Feral Youth

by Shaun David Hutchinson

  “Has she figured it out yet?”

  “Shhh!”

  My heart was racing even faster than it had in my dream. What the hell was going on? I reached up, yanking on the fabric of the bag, but it just came down harder on my head. The bag was hot and stuffy. It felt like I was running out of air.

  The laughter in the room around me got louder, then louder still, as my breath started to come out in pants. I was trapped in here, in this dark, sticky place, and everyone else was just laughing, as if—

  “Shhh!” one of the girls whispered, but she was still laughing. “The new counselors will come in here if we’re too loud.”

  “Those old ladies? They wouldn’t come out of the lodge even if we were down here killing her.”

  “Shhh!”

  Then I understood what had happened. They’d tied my sleeping bag shut.

  I reached up again, forcing myself to inhale the stale air, and found where fabric was bunched up. That was where the opening was supposed to be.

  The girls must’ve waited for me to fall asleep and then tied it shut from the outside, with . . . what? A lanyard or something? It couldn’t be very tight. I tried to work my hand up into the opening, but my fingers were sticky and slimy, and even smelled kind of minty. . . .

  Toothpaste.

  They’d filled up my sleeping bag with toothpaste. Then they’d pulled it up over my head and tied it shut.

  My hands, my neck, my face. Everything was covered. The girls must have emptied out every tube they’d brought with them.

  Gross. And stupid. So, so stupid.

  I choked back a sob.

  “I think she’s trying to get out of it,” one of the other girls whispered through the laughter.

  “Shhh!”

  My fingers finally squeezed through. A moment later I pushed my whole hand out. Then my other hand, until I could wrench it all the way open. The trickle of fresh air made the sticky wetness on my face itch.

  But it was still air, glorious air. I jerked the fabric of the sleeping bag down until my head and shoulders were out.

  All at once the flashlight beam was bright in my face, and the laughter in the cabin had crescendoed into howls. I reached up and realized the toothpaste was covering my hair too.

  “Oh my God!” someone squealed. “It’s like a scene out of a horror movie.”

  I turned my back on them, focusing every ounce of energy I had on not crying as their peals of laughter filled the room.

  I’d been wrong about Hailey.

  I’d thought she was the only one who really understood me. I’d thought I understood her, too. But she’d been lying to me the whole time.

  Well, I couldn’t let her think she’d gotten to me now.

  “Shut up, Hailey,” I yelled, still facing the wall.

  “Hailey’s not here,” someone said with a giggle. The light was still shining right on me. I could see it out of the corner of my eye. “She went to get water.”

  “And missed the fun part,” someone else said. More giggles.

  I had to get out of there.

  I unzipped my sleeping bag the rest of the way, smearing toothpaste over every inch of it that wasn’t already covered. The others kept barking out laughter.

  I reached for my flashlight, but it turned out someone really had taken my batteries. I pretended not to notice, left the flashlight where it was, and climbed down the ladder to the floor. My pajamas were so sticky I’d have to throw them out.

  My hands shook as I pulled on my sneakers. I’d have to go to the sinks to clean up. Then maybe I could ask the new counselors to let me sleep in the lodge house for the rest of the night. Anything would be better than staying in here.

  “Where’s she going?” someone whispered, still giggling. I ignored them and opened the door.

  Outside, it was warm. The moon shone overhead. Crickets chirped all around me.

  Nightmares, kid pranks, random lesbians—it was time I grew up and stopped letting every little thing freak me out. The girls in my cabin were losers. I didn’t care about any of them. Or what they thought of me.

  Hailey, though. It was different with Hailey.

  She wasn’t just a loser. I hated her. I hated everything about her.

  We’d been having the perfect summer. And then she’d ruined everything.

  I trudged up the hill. The sinks were partway up the path to the bathroom just past the trees where I’d seen Jenn’s and Vicky’s enormous shadows the other night. As I passed the lodge house the moon must’ve gone behind a cloud or something because it got dimmer all of a sudden, and the crickets started getting quieter, too.

  I ignored it all and kept walking. I was through worrying about dumb stuff like moonlight and weird sounds in the darkness.

  I was almost at the sinks when I heard the whisper.

  Look down, Georgia.

  Great. The girls from my cabin had followed me outside. I must’ve heard them during my dream, too. Telling me to look down at my stupid toothpaste-covered sleeping bag.

  “Quit it, you guys!” I turned around to look for them.

  I didn’t see any of the other girls, but I wasn’t about to wait for them to jump out from wherever they were hiding. I bypassed the sinks and started up the only path that led away from there—the path up to the bathrooms.

  Look down, Georgia! The voice was louder now. Not really a whisper anymore. This time, you’re too late.

  Too late? For what?

  I whirled around. The girls had gotten so loud there was no way they could be hiding anymore.

  But I didn’t see them. I didn’t see anyone.

  The air around me was completely still. There wasn’t even a breeze.

  There was no moonlight above, either. Just a few pinpricks of stars.

  What had the voice been talking about? What was I too late for?

  And what did it mean, “this time”?

  I’d climbed that hill night after night. And I’d heard something, or seen something, every time.

  But I hadn’t done anything. I’d only screamed and run, dragging Hailey with me.

  Then the voice came back. Just like in my dream, it was coming from all around me, even though there was no one else on the hill.

  Look down. Look down. Look down.

  “For real!” I shouted. “Stop it! I’m not scared this time!”

  Look down look down look down—

  “Stop it!”

  But I gave in. I looked down, into the ravine.

  At first all I saw were tree trunks. And the big piles of fallen leaves that were always at the bottom.

  Then I noticed something else. A strange shape in the leaves. It was a lighter color than the other piles.

  I squinted in the faint starlight until I could tell the shape was pink.

  The same shade of pink as Hailey’s pajamas.

  I tried to step back but stumbled, my sneaker catching on a rock. I fell backward, catching myself with my hands before my head could hit the ground.

  I didn’t want to look again. But the whispers were still coming.

  You were too late this time, Georgia.

  That first night. I’d pulled Hailey back from the edge of the ravine. She’d been sleepy, and not watching where she was going, and—

  Georgia. Look down.

  The voice wasn’t coming from all around me anymore. It was coming from the ravine. Maybe it always had been.

  It was so dark I could barely see anything.

  I had to go down there. I had to look.

  I scrambled down the slope. I wasn’t being as careful as I should’ve, but my feet landed squarely on solid ground with every step.

  It wasn’t my time yet. The Spirit hadn’t been coming for me after all.

  It had been Hailey all along.

  Look down, Georgia.

  I reached the bottom of the hill and tore through the heaped piles of rotting leaves. Now that I was closer, there was no way to pretend it was only a trick of the light. Th
ere was definitely something on the ground.

  Suddenly, it was right in front me. She was right in front of me.

  It felt as if the earth was falling out from under my feet. As if I were sliding down the slope, too. As if I’d broken into a hundred pieces, and now I didn’t know where they were supposed to go.

  It was Hailey. It was definitely Hailey. But it wasn’t the Hailey I knew.

  This Hailey’s eyes were black and empty. Her neck was bent at an angle like something out of a scary movie. Her body was limp, frozen in the leaves. I didn’t have to check her pulse to know that the blood had stopped flowing through her veins.

  She was dead. But I could’ve sworn her lips were moving.

  She was whispering, still. Somehow. I could even hear the sound they formed.

  Look down, Georgia. Look down. Look down. Look down.

  “So you’re into girls, huh?” Jackie said.

  “What?” Georgia’s eyes were just a little too wide, her movements a little too precise. “When did I say that?”

  Jackie shrugged. “No judgment here. Just an observation.”

  None of our bellies were full. We’d each gotten some fish, which hadn’t even tasted particularly good, but barely enough to take the edge off the hunger earned from a day spent hiking.

  “Leave her alone,” Jenna said. She was staring into the fire she’d built, though she didn’t look proud of her creation the way any of the others might have.

  “That was not a scary ghost story,” David said. He’d settled in against a log he and Tino had dragged by the fire, his legs sprawled out in front of him.

  “It was plenty scary,” Jackie added, “but not because of the ghosts.”

  “How do you figure?” Lucinda asked.

  Cody scooted closer to Georgia, who hadn’t said anything since finishing her story. “Drop it, guys, all right?”

  Jackie held up her hands. “I’m just saying the scary shit was how Hailey went all Westboro Baptist on the girls they caught sucking face.”

  Tino had calmed down a little, and Jaila had given him his knife back, which he was playing with. Opening and closing the blade, probably unaware he was doing it. “So what? Who gives a shit who’s banging who?”

  “Whom,” Jaila said.

  “What?”

  “Who’s banging whom.”

  Tino tensed. “I don’t need a fucking grammar lesson.”

  Jaila shrugged.

  “I’m not gay,” Georgia said in a quiet voice.

  David piped up. “It’s cool if you are. I’m bi. This one time, my friends Ryan and Tony and I—”

  “I’m not!” Georgia stood and stormed away from camp.

  Cody moved to go after her, but Sunday waved him off. “Let me talk to her,” she said. He nodded, and Sunday moved off into the woods to find Georgia.

  “You think that girl Hailey really died?” Jenna asked when Sunday was gone. She was looking at Cody, but her question was for everyone.

  Jaila was using her pack as a pillow and was stretched out near enough to the fire to keep warm but far enough away not to roast. The days might have been warm, but it had started to cool rapidly once the sun had set, and all we had were our shitty, thin sleeping bags. “Probably not,” she said. “Sounds like Georgia wished Hailey had died, though.”

  “Great,” Tino said. “So we’ve got a pyro, a liar or a thief—my money’s on liar—a closeted lesbian with mean-girl issues, and I don’t know what your problem is.”

  “I don’t have one,” Jaila said. “But you might if you don’t shut your mouth.”

  “If y’all are going to fight,” Jackie said, “I’ve got ten bucks on Jaila.”

  “I’ll put twenty on that,” Lucinda added.

  Jenna let out a groan. “How about no one fights? Can we do that? Maybe? If I’ve got to be stuck in the woods with you people—”

  “ ‘You people’?” Jackie said. “And what’s that supposed to mean? You think you’re better than us?”

  “I think that’s exactly what she was implying,” I said, slipping my voice into the fight without drawing attention to myself.

  “You don’t know anything about me,” Jackie kept going. “Oh no, you like to set fires because you’re just another entitled suburban girl who thinks she’s got problems. Your problems don’t mean shit out here.”

  Jaila sat up on one elbow, staring at each of us like she was the only adult in a room full of bratty children. “Everyone just calm down, all right?”

  “I’ve got a story,” David said. “A real ghost story, you know?”

  Lucinda glared at him. “I swear to God if this is a sex story, I’m going to cut off your balls.”

  David could barely resist looking at his crotch. “Uh . . . it’s a ghost story. Sort of. There’s also cake.”

  “Quit telling you’re going to tell it,” Jackie said, “and just fucking tell it already.”

  “You know, a recent study showed that eighty-six percent of people admitted that they masturbate regularly, and fourteen percent of people lied about not masturbating. Everyone masturbates. I think the more interesting question is why? Let’s see a show of hands, huh? How many of you masturbated this month? This week? Today? I’m the only one? Yeah, sure.”

  Lucinda growled low. David cleared his throat and said, “It’s relevant! I swear.”

  “Get to the ghosts,” Cody said.

  “Yeah, okay,” David said. “But the story starts with a video.”

  “BIG BROTHER, PART 1”

  by E. C. Myers

  YOU KNOW THAT “Invisible Hand” video that went viral a couple of years ago? Of course you do. Everyone’s seen it. As of last month, the last time I had Internet access, it had over two-and-a-half billion views—almost as much as “Gangnam Style.” I bet if it were shorter and had music, it would be number one. Missed opportunities. On the other hand, people have cut it down and remixed it with everything from the Ghostbusters theme (too obvious) to Hamilton’s “Satisfied” (strangely satisfying), and there’s just no beating the original. Pun intended.

  Okay, so if you haven’t seen it, you’ve probably heard about it, unless you’ve been living under a rock, or living without Wi-Fi, which is the same thing. The original video’s really long, about six hours—six hours, seven minutes, forty-two seconds to be exact. Sure, most viewers only watch a certain seventeen minutes near the beginning, but the length of the video helps make the case for its authenticity.

  You really haven’t seen it? Okay. The video shows a pretty average teenage girl’s bedroom and a pretty average teenage girl sleeping in bed. The light’s on, which, yeah, maybe seems weird. A lot of people have pointed to that as evidence that it’s a hoax, but there’s a reason for it, trust me. And she’s sleeping on top of the covers with gym shorts and a tank top. There’s a book next to her, but you can’t quite make out what it is. It’s The Martian Chronicles.

  Yes, the book could explain why the light’s on, if she fell asleep while reading it. But that’s not knocking the book. I’ve read it; it’s a good book. Sometimes even a good book will make you fall asleep if you’re tired enough. If you’ve been staying up late, night after night. Trying to stay awake, night after night.

  The picture quality’s embarrassingly low, like it’s been recorded through the webcam on a laptop. Exactly like that because it was.

  You see her sleeping for a few minutes, and it’s around then that people start fast-forwarding, or they check out and switch to the latest episode of The Psychic Twins. Watching a random girl sleeping either makes you feel like an Edward Cullen–level creep or it turns you on, but if you wait for it—yeah, people have remixed it with that Hamilton song too—then you’ll see something start to happen.

  She starts to move a little bit, kind of a shimmy, kind of a wiggle, and she smiles. Then she opens her mouth, and her breath hitches, she gasps, and— Do you want me to go on? Do you need a moment?

  Okay. Then she arches her back a little, and she m
oans. Yeah, the way you think, all sexy-like, like she must be having the best. Dream. Ever. You wish you were having that dream. Maybe you wish she were dreaming about you. By the end of the video, she’s doing full-on When Harry Met Sally, and please don’t tell me you haven’t seen that classic film either. I don’t want to know.

  That’s basically it. Seventeen minutes of a teenage girl having mind-blowing orgasms, or faking them, depending on how you want to look at it. Shouldn’t be anything unusual about that; should be an everyday occurrence if there’s a kind and loving god out there, unless he’s the kind of god that frowns on orgasms outside of marriage. And I want no part of that religion, thank you very much. So here’s the really strange thing, why everyone’s talking about it: it isn’t clear why she’s coming. She isn’t moving her hands, which stay out of her shorts the whole time, and she’s alone. That’s why people have been talking about “the invisible hand.” But there’s a lot more going on behind the scenes than that.

  Yes, I do know a lot about that video. I’ve studied it obsessively. Unhealthily. But so has everyone else, right? What I’m saying is there’s a reason for everything if you look for it, and before I go on with this story, there are three things you need to know.

  Number one: the girl’s name is Allison Kim. Allie. It wasn’t listed on the video, but there’ve been a ton of articles, and it wasn’t long before she was outed in the video’s comments.

  But don’t read the comments. Never read the comments.

  I knew her name before everyone else did because that’s number two: I recorded the video.

  I don’t blame you for not believing me, but why would I lie about something you can confirm easily when we get back to civilization? My username is dayofthetentacle. My channel has over two million subscribers since everything happened. But it may have fallen some since I haven’t been able to update it while under this rock.

  Oh yeah, number three: Allie’s my sister.

  If that makes you think I’m a bad person, that’s fine. Everything’s fine. I’ve seen that look before, from people I care about a lot more than you lot. I’m not interested in winning friends and influencing people. I’m just going to tell you my story, Allie’s story, because I have to. I have to. Because no one else will listen.