Wuftoom

by Mary G. Thompson

  Evan had been there once. There had been a grand opening. In front of the large, double-doored entrance he now looked down on without eyes, the chairman of the school board had given a speech. Evan hadn’t listened. He had stared at the doors in fear like they were a gateway to hell.

  The doors looked shabbier now, but there was nothing demonic about them. They swung open and shut with the stream of kids, who were talking and laughing loudly. The sun was still shining brighter than he had ever seen it. The sky was bluer and the grass was greener. He searched the crowd for anyone he knew, eager to try out the creature’s gift.

  How do I do it? he thought. How do I get in someone?

  Direct your energy, Foul’s voice hissed. Direct it all at one child. He will not be able to stop you.

  Evan searched. The kids ran by so quickly that he couldn’t catch their faces. He didn’t know anyone, and soon the crowd thinned. It was almost eight o’clock. Evan had just decided he would have to pick someone, anyone, when he saw the face of somebody he knew. The kid stumbled out of a car and raced across the sidewalk toward the steps. Evan didn’t have time to think about “directing his energy” before he jumped.

  He felt like his head was being clamped down with a vise. What had been free was now contained. Compressed into a too-small space. The boy felt it too. He stopped on the steps and bent his chin over his chest, slamming his eyes shut. The motion of the head made Evan feel worse, and he could feel the body around him, holding him in. Fear rose up, and Evan wasn’t sure if it was his fear or the boy’s. He felt the boy’s heart racing, blood pumping. Their hands twitched.

  “Cory?” a voice said. It sounded adult. “Cory, are you all right?” Evan felt a hand on his back. On Cory’s back. He wanted to jump, but inside Cory, he went nowhere.

  Cory stood up straight again and opened his eyes. Evan looked through them, right into the dark brown eyes of a young man who was stooped over and staring at him.

  “Yeah, I’m okay, Mr. Houser. I don’t know what happened.” Cory sounded confused.

  “Are you sure?” asked the teacher, still with the concerned look.

  “Yeah, thanks, I’m gonna be late,” said Cory, and he continued running up the steps and through the double doors. The movement caused Evan to toss inside. He couldn’t see straight out of Cory’s eyes but saw from one angle one second and another the next, like he was bouncing against springy walls.

  He tried to steady himself but kept falling from one side to another. He caught glimpses of the hallway as Cory ran, strange pieces. A metal locker here, a square of ceiling there. He struggled and struggled, but he couldn’t stay straight.

  Cory barreled around a corner, pushed his way into a classroom, and sat down with a heavy sigh. His backpack dropped to the floor with a loud crash.

  “Tardy, Mr. Parker,” said a woman’s voice. As Cory sat still, Evan managed to settle down, and then he looked straight out of Cory’s eyes. He saw a tall, stern-looking woman standing behind an overhead projector, glaring at him.

  “Sorry, Miss Andrews,” Cory panted. Evan felt the breath in Cory’s body, moving in and out in shallow pulses.

  The class was pre-algebra. Evan didn’t even know what algebra was, but that didn’t matter. While Cory listened to the teacher and scribbled in his notebook, Evan pressed himself forward, trying to see everything that he could out of Cory’s eyes. As he did so, he felt Cory’s hands moving, his body rustling in the chair, the way he squiggled his toes inside his boots.

  From the farthest point he could reach, Evan looked around the room. He noticed other kids he knew. They looked different, some of them very different. Many he didn’t recognize at all. He took in everything. Their faces, their clothes, the books, the windows that mottled the bright sunlight.

  Cory went to the next class, and the next, and Evan took everything in. He concentrated on what Cory was feeling, how his legs and arms moved as he walked down the hallway, how his eyes blinked.

  As Cory made his way to the cafeteria and stood in line, Evan felt the buzz of all the kids around him. There were so many. He couldn’t make out any voices, and it was far too loud.

  Cory picked up his tray and turned to face the room. The tables seemed to go on for miles. Kids were standing and sitting and yelling. Evan wanted to cover his ears, but Cory just walked out there, winding among the tables. Finally, he sat down in an empty spot, a little way from the nearest kids.

  Evan pushed himself to the front of Cory’s eyes, trying to see where Cory wasn’t looking. After a minute he was able to see those sitting near him. He recognized some of the group. In fifth grade they had been some of the most popular kids. And from the crowd gathered around them and the way they were laughing, it looked like not much had changed.

  Cory pretended they weren’t there and continued eating, but Evan was fascinated. He had never been able to stare at them as much as he wanted.

  His gaze fell on their fingers, curling around their forks as they ate, separated and unwebbed. He wanted those hands. Cory stopped eating for a second. This distracted Evan, snapping him back into Cory’s sight line. Cory turned his head toward the popular kids.

  “What are you looking at?” asked one of them. It was Jordan Bates. Jordan had been on Evan’s basketball team. While Evan sat on the bench, Jordan had played almost every game. He had been taller than Evan and had blond hair and blue eyes. Now he was even taller. He looked down at Cory.

  “Nothing. Sorry,” said Cory. He turned back to his food.

  “Freak,” said Jordan. The other kids laughed.

  Cory tensed up but kept on eating.

  From the edge of Cory’s eyeballs, Evan watched the group. There was Angela Owens, the prettiest girl in his fifth grade class. She had her hand on Jordan’s leg. There was Andy Meyer, Jordan’s best friend. He recognized a couple other boys and another girl, but there were strange faces too.

  Suddenly, Evan remembered what the bug had said, that he could choose.

  How do I do it? he thought. He waited a moment, but Foul didn’t seem to be there. He pushed himself to the far edge of Cory’s eyes. Cory was still looking down at his tray, but Evan had a good view of Jordan, who had forgotten all about Cory and was laughing with his friends.

  Jordan, thought Evan. He leaped through the air, expanded into the space, and then was compressed and trapped by the firm grip of Jordan’s skull. Andy was in front of him, slurping milk from a carton. Angela was next to him, so close it made him want to jump. Cory was rubbing his temples like he had a sudden headache.

  From inside Jordan, Evan could see that Cory was dressed badly. His clothes looked old and didn’t fit well. His hair was a little long and greasy. After he was done rubbing his head, he hurriedly picked up his tray and walked away. His ratty, untied bootlaces flopped on the floor. Evan didn’t remember Cory looking this way before and wondered what had happened to him.

  “What a freak!” said Andy.

  “Yeah, why was he staring at us?” said another boy. His name was James, Evan remembered, but he didn’t remember much about him. He had a long, thin face and dark hair and eyes. Evan couldn’t remember ever speaking to him before.

  “Oh, stop. He didn’t do anything,” said Angela.

  Jordan laughed and mimicked her. “Oooh, stooop!”

  “Shut up!” she cried, punching him.

  Jordan felt different than Cory had. For one thing, he was bigger. As Jordan stood up with his tray, Evan felt himself expanding, filling the excess space. As he looked down on the table, it was farther away.

  Instead of trying to see out, Evan concentrated on being Jordan. He felt his hands on the tray, grasping only lightly. Jordan handled it carelessly, swinging it into the tray tower with one hand. When he turned around, his friends were all behind him, still laughing with each other.

  Evan had never had this many friends around him in his life, but this was obviously normal to Jordan. He put his arm around Angela’s shoulders and led the other kids outside, where
they all sat down on the grass and went on talking.

  “There’s that freak again,” said Andy, picking up a small rock. He threw it at Cory, who was making his way around the track, bootlaces still untied. Cory appeared not to notice the rock, even though it whizzed in front of him.

  “Hey, Cory!” shouted Jordan.

  Cory looked up cautiously. Evan could see on his face that he wanted to ignore it.

  “Come over here.” Jordan waved his arm, beckoning Cory.

  Miserably, Cory walked slowly over. “What’s up, Jordan?” he said, looking down at his shoes.

  “Nothin’, man, just wanted to say hey,” said Jordan. Andy and James and the other boys snickered.

  “Oh. Hey,” said Cory, still looking down. Evan had been on the wrong end of this before. Somehow, Jordan and his friends could make you feel like they had beaten you up just by talking to you.

  “That’s all,” said Jordan.

  Cory turned around and shuffled off, not back to his slow walk around the track, but inside the school.

  Evan felt sorry for Cory, but his new senses overwhelmed his thoughts. The breeze rolled over Jordan’s skin, cool and pleasant. The sun lit up the sky and the sharply colored grass. As Jordan and his friends laughed, Evan smiled inside, sucking the world in. He thought nothing could get better than this.

  “See you at practice,” said Andy, getting up from the grass.

  “Later,” said Jordan, also standing. Evan wanted to jump with excitement, so much that he rolled inside Jordan and nearly spilled out into the air.

  Basketball! Jordan was the best on the team! He sat through Jordan’s classes, shaking in his new skin. He heard nothing the teachers said, saw nothing but himself tossing the ball into the hoop.

  Five

  EVAN JUMPED AND TURNED and tossed and ran like he’d never done any of those things before. Jordan never seemed to get out of breath. Even before his illness, Evan had always gotten tired quickly. He had watched boys like Jordan in amazement.

  “We’re going all the way this year, I can feel it!” said Jordan, and Evan felt the same excitement coursing through him.

  “All the way!” echoed Andy.

  All the way! thought Evan. Imagine winning the state tournament! Evan had never won anything in his life. Evan’s excitement continued through Jordan’s shower, until Jordan reached the parking lot outside the school, where his mother was waiting to pick him up.

  Evan thought he was through the best part of the day and was about to go into the boring part. The part where Jordan went home, had dinner, did his homework, and went to bed. But then Evan saw Jordan’s mother’s car.

  It was a black convertible. Evan didn’t know anything about cars, but he knew this one was fancy. It must have cost more than Evan’s house. And Jordan’s mother was just as amazing as the car. Where Evan’s mother had graying hair and a face filling with lines, Jordan’s mother still looked young. She had short, bleached-blond hair and was wearing a formfitting dress that draped gracefully over her knees.

  If Evan had been himself, his mouth would have dropped open. Jordan tossed his bag into the back of the car and jumped into the passenger seat.

  “How was practice today, honey?” Jordan’s mother asked.

  “Great!” said Jordan.

  “You’ll have to tell your dad about it,” she said, laughing.

  Evan felt the wind in his face as they drove home. It felt exactly the way that wind should feel.

  Jordan lived in the nice part of town. There weren’t many truly rich people in town, but Jordan’s parents were close. Compared to Evan’s run-down house, Jordan’s looked like a mansion. It had three stories and the outside was freshly painted. The yard was perfectly manicured. Jordan’s mother pulled into a huge two-car garage.

  A few minutes later Jordan’s father came home. He was a big man who looked much like Jordan, except his blond hair was streaked with gray.

  “Hey, buddy,” said Jordan’s father, clapping Jordan on the back. “How was practice?”

  “Great!” said Jordan, and he launched into a detailed explanation of who had done what and how well or badly they had done it.

  Evan had never met his own father, at least not when he was old enough to remember. Jordan came home every night to one.

  Even the dinner at Jordan’s house was better than dinner at home. Jordan’s mother had made some kind of white fish, which was covered in a nutty crust. Evan couldn’t remember the last time his mother had made fresh fish, and when Jordan took a bite, Evan savored it.

  Eagerly, he waited for Jordan to take another bite. But Jordan didn’t seem to like the fish. He scarfed down a baked potato covered in sour cream and butter. Evan liked that, but it was nothing compared to the fish. Evan even wished Jordan would touch his broccoli, because it looked so much better than the frozen kind his mother made.

  As Jordan reached for another potato, Evan still wanted another bite of fish. Eat the fish! he thought.

  Suddenly, Jordan abandoned his potato and took a huge bite of the fish. He put almost half the remaining fish in his mouth at once. Bones dug into Jordan’s cheek. It was so much fish that he could barely chew it. Jordan’s mother stared at him.

  “I thought you didn’t even like fish!” his mother exclaimed. She had her napkin settled primly on her lap and sat up very straight.

  “Mmmhgl,” said Jordan. He made a great deal more noise in a frantic effort to pull out all the bones.

  Evan felt Jordan almost choking, but in his excitement, he barely noticed. He had made Jordan eat the fish!

  Just as he realized what he’d done, he wondered how late it was and looked down at Jordan’s watch. It was almost 7:00 p.m.! His mother would be home any minute and find him . . . How would she find him? She might be home already. Evan had no idea what had happened to his body while he was gone.

  Home! Evan thought frantically. Back!

  Then he was being sucked away. It was much faster than how he had gone out, so fast that he barely felt the space. He was sucked back into his body, felt the vise on his head and the weight of being twisted and clamped.

  He opened his eyes to the dimness of his bedroom. Foul was still sitting in front of him, staring with its glowing eyes. Evan watched it dully, letting the weight of being in himself sink in, every pain and every ache.

  “Did you enjoy yourself, proem?” the bug hissed.

  “You knew I would,” said Evan. He was angry at the bug for using him, but he knew he couldn’t give up what it had offered. If he could get out of his body, even for the short time he had left, he had to do it. The wood square lay silently between Evan and Foul, looking every bit as shabby and useless as it had when Evan had first seen it.

  “Then I will see you when you turn,” Foul said. Its fangs opened into a smile, and flapping its wings quickly, it rose up into the light fixture and was gone.

  Evan stared after it for a second, then stood up on the bed to replace the fixture. His stomach burned again. The fixture was heavy and his hands were even tighter from not being used all day. It took him several tries and a long ten minutes to get it screwed on right.

  When he was done, his body curled back on itself as he sank down onto the bed, aching and burning and breathing hard. It felt even worse now that he had played basketball as Jordan Bates. He wanted to cry, but he had to hold it back because his mother was knocking at the door, carrying a tray full of her cooking.

  Yesterday dinner had been the bright spot of his day, but today it seemed bitter and poor.

  Six

  THE NEXT DAY, Evan didn’t wait until school started. As soon as his mother had said goodbye, he pressed his hand to the wooden square and was enveloped by it. He sailed across town in the darkness, floated through the walls of Jordan’s house, and found Jordan upstairs, brushing his teeth.

  With a whoosh and a clamp, he was inside Jordan again.

  Jordan’s hand jerked a little as Evan dropped in. He swore and licked the toothpaste off hi
s lip.

  “Jordan! Are you ready?” called Jordan’s mother from downstairs.

  “Coming!” yelled Jordan, and he bounded down the stairs two at a time, Evan bounding with him.

  The rest of that day, Evan practiced. He knew he could affect what Jordan did; he just needed to figure out how. It turned out to be surprisingly easy. Evan just had to concentrate on Jordan doing a certain thing, and Jordan would do it.

  While Jordan was taking a multiple choice test, Jordan started filling in A. But Evan concentrated on B, and Jordan erased A and filled in B. As soon as Evan stopped concentrating on it, Jordan cursed to himself and went back and filled in A again.

  As Jordan was walking toward a class, Evan concentrated on turning around and heading back down the hallway. Again, once Evan stopped concentrating, Jordan turned around and went back the right way. While Jordan was in class, Evan practiced tapping Jordan’s feet and cracking Jordan’s knuckles.

  During lunch Evan practiced taking food he wanted to eat. Jordan spluttered on milk he hadn’t meant to drink, choked on chicken he hadn’t meant to eat, and spat out pie he didn’t even like.

  “What’s wrong, dude?” asked Andy, laughing at him.

  “Nothing!” cried Jordan, choking on his milk again.

  Evan laughed inwardly. He could do this to everyone in the school, one by one, if he wanted to. And no one could do anything. If he’d had more time, he would have done it. But he was sure the bug was wrong. His body wouldn’t hold out for much longer. He wanted to be normal again, for however long he had.

  “The food sucks is what’s wrong,” said Angela, picking up a grizzled piece of chicken with a fork and eyeing it. “I think the milk is sour.” She picked up the milk and sniffed it.

  “Yeah,” said Evan, with Jordan’s voice, “the milk’s disgusting.” Jordan closed his mouth and looked around him. “What the—” Evan cut Jordan off and clamped his mouth shut. Jordan opened his eyes wide and looked at Angela, shaking his head wildly.