Me and Earl and the Dying Girl

by Jesse Andrews

  Back then, the Jackson household was more in control. Earl’s stepdad was still living there, and his half brothers were toddlers, and Earl’s mom hadn’t begun her third-floor exile yet. I got to see the collapse of Earl’s house firsthand. That’s not really the story I want to tell, so I won’t go into detail, but basically Earl’s stepdad moved out and then got sent to jail, Earl’s mom went through a few boyfriends, she started drinking a lot, and then around the time when the youngest half brothers got to kindergarten, she pretty much gave up on everything and started hanging out in chat rooms 24/7. I saw a lot of this as it was happening, but I was really only able to put the story together after the fact. And even now I don’t have a great sense of it. It was a hard place for me to understand.

  Anyway. As things got worse over the years, we spent less time at his house and eventually starting hanging out at mine. But at my house, it wasn’t clear what there was to do. We tried playing board games, and that sucked. We busted out some G.I. Joes, but playing with them was so much lamer than video games that we felt like we were going insane. We ran around the house with water guns hunting Cat Stevens, but Dad made us stop after we broke some stuff. Finally, we went on a desperate search through the house one Sunday afternoon for anything even remotely close to video games, and that was how Earl found Dad’s DVD collection.

  For some reason I had never really been interested in Dad’s DVDs. The only movies I had ever even thought to watch were animated and G-rated. These other non-animated movies had struck me as something for grown-ups. Basically, I just kind of assumed they were boring. And probably if I tried to watch them on my own they would have bored the hell out of me.

  But Earl found them, and started freaking out and going all bug-eyed and saying, “Yeah, this is the shit,” and something clicked in my head and I saw them completely differently.

  He was especially excited about Aguirre, the Wrath of God. “Look at this crazy dude,” he yelled, pointing at Klaus Kinski, who on the cover is wearing a Viking helmet and looks like a psychopath.

  So—with Dad’s permission—we put the film in and watched it.

  This would turn out to be the single most important thing ever to happen in our lives.

  It was incredible. It was confusing, and terrifying, and incredible. We had to pause it every time there were subtitles, and a bunch of times we had to run out to get Dad to explain something or another, and eventually Dad came in to watch it with us, and it was still incredible.

  Dad being there was actually a big help. He read the subtitles out loud and answered questions we had about the plot, and we had a lot of questions, because everyone in the film is insane.

  Again: It was incredible. It was like nothing either of us had ever experienced. It was funny, and it was grim. There was a lot of death, but it wasn’t like video-game death. It was slower, and bloodier, and less frequent. In GoldenEye, you see someone get shot, and you watch them fall backward and crumple on the ground; here, you would just suddenly find a body. The randomness of it blew us away. Every time someone died we yelled, “Oh snap.” And the suspense was unbelievable. Klaus Kinski doesn’t lose it and kill anyone for the entire first half hour. Then, even when he does, he acts like it was no big deal, and you have no idea when he’s going to do it again. He has this unpredictable, psychopath brain that you can’t read. It got us so fired up.

  We loved all of it. We loved how slow it was. We loved that it took forever. Actually, we never wanted it to end. We loved the jungle, the rafts, the ridiculous armor and helmets. We loved that it sort of felt like a home movie, like it all actually happened and someone on the raft just happened to have a camera. I think most of all we loved that it didn’t have a happy ending for anyone. The whole time, we were sort of expecting that someone would survive, because that’s how stories work: Even if everything is a total disaster, someone lives to tell the tale. But not with Aguirre, the Wrath of God. Hell no. Everyone dies. That’s awesome.

  Also, the movie had the first breasts I had ever seen, although they were not what I had been led to believe that breasts looked like. They were like cow udders, and one of them was bigger than the other. (In retrospect, this may have been responsible for my complete lack of sexual development, which we’ve already talked about. I guess at least I wasn’t going around saying things like, “The best thing about your two boobs is that they are the same size.”)

  Afterward we asked Dad a bunch of questions about it, and somehow we got to talking about the making of the film, and apparently it was a total disaster. People got sick, the entire cast and crew got stranded in the jungle for months, and some of the crew might have died. Dad wasn’t sure. Best of all, the actor Klaus Kinski himself was just as crazy in real life as he was as Aguirre. He actually shot one of the other guys working on the film. It was because he was being too noisy, and Kinski wanted to concentrate. So he shot his crewmate in the hand with a gun. If that doesn’t make you drop this book and go watch the movie right now, I don’t even know what’s wrong with you. Maybe you have a brain fungus.

  Obviously, we had to watch it again. Dad wasn’t up for another round, but we thought it was even better the second time. We imitated the German voices, especially Kinski’s, who talked like he was being strangled. We imitated Kinski’s drunken staggering walk. We lay around the house for hours pretending to be dead, until Gretchen found one of us and had her own mini freak-out and started crying uncontrollably.

  In short, we decided that it was the greatest film ever made. And the next weekend, we invited some classmates over to share it with them.

  They hated it.

  We didn’t even make it past the first twenty minutes. They said it was too slow. They couldn’t read the subtitles, and we weren’t good enough at reading them out loud. The speech at the beginning by Pizarro, they said, was long and boring. The plot of the movie seemed stupid to them: Aguirre and everyone were searching for a city that it said right at the beginning did not exist. They didn’t understand that that was the whole point. They didn’t get that it was awesome because it was so insanely meaningless. Instead, they kept calling it gay.

  It was a disaster, but it was also useful. It made us conscious of what we had really known all along: We were different from the other kids. We had different interests, a different kind of focus. It’s hard to explain. Earl and I actually didn’t have much in common with each other, either, but we were the only ten-year-olds in Pittsburgh who liked Aguirre, the Wrath of God, and that counted for something. It actually counted for a lot.

  “The young nihilists,” Dad called us.

  “What are nihilists?”

  “Nihilists believe that nothing has any meaning. They believe in nothing.”

  “Yeah,” said Earl. “I’m a nihilist.”

  “Me, too,” I said.

  “Good for you,” Dad said, grinning. Then he stopped grinning and said, “Don’t tell your mom.”

  And that’s part of the backstory for me and Earl. It’ll probably be relevant later, although who really knows. I can’t believe you’re still reading this. You should smack yourself in the face a couple of times right now, just to complete the outstandingly stupid experience that is this book.

  One thing I’ve learned about people is that the easiest way to get them to like you is to shut up and let them do the talking. Everyone likes to talk about themselves. It’s not just kids whose lives are good. Take Jared “Crackhead” Krakievich, one of Benson’s scrawniest and least popular students. As far as I know, Jared has never done crack, but he walks around with his arms dangling awkwardly behind the rest of his body kind of like a chicken, his mouth is always hanging at least three-quarters open, and there is usually food in his braces. He smells like pickles and his parents are yinzers. You’d think he wouldn’t want to talk about his life, but you’d be wrong, as I discovered one day on the bus. For example, I learned that his dog can tell when Ben Roethlisberger is about to get sacked, and that he (Jared, not the dog or Ben Roethlisbe
rger) was thinking about learning to play guitar.

  If you’re not from Pittsburgh, I should probably explain that “yinzers” are people with heavy Pittsburgh accents. For example, instead of “you” or “y’all,” they say “yinz.” Another feature of yinzers is that they wear Steelers apparel at all times, including in the workplace and at weddings.

  Basically, my point is not that you listen to people to learn anything interesting. You’re doing it to be nice and make them like you, because everyone likes to talk.

  But this theory did not apply to Rachel, somehow. I would go to her house determined to get her to do the talking, and then I’d show up and pretty soon I would be talking more than someone who was on crystal meth.

  INT. RACHEL’S BEDROOM — DAY

  The second or third time that GREG has gone over to RACHEL’S. Both are sitting cross-legged on the floor.

  GREG

  So. What TV do you like watching?

  RACHEL

  Whatever’s on, I guess.

  GREG

  unnerved by the calm blankness of this response

  So, like. Nature shows? Reality shows? Just, everything’s fair game?

  RACHEL

  Yeah, pretty much.

  GREG

  Not the Food Network though.

  Rachel shrugs.

  GREG

  Here’s my thing with the Food Network: OK, half the time the food looks gross, or weird. It’s covered in weird sauce that looks like semen, or it’s squid in a goat hoof or something. But then, the other half of the time, if it’s something good, and people eat it, and they’re like, Mmmmm, this is delicious—that’s even worse! Because you don’t get to eat it. You’re just watching these people eat something delicious, and you don’t even get to know what it tastes like, and you want to kill yourself. But most of the time the food doesn’t look that good.

  RACHEL

  diplomatically

  Some people think it looks good.

  GREG

  OK, but then here’s the other thing: It’s always a food competition. Food isn’t a sport. It’s ridiculous for cooks to be competing against each other. Like in Iron Chef, it always takes place in Kitchen Stadium. Kitchen Stadium? That’s ridiculous. And at the end it’s always like, You have competed honorably. How is it possible to be dishonorable? You were making a stew.

  RACHEL

  giggling

  Hmmmm.

  GREG

  I mean, if the Food Network can turn food into a sport, why draw the line there? You know? “Iron Plumber, tonight at Toilet Arena.” Or, or, no wait. Wait, forget that one. “Live, from Toilet Center: Super Poopers.”

  Four hours later. Greg and Rachel are in EXACTLY THE SAME POSITION.

  GREG

  . . . I guess my point is just that, it’s weird that we have animals living in our homes. It’s just weird.

  RACHEL

  I should probably go eat dinner.

  GREG

  alarmed

  Wait, what time is it?

  RACHEL

  It’s around eight.

  GREG

  Holy fuck.

  In her quiet way, Rachel was actually being sort of brilliant.

  1. Rachel was using my own tactics against me. Props to her. This is some high-concept judo behavior. She orchestrated our conversations so that I did the talking and she did the listening. Sure enough, this made me like spending time with her. I told you this tactic is awesome. Also, she kicked ass at listening. I mean, in her position, I would have gotten really bored or annoyed. Super Poopers, Greg? Christ.

  2. Rachel was not suggesting that we had to make out or get married. Even though I had told her that I had been deeply in love with her, she was not trying to make up for lost time. This probably would have caused me to freak out and maybe fake having a serious mental disorder, which is a tactic that I have considered from time to time to get out of situations. If I ever got jumped in the locker room by jocks, for example. On TV, jocks like to harass kids with mental disorders, but in real life, I’ve observed that everyone pretty much just wants to stay away from them. Anyway, I was worried this would become necessary with Rachel, but thank God it did not.

  3. By getting me to talk so much, Rachel was eventually going to get me to divulge sensitive information that would ultimately lead to my downfall. Am I giving too much away? Maybe I’m giving too much away.

  INT. RACHEL’S BEDROOM — DAY

  GREG’S third or fourth time at RACHEL’S. Greg has noticed that one of the pictures of HUGH JACKMAN is sort of wall-eyed, and one of the EYES is following him around the room. Rachel has just stopped talking.

  GREG

  distracted

  What?

  RACHEL

  I wasn’t really saying anything important.

  GREG

  Sorry, Hugh Jackman’s creepy right eye is following me around your room.

  RACHEL

  He’s not creepy!

  GREG

  What were we talking about?

  RACHEL

  Hebrew school.

  GREG

  Right. What a waste.

  RACHEL

  You think?

  GREG

  I learned nothing. Seriously, I can’t tell you anything about Jews. I am a Jew, and I still deserve an F in Jewishness.

  RACHEL

  I think it’s “Judaism.”

  GREG

  See, that’s what I’m talking about. I don’t even know what to call it. And I definitely don’t know what Jews believe. Like, do Jews believe in heaven? Are we supposed to believe in that?

  RACHEL

  I don’t know.

  GREG

  Yeah. Is there Jewish heaven? What happens when Jews die? You know?

  HUGH JACKMAN is glaring at Greg.

  GREG

  Oh shit.

  RACHEL

  What?

  GREG

  hastily

  Uh, nothing. Sorry, I’m an idiot.

  RACHEL

  For what?

  GREG

  Uh.

  about as stupidly as it is possible to say words

  The death thing.

  RACHEL

  Greg. I’m not dying.

  GREG

  lying

  Yeah, I know.

  RACHEL

  narrowing eyes

  I’m sick, but everyone gets sick. Just because you’re sick doesn’t mean you’re going to die.

  GREG

  falsely

  Yeah yeah yeah yeah, no, yeah.

  RACHEL

  You think I’m about to die.

  GREG

  just lying his ass off

  No! No-o-o-o-o.

  RACHEL

  warily

  Huh.

  INT. RACHEL’S BEDROOM — DAY

  GREG’S fourth or fifth time at RACHEL’S. Greg is on the bed with his back to HUGH JACKMAN, although that means he has to face DANIEL CRAIG in a Speedo with a big goofy smile on his face.

  DANIEL CRAIG

  You can see the outline of my genitals! Isn’t this great?

  RACHEL

  giggling

  That’s not what Daniel Craig even sounds like.

  GREG

  I have to warm up. I’m not in Accent Mode.

  RACHEL

  That sounded like a cowboy accent.

  GREG

  Yeah, I was using the wrong part of my mouth. Accents are all about using certain parts of your mouth. That’s why foreign people’s faces are sometimes kind of jacked up. Like how Daniel Craig has those weird pouty lips like a woman.

  RACHEL

  He does not.

  GREG

  Look at him! Look how he’s sticking his lips out. Actually he sort of looks like a frog.

  launching into autopilot because Rachel is remaining silent/expectant

  I just know a lot about accents, even if I can’t do them. I’ve studied them. I mean I’ve seen a lot of films. A cool th
ing about accents actually is the way they change from like eighty years ago to forty years ago to now, if you watch movies that are older. People’s mouths were just shaped differently back then, I think.

  Sometimes I want to walk around doing an American accent from the 1950s, because that in some ways is the weirdest accent there is. You really freak people out that way. When people hear it, they don’t think, 1950s; they think, that guy sounds all weird and rigid and conservative, like an asshole robot, and they don’t know why.

  I mean, I had to watch a bunch of films from back then before I realized that people just talked differently.

  RACHEL

  So you’re really like a movie expert.

  GREG

  I’m not an expert. I’ve just seen a whole lot of them.

  RACHEL

  What’s your favorite movie?

  INT. THE GAINES TV ROOM — TWO HOURS LATER

  On the screen: KLAUS KINSKI. On the couch: RACHEL and GREG. On Greg’s lap: a bowl containing leftover BEEF TIPS that he found in the fridge.

  GREG

  See how the camera’s moving around, sort of jittery, like it’s handheld? OK. Do you sort of get how it makes the film feel less like fiction and more like it really happened? You know what I mean?

  RACHEL

  Yeah, I think so.

  GREG

  It’s awesome, right? It feels that way because it feels a little like a documentary. Because that’s the camerawork that you have in a documentary, lots of handheld, no huge smooth crane shots like in big action movies.

  RACHEL

  It feels a little like reality TV.