But she wouldn’t answer because she didn’t know. Rattled and on the brink of tears, she swept up her books and other belongings, and bolted for the door just as Alex came through it. He stepped aside so she could press past him and then he spotted me as the room burst into a frenzy of conversation. He took the seat just ahead of mine and lifted an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”
“Sara just found her inner light.”
He looked confused. “What does that mean?”
“It means she literally just turned into a funnel of light. Her eyes were like spotlights. Her head turned into a disco ball. Her hair started to burn-take a whiff and you can smell it now. She had light coming out of her ass and light coming out of her other parts.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I not joking. Just listen. They all saw it and they’re all talking about it.”
While he listened to the group, which was confirming everything I said, I realized that I had created this. Somehow, I caused Sara to light up as if someone had shoved the mother of all roman candles up her butt, lit the fuse and then stepped away to watch the inevitable happen. I eased back in my seat and ran it all through my head, trying to figure out how it happened.
I’d slipped into thought. I’d imagined her shining like the Virgin Mary. I’d said to myself that she should be lit from within. And then she was.
I pressed my hand to my shirt and could feel the amulet’s warmth. I didn’t understand it, but I couldn’t deny it. I was me. I was responsible. I caused this even though I hadn't intended to. And there was something else I couldn’t deny. The light she emitted only had grown in strength. If I hadn’t shaken myself out of that moment, something terrible would have happened to her. She could have combusted.
And here's the dirty truth-whether I liked it or not, knowing I was the catalyst for what just happened made me feel something I’d never felt in my life. Power. For the first time ever, I felt invincible and I liked it almost as much as I was scared of it.
With the exception of her new shorter hair, Sara hadn't been physically injured. Maybe emotionally scarred for the rest of her life, but there are counselors for that. Still, I’d been able to shut it off. I’d shaken myself out of whatever haze I was in and it stopped. That was something I’d need to remember-how to turn it off.
Alex looked at me. "This is nuts." And then he really looked at me. "Are you alright?"
I shrugged. Yes and no. Mostly no.
What the hell had creepy Jim given me?
CHAPTER FOUR
When the bell rang, it marked the beginning of a new school year, but what did that year hold for me now? Certainly not what I was thinking earlier this morning-pending death. Certain destruction. A fist to the gut.
But what now?
Without being conscious of it, I’d just turned someone into a spinning sphere of light. Until I learned exactly how to use this thing, I’d need to monitor all my thoughts, which was scary because doing so was next to impossible when most of the school had it in for me.
What if someone came up behind me and punched me and I had one of my usual thoughts-die! Would they? Was this thing that powerful? Could I kill someone with it? The whole thing made me uneasy and, frankly, kind of scared. What were its limits? Did it have limits?
Did I have limits?
I needed to speak to creepy Jim now-not later-but since I didn’t own a cell, there was no way to reach him, so I’d need to suck it up and try to keep things under control until later, when I could speak to him.
That is, if he’d talk to me. I was told to figure this thing out on my own. Somehow, I’d need to do that. But how? Would today's Sara and Jake incidents create enough attention to move the target off me for the next several hours? As I moved toward the door, people were still talking about them, so I was able to slip under the radar as we all shuffled into the hall. I caught a few looks shot my way, but none of them lingered-the interest was elsewhere. For once, I wasn’t the focus.
But I was curious.
English was first and I had a few minutes to get there. Ahead of me was the boy’s bathroom. I stepped inside, saw no one there. I went to one of the mirrors and looked at myself. Face covered with acne. Hair a thick, wiry mess. Tooth missing thanks to one of Dad’s drunken benders.
Could I change it?
I stood there, staring at my face. How would I even begin to change it? Could I change it? When I turned Sara into a menorah, I’d been in my head, thinking that she should have an aura of light about her since she was so goddamned perfect.
And so that’s the tactic I took now. I looked at myself and thought that my acne should disappear and never come back, that my tooth should return, that my hair should have smooth, natural waves. Minutes passed. I studied my face and thought long and hard, willing it to happen-but nothing happened. Nothing changed. I was still the tall, skinny kid with a face made for a horror movie.
Why couldn’t I change it? Was it beyond the amulet’s limits?
I looked around the room. Across from me was a light. Certainly, I could shatter it. I thought about the light and in my mind’s eye, I imagined it exploding. But it didn’t. As much as I tried, I couldn’t make it happen. I held out my hand in front of me like some powerful being from a horror movie, I thought “shatter,” and then I tossed an imaginary ball of energy toward the light.
Zip.
What had I done to make Sara light up like that? I hadn’t been scared of her-that wasn’t it. I hadn’t felt threatened. So, what was it? Was there a limit on how often you could use this thing per day? Because if there was, I was screwed.
I was just leaving the bathroom when I remembered what creepy Jim said to me. It's different with everyone. Might not even work for you. But if it does, you'll need to figure out how it can help you just like me and everyone else before me. There's no training manual. There's no directions. You work it with your heart and with your head.
And there it was.
With my face and with the light I tried to shatter, I’d only been using my head, not my heart. I wasn’t fully vested. I went back to the mirror and looked at myself, hating what I saw. My parents were too poor to buy me anything to control the acne, and so it had taken over my face and parts of my neck, turning it red with its craters and swollen bumps.
I was ashamed to look like this and I spooled down into that feeling, tapping into in a way that I hadn’t before. You work it with your heart and with your head. My face should be free of acne. It should be smooth and I should have a normal complexion-the best complexion-just like the rich kids.
And then I did.
CHAPTER FIVE
When I walked into my English class, it was the usual parade of chatter, with everyone either catching up on what they’d done that summer, or talking about what had happened to Tyler and Sara.
My teacher, Mrs. Branson, was writing something on the chalkboard as I passed her. She was an ice bitch who had never liked me. And she was shady. I could see her looking at me out of the corner of her eye. And then she stopped writing all together.
“Seth Moore?”
The last thing I wanted was attention. I pretended I didn’t hear her and kept walking to my seat.
“Seth,” she said, her voice more commanding. “I’m talking to you.”
I turned to her. “Yes, Mrs. Branson?”
It was as if she’d never seen me before. She was an older woman in her late fifties who, probably in her prime, was something to look at. Now, she still was, only age was eating away at her, putting on pounds where she hadn’t had them before. Her tough luck.
She studied my face and hair.
“Is there a problem, Mrs. Branson?”
She composed herself. “No,” she said. “Did you have a good summer?”
“I’ve never had a good summer. My parents are drunks. Over the years, everyone in this room has gone out of their way to make certain that's a known fact. It was a lousy summer. It was no different from any summer I’ve ever h
ad. It sucked.”
She didn’t know what to do with that. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s nice to have you back. At least it looks like the summer treated you well.”
Make her squirm. “What does that mean?”
“It means that you look…healthy.”
“How did I look before.”
Her face flushed. She was digging herself deeper. I was more than happy to let her do so. “Your skin has cleared up,” she said.
“I didn’t know you had an interest in my skin.”
“I don’t. But you have to admit it’s a change.”
“Really?” I said. I was aware that the room had gone quiet. People were listening. “A change from what? What did I look like before?”
Somebody behind me said, “A freak.”
It was Mike Hastings-I’d know his voice anywhere. I turned to him and when I did, the expressions of surprise that shifted across every face in that room were priceless. Everyone was rooted to my face, which was indeed smooth and actually had a hint of color to it. I looked better. Some might even consider me handsome. Many were staring at my hair, which had a kind of hip, curly vibe to it. I saw Alex in the back of the room, and his brows were knitted together, trying to figure me out.
“You think I’m a freak, Hastings?”
“Any guy who wears that amount of makeup to cover his zits is a freak, buddy. You didn’t look like that this morning. You looked like you always look-a frigging volcano ready to erupt. Who’d you get the makeup from? Your momma while she was passed out?”
“You're a class act, Mike.”
“And you're a friggin' drag queen.”
“If you think it’s makeup, come wipe it off me.”
“Why?” he said. “So you can get close enough to kiss me?”
Save for Alex and a few others, most in the room laughed.
“Why don’t you leave him alone?” Alex said.
But Hastings was having none of him this time. More interesting is that Mrs. Branson was allowing all of this to unfold.
“Why don’t you shut up? This doesn’t concern you.”
“Actually, he’s right,” I said. I turned to Mrs. Branson, who had a look on her face that suggested she was enjoying this. Her eyes were bright. She was biting her lower lip.
She didn’t know what was coming next.
“Isn’t it your job to make sure none of this goes on?” I asked her. “Isn’t it your job to keep order? Make peace? Keep us in line so we can do our work and do it well? Isn’t it your job to make sure people like me aren’t bullied? I’ve had you for a teacher for years and you never interfered when they pulled this crap on me or anyone else. Can you explain that to me?”
She was flustered, embarrassed.
"Explain it to me?"
"I owe you no explanation."
"You owe me every explanation."
"For what?"
"For standing there and doing nothing. For getting off on watching them take their repressed self-hatred out on me."
She pointed toward the door. “Go to the principal’s office. Now.”
“For what?”
“Insolence.”
“That’s an impressive word, but I haven’t been insolent. I was just called a freak by one of the worst, most morally corrupt people in this school. You heard it and did nothing about it. So, I’ll go and see the principal and here’s why-I’m going to question your teaching, your lack of morals and ethics. I’m finally going to let them know exactly how you’ve behaved in these situations since I’ve been coming to your classes.” I snapped my fingers. “Time for the curtain to go up on your teaching career, Mrs. Branson.” I snapped my fingers again. “And then, when I’m finished, time for it to go down on it.”
“Holy shit,” someone behind me said.
Branson came around her desk. “Get out.”
“You’ve got it.”
I started to walk past her and when I did, she grabbed my arm. “No one in this class heard or saw anything you're claiming.” Her eyes swept the room. “Am I right, class?”
Immediately, the majority either nodded or said, “yes.”
But when I looked over at Alex, he was out of his seat, gathering his books and coming to the front of the class, where he towered above Branson. “If he goes, I go. I saw what happened here. I’m backing him with the truth. To stop us, you can do this: Send Hastings to the principal, apologize to Seth and set the record straight.”
“Two against twenty is a losing proposition,” she said.
I started to walk out the door. “We’ll see about that.”
Alex followed me and as he did, I was aware of someone else standing. It was Jennifer Sanford, one of the few people who never had picked on me and one of the few girls I’d had a crush on for years because of her kindness and let’s face it, because she was hot.
As always, she was seated in front. She never had been popular or unpopular, the former of which was surprising because she was one of the most attractive girls in school. Still, probably because she wasn’t a cheerleader and didn’t participate in sports, she was one of the in-betweens-a person who was allowed to exist without interference.
Plus, a lot of the guys wanted to screw her.
“And where are you going, Jennifer?” Branson asked.
“With them.”
“You better think twice about that.”
“Actually, you better think twice about this.” In her hand was her iPhone. She pressed a button, held it in front of Branson and turned up the sound.
She recorded everything on video.
In horror, Branson looked at herself on the screen. She heard Hastings call me a freak. She heard herself say, “No one in this class saw or heard anything. Am I right, class?” And she heard herself say to Alex, “Two against twenty is a losing proposition.”
Now, her face was the color of the chalk staining her finger tips.
“We’ll be in the principal’s office,” I said as I walked out of the room. “Thanks for sending me there. It’s time to get a few things off my chest.”
CHAPTER SIX
The three of us walked down the long hallway in silence, which was odd for a few reasons. First, I can’t remember a time when I walked with anyone in this school. It just didn’t happen. People weren’t seen with me.
This was about as strange as it got, but in a good way, especially since I found myself walking with Jennifer, who I’d always wanted to talk to but never really dared. As nice as she was, what would someone like her see in someone like me?
Second was the school itself-while classes were in session, it was weirdly quiet. For the new school year, the floors were freshly waxed and, from the block of windows at the far end of the hall, the sun caught the gleam and tossed back.
Jennifer was at my left. She reached out a hand to me, which I shook. “I’m Jennifer Sanford,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you, Seth.”
I felt a rush. I could feel my face turning red. I returned the greeting. “Thanks for video taping that.”
“I can’t stand her. When I saw that you were finally going to stick up for yourself-and how you were going about it, which was genius because you never lost your cool-I knew it wouldn’t go well. I just snapped on my phone, put it on the end of my desk and pointed it at her.”
“Isn’t your mother a lawyer?”
“She is.”
“Then you’ve got it in your blood. That was nothing but instinct.”
Alex was at my right. I looked up at him and saw that he was pissed. “You were great in there,” he said.
“I’ll catch it from Hastings and his cronies later, but it had to be said.”
“That’s what I meant about my brother,” he said. “Once he stood up to them, they backed down. You’re on the right track.”
I smiled at him but sank into myself. I’m on the right track not because of any newfound courage on my part, but because I’ve got some freaky amulet around my neck that apparently can do a whol
e host of shit. Like get rid of the wiry kinks from my bush hair and swipe the acne off my face, revealing it for the first time in years. It also gave me back the tooth my father smashed out of my head. I felt like a fraud standing next to them. They thought I’d been brave, when really, I was only falling back on something powerful that I still didn’t fully understand.
I didn’t exactly know how the amulet worked, but I was beginning to have a feeling for it. When the day ended, I planned on practicing somewhere private to see if I could get it down.
We were halfway down the hallway when there was the sound of a door opening behind us. I knew it was Branson before I turned.
“Seth,” she said. “Alex. Jennifer.”
We kept walking.
“Let me explain.”
We stopped and turned. She was leaning against the door like a sack of potatoes shoe-horned into a yellow dress. Defeat was on her face. No sound came from the room beyond.
“I've changed my mind. I don’t want you to go to the principal. We can work this out ourselves.”
Jennifer lifted her iPhone again. She pointed it down the hall and started to record her. Branson eyed the machine, hating it.
“No, we can’t,” I said. “You made your choice. You chose me over Hastings, and I’m going to the principal.”
“That can be changed.” With the camera on her, she chose her words carefully. Her voice became light. “This is the new year,” she said. “Some things were said. I agree that I was wrong. Mike should be punished. Let’s start off fresh.”
It happened so quickly, I wasn’t aware of it happening.
Just looking at her standing there, pleading with us, knowing she was in the wrong and was about to beg for us to conceal what she’d done, was too much for me to swallow.
Anger bloomed within me. I imagined the door she was sagging against slamming shut-hard. So hard that it would send her flying across the room. So hard that she’d skid across the floor and smash her head against her desk. So hard that it would make a final statement-don’t fuck with me, lady. Leave me alone. Let me be.
Bullied b-1 Page 3