"Carpy, Carpy, Carpy!" Kray sang out his mantra, doing a little ass wiggling jig as Carpy walked by. The rest of the students were laughing.
This time Carpy stopped and looked over at him, face flushed.
"Hey there, Carpy!" Kray was jerking his head and swaying his hips at the same time in a little sashay. "Come and do the Carpy dance!"
That little bit of Shakespearian wit sent his little posse into hysterics. A small crowd began to gather.
Carpy just stood as still as a statue, licking his lips and narrowing his clear blue eyes. His hands were knotted into angry little fists.
"C'mon, Carpy! Dance with me!" Kray twirled over and grabbed Carpy's arm, pretending to dance him by swinging it around.
And Carpy exploded.
Carpy just grabbed Kray by the shoulders and started shrieking and shaking him at the same time.
This time it was Kray's lips that were flapping about, spittle flying all over his face.
Kray's posse just stood there dumbfounded. Kray was too shocked to do anything but be shaken, his head bobbing up and down so fast it looked like it was going to pop off. I could hear the wet squishy sounds of his lips flapping together.
"AAAAAHHHHHHH!" Carpy shrieked, his eyes bulging out, frog-like, as he continued to shake poor Kray.
"Robert!" one of the special education teachers screamed, running over and pulling Carpy away. "Let him go!"
Kray fell backwards onto his ass. His face was the color of a tomato. His hair, previously feathered and perfectly combed, was now a disheveled mesh. The red outlines of Robert's fingers could still be seen embedded in his arms. Kray looked like he wanted to melt into the floor and die. I personally struggled mightily with letting go with an enormous belly laugh.
"Are you okay?" the teacher asked Kray.
Kray nodded and got to his feet, watching quietly and red faced as Carpy was led to his room.
"Wow, Carpy lost it," a student said.
Kray looked like he was about to cry. "What the hell was his problem?"
Something told me that Kray wouldn't be greeting the retard train anytime soon. Or bothering Robert aka Carpy, heh.
On some days, high school has its moments.
My first period class was History with Mr. Emerson. Emerson talks like Kermit the frog and kind of looks like him too. It's funny in a perverse way when you're being told of the evils of Nazi Germany by Kermit the Frog. I'm still waiting for him to sit on top of his desk, do a kind of croak, and maybe sing us the Rainbow Connection. As lame as it sounds, I actually like that song. It's one of the few things that I've kept from my childhood so cut me a break.
Today we were being told about the inner workings of Hitler's Nazi party. A subject that only Emerson could make boring.
Russel Jackson raised his hand.
"Yes, Russel," Mr. Emerson said.
"Is it true that Hitler had only one testicle?"
I actually woke up. This was the first time in weeks that someone had actually asked anything interesting. Usually students just asked patronizing and boring questions. Emerson froze as if he didn't hear Russel, then he kind of blushed. He quickly looked over at me to see if I put him up to it.
I grinned at him and nodded. Hell, I didn't care if he thought I did it. I wish I had said it. I stared over at Julian and I saw that he was about to laugh as well. I quickly looked away because I knew that if we made eye contact any longer we would both end up on the floor laughing.
"Um, Mr. Jackson," Emerson managed to work the words out of his blushing face. "I don't see how that question can be of any importance."
Russel moved uncomfortably. "Sorry, Mr. Emerson, my Dad told me to ask you. Maybe I should have waited until after class?"
"Yes, that would have been a better idea. Now, class, can you tell me why Hitler set the party up in this way?"
I raised my hand. I know that he saw me, but he did his very best to ignore me. He was looking around and hoping, even praying, that someone else would raise their hand. He looked at everyone in the class but me. I raised my hand higher and began to shake it back and forth.
Finally, Emerson knew that he had no choice but to call on me. "Yes, Harlan," he sighed tiredly.
I was actually going to ask a question this time, even though I knew the answer. This one was too good to pass up. "Did he, Mr. Emerson?"
He was grinding his teeth. "Did he what, Harlan?"
"Did he only have one nut, uh, I mean testicle."
The class got quiet instantly, but I heard a couple of snickers.
"Mr. Sexton!" he croaked, strutting his skinny, froggy, little body over to my desk. "I don't see how this can be of any importance to this class!"
I sat back and inhaled heavily. "Well, sir, I think it does. Did he, or did he not?"
"Yes!" he shouted into my face sending spittle onto my lip. "Yes, Harlan, Hitler had one testicle! Now how can this be of any importance whatsoever, you insolent twit!"
Twit! The bastard! I was going to have to be good in order to get out of that insult without a suspension. I wiped my lip before speaking.
"Well, sir, I think it's very important. For one thing, it gives us a good insight into the psychological origins of Hitler's insanity. You know, maybe the fact that he had only one nut, um I mean testicle, made him feel inferior somehow. Maybe his whole rise to power was because he felt he had something to prove. You know, Mr. Emerson, maybe if he had both nuts, he may have just stayed a painter. He would have had more self respect and not felt the need to show force. What do you think?"
Emerson was visibly shaken. I had just turned a possible suspension into a legitimate question and he had no idea what to do about it. He wanted so very badly to send me out, but how could he? I watched as a drop of sweat fell from his nose and onto the paper of my textbook. The droplet hit with an astoundingly hard splat. All of the students watched it, and then returned their gazes to the shaking teacher.
He was about to answer when the sound of police sirens filled the room.
Ignoring Emerson, practically the entire class ran to the window. Outside, police cars were arriving at the school as if we were under attack. There were already two parked on the concourse and I could see three more arriving, one of them was all the way from Farleyville.
"Sit down!" Emerson barked and we all scurried back to our seats like obedient little mice. He made us all sit still and he left the room. We could see him talking to other teachers. Something big had definitely happened.
Chapter 3:
Life Rears Its Ugly Head
I guess I may as well cut things short and tell you just what happened.
Alisa Hanes' body was found under the bleachers of the school gym. Like the murder at Lake Angel, she was also mutilated. They had no suspects and the entire school was sent home about thirty minutes after the police arrived. They told us nothing—we learned everything from the local news.
Our usually peaceful town now had a serial killer lurking about.
Alisa was someone who Julian and I actually considered a friend. She was real, unlike many of the other attractive girls in our classes. She always stopped in the hall to talk to us, never caring what others thought. I almost asked her out once. Vividly, I can still see her smiling at me as she brushed her long dark bangs out of her eyes. Once. I never got around to it, though.
Now she is dead.
Julian, Vlad, and I sat around my television and watched in a kind of stupor. Nothing can bring you down like the death of one of your own. It hit us much harder than we would have expected. I felt the tears running down my cheeks as I watched. It took me completely off guard. I'm not used to caring about much of anything, let alone another person. It just seemed so unfair. People like Ross Morrissey and my father were running around the world while the really good ones are dying.
"What in the hell is going on?" I asked rhetorically. "What in the hell did Alisa ever do to anybody? Jesus."
Julian picked up the remote control and turned the
television off. "I think we need to get out and do something. I'm going to go freaking crazy if I have to sit here and think about this shit. I can't do it." He was walking towards the door. Vlad was already following him. "You coming, Harlan?"
I got up tiredly, feeling nauseated. "Yeah, I guess. Where in the hell we going to go?"
We ended up at Billings Park. Apparently nearly everyone at school had the same idea because the place was entirely packed. I could see people walking around crying, while others sat around as if they could just close their eyes and make everything go away. Apparently Alisa was as nice to everyone else as she was to us.
I looked around for Ross nervously, but I didn't see him. I doubted he would be evil enough to attack us at a time like this, but I wouldn't put it past him.
We found a tree close to the pond and sat down. To our right was a group of girls from my homeroom consoling each other. One of them was Samantha Vance, one of the few girls who I actually wouldn't mind going out with. She had short dark hair and these striking green eyes. Her cheekbones seemed to rise all the way up to her arched eyebrows—she was like a gothic dream to me. Every time I saw her, I felt this powerful, embarrassing urge to kiss her. Looking at her now only reminded me of Alisa since there was a slight resemblance.
"This is bizarre," Vlad said, pulling at the grass underneath him ritualistically. "Our town actually has a serial killer." He looked around nervously. "He could be here right now."
"Or she," Julian added half-heartedly.
I said nothing. I knew that it was definitely a male. A female wouldn't do something like this. Hell, if women ran this planet we probably wouldn't have half the problems we have now.
I felt the Screamer trying to get out. I felt like I was coming apart. I saw a faceless enemy driving his long knife into Alisa's flesh, stabbing and plunging it deeper. She was shrieking, but he wouldn't stop. Blood was everywhere—I could even smell it. I suddenly needed a drink of water.
"I'll be right back," I said to Vlad and Julian. "I'm going to get something to drink."
As I walked, I felt a little better. I closed my eyes as I moved and let the cool wind dry the sweat on my brow. I drank from the fountain heavily. I wondered why I was taking Alisa's death so personal and it really disturbed me. I ran some water into my hands and used it to slick back my hair. The cool water and the crisp fall air woke me up.
"You going to let someone else take a drink?" A breathy female voice said from behind me. It was Samantha and she smiled at me as she brushed the dark hair from her chin and tucked it behind her ears. She was dressed entirely in black, a leopard print collar the only other color. She arched one jet-black eyebrow as if waiting for me to say something profound. Blood red lipstick stood out brilliantly on her bone-white face. I found her to be completely beautiful—a gothic goddess.
I moved to the side. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought I was alone."
I stood there lamely as she took a drink. For some odd reason, she made me completely nervous. I hadn't a clue what to say.
She finished and she wiped the water from her red lips. "Did you know Alisa?"
"Yes," I said, putting my hands into my pockets. They were shaking. "Not real well, but I knew her."
She smiled at me nervously. I think I fell in love right there. It sounds funny, almost like the things you see in the movies, but it was really true. Something in her smile made me feel positively religious.
"I didn't know her at all," she said. "But for some reason I cried. Am I losing it?"
I tried to return her smile but I think I actually came across as creepy.
"I cried too," I finally said.
"You, Harlan Sexton, cry?" she asked, studying me with her dark eyes.
"You know my name?" I asked, completely flattered.
"Everybody knows who you are, Harlan. Most girls are scared of you. They think you're insane. You're the school nut. The one most likely to blow us up." She paused for a second, smiling roguishly. "Personally, I always thought you were kind of cute."
I grinned like an idiot and pushed my glasses up on my nose. I was trying to look charming, but looking back on it, I think I probably appeared stupid. "Whatever you've heard about me is completely true. I take credit for it all."
She grabbed my arm, which sent me into utter terror. "Want to go for a walk, Harlan? I need the company of a nice young man like you right now."
I looked over at Julian and saw that he and Vlad were watching me curiously. I knew Julian wouldn't care. He'd probably be mad if I didn't go.
"Um, okay, where do you want to walk to?" I asked, letting her lead me by the arm. I wasn't use to this kind of assertiveness in a female.
She started walking towards the woods. "So everything about you is completely true, huh?" She flashed me her perfectly white teeth again and licked her full lips. "Even the story that says that you're a male prostitute up in the city?"
I coughed. "Well, I can't take credit for that one."
She pulled my arm tighter. "I see. What about the one that says you are gay?"
I shifted uncomfortably. "Let's try this again, Samantha. I deny everything. Anything that you've heard about me is completely false."
She laughed and it sounded like Beethoven to me. "I like a guy with a sense of humor. You know my name as well, Harlan?"
Shit. I forgot that she hadn't introduced herself. "Yeah, you're in my algebra class."
She led me away from the crowds of people, her fingers warm through my clothing. A path led through the woods and around the park. It would probably take about thirty minutes.
"What about your friends?" I asked, enjoying the feel of her delicate hand.
She pulled my arm tighter. "They saw me walking with you. They'll understand." She looked me up and down. "So what's up with the black? I've never seen you wearing any other color. Color blind? Religious thing? Political statement?"
I felt the sweat running down my armpit. Why was she making me so nervous? "You always wear black too, don't you? I just feel comfortable in this color. Maybe someday I'll be a priest or something."
She looked at me wickedly. "Celibate?"
"Unfortunately, yes. At the moment, I am." I answered and we both laughed. She certainly didn't need to know about Suzanne.
"And I do wear other colors. I don't think I've even seen you in a different color once."
Suddenly I was filled with terror. I could hear the sound of Ross Morrissey laughing. He was coming up the path towards us. If he beat my ass now, it would be embarrassing as hell.
"Oh shit," I said, grabbing Samantha and pulling her behind a large tree. "Don't say a word. I'll explain everything in a minute."
She looked at me curiously but said nothing. She actually seemed to enjoy it. I was holding her close to me, her chin resting against my neck, warm breath hitting the side of my face. She smelled of perfume, usually I hated the stuff but she actually smelled pretty good. An odd mixture of vanilla and baby powder. It made me feel comfortable. I could feel her heart beating against my chest.
"Are you sure you're not just hitting on me, Mr. Sexton?" She whispered, breathing into my neck. Her breath smelled of juicy fruit gum.
"Shhhh!" I said as Ross's voice grew louder.
"Goddamn, do I need some sleep," Ross said just beyond the tree.
As he walked by, I peered around the tree and saw that he had for some reason shaved his head. Then I remembered the paint. He must have not realized that the paint was water base and shaved his hair off.
I looked down at Samantha and put my finger to my lips. She nodded and smiled before she buried her face in my chest. "You smell so good," she whispered.
We sat there for a minute before I realized that Ross had been gone and we were still holding each other. I certainly wasn't going to complain. Figures, the first girl I meet this year and in twenty minutes I'm deep in the woods thinking about putting my tongue in her mouth. I always thought I was better than that, but I guess not. When it comes right down to it, I'm
just as male as the next guy.
Terrifying thought. I realized that I was having one of those moments that I had just told Julian that I never have. I was happy. For that brief moment, I didn't care about anything else but being right there holding Samantha. It was also at that moment that I realized I was deep in trouble.
"He's gone," I said.
"So," she answered, still embracing me.
I had no idea what to say to that. This was really weird because, by my very nature, I am never at loss for words. She had her eyes closed and I could still feel her heart beating gently against my chest. For a moment, neither of us said anything—we just held each other as if we had been seeing each other for months. That made me realize that, only ten minutes ago, I had never spoken a word to her. The really strange thing was that it didn't feel that way at all. I felt as if I had known her for years. Then I did something that surprised me a lot more than it surprised her.
I bent down and kissed her forehead. The clean smell of her hair only made me want her more.
She didn't open her eyes as she spoke. "Do you have a girlfriend, Harlan?"
"No," I whispered. Why in the hell was I whispering? Was I actually trying to sound like one of those lame guys in the soap operas? Oh, man, this was getting complicated already. I already was acting like somebody I wasn't. "No," I said more forcefully.
"You can do that again, you know," she breathed. "For such a bold act, I liked it. Most guys would get slapped."
I looked down at her; she was facing me, her red lips parted, mouth open slightly. With audacity that shocked even me, I found myself kissing her. After about ten seconds, I pulled reluctantly away.
"I'm sorry," I murmured. "I've never done anything like that before."
"You don't have to apologize, Harlan," she said looking up at me with large, beautiful green eyes. "If I didn't want you to do it, it wouldn't have happened."
I took a deep breath. "We really should be getting back."
She pulled me closer. "In a minute. So what now? Are you one of the love'em and leave'em kind of guys?"
HARLAN Page 4