The Other Normals

by Ned Vizzini

  “Shut your eyes,” she says. I move my face toward her face. I hear bugs circling us. Bugs don’t care that we’re about to kiss—they just sense two warm bodies that they want to bother. Bugs know the truth. One baps into my closed eyelid. I snap my eyes open. I see Anna’s lips and then her feet. She has open-toed sandals. Her nails are dark. My heart jumps.

  “I can’t do this.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t kiss you.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just … I like somebody else.”

  “Excuse me? Who?”

  “You don’t know her.”

  “You’re not allowed to like anybody else. I made a bet.”

  “What?”

  “I bet my friends—don’t worry about it. What do you mean, you’re not going to kiss me? I came out to meet you!”

  “I’m a bet?”

  She sighs, like it’s annoying to explain. “After I told my friends about meeting you at the nurse’s office, they dared me to get with you. You’re the only white boy in camp, and you’re like the dorkiest one anybody’s ever seen. They said they’d take me shopping if I hooked up with you.”

  “Screw you!”

  “What? It’s not like you have a lot of options. Where are you going?”

  “Some princess you are! A bet? Seriously?”

  “Girls bet on these kinds of things all the time. Come back!”

  “Good-bye, Anna!”

  “What’s wrong with you? Are you gay? I’m gonna tell people you’re gay!”

  “Tell them I’m gay!”

  “I will!”

  I stomp back to the dining hall. My face is hot and my stupid penis is still hard. I slap it down, but that just makes it rowdy. “Sam!” I call.

  “Over here!” His voice sounds strained. I peek around the corner and he’s there, in the parking lot, but his neck is held back and a knife is pressed against his throat. Ryu holds him tight. Tiny and the Silver Eel flank him. Sam stays taut, eyes wet.

  “You,” Ryu says, sneering at me. “White Lotus never forgets.”

  97

  “DID YOU REALLY STAB A CAB DRIVER?” I manage.

  “Shut up!” Sam hisses. “Do what he says! He took my knife!”

  “If you want to fight, Ryu, you messed with the wrong guy.” I pull out my two knives. It takes a moment to open the hinged blades. “Stupid … things … hold on—”

  “No!” Ryu spits. “Drop those or he gets cut!”

  I lay the knives on the ground, blades out.

  “That’s good.” Ryu lets Sam go. He runs to me, feeling his neck, making sure it’s still unperforated. Ryu steps forward with the White Lotus Crew. “I don’t even want him. I want you,” he says. “I know what you are.”

  “You do?”

  “You’re one of those bitches always needs to have the last word.”

  “That’s not true—”

  “Shut up!”

  Behind him, Tiny rubs his fists. The Silver Eel tugs on the stringy hairs that hang over his eyes. “I’ve seen it since I first saw you. You think it’s funny to try and make other kids think there’s a raccoon outside the yurt?”

  “No, I—”

  “Who the fuck are you? You think because you’re smart you’re better than everybody else?”

  “No,” I say, but that’s not entirely true. I do think I’m better than the White Lotus Crew.

  “You don’t mess with White Lotus. It’s good for you to learn this now: you don’t mess with any crews. Some people in this world got friends who have their back, understand, and some are little bitches who sit by themselves and think that makes them better than everybody else. You know which one you are.”

  I glance at Sam. Can we coordinate a counterattack with just our eyes, like killer monkeys? Sam mouths, Run! I shake him off.

  “I’ll fight you, Ryu, if that’s what you want.”

  “You don’t fight me.” He picks up my knives and gives one to each henchman. “You fight us.” They step forward.

  “Tiny? The Silver Eel? That’s not fair! You have knives!”

  “Who you calling Tiny?” Tiny asks.

  “Sorry, I thought that was your name.”

  “Silver Eel? That’s racist.”

  “No it’s not! How’s an eel racist?”

  “Because I’m Asian.”

  “I’m not making this up! A guy told me at breakfast—”

  Ryu slashes at me. For the briefest piece of a second, I can’t believe it’s happening, but then the part of my brain that knows how to handle the World of the Other Normals takes over. I jump backward in a half leap, half trip. Ryu’s blade zips past where my stomach was. I hit the ground on my rear end.

  “Stop!” I fling a rock at Ryu’s leg. It misses his shin by an inch. He advances. I back away, my hands scrambling for more rocks, anything to throw—

  He steps on my bad ankle.

  “Agh!”

  I struggle with my other leg but I’m pinned. Ryu draws back the knife. I reach for another rock but all that’s around me is dust—I taste something in the back of my throat, fear or blood—

  “Yaaaaaaaaaagh!” Sam speeds in like a cannonball.

  He knocks Ryu over. Ryu’s knife falls to the ground. The two of them roll on top of each other like dogs, snarling and biting. I get up and see a hefty stick a few feet away. I grab it and limp toward Ryu. The Silver Eel steps in front of me.

  “I’ll throw this right in your face,” he says, holding his knife like a dart.

  “Go for it. Free shot.”

  “Perry! Help!” Sam yells. Ryu has him pinned: one hand on his neck, one holding his wrists behind his head.

  The Silver Eel throws his knife at me. I swing my stick. Total reflex action, a shot in the dark. Ping—the knife ricochets under the dining hall. The Silver Eel goes to retrieve it. “What’s wrong with you?” Ryu yells. “Get him!”

  Tiny charges me. I hurl the stick at him. It sails end over end and cracks him right in the face. His feet kick up while his upper body jerks back. He lands hard on his spine. His knife skids away.

  “What are you doing?” Ryu yells. Sam takes advantage of his distraction to head-butt him in the cheek. Considering his bald dome, it’s the right move; something pops in Ryu’s face and he rolls off, writhing in the dirt.

  “Yoo difluffcated muh juh!” he screams. Sam rushes over to me.

  “Had enough?” I ask Ryu. He sits up, grabs his chin, and pushes his jawbone back into place. Snap!

  “Jesus.”

  “Not gonna help you now.” Ryu takes Tiny’s knife and throws it at me, but he doesn’t throw it like a dart the way the Silver Eel did. He tosses it professionally, in a tight spin, and it makes a few complete circles before burying itself in my shoulder.

  “Aaaaagh!”

  I stagger back. I look at the knife sticking out of me. It looks wrong—not just painful, logically incorrect. Hot blood spreads into my shirt. It burns more than it hurts.

  I pull the knife out. Now it hurts. I double over, holding the blade. “You made one … mistake … ,” I say. “Now I’ve got a knife.”

  “So do I.” Ryu picks up the one that Sam knocked out of his hand.

  “Stop!”

  Anna runs out in front of the dining hall. She has her knitting needles in one hand and her mittens in the other. She really must love those mittens.

  “Ryu! Perry! What are you doing? You have knives? This is camp!”

  “Quiet, woman, this doesn’t concern you.”

  “I’m getting the counselors. I’m calling the cops!”

  “With what phone?”

  Anna holds her hands up like a crossing guard, mittens facing Ryu, needles facing me. “Put the knives down.”

  “You really should go,” Sam says from the side, holding his head. “You don’t want to get hurt.”

  “You’re sweet,” Anna says, “but I’m sure these two will—”

  “Duck!”

  Ryu throws his
knife at me.

  Anna crouches to avoid it. The knife spins; I watch, detached. It’s coming right at my face. Sam picked this knife up from Dale’s cabin; prior to that it belonged to some camper who had it confiscated. Prior to that it was purchased at a hobby or hunting shop; prior to that it was shipped from the manufacturer; prior to that it was made, probably in China. Now, after everything it’s been through, after everything I’ve been through, it’s going to end my life. I have a perfect view as it pirouettes toward my head—it looks one-dimensional, a point in space. I shut my eyes—

  “Yoink!”

  Mortin Enaw stands in front of me, knife wrapped in the tip of his tail. Wearing sweatpants.

  “You broke my lighter and you didn’t leave me any clothes?” He grins, and then Ada Ember steps forward, wearing corduroys and a T-shirt that I passed over in the Lost and Found.

  The White Lotus Crew is thus forced to reevaluate its idea of reality.

  98

  “WHAT THE—” TINY SAYS. HE’S STILL ON the ground, but suddenly he isn’t so hurt.

  “Who are—” the Silver Eel starts. He abandons his knife search and looks left and right as if ninjas are about to attack him.

  “Get them!” Ryu yells. His henchmen stay put.

  “Excuse me,” Ada says, grabbing the knitting needles out of Anna’s hand. Anna stays crouched on the ground, shielding her eyes as if from an explosion, saying, “This isn’t real this isn’t real this isn’t real.” Ada bounds away from her, tackles Ryu, and jabs the needles into his neck. He screams—

  “No!” I yell. “Don’t kill him!”

  And then I see that she didn’t stab his neck; she stabbed the ground next to his neck, the metal spikes so close they pinch his skin. The needles stick up like bolts in Frankenstein’s monster. Ada pins Ryu’s arms and puts her knee on his chest.

  “Good to see you again, Ryu.”

  “Who are you, you crazy bitch? How does he have a tail—”

  “Shut up!” Sam says. “Don’t let him move!” He kicks Ryu in the side. “That’s for breaking my glasses!” He pushes his glasses up his nose; one of the lenses is spiderwebbed. “And that’s for messing with my friend!” He turns. “Hello. You must be Ada Ember. And you’re Mortin Enaw. I’m Sam Josephs.”

  “You told people about us?” Mortin shakes his head. “Never mind.” He rips the pocket out of his sweatpants and presses it against my shoulder wound. “We got big problems.”

  “You’re right you got big problems!” Ryu shouts. “You’re all—mmm!”

  Ada covers his mouth. “Anna, do you mind passing me those mittens you’ve been working on?”

  Anna peeks through her hands. “Who are you?”

  “Just hand them over, dear.”

  Anna complies. Ada ties the mittens around Ryu’s mouth. “Perfect.”

  “Mmm! Mmm guh kuh uhh, Puhh!”

  I don’t say anything. I figure I’ll let him have the last word.

  “Are you … monsters?” Anna asks. “How do you know my name?”

  “You need to go back around the lake and stay there, okay?” Mortin says. “Don’t tell anyone what happened here.”

  “Are you demons?”

  “We’re other normals. And we’re just as scared as you.”

  “Of what?”

  “Yeah, Mortin, of what?” I tap my shoulder. The lining of the pocket makes a decent bandage. Everything seems over to me. Blood adheres to my skin. I make a fist; that’s the first thing I test. I can do it. I’ll be okay.

  “Things took a turn for the worse back home,” Mortin explains.

  A groaning crack comes from the woods behind us. Then a crash.

  “Mortin, what is that?”

  “An old friend, a new enemy, and someone I didn’t think would fit through a thakerak.”

  A tree trunk moans as it falls and splinters fifty feet away. Whatever it is, it’s coming closer. I hear a sharp, evil hsssssssss that ends with a rapid clickclickclick, like a combination snake-cockroach. Then the smell hits me. I’ve never smelled rotting flesh, but I know in my gut that this is what it smells like: huge, dead, slick, wafting out of the trees in a sweet wave.

  “Ophisa?” I ask. “You brought Ophisa to my summer camp?”

  “Not just him. How’s your shoulder feel? You have a full range of motion?”

  “Mortin! What did you do?”

  Tiny slowly raises his arm and points, mumbling incoherent interrogatives. Ryu stops yelling into his mittens, goes quiet, and stares. The Silver Eel streaks away toward the road.

  “I’m sorry,” Mortin says.

  From out of the woods, a gigantic praying mantis claw jabs into the earth. It rears up—it has a barbed tip, like a scorpion tail—and plunges down again as a second claw steps forward. It takes me a moment to realize that these are legs, and they’re connected to a huge, segmented body, armored like a bug’s or rhinoceros’s, and the body is connected to a slender reptilian neck, with scales that shine in the moonlight, and on top of the neck, as tall as the trees, is a nest of fangs and eyes that form a nightmare face.

  That’s not all. Two creatures sit on Ophisa like they’re riding a dinosaur. The first I’m not surprised to see: Officer Tendrile. His tentacles wrap around the monster’s reptile neck. Behind him, though, is someone unexpected.

  I recognize her immediately. Ada’s silver figure was a perfect likeness. She has long straight hair and shining eyes and bounteous beautiful breasts. The princess. She looks royal and regal, right down to her waist—but then it all goes wrong. Where the figure ended in jagged metal, she has tentacles just like Officer Tendrile’s, wound around Ophisa.

  99

  “OH, THIS IS VERY BAD,” I MUMBLE. OPHISA steps forward. Ooze drips from his eyes onto his fangs. His sixth leg cantilevers into the parking lot as a small tree crashes in front of Tiny. Tiny hustles away faster than I thought he could move. Ophisa stares at me and hisses, “Mini Pecker!”

  “H-how do you—?”

  His eyes twitch. Inside each is a bulbous black pupil. “I know all your sssecrets, boymeat.”

  “That’s right!” Officer Tendrile says. “There’s your boymeat, for the taking! The one who caused all this trouble.”

  “Princess!” I call. “Why are you doing this?”

  She stares straight ahead like she doesn’t hear. Ophisa scans Mortin and Ada. “You who helped will die ssslow … inssside me.”

  Anna bolts. Ophisa swings his tail at her, crowned with bony spikes. He’s about to decapitate her, but the princess orders, “No!” and he stops. Anna reaches the road and flees to safety.

  “Good boy. We don’t hurt her,” the princess says, patting his neck. Ophisa purrs, a horrible leaking sound.

  Ada pulls the knitting needles away from Ryu, who wastes no time running under the dining hall. Ophisa pulls back the flaps of his facial muscles and spits at me. I dive out of the way. The spittle hits the ground, bringing up foul-smelling steam.

  “Into the dining hall!” Mortin yells. Ophisa whips his head around and stomps forward as Mortin, Ada, Sam, and I run under the banner—WELCOME TO CAMP WASHISKA LAKE!

  100

  “SAM, DID YOU PICK THE LOCK?”

  “It didn’t work!” He smashes the door with a rock. Ada turns around and throws one of the knitting needles at Ophisa’s face. It lands in the dark flesh around his fangs—and then the eyeballs above it secrete a mucus that drips down and sizzles the needle out of existence.

  “You can’t stop us!” Officer Tendrile yells. “If you give up now, I’ll kill you myself, and quickly!”

  “Screw you!” I call back. We hop gingerly through the shattered glass. Seeing the damage makes me think of practicalities: at some point counselors are going to appear, and they’re going to want to know what the hell is going on.

  Inside, the dining hall is put away for the night. The chairs are stacked and the floor is squeaky clean. We dash under a table, all talking at once.

  “What is tha
t thing—”

  “The princess is a celate?”

  “Do we have any weapons—”

  “The knives are outside—”

  “Shut up!” Mortin says. “Maybe we’re safe here. I don’t think he can get in.”

  “No, but I can.”

  Officer Tendrile walks through the broken door. Behind him, Ophisa’s shadow lies over the porch and parking lot. He must be twenty feet tall with his neck stretched up. I don’t see the princess; maybe she’s enjoying the show.

  “You have caused me entirely too much trouble, Mr. Eckert.” Tendrile approaches calmly. “If the rest of you would like to leave the boy to me, you’ll find I reward you quite handsomely.”

  “You talk a big game for a guy with no sword,” I say.

  “I don’t need a sword to kill a little boy.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Little boys I can kill with my tentacles. Care to try?” He wiggles them playfully.

  I rush him from under the table.

  101

  “PERRY, NO!”

  But I’m already doing it, and for the full effect I’m yelling, “Dieeeeee!” I am going to tackle Officer Tendrile like a football player and beat him with my fists; that’s as foresighted as my plan gets. I can’t help it. After everything I’ve done—everything I’ve done to him— he doesn’t have the decency to refer to me as a guy, or a man, or an adversary, instead of a boy? All the same emotions that made me take down my pants in front of Anna stream through me, but now they are a guided missile of violence and hate, and besides, I can’t stand his stupid mustache—

  He whips a tentacle at me. It wraps around my head and slips into my mouth. I mmmmph against it as it slides past my tongue like the worst kiss in the world. It presses into my throat. My neck puffs up. The tongue enters my esophagus. Oh no. More tentacles surround me, grabbing my arms and legs. What was I thinking? I look up. Officer Tendrile is much taller than me, and he’s smiling, satisfied. I feel his suckers bite into my gullet, cutting me from the inside out—and the taste, the taste is—