAPTER 1
High school is hard. Everyone knows this is true. The ones who don’t believe it are the good-looking kids or the ones from well-to-do families. But even they have problems and secrets like everyone else. My name is Roger. I’m a senior. I guess if I had to describe myself it would be the following – black guy, five foot nine and one half inches and one hundred and forty-five pounds soaking wet. I’m average – average looking and average in sports. I love sports and have played on the basketball team since I was a freshman; that is to say I sat the bench for pretty much four years. My true passion is writing. I’m the assistant editor on the school newspaper and yearbook staff of Eastwood High School. The lead editor is a friend of mine – her name is Susan Stafford. We work well together and have been friends for three years. In case you’re wondering we’ve never dated. She would probably describe herself as average too. Susan is white, or Caucasian since I have to be politically correct. She’s about five feet five inches and has an average build – not athletic. She shares my writing passion. Writing isn’t something other kids worship like sports or music. If you are a sports star, you’re treated like a God. If you play in a band, act, or write you’re a geek or nerd. I have never sought the spotlight – that’s just not me. I love to write about things, and if I get credit for it that’s icing on the cake. I live in the town of Innocence, Indiana. Yes, that’s the name of the town – so lame. In school, I get to write about stuff like pukey cafeteria food – most of the seniors go off campus to eat though. That’s a right earned after three years of being tortured by the barf cuisine served daily in the gageteria – as it is affectionately called. Our high school has about nine hundred students give-or-take. Most are just faces. We, seniors, will graduate – most of us will go on to college. Some won’t. Who knows what life has in store? I want to be a journalist, of course. I have my sights set on going to a school with a good journalism curriculum. Maybe, I can get a partial scholarship and avoid paying a ton of student loans.
Everything was on track. It was January and prom would be coming soon. I didn’t think much of prom. Didn’t matter much to me, I guess. I thought about asking Susan, but I knew that would be too weird. Every day is pretty much the same in high school – another day of boring lectures and juvenile jokes. This school is just like every other – halls crowded with students. Jocks, princesses, Goths, stoners, brainiacs, and the rest of the students who seem to blend in and never get too much notice. The journalist in me saw one girl that was totally different from everyone else. She wore sunglasses all the time. I checked with my sources that are some friends I trust, and they said she wore the sunglasses because she has an eye condition. Her eyes are very sensitive to all types of light. So, she can’t be a vampire because she does come out in the sunlight. Vampires are so cliché. She doesn’t hang with the Goths either. There’s definitely something really different about her. She’s tall, slender, and has mixed ethnicity. She kinda has that Jessica Alba thing going for her. She always wears her hair in long twist braids too. She’s a good student but keeps to herself mostly. I’ll admit that she does appeal to me. I’m sure she appeals to every guy though. From what I’ve heard, there was an incident with our sophomore year. She had a date with a guy named James. I didn’t know him. Somehow, James ended up dead. No one really knows how he died, and she was cleared of any wrongdoing. A lot of students believe she somehow had something to do with his death. I don’t know that I believed that because James was a douche bag who tried to nail every girl he dated. Some gave in to him and some didn’t. The ones that didn’t feared him afterwards. Whatever happened, she knows. No one bothers her now and guys pretty much steer clear of her. There she is over at her locker. She is so hot. I like to look at her, not in a creepy way. Like I said, there’s just something about her. Everyone calls her M. She must not like her name, so she goes by the first initial. I don’t even know her first name. Nothing wrong with that, I suppose. I’d love to ask her out. I’m not afraid of her. I am afraid of getting turned down though. Color me chicken. Here comes Mike. I think everyone has a Mike in his or her life. The person that goes out of their way to insult or belittle you every chance he or she gets.
“Hey, Rog! Now that basketball season is almost over, have you made your doctor’s appointment to get the splinters removed from your ass?” Mike and his buddies love to give me a hard time. Look at them, laughing at my expense. Gotta love high school.
“Hey Mike!”
“What?”
“These nuts!” I grab my crotch to emphasize my point. This never gets old. His boys are laughing at him now.
“Oooh, good one. Say I heard you tweaked your ankle. How did you do it? Did you fall out of the bus or did you do it running out of the locker room?” I can always count on Mike to try to verbally bully people that have more going for them than he does.
“I’d love to go back and forth all day, Mike. But, I heard about swim class the other day. Guess no one will be calling you Big Mike any more.” Several students start laughing.
“Fuck you, Rog.”
“It’ll make your mouth sore, Mike.”
In high school, you have to be able to serve and volley or you get run over. For some reason, Mike always tried to get under my skin. It started sophomore year and never stopped. We almost came to blows once. I guess he thought I would back down. I wouldn’t. He always vowed he would kick my ass. Guys like him are a dime a dozen. He’s bigger than me, but he puts on a show for his buddies. I heard his home life is tough, so he tries to take out his frustrations on others. I never want to get into it with him. I refused to be seen as weak though. So, the verbal sparring would continue until we graduated, I suppose. He was right about one thing. I did tweak my ankle in practice. It’s nothing serious, but I can’t play any b-ball right now. Coach gave me a pass on practices unless and until it gets better. Since I don’t play much, it’s no big loss and the season will be over in February any way.
“Hey Rog.”
“Hi Susan, how’s it going?”
“Good. Don’t let that impotent, butt pirate get to you.” I love Susan – always has my back.
“He doesn’t. In fact, what would I do without a person like him to show me my life isn’t so bad? Shall we?” We headed to class. We both took a lot of the same classes this year so we could help each other with homework.
After roughly seven hours of classes with a lunch break squeezed in, it’s time to work on the Yearbook. We do it after regular school hours because we’re seniors and want it that way. Most of the students are gone so less interruptions. Ray always has his boom box with him. He’s on the staff too – he’s a good guy. We keep music going – the type of music we want to listen to in order to keep things lively. It took a while to agree on a station, so we all compromised and narrowed the choices of stations to two – 94.7 and 101.5 FM. The first plays more rock and the second more R&B and rap. We listen to one of the stations half the time and then switch to the other.
Susan always gets things going.
“Our theme this year is ‘Make A Difference.’ We want to impress upon everyone to do something in his or her lives that will make a difference, no matter how small. So, the yearbook will show more pictures of students who are involved in community service rather than the usual party pictures done in preceding years.”
“Yeah, I’ve been collecting info on the students that have been active in the community. Surprisingly, there are more than I thought.” That’s Karen. She is one of the photographers/writers on the staff. She’s excellent at capturing compelling photos and writing up a great caption.
“Thanks, Karen. If you need any help catching the students in action, just let me know. I’m sure Tim would help if you need him to.” Susan knows Tim likes Karen. She wants a happy staff.
“Yeah, I can help, no problem.” Tim responded enthusiastically. Even though Karen had not taken to Tim because he was a junior, we all thought she’d give him a chance.
Susan continued going over the yearbook contents. She usually saved me for last.
“Roger, you and I will write the foreword and an inspirational piece at the end.”
“Sounds good to me. What about any special interest stuff?”
“Like what?” Susan knows I’m always looking for a story but never encourages me to look for anything out of the ordinary.
“I don’t know.” Just as I say that, a voice on the radio starts talking but it’s not a commercial.
“ ‘Renee Davis, six year old child of Ed and Paula Davis has been found in a coma. This marks the fifth child in five months. Doctors have not found the cause of the comas but have ruled out disease or injury. Parents should be vigilant about not leaving any of their young children unattended or with anyone that is not a close personal friend or relative.’ That was the Chief of Police giving a statement at a press conference ten minutes ago. If there are any further developments, we will interrupt programming to pass along the latest information. At this time, we’re going to go back to our regular programming and hope that everyone will use this information to take extra precautions regarding their children.”
“Susan, I’d love to find out what’s going on and do an in-depth story.” I said. That was an understatement. Not only did I want the kids to be okay, but I also wanted to find out what was causing this.
“I’d like to solve this one too, but we have to get going on the yearbook. What’s wrong, Karen?” Susan noticed Karen before everyone else did. She started crying after she heard what happened. Karen had a very sensitive soul and loved children. Any bad news pertaining to kids just tore her up inside. As expected, Tim tried to console her.
“Here, take this.” He handed her a tissue.
“I’ve got to take a break, Susan. I’ll be right back.” She walked out into the hallway.
“Tim, stand by the door and keep an eye on her please.” Susan never takes any detail for granted.
“Will do.”
“Thanks, Tim.”
Karen was okay after about ten minutes, so we all worked on the layout of the yearbook pages. We compiled the school photos and alphabetized them. Everyone had to have something written about his or her accomplishments. For example, mine were school paper, yearbook, varsity basketball, and honor society. Some people had very little next to their names. I was very interested in M’s photo and caption. As it turned out her name was Metis Dussault. That was quite an unusual name but nothing to hate, in my opinion. Her accomplishments included honor society and volunteer work at a home for battered women run by her mother. That was quite impressive. My curiosity about her was really getting piqued. One way or anther I would find out more about her. That is what a good journalist did. And, I would also do a little digging into the coma outbreak that suddenly hit our town. There was a lot more to the story than the police were telling.
We had been working for an hour and fifteen minutes when Susan decided it was time to quit.
“Okay everyone. Let’s call it a day. We do have regular homework to do. I want to make sure everyone has a ride home. If any of you has to wait for someone to pick you up, I’ll wait with you.”
“I’ll be waiting too since Roger is giving me a ride home.” Susan gave me a sarcastic smile.
“I don’t want to take any chances. We should all look out for each other. This world has a lot of crazy people in it.” Susan stated with her usual grace.
“Amen.” I confirmed.
Susan and I waited until everyone had gone home. I had my stepdad’s car and drove Susan home. On the way, we saw M walking home by herself. I pulled up next to the sidewalk where she was walking and told Susan to roll down her window.
“Excuse me. You’re M, right?”
“Yes.” She barely looked in our direction.
“Would you like a ride the rest of the way home? We don’t mind.” I looked at Susan and used my eyes to get her to chime in.
“Yeah, we don’t mind.” She said with mild enthusiasm.
“That’s okay, thanks. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” She kept walking like we had never stopped. I conceded and drove past her.
“Nice try, Romeo.”
“What?”
“What? It’s obvious you like her.”
“I was just being a gentleman. You know, trying to show a little chivalry.”
“Chivalry? You were drooling. You’re probably going to go home and masturbate.”
“Masturbate? You’ve been watching too many mindless teen comedy movies. I was being nice. My interest in her is purely as a journalist. There’s a good story there – the thing that happened with James. I want to find out the truth.”
I was pulling into Susan’s driveway.
“Yeah, okay, I might believe you. Just be careful what you wish for. See you at school tomorrow.”
She was holding back the sarcasm as she opened the door and got out smiling.
“See you – tell your parents I said hi.”
“Always do, for some strange reason they like you.”
“I’m a likeable guy.”
“You are…when your head isn’t swollen. Bye.”
“Bye, Susan.”
I drove home and thought about M. Other than being a student, she never talked to anyone. I doubted she had any real friends either. The tragic date with James must’ve been the reason she isolated herself from everyone. I had to at least try to get to know her. If anything, maybe she needed someone to talk to. Of course, deep down I hoped she would like me but I was a realist about everything. My step-dad taught me that there was nothing wrong with being an optimist. In fact, he preferred it above pessimism. However, he also said to be prepared for disappointment – big disappointments. Sometimes, life would throw you a curve ball and the pitch might just hit you. I took his advice and tried to always hope for the best but inside I couldn’t help expecting the worse.
I arrived home about 5:30 p.m., and my step-dad was in the kitchen. My real dad died of cancer when I was about seven. My mom remarried when I was twelve. His name was Frank. The first time I met him, he told me to call him Frank. Then, my mother died of cancer when I was thirteen, and he took care of me after that. It was probably easy for him with me being male and an only child. We lived in a small two-bedroom house with one and a half bathrooms. When I opened the front door, he was in the kitchen trying to cook.
“Hey, Rog. How was your day?”
“Hey, Frank - same as always. Classes and then yearbook.”
“Ankle still bothering you?”
“Yeah, a little. I wanted to help Susan and the others get the yearbook in good shape.” Just as I said that, I knew what was coming next. Frank was cool, but he was always trying to find out about my love life. There was nothing to tell. Frank was six feet tall with short, graying hair. He was average build, but you could tell he was a decent athlete back in the day.
“You and Susan still friends?” I got this question about once a month.
“Yes. We’re still friends.”
“And you’re not interested in dating her?” Got this question once a month too.
“You know how weird that would be? I don’t want to talk about dating any way. Susan and I are cool. We get along and have things in common, but I don’t get that girlfriend vibe from her. I know she feels the same.”
“Son, you assume she feels the same.” Every now and then, he’d refer to me as son. That usually happened when he was doling out his expert advice. He probably did see me as his son, I suppose.
“Please – you’re not going to tell me about one of your old school romances with some girl you were friends with in nineteen fifty-nine are you?” I always knew how to get him off track.
“Nineteen fifty-nine? I was in high school in the late seventies and early eighties, thank you very much. You have no idea how much easier things are now.” And here we go, now comes the lecture on walking every where because he didn’t have a car and getting his first job at fourteen because he had to help out his family blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
He went on for the next five minutes. I couldn’t take it any more.
“Hey Frank?”
“…and I had to take care of…oh, what?”
“There is a girl at school that I am interested in. She doesn’t talk to anyone and doesn’t have friends.”
“Is she good-looking?” One thing with men – we all think the same way no matter what age.
“Yeah, but that’s just a bonus. She’s mysterious and seems to be very shy. She went on a date with a guy last year, and he died. Now, everyone pretty much leaves her alone.”
“Oh yeah. I remember that – tragic. From the news report, the kid’s organs hardened. The doctors believe he must have had some unknown disease because they didn’t find any poison in his system.” Frank said as he recalled the incident.
“Well, since then, she’s been like an outcast. She even wears sunglasses all the time. Word is her eyes are very sensitive to light.”
“If you really are interested in her, then talk to her. She may need someone to talk to. If you don’t, some other boy will.” What do you know? Good advice from an older guy.
“You’re right. I’ll give it a shot.”
“Just be nice and stay positive. Don’t get upset if things don’t go well with her. That was a pretty traumatic experience for anyone to live through.”
“Thanks.”
“My pleasure. Now, let’s eat.”
“Eat that? Can I order pizza instead?” I said as I looked at the concoction Frank had put together.
“Very funny. I’ll have you know my quiche is the best around.”
“Frank, you know real men don’t eat quiche.”
“Yes they do. Here try it.”
He handed me a fork and I tried a little bit.
“Hey,
that’s not bad.”
“It’s good, admit it.”
“Okay, it’s pretty good.”
After I ate, I did my homework in the kitchen and then watched some TV later. I wanted to hear more about the kids who were comatose. Frank went to bed early. He was a computer software salesman, so he had to travel a lot – both locally and out of state. He was heading to Muncie in the morning. One thing Frank and I did have in common was an interest in the supernatural. I never thought someone in his forties would be into it, but he was. He even liked a lot of the same shows I liked over the years – ‘X-Files’ was one of our favorites until the show ended. Frank even turned me on to a show that he watched when he was a kid. It sounded really goofy. It was called ‘Kolchak: The Night Stalker.’ It was about some middle-aged hack reporter who would stumble upon some supernatural killer. No one would believe him when he wrote his stories, and he was patronized constantly. But, he would always end up stopping the supernatural killer – usually by dumb luck. Frank said the show was a classic and was the reason there was an ‘X-Files’ or ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer.’
I watched some TV after finishing my homework. There were no new developments on the young kids. So, my attention turned to M. I wondered how I would approach her. I wanted to be smooth and sophisticated. I pictured myself as James Bond. I’d walk up to her in my tuxedo and tell her how lovely she looked. Then, I’d ask her to tell me her name. She’d smile and respond and ask for mine. I thought of how she would take off her sunglasses and look into my eyes. She’d see the real me – the person that has a good heart and wants to do the right thing. You can tell a lot about a person when you look right into their eyes. Of course, I’d have to get her to take her sunglasses off. On second thought, I’d better just concentrate on trying to meet her and finding out what I could. As I started to get drowsy, the pessimism started to infiltrate my brain. I might end up looking like a fool. No, I wouldn’t. I was going to be myself and she would be okay with me. It’s always good to fantasize about how things should go. Unfortunately, life is not fantasy, and I was about to get a double dose of reality.
Several days passed, and I still hadn’t talked to M. There were opportunities in the cafeteria that I started to walk over to her, but I couldn’t do it. Fear paralyzed me. I was a wusss. It was the end of the school week, and I was walking through the hall. I saw M at her locker. Then, Curtis walked up to her. Curtis was the fifth year senior – maybe sixth. He hated school and defied authority every chance he got. As usual, he was a bit bigger than most of the guys in the school – try six feet four inches and well over two hundred pounds. It wasn’t all muscle, but he was strong. He had a beard that made him look a lot older too. Curtis had taken a liking to M, big surprise. Girls and getting into trouble seemed to be his only interest. Most of the girls turned him down because they thought he was a loser – wonder why. Some would go out with him to piss off their parents, mainly their fathers. Regardless, he never dated anyone for more than about three weeks. Rumor was that he tried to fool around with married women because he did look a lot older than he really was. I would hope older women had more sense, but I had a feeling they were as vulnerable as the rest of us. I started walking to my next class and had to walk right by M and Curtis.
“Hey baby, what’s going on? Why don’t you give me your number, so I can call you sometime?” I heard Curtis and wanted to throw up.
“Please don’t say yes to that butt stain.” I thought.
“I’m not your baby, and I’m headed to class.” She shoots, she scores. I was smiling inside. Just then, my bubble burst.
“What are you looking at?” Curtis saw me look at him and M as I walked by – the rejection set him off and he wanted to take it out on me.
“Nobody. I was walking to my next class.” I tried not to show fear.
“I saw you laughing.” Now, he was lying. I knew I had to think fast or I was going to end up having to defend myself from someone who outweighed me by about eighty pounds.
“I wasn’t laughing. I was thinking about the weekend.” That was the best I could come up with? I’m dead.
“Leave him alone. He didn’t do anything to you.” Unbelievable, M was taking up for me. All of a sudden students nearby started to gather. One of the teachers, Mr. McGeath came out from his classroom into the hallway.
“What’s going on?”
Everyone scattered, and Curtis, M, and I were left standing there.
“Roger and I were headed to class.” M and I walked away. Curtis stood there steaming. I could almost see smoke coming from his ears. This was not a good sign.
“Curtis, get to class please.” Mr. McGeath said in a firm voice. Curtis obeyed, but he watched M and me walk down the hallway together. This was not the meeting I had envisioned with M.
“I appreciate you speaking up for me, but you didn’t have to. I’m Roger, by the way.”
“I know who you are, and you know who I am.”
“Yeah, you’re M. You don’t like Metis?”
“I spoke up for you because I hate bullies, and he’s twice your size. It doesn’t make us friends.”
“Other than getting pummeled, I’m not afraid of Curtis. And what’s wrong with being friends?”
“I’m sure you’re a nice guy. Leave it alone and stay away from Curtis.”
“Thanks. I hope he stays away from me. Look, I’m sure you have reasons for not wanting to be friends…”
“This is my class. Bye.” She walked in without even looking at me. Ouch. So, I managed to get caught in the school bully’s cross hairs and failed to make a good first impression with M. That about covers it. I couldn’t wait for the weekend to start.
CHAPTER 2
Ah, Saturday morning in the Midwest. The birds aren’t singing, and the sun isn’t shining. It’s such a beautiful day. I tossed and turned all night thinking about M. Curtis was on my mind too, unfortunately. How is it that I managed to get on his shit list? Oh well. At least, I had talked to M. She even knew who I was. That’s better than nothing. It was late in the morning, and I could hear Frank talking to someone downstairs. I was hungry, so I decided to head downstairs and grab some. When I got downstairs, Frank was in the kitchen with Cal. Cal and Frank were pretty good friends. Cal was a professor at a small private college near Innocence. He taught World History. He loved mythology – he was Greek too, so that kind of made sense.
“Morning Frank, Cal.”
“Morning, Rog.”
“Hey Roger. How’s the next Ed Bradley doing?” Cal knew I was into journalism. He loved the idea.
“Ed Bradley? Didn’t he just die last year?” I said as I grabbed the cereal from the cupboard and the milk from the refrigerator.
“Well, yeah, but he was a great broadcast journalist. Sixty Minutes isn’t the same without him, in my opinion.” Good old Cal – he and Frank got along well because they were both very professional and had integrity. I thought Cal was cool.
“I’m just messing with you, Cal. Ed Bradley was the man. I did admire him. Now, if you’ll excuse me there are cartoons to be watched before I get dressed.”
“Cartoons? You’re almost in college. Haven’t you outgrown cartoons?” Now Cal was giving me a hard time - tit for tat.
“Yeah, well I’m not talking about the cartoons you used to watch; Snagglepuss and Huckleberry Hound and what was that one that wasn’t a cartoon with the four mutant freak dogs?”
“Banana Splits, smart ass.” Cal was laughing.
“Yeah, Banana Splits. Those were the ugliest dogs in the history of the world. I bet that’s how Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were created. They probably started out as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Dogs until someone pointed out that had already been done in the seventies with Banana Splits minus the ninja part.”
“Will you get out of here so Cal and I can talk?”
“Yeah, I’m going to watch Spiderman and X-Men. Those are real cartoons.”
I loved sparring with the older generation. They loved it too. Everything has an order and a time. Their time was passing, but they held onto it. I knew the same would happen to me. But it was good to be young.
Cal and Frank had decided to go to Indianapolis and talk. That was code for trying to pick up women. Cal was a bachelor, and he and Frank would sometimes head out in search of lonely women. Pathetic – I know, but I couldn’t blame them. Frank left his car for me since they took Cal’s. I decided to call Ray and see if he wanted to do something later on. Afternoon came and went and the plans were in motion. The old guys would head to Indy, and Ray and I were going to the local mall. Ray was a good person. We had some things in common, but we didn’t agree on everything. He hated sports and didn’t share my enthusiasm for writing and finding stories where there might not be any. He worked on the yearbook mainly because it would look good when he applied to college. To tell the truth, he was a great addition. Susan was glad he joined. He loved music – mainly neo soul and R&B. I liked those genres too, but I also liked a lot of other ones. We decided we’d eat out and headed to the Greentree Mall. It was about a fifteen-minute drive. On the way there, we listened to music and talked.
“So what’s up with you and Susan?”
“Don’t start. How many times do I have to tell everybody? We’re friends. She’s cool with it and so am I.”
“Come on, you can’t be friends with a female.”
“Yes. You can.” Ray was all talk. He would bust my ass about women and he didn’t have a girlfriend either.
“Rog, Rog, Rog – you know you like her. You want to get with her, so just ask her on a date.”
“Do you watch TV?”
“Yeah, everybody does.”
“Then, Ray, you’d realize that every time two friends hook up it ruins everything. It happens on every show – cop shows, lawyer shows, medical dramas.”
“That may be true, but some things are worth it. You two just seem right. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Well, we’ll stay friends. Anyway, I like M.”
“Who doesn’t? But do you like living?”
“Nobody knows what happened between her and James. I don’t wish him dead, but don’t you think it may be possible he brought it on himself – I’m just putting it out there.”
“That may be, but M is certified weird. She’s hot, but she’s weird. She never takes off those sunglasses and doesn’t socialize with her peers. I’m telling you – she’s like that monster chick Charlize Theron played. Notice, she hasn’t gone out with anyone since then.”
“Well,
I don’t believe she’s a succubus.” I really didn’t believe
there was anything wrong with M.
“What’s a suck your butt?”
Ray was always trying to be funny.
“You know that’s not what I said. I said succubus. That’s a woman demon that lures men into sex and, according to all the television shows I’ve seen, kills them. Though I think the killing part has been embellished over time. I could be wrong. There was an episode about it on ‘Supernatural’.”
“You love all that weird stuff don’t you? I remember when you used to watch ‘X-Files.’ You kept trying to get me to watch it. I finally did. That was the sickest show I have ever seen in my life. That in-bred, murderous, hillbilly family – a mother and her three or four sons: they kept the family line going by doing it with their mother. I almost threw up. I’m getting nauseous thinking about it.” That’s what I liked about Ray. He was funny even when he wasn’t trying to be. I was laughing.
“Are you okay? You better not blow chunks in Frank’s ride.”
“I’m good. Back to M – She is fine, but you better be careful. You don’t know a thing about her. I’d say a guy turning up dead on a date is cause for concern. But I do like the way she fits into her clothes, and those braids are so sexy.”
“Then, why don’t you talk to her? Maybe, she’s a nice person. Maybe, what happened with James…maybe, it was his time. We all have to go – you can be young or old?” I kept trying to rationalize, but I knew that teenage boys didn’t die on dates from unexplainable circumstances. This was something right out of the twilight zone.
“You like her. I got your back. I wouldn’t try to go after someone I know you’re interested in.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate that. It’s really big of you. You’re scared to talk to her, aren’t you?” I knew Ray. If he had been interested in M, he would’ve approached her and not thought about me for one second.
“I ain’t scared. I just don’t want my balls and penis getting petrified by her.”
“It wasn’t his balls and penis. It was his internal organs.”
“Yeah,
well, they’re all organs. How do you know the external ones
weren’t affected?”
“I don’t, and I’m not in a hurry to
find out either.” I said as we both laughed.
We spent the rest of the time talking until we got to the mall. We walked around and then got something to eat at the food court. I got some bourbon chicken and Ray got shrimp stir-fry. We found a place to sit with no problem. The mall wasn’t too crowded. Winter in the Midwest keeps the crowds down, especially when the cold weather really kicks in from January to March. Most people were probably tired of shopping too. However, women never seemed to tire of it, and that’s mainly who was there. That’s mainly why I suggested we go. We were eating, conversing, and trying to check out women.
“Hey, I just had a good idea.” Ray was always full of ideas.
“Does it involve me?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Not interested.”
“You haven’t heard it yet. Check this out. Why don’t you do a story on M for the school paper or maybe for the yearbook?”
“That’s a bad idea.”
“No, it’s not. You do a story on her volunteer work at the home her mother founded for battered women.” Ray was smiling; obviously, he was proud of himself for coming up with this idea.
“I hate to bust your bubble, but I already thought of doing that.”
“Uh-huh,
sure you did.”
“What’s my dream?”
“To
become a journalist.”
“And you don’t think I didn’t think
of doing a story on M and her volunteer work knowing we’re going to
emphasize that in the yearbook? Susan suggested it in one of our
meetings too. Sometimes, you just have to put people in their
place.
“Suck my butt.” Ray said, trying to be funny.
“Before
we leave, I want to stop by the bookstore.”
“Knock yourself
out. I want to check out the music store.”
“Really?” I love sarcasm.
“You have your thing, and I have mine.”
“Let’s
go. I don’t want to be too late.”
“Rog, it’s the weekend.
Please relax.”
“I plan to when I get home.” We got up and dumped our trash in the trash receptacles and put our trays on the designated shelves. We decided that if Ray got done in the music store he’d come to the bookstore or vice-versa. We went our separate ways. The bookstore was next to a toy store of all things. I wonder if the people who planned malls did that on purpose. Parents who like books will try to get their kids to read, so they’ll take them to a bookstore. If the toy store is right next-door, the kids will see it and want to go in. It’s like putting candy at the checkout lines in grocery stores and stores like K-Mart and Target. When I got to the bookstore, I did my usual routine. First, I went to the science fiction section. I looked through all the shelves to see if there’s anything that interested me. I liked the Marvel and DC Comics novels the best. After looking at all the shelves, I didn’t see anything new. Then, I checked the graphic novels. It’s not that I love graphic novels, but I like looking at the artwork and seeing what’s there. I did read ‘Watchmen.’ I loved it. There was talk on the web that the movie was being made and would be out early the following year. I’m sure I’d have to see it. Other than ‘Watchmen,’ I never bought any graphic novels. I liked to stand and thumb through them. The combination of the artwork and the stories was cool. I always pictured myself as the perfect candidate to be a superhero. I was an only child and never really dated. Of course, that could also have been attributed to the fact that I rarely asked any girls out. My looks and personality just weren’t up to snuff, I guess. When I was in junior high, there was this girl named April Whitley. She was smoking hot. She was a cheerleader, and I was on the basketball team. I actually got some playing time back then. I always thought she had a boyfriend or wasn’t interested in me. I was scared to talk to her. She was so beautiful. When it was time to go to high school, she ended up moving and going to a rival high school. In my freshman year, one of her friends that knew one of my old friends told my old friend that she was always interested in me in junior high and tried to get me to talk to her. You know when the Coyote tries to catch the roadrunner, and he screws up and is about to get blown up and his mouth falls off his face? That’s how I felt when I heard April had been interested in me. That was painful. I felt like the biggest fool. I decided that I just didn’t have what it takes to approach women, but I’m trying to get past that now. Getting back to my original thought, I would make a great superhero. I pretty much live a solitary life and I hate being a one hundred and forty-five pound average person. It’s probably good that there aren’t real superheroes though. I imagine that with the powers they possessed, some of them would end up doing some major damage to people. There are real monsters in this world. Just read the papers or watch the news. People are getting shot at work and at school and in malls doing nothing but minding their own business. If I had super powers, it would be hard for me not to mete out my own justice. I glanced at my watch, and it was about time to meet up with Ray.
“Hi. Is there something I can help you with?” It was one of the bookstore employees. She was Asian and very cute. As much as I wanted to say something clever that would get her to like me, I had nothing.
“I’m just browsing, thanks.” I’m just browsing, thanks? Could I be more of a loser?
“Okay, if you need any help, my name is Janice. And in case you didn’t see the bargain books, they’re up front near the magazines.”
“Thanks, Janice.” She walked away smiling.
I was walking out and noticed the bargain books. I started looking them over. Most of them were about war or about travel or cooking. Some were kids books. Then, I noticed one that caught my eye – ‘Greek Mythology.’ I picked it up and read the synopsis on the back. It said it gave the complete origins of all the Greek mythological characters from A to Z. It was only five bucks too. I couldn’t explain it, but I wanted to get the book. I knew Cal was into this stuff too. I never was that big on it, but I had to get it. I grabbed it and walked up to the checkout counter. Janice was standing behind it.
“I see you found something you liked.”
“Yep. Here you go.” I handed her five dollars and thirty cents after she scanned the book.
“Five dollars and thirty cents. Here’s your receipt. I hope you like it – mythology is fascinating. My boyfriend hates it though.” She put the book in a bag with the receipt and handed it to me, still smiling. Her boyfriend hates it. Who cares? Why do girls always have to mention their boyfriends? They’re either insecure or trying to brag about the fact they have a significant other. Whatever. I was out of there and headed to meet Ray. As I walked through the mall, I was checking out all the people. They were mostly older women. Some were alone. Some were with kids, and some were with their husband or boyfriend. I looked up ahead and saw a boy walking by himself. He couldn’t have been more than seven or eight. He was coming toward me. Then, past everyone, I saw Janice again. But that couldn’t have been her. She couldn’t possibly have walked past me without me noticing, or could she? The boy got closer – he seemed like he was looking for someone. I slowed down when he got in front of me, and he came up to me.
“Excuse
me, could you help me find my mother? I don’t know where she is.”
He looked like he was about to cry.
“Sure, no problem.” I
looked to see if Janice was where I saw her last, but she wasn’t
there. In fact, she wasn’t anywhere. That was strange. My eyes
must’ve been playing tricks on me.
“Where were you and your mom before she got lost.”
“She got lost?” The little boy said with the saddest look.
“I was just making a joke. Sorry, I guess I’m not funny.”
“We were near the food court. I was playing with my race car.” He pulled a small car out of his pocket to show me.
“That’s a cool car.”
“I don’t know what happened.”
Just then, a voice came over the PA system.
“Would Mitchell Thompson please report to the information desk. Mitchell Thompson, please report to the information desk.”
“Is your name Mitchell Thompson?”
“Yes.”
“Come on, your mom is waiting for you. Follow me.”
I
lead him to the desk, and his mother was waiting there anxiously.
When she saw her son, she breathed a huge sigh of relief. She was
almost in tears.
“Mitchell, come here.” She hugged him.
“Thank you, thank you so much.” She had turned her attention to
me and was very grateful.
“Mitchell, I told you not to wander off. I just turned for a minute and he was gone.”
“It’s okay. He’s back with you now.”
“Mam, please be sure you don’t let your child out of your sight. It’s a good thing this young man was around to help.” The mall security guy actually complimented me. I thanked him and was trying to get away. Mitchell’s mother tried to give me money, but I refused. I thought about the kids who had gone missing and were found in comas. I didn’t dare bring that up, but that thought hit me like a blind-side safety blitz. No doubt, it was on everyone’s mind. I headed off towards the East end of the mall. I saw Ray. He was walking towards me.
“What
happened to you? I went to the bookstore and you weren’t
there.”
“I was busy being a hero.”
“Wait, let me guess. Did you help some guy pick out an outfit?” Ray loved to give me crap about everything. This was one of those feeble attempts at humor. I never got why men like to insult each other’s manhood so much. I couldn’t talk. As much as I knew it was wrong, I did it too on occasion.
“No, big lips. I helped a young boy find his mother. They got separated.”
“Really? That’s cool. Especially with what’s happened to those kids in the news.”
“So, I think someone owes me an apology.”
“Oh please, I was just messing with you.”
“No, apologize.”
“Hey,
I didn’t mean what I said.”
“No, apologize.” I turned my
back to him and stuck out my rear. “Apologize – put your lips
right here.”
“I’ll put my foot right there.” We both laughed. We decided to get going.
“Hey, what did you buy?” Ray asked as he noticed the bag in my hand.
“It’s a book about Greek Mythology. It was only five bucks.”
“You love everything weird, don’t you?”
“Yes I do. Speaking of weird, the girl who rung me up at the register – I saw her in the bookstore, and then I saw her again right before I ran into the little boy.”
“So what?”
“So,
she was in the store when I left. There’s no way she could’ve
beaten me through the mall.”
“Maybe you didn’t notice her
when she walked past or maybe you saw someone who looked like her.”
Ray said logically.
“Maybe, you’re right and maybe you’re
wrong.”
We headed out into the cold weather towards the car. I couldn’t wait to get in and turn the heat on. Winter in the Midwest was no fun. I hated the cold. It’s like your body constantly feels chilled even when there is no cold air hitting it. Once one part of me got cold, the rest of me would be cold within seconds. On the way home, Ray and I continued to talk.
“That is sad what’s going on with those kids. Do you really think someone is behind this?” I could tell this was bothering Ray. It bothered me too.
“Yeah,
someone or some thing.” I put the emphasis on thing.
“Wait,
don’t tell me you think that whoever is doing this may not be
human.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Look at what happens – first the kids get abducted…” Ray interrupted me.
“How do you know they get abducted? Maybe, they get lost.”
“Lost? They get lost and turn up in a coma? How is that possible? According to the news reports, there’s no head trauma and no signs of physical attack.” I knew that there was more to this than people wanted to believe. It’s easier to say there’s some one behind it and not some-thing. No one believed in real monsters.
“Well, I think that there’s some guy behind it. He abducts them and probably molests them or does something and their minds just shut down.”
“That’s totally possible. I just think there’s more to it.”
Ray grabbed the book I bought and started flipping through the pages.
“Check this out – giants, centaurs, sirens, gorgons, Medusa – this book has it all. Maybe one of these creatures is behind it.”
“Maybe, the kids saw a picture of your face.”
“Ha-ha, damn you’re funny. Stop. My side is aching from the laughter.” Ray grabbed his side to fake like it hurt.
“Stop being a douche. Just put my book back in the bag before you get butt stains all over it.”
“Ooooh, good one. I’m so hurt. Changing subjects, you should do a story on M’s volunteer work to get in good with her.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I hope Susan doesn’t get jealous.”
“Don’t start, you know Susan is just a friend.”
As soon as the words came out of my mouth, Ray started singing.
“You, you got what I need. But you say he’s just a friend, but you say he’s just a friend –
Aw baby you, you got what I need. But you say he’s just a friend…”
“Man, that song is so old. That came out when Frank was in college. Who sang it?”
“Biz Markie. He was a pretty talented guy, but no one took him seriously after he did ‘Just a Friend.’ The first time I heard it, FM 101 was playing old school rap. I cracked up laughing.”
“You have no sense. Changing back to the original subject – I like M, but I don’t know. She is strange, even for my taste. But I guess that’s one of the reasons I’m attracted to her.”
“Yeah,
that and her legs and face and…”
“Shut-up. It’s not even
like that.”
I dropped Ray off at his house and then drove home. Fortunately, no snow had fallen. The roads were dry. When I got home, Frank and Cal were in the living room. The television was on, but they were both asleep. Old guys just can’t hang. One of them was on the couch and the other was in the Lay-Z-Boy. So, I sat on the small section of the couch Frank wasn’t stretched out on. I started surfing the channels. Late night television on the weekends usually sucked. Every now and then there would be a good old movie on. After going through all the channels once, I started again. When I got to the fantasy channel, an old movie was about to come on called “Clash of the Titans.” It was really old – made in 1981 and I didn’t recognize any of the actors in it. But, I wasn’t sleepy so I decided to watch it. Before I settled in, I went and got three blankets from the linen closet next to the bathroom. I put one on Frank and one on Cal. They were sound asleep. I could’ve fired off a few rounds from a shotgun, and they would’ve slept right through it. Then, I jumped on the Lay-Z-Boy, reclined, put the third blanket over me and got comfortable.
The next think I knew, it was morning. Frank and Cal were still on the couch knocked out. It was about 9 a.m., and the sun hadn’t come out because it was too cloudy. I headed to the bathroom to do my morning routine before Frank got up and wanted to do his. I shaved, brushed my teeth, and then showered. I was getting dressed when I heard Frank and Cal’s voices. They finally woke up and had moved to the kitchen. That was the room they liked to talk in the most. I went to my room and put on some clean clothes and headed back to the kitchen.
Cal greeted me first.
“Hey, Rog, good morning.”
“Morning, Cal, Frank – you two were sawing logs when I got home last night.”
“That
must’ve been Cal – I know I don’t snore.”
“Both of you
snore. You sounded like dueling chainsaws.” They both laughed at
that one.
“Did you meet any ladies at the mall?” Frank asked.
“Yes,
I did.”
“Great – what’s her name?”
“I
didn’t get her name. She had a son.”
“A what?” Frank’s
voice raised an octave.
“Relax
– her son got lost and I helped him find her. She’s
married.”
“Very funny. You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Anyway, I got home. You two bums were sleep, so I watched an old movie. I had to turn up the volume so I could hear over the cacophony coming out of your noses.”
“What did you watch?” Cal asked, probably being polite. Why would he care?
“Some old movie called ‘Clash of the Titans.’ It was okay. The special effects sucked though.”
“Clash of the Titans!” Both Frank and Cal said it in unison. Men can be such women sometimes, I thought.
“That’s a classic. I loved the part when Harry Hamlin cut off Medusa’s head.” Cal seemed excited by the thought.
“Harry who?” I asked.
“Never mind. That movie was a testament to Greek Mythology at its best. I love the genre, so that movie really stuck with me for a long time. I haven’t seen it in ages.” You could tell Cal really loved his work.
“Well, it was pretty good. Medusa was pretty scary too. I wouldn’t want to meet up with her in a dark alley.”
“Just hope you never do.” Frank chimed in. “And by the way, that was a really great thing you did helping that boy find his mom. There are too many predators out there, and those kids in comas. What is this world coming to?”
“Thanks. I don’t know. I’m just glad I was in the right place at the right time. It’s almost like a lot of kids just don’t have a chance with the way these sickos work. I hope the sickos all burn in hell.” The thought of anyone hurting a child never, ever sat well with me. As far as I was concerned, there were two types of low-life’s that were not fit to live: those that molested and or killed children and those that raped and or killed women. This always led to my belief that there had to be a God or supreme being. I wasn’t a religious person, but I believed there had to be a God who was good because there was certainly evil in this world. Some of the evil things were so heinous that there had to be an opposite force for good.
“Well, you don’t have to hope or wish bad things on people who do evil. They will get their just due whether in this life or the next.” Frank was very diplomatic. I think he felt the same as I did. He preferred not to say it the way I did.
“Whose up for breakfast?” Frank asked.
“Would you look at the time? I have to get going. Papers to grade and people to see.” Cal loved to tease Frank about everything, including his cooking.
“No problem, more for Rog and me.”
“Scrambled eggs and toast is fine. I’ll help.”
“You two enjoy the rest of the day. I’ll catch you later Frank.” Cal headed out. Frank and I cooked and ate breakfast. After we were done, we chatted.
“Are you done with basketball?”
“Pretty much. My ankle is better, but I’m not into it. We have our first tournament game, but I’ll only be there in spirit.”
“Well, it’s good to be part of a team. You learn a lot of life lessons – perseverance, dedication, discipline, and patience. You learn what it means to be a part of something that’s bigger than you. Never forget that.”
“I know. I’m just ready to move on. There was a time that I loved playing basketball so much. It’s all I would think about. But, I was never that good and then I started to love journalism. I want to be in broadcast news and break stories and inform the public.”
“The only one who can stop you is you.” Adults loved coming up with their clever little sayings to try to motivate you. No motivation needed for me, but I had to give Frank his moment. He knew I’d be on my own soon enough, and he wanted to teach me as much as he could before I was off to college.
“Actually, a hot woman worth a boatload of cash in the bank could stop me. I’d give up my dream in a second for a sweet, sexy sugar-mama.”
“What hot woman worth a boatload of cash is single looking for a high school kid?”
“Demi Moore will be when she and Ashton Kutcher divorce.”
“Very funny. I have to run some errands. Would you please do the dishes?”
“Yes, sir – no problem.” I cleared the table and washed the dishes. I didn’t mind. There was never that many to do anyway. As I was scrubbing the plates, I started thinking about M. We’d be back in school tomorrow, and I had to ask her if she didn’t mind me doing a story on her volunteer work. I was also going to ask her about what happened on her date with James if I could get up the nerve. Good reporters ask the tough questions. I had a feeling it wouldn’t go over very well, but I wanted to hear what she had to say.
CHAPTER 3
The week went by fast. It was Thursday, and I decided it was do or die. M usually ate in the cafeteria with few people around her. Some would sit near her, but no one actually sat close to her. I went through the line and got my food. It was meat barf, mashed potatoes, and green beans day. How could anyone think what they served was really meatloaf? I decided to just get vegetables. Once I got through the line and paid for my food, I spotted M. I walked over trying to fake confidence. I wasn’t doing a good job. When I got close to her, I went for it.
“Mind if I sit here?”
“No, go ahead.”
That was easy. The next step was to try to make small talk.
“I see you don’t like the meatloaf either. I only got vegetables too. By the way, I like your hair.” Always compliment women – Frank taught me that. But you had to be sincere. In this case, I definitely was. Her braids looked good on her.
“Thanks.” She replied and showed no interest. This was going to be tougher than I thought.
“So, I heard that you volunteer with your mother at a home for battered women. That’s great.”
“Thanks again.”
“Listen, I write for the school paper and the yearbook. I’d like to do a story on you and your mother. Would you mind?”
“It’s not that I would mind – I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“The women we help are trying to keep themselves out of the limelight. They don’t want any press because they don’t want certain people finding them.”