by Bill Myers
Brilliant? Of course.
But it gets better. After kicking her around foster homes in her early years, I’ve got her and her alcoholic grandmother stuck in a closet-sized, roach-filled apartment. And here’s the best part. Despite her tough girl armor, Maggie figures she’s totally worthless, so why not sleep with any guy or girl who takes an interest. Am I a genius, or what? She’s totally cornered, totally isolated, and if I play my cards right, by the end of the year, she’ll be totally dead.
But, sad to say, every cloud has its silver lining. In this case it’s, you guessed it, Eli Shepherd. He had barely stepped into the hall before he spotted the cheering and jeering. Even after my little dream warning that morning, he chose to butt in. Granted, he hung back a moment to see if anyone would jump in to help, but since there were no takers…
“Guys, guys!” He pushed his way through the crowd that was anything but happy over its entertainment ending. Once he arrived, he tried separating them. “Julie, c’mon, what’s the deal?” It was hard pulling her away. What Julie lacked in intelligence, she made up for in strength.
At last he got them separated, Julie breathing hard, Maggie bent over, wiping blood from her nose.
“This skank,” Julie said, “she’s been hooking up with my boyfriend.”
Maggie fired back, “How’d I know? He never said.” And then, in vintage Maggie, she added, “Not my fault you can’t keep him satisfied.”
Julie leaped at her and they crashed to the floor. The crowd cheered.
Unfortunately, Eli just didn’t know when to quit. “C’mon!” He pulled Julie off her. “C’mon, now!”
Julie got to her feet, then, as if her point hadn’t already been made, she gave Maggie a good kick in the ribs. “Whore!”
“That’s right!” Janice, one of Julie’s posse shouted.
“Slut!” Another yelled as Maggie rose to her hands and knees.
Julie came at her again but this time Eli blocked her. “That’s enough!”
“What do you care?” one of the guys shouted.
“She’s new,” Eli said.
“Tramp!” Amber, another posse member, added.
Janice nodded and sneered, “She’s disgusting.”
“Really?” Eli turned to her. “What about you sleeping with Heather’s boyfriend this summer?”
“Eew.” Janice made a face. “I’d never sleep with him.”
To which Heather’s boyfriend replied, “Yeah, it was only once.”
Heather glared.
The crowd, “ooo’d.”
Eli turned to Amber. “And,” he paused, trying to remember her name.
“Amber,” she said, flipping her hair to the side in an obvious flirt.
He continued, “You never once told Derrick about your herpes.”
Amber’s jaw dropped.
“Oooo…” the crowd liked this one even better.
I loved where this was going and hoped to stir things up even more, but the bell rang. Much to my disappointment, the crowd turned and started off. As they did, Jude leaned to Eli and asked, “How’d you know, dude?”
Eli could only shake his head. Sometimes he was as mystified by his powers as anyone.
“You haven’t seen the last of me!” Julie shouted back at Maggie.
“Bring it!” Maggie yelled. She looked up to see Eli reaching down to help her to her feet.
“You all right?” he asked.
She slapped his hand away using that colorful F-bomb you’re all so enamored with.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said.
“I didn’t ask for your help.”
He nodded as she struggled to stand.
“Leave me alone,” she said.
“Right.” He turned and started down the hall.
“I could have handled it, myself, you know!”
He just kept walking.
“You hear me?”
Without turning, he gave a wave of acknowledgment.
To which, Maggie, forgetting her weekly resolution to clean up her language, sent an F-bomb flying.
“Good luck with that,” another voice said.
She turned to see Norm, obviously gay, handing her books to her.
“What?” she asked, “He’s gay, too?”
Norm giggled. “Hardly. Eli’s just got these…ways.”
“Ways?”
He shrugged. “Think Peter Parker without the onesie.” He turned and headed the opposite direction. “Better hurry, girl. Don’t want to be late for class.”
Maggie stared—first at Norm, then she turned to watch Eli as he disappeared into a classroom.
Chapter Four
Another thing I hate about the Enemy…He’s so sneaky.
When I do something, it’s with a big splash so everyone knows and pays attention. But His work is so subtle, people don’t even notice. On the one hand, that’s good for me—getting people to question His existence because they don’t see Him showing off. On the other, it stinks because eventually, he always gets His way.
The best I figure, His style has something to do with free will. A stupid concept, really. After all, He’s the big dude, He ought to make you people do whatever He wants. I would. But, no. Instead, He honors and respects you so much that, unless you ask for help, He’ll pretty much let you do your own thing…no matter how wrong it is. He claims it breaks His heart, but insists there’s a lot greater love in doing it that way than in forcing you to do the right thing like programmed robots.
Whatever. The point is, I like bombs, big explosions—flashy and showy (although the effects may only be temporary). He leans more towards glaciers—slow, barely noticeable (but with results that last).
All that to say…what was supposed to take a day to break Eli, took nearly two weeks. Fine. If I couldn’t instantly destroy him, I’d wear him down: Go to school, work in the shop, do your homework, go to bed. Get up and do it all over again. And again. And again. Wash, rinse, repeat.
But that didn’t stop me from throwing in a little Morgan action just to keep things interesting. Poor, dumb-as-a-stump, Morgan. All she could think about was Eli this and Eli that. Hooking up with Eli. Having children with Eli. Living happily ever after with Eli. He was her last thought at night, her first thought in the morning—especially when standing in front of the mirror wondering what to wear for the day.
School was even worse. Pretending not to notice when they were in the same room. Accidentally sitting near him at pep rallies and assemblies. Hoping he wouldn’t hear her heart pound or her voice get high and quivery when they talked.
To make matters worse, he was anything but helpful. No matter how she flirted, pouted, laughed, pretended to be angry, pretended to ignore him, he never seemed to get the message. Even when it came down to the ever-so-obvious, “I’m having such a hard time with chemistry and you’re so good at it; can we maybe meet up somewhere so you can help me?”
As far as she was concerned, he was maddeningly, infuriatingly…oblivious.
But of course, he wasn’t. It was just new and uncharted territory for him. He knew something had to be done, he just didn’t know what. Eventually, he asked to meet with her after school at the local Starbucks.
Once he spotted her in the crowd—she’d been there twenty minutes early and saved a special seat for them—he sat down and joined her.
“Thanks, for meeting with me,” he said.
“No problem. What’s up? You want some coffee, I can get you some coffee?”
“No, I—”
She started to rise. “You sure, I can—”
“No, I’m good. Thanks.”
She waited breathlessly as he tried to find the words.
“Listen, Morgan, I just—” He held her eyes, having no idea the melt down he was causing. “I just want to make sure I’m not sending you, you know, any wrong signals or anything.”
“Signals?”
“Yeah. You know, like a guy girl thing.”
“A guy girl thing?
”
“Right,” he took a breath and continued. “Like maybe I’ve been giving you the wrong impression.”
“Impression?” She knew she sounded like a parrot, but repeating after him was about all she trusted her voice to do.
“Right,” he said. “Like, you know, like maybe I wanted to hook up with you or something.”
“What?” She croaked. Then managed to sound incredulous. “No!” Then hopeful. “Do you?”
“No, that’s the point. It’s just that you, I mean you always seem to be saying or trying to…” He searched for the words.
“Me?” She scoffed. “You don’t think I’m interested in you?”
“Well, I—”
She felt her face growing hot. “Why would you think that?”
“It’s just…” he paused, trying not to upset her any more.
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Right. It’s just, I mean the things you do—”
“What I do? Like what? What are you talking about?”
He swallowed. “Maybe it’s just me, but the other kids, they—”
“Other kids?”
“Some of them, they think, well they think maybe you have, you know, this thing for me.”
“Me?” She snorted. “For you?”
“And I’ve kind of noticed—”
“What?” She felt her eyes burning with moisture. “Why would you say a thing like that?”
“I’m sorry, I just—”
“You know, I find that pretty offensive.”
“I don’t mean to—”
“Not to mention sexist. Just because I’ve tried to be your friend—”
“Right, I—”
“Most of the girls think you’re all stuck on yourself, mister high and mighty. You’re telling me because I reached out, mostly out of pity, you think, I have a—”
“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to—”
“—a thing for you? Please.”
She kept talking, trying to block the tears. “Me wanting to hook up with you?”
“Well—”
“Unbelievable. Is that all you guys ever think about?”
“Of course not, it’s just—”
“Un-flipping-believable.” She rose to her feet, grateful her legs were steady enough to hold her.
Eli also rose. “Are you alright?”
“I’m sorry, I just find this real upsetting.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“No, no, I’m okay. I just can’t believe—”
“Morgan?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay.” She gathered her things.
“Are you going to be all right?”
“I can’t believe it.” Her voice was trembling. “You and me?” She looked away so he wouldn’t see the tears. “Why would you think such a thing?” But they wouldn’t stop. She turned and pushed her way through the crowd, wiping her face.
“Morgan? Morgan…”
And she was gone.
Ah, the logic of romance. As if the two words had anything in common…logic and romance. Such tangled emotions. So jumbled and confusing that, if possible, it could even baffle the son of God.
Luckily, it didn’t stop there. That night the rumors flew. Phones lit up across town. Morgan had finally landed Eli. They’d done the deed in the restroom at Starbucks. She’d run home, crying. And there were pics to prove it. Of course, no one believed it, but that didn’t stop the posts and reposts. Social media…definitely one of my favorite pastimes.
The following morning Eli couldn’t walk down the hall without heads turning and students snickering. Ah, the glories of gossip. Almost as much fun as murder. Sadly, not as bloody, but in some ways, more destructive. You don’t have to have a gun—just assassinate someone’s reputation with a few keystrokes.
And now that he was finally on the ropes, it was time for me to make my move…
Chapter Five
Advanced algebra, one of the world’s great brain bruisers. Don’t blame me. You people dreamed that one up all by yourselves. Granted, it’s not as painful as calculus, but for the average intelligence, it’s enough to keep you worried. Especially if you’re in Mr. Preston’s class. Especially if it’s your first test of the year.
Meet Will Harper. Mega-rich, chiseled looks, this year’s ASB President—every girl’s dream and every guy’s cross-to-bear. Friendly, too. Think of him as the school’s golden retriever. All smiles, always eager to please, everybody’s pal.
And all mine. Why not? With all he has going for him, there’s no way he thinks he needs the Enemy’s help. A perfect setup.
Of course, there are the home pressures. I’m not just talking about his dad’s new trophy wife. Seriously, what modern family doesn’t have a divorce or two or three. No, I’m talking about a dad who went to Harvard because his dad went to Harvard, because his dad went to— well, you get the picture. It went without saying, Will’s future was all mapped out. Will Harper, born and bred to be a leader of men—Dr. William Harper, or CEO William Harper, or, if I had my way, Senator William Harper.
The only problem was that ol’ Will wasn’t the brightest candle on the cake. And though he got plenty of mileage out of his charm and good looks, they weren’t much help in Mr. Preston’s class. Which explains the cheat sheet he had stuffed in his sock.
The quiz had barely begun before Will, who sat across the aisle from Eli, reached down to scratch his ankle—which didn’t itch until Preston was on the other side of the room. Unfortunately, that ankle was just a little sweatier than Will had figured, which meant the sheet was a little less cooperative, which meant it took a little more “scratching” to get it peeled away.
No problem. Will was a pro. He’d been a player since sixth grade. The problem came when the card, a different brand than he was used to, slipped from his cupped hand and fluttered to the floor between his desk and Eli’s.
Eli saw it.
He also saw Will’s concern.
And they both saw something worse…Mr. Preston strolling in the front of the room, preparing to head toward their aisle.
The boys traded looks.
Eli watched Will’s concern turn to panic. He watched something else, too. His glimpses into the future didn’t come often, but when they came, they came fast, like quick cuts in a superhero action movie. And they always had just enough information for Eli to understand…
First, he saw Will and his real mom (Trophy Wife was at her yoga class). They sat in Principal Rossini’s office listening to the man lay out the cold, hard facts:
“…keeping in mind that those in leadership are held to a higher standard. Consequently, I am afraid that we are faced with no other alternative than to remove you as our Student Body President.”
Will looked down. He tried to take it like a man, but it was obvious he was pretty torn up.
Mom just blinked—hard to read her expression through all those Botox injections.
Rossini continued. “And, of course, that means it will be on your permanent record.”
Beautiful, yes? To be honest, I didn’t see that one coming. But there was more…
Suddenly Eli was in Will’s dad’s library amidst all the law books, inlaid paneling and brass fixtures. His dad was a good-looking man. Basically, a silver-haired version of his kid. He stayed in impeccable shape thanks to the home gym, the personal trainer, and the dietician—a lovely young thing who swung by for “consultations” on nights Trophy Wife went out with the girls.
Will sat in a big leather chair across from his father’s desk, the knot in his stomach tightening by the second. In his dad’s hands was a letter from Principal Rossini.
“Son, do you have any idea the embarrassment you’ve caused me?”
Will thought it best to keep quiet.
“Do you?”
“Yes, sir,” he mumbled.
“No, I don’t think you do. And the college acceptance boards? You know what they’ll do with this?”
More mumbling, “Yes, sir.”
“No, I don’t think you do. I just don’t understand, William. We worked so hard.”
Back inside the classroom, Eli watched as Mr. Preston continued toward their aisle.
Next Eli saw Will standing outside at his mailbox, tearing into a letter…reading it and slowly wilting.
Mr. Preston rounded the corner.
Now Eli was in Will’s bedroom, staring at the open mail on his desk. Their letterheads read: Princeton, Yale, and of course, Harvard. He didn’t have to read the contents to know what they said. All he had to do was turn around and see Will’s dead body swaying back and forth from the rafters.
That was it. No more visions. No need. With one quick move, Eli reached down and scooped up the cheat sheet just in time for Mr. Preston to spot him.
“Excuse me, Mr. Shepherd. What do you have there?”
Eli looked up as the teacher approached…as Will Harper let out a silent sigh of immeasurable relief.
Chapter Six
School was out. Jude, Pete and Eli trudged through the doors with the rest of the Kennedy High herd—Jude and Pete heading home, Eli grabbing a breath of air before going back in to join his fellow detainees…a situation the other two ribbed him mercilessly over.
Jude shook his head. “‘Eli Shepherd: Wannabe Bad Boy.’ What’s next, you going to start a gang?”
“Cool,” Pete said, “can I join?” It was supposed to be a joke, but with Pete you can never quite tell.
“Be careful,” Jude added. “Detention is the first step on that slippery road to hell.”
There were a couple more jabs before the guys headed off to Jude’s car. No one had noticed Maggie walking behind them listening. Truth is, neither did I—one of the many disadvantages of not being like my Enemy who is everywhere at the same the time. Like I said, He just doesn’t play fair.