by Kim Foster
“FREAK.”
“FREAK.”
The chorus of haters grew louder, as more kids filled the hallway and threw books and cans at him. He walked, without flinching, but he felt his insides quivering, as if all of him was turning to jelly. He wasn’t sure he would make it to the door without exploding all over them. He wanted to run at them and slam them down on the ground. He wanted to punch them until they hurt. He wanted them to stop. He wanted to be alone.
He looked up once and saw Emerald in the crowd. She didn’t join in the chanting, she would never follow the group that way, but she looked at him with, what he thought was, disgust.
She knew, what he also knew, that even though he didn’t remember how or why, even though he had no control or memory over it, he had somehow been involved in Trinket being taken. At the very least, they both knew he wasn’t strong enough or brave enough to save Trinket or face down the monster.
He wasn’t enough of anything.
An empty soda can smashed his head.
“FREAK.”
“FREAK.”
“FREAK.”
“FREAK.”
He had his hand on the door handle. The stairwell was right in front of him. He was about to push through into its quiet, cavernous emptiness and slip up the stairs to his homeroom when something stopped him. A hand on his shoulder.
“Mr. Brown,” a firm voice said.
He knew it well.
“Come with me please.”
✽✽✽
The principal’s office was stark and white.
There was nothing friendly about it. There was a brown desk. A brown diploma on the wall. A brown shelf with brown books on it. Mr. Sloop wore a toupee, and chewed gum all the time. He also said “uh” a lot and seemed to have a permanent case of indigestion, where he would bang his chest and burp out loud in the middle of conversations.
Josie watched him chewing his gum, like a cow chews cud, his hair moving like a hedgehog taped to his forehead.
“Why am I here?” Josie asked after watching Mr. Sloop rifle through his papers, and pay absolutely no attention to him, as if he wasn’t sitting right there, in front of him for the better part of the morning.
“Uh, the police. Yes, the police, uh, are coming to get you.”
“What?...The police?...why?”
Josie felt the floor go soft under him. His head reeled.
“Uh, I can’t say.”
“I didn’t do anything, Greg was in my face...and-and I didn’t punch him,” he said, and then under his breath, “...But I wanted to.”
“Uh, good choice, Mr. Brown, “considering how much trouble you are in."
Mr. Sloop belched, pounded his chest to bring up the rest of his breakfast, and belched again.
Josie smelled salami in the air.
“Excuse me,” he said, with a smile. “My wife is not the best cook.”
Josie waited another two hours. Staring at the clock. The second hand flicking one second at a time, around and around and around the clock. Staring out the window to the street.
There was no word about what was happening, but something was going on, Josie was sure of it. There was a flurry of movement outside the school - police cars, sirens, men and women in conservative suits talking in hushed tones to each other on the street, a news van pulled up, and Botany Cook and Horace set up the cameras and microphones on the lawn.
A stone started to set in Josie’s stomach.
And then the door swung open and his parents were there. His mother was sobbing, and his father was so angry he couldn’t speak. His fist was balled up at his side, and his hand was shaking. The Barrel was behind him, his mustache twitching and jumping like a rowdy squirrel taped to his lip.
Portland, his face like marble, cold, pale and hard, walked over to Josie and held out his hand. When his father uncurled his fingers, Josie saw what was inside.
Trinket’s dummy.
✽✽✽
“I can explain!” he said, jumping out of his chair. But he knew he couldn’t.
How could he explain the Meat Ghosts? The Sculpin? The crab pot? Bangkok? His mind raced. He considered telling them to simply go to the Organic Food Shop and look for her, but he knew they wouldn't find anything. The Organic Food Shop only showed itself when it wanted to.
“The detective needs to ask you some questions, Josie,” his mother said.
"Tell him everything," she sniffled.
"We know you took her. Maybe they can cut your time in Juvenile Hall," and then she blew her nose, like a foghorn, into her tissue.
“Juvenile hall?” Josie couldn’t believe what was happening,” Mom, no! I didn’t…”
“We have the dummy. It’s proof,” said The Barrel.
“We made a deal with the police,” Portland said unable to look Josie in the face. "You confess to abducting Trinket, you get five years in juvie."
Josie stopped and looked at all the faces looking at him. This was a nightmare. He looked out the window at the news crews setting up on the school lawn. A helicopter flew over head. A crowd started to form out front.
Just then, a uniformed police officer walked in, whispered something in The Barrels ear. The Barrel frowned, whispered something in the police officer’s ear. They both looked at Josie.
“Uh, what’s the matter?” asked Mr. Swoop.
“There seems to be some bad news….another kid went missing.”
“What?” Portland asked, startled.
“The Kadoura boy down the street...he’s missing. His sister is searching for him.”
They were all looking at him, but this was as shocking to him as anyone. He imagined Rasha, searching for him, thinking he hurt Musa. It made him sick.
“I was in my room all night,” Josie blurted out, a lump clogging up his throat.
“Yes, he was,” his mother said.
“Were you?” the Barrel asked, “Because there’s a bunch of guys in that news van out there, who saw you break into the Organic Food Shop last night.”
“Josie!” Portland was breaking now. Tears filled his eyes.
“I lost my job today,” he said. “The company fired me...because of you.”
“I’m sorry, dad.” Josie said, “But I didn’t…”
“My son is abducting children from their beds and doing God knows what with them…” Portland’s bottom lip was quivering.
“We’ve raised a monster,” Phyllis wailed into her tissues.
“We gave you everything,” Portland’s voice wavered and shook, and he wagged an angry finger in Josie’s face.
“And this is how you repay us?”
Josie couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Really dad, you gave me everything?....” he started.
His father’s face was blank.
“A nice home on a nice street, food, clothes,” Portland blubbered. “...your stupid iPod, all that crazy music you listen to…
“It’s that music, “ Phyllis lifted her head from her tissues. “The music made him do it. It’s terrible music.”
Your mother and I work hard so you can have nice things.”
“You work hard for YOU!” Josie said, getting right up close to Portland.
“You don’t even see me….You...” Josie was about to tell him everything, pour his heart out, when Portland got a text and palmed his phone, scrolling with his thumb.
“I have to deal with this," he muttered and turned his back to Josie, texting.
Josie tried to think of some witty comeback, like “See dad? You just proved my point.” But it was no use, his father was no longer listening.
So Josie said nothing. Just like he always said nothing with his parents. Because it never mattered when he did. So he just didn’t.
His mother sank back into her tissues and sobbed. He was standing in a room full of people, totally alone.
“C’mon son,” The Barrel said. “I’ll take you down to the station.”
“Should I cuff him?” the u
niformed police officer asked, eager to slap the handcuffs on him.
“He’s a kid, Binny. We can’t cuff a kid.” Barrel said, adjusting the waistband on his pants. “Makes us look like barbarians if the press sees that.”
“Right, detective.”
“Can I go to the bathroom before we leave?” Josie asked meekly.
“I have to go badly. I’ve been sitting here for hours...”
Mr. Sloop nodded his head.
“Uh, he has.”
Then let out a gassy burp.
“S’cuse me,” he said. And the smell of old eggs and corn wafted into the air.
“Okay, sure.” the Barrel said, making an ugly face and waving the smell away from his nose.
“Binny, go with him.”
Josie threw his backpack over his shoulder and moved off down the hall. He had never felt more insignificant in the world than he did as he walked down the hall next to Binny, and he had never wanted to change that so much in his whole life. Binny stopped and stood next to the boys room door.
“Hurry it up in there.”
“Might be a minute, I think I’m feeling sick,” he lied.
It was at that point, the second his foot hit the bathroom, the second he lied to Binny, that Josie decided he could no longer live his life behind ear buds and his music. He knew that no one, not even Emerald, was going to save Trinket and Musa. And no grown up was going to ride in and save him. He would have to do it himself. He could no longer afford to be quiet and uninvolved. He had to find his bravery and if there was no bravery inside him, which he suspected, he was going to have to make it up as he went along.
Josie Brown was not going to be invisible anymore.
Because invisible sucked.
He walked past the row of urinals and stalls, and went straight to the window, which was set high up and opened up into a tree in the back of the school. He stood on the last toilet, jumped up on top of the door of the stall and then stretched one foot over to the window sill, with his long legs he could manage it.
“Giraffe Boy,” he thought to himself, and couldn't help but smile a little.
He pushed himself up on the sill, took off his back pack, rifled through it, that’s when he found the knife. He slid it into his back jeans pocket, and then discarded the rest of the backpack in the stall. He pushed open the window and squeezed himself out.
For a minute he was stuck and thought he might become one of those jokes on YouTube where a burglar gets stuck in the window trying to escape and becomes the “bungling burglar” famous around the world for being stupid. But he made himself small and lean and pushed himself out, onto a firm tree branch, and then into a small thicket of shrubs.
He looked around the back lawn. He was in the clear. No one saw him.
Except of course for the boy hiding in the corner of the bathroom, shooting a video on his iPhone and sending that photo to about 200 of his closest friends.
Grotty Greg was not about to let the knife-wielding BK get away with any of this.
ten
BELLY
“You’re awfully quiet.”
Emerald hadn’t said one word to her dad in the jeep.
She was still trying to come to grips with the idea that her new friend had tried to kill her. And mostly that somehow, despite her best intentions, she broke her promise to Trinket and left her in the Organic Food Shop. She had no recollection of how she got out. But she knew, she would never have left on purpose without Trinket.
She imagined her trapped there. Terrified. Alone. Emerald looked out through the open window and watched the sea crashing into the cliffs, felt the salty breeze sting her cheeks.
“Okay, if you won’t talk...I will,” said her dad, cheerfully.
“Moo and Derby and I spent the day out on the reef in the boat.” he said, not looking at her.
Moo and Derby were Howard's pals, and fellow marine biologists. They all went to graduate school together and often worked together on projects. Right now, they were focused on why small and medium-sized fish were disappearing off the coast of Sydney.
“All the shrimp are gone. The mussels, clams, lobster, squid, the bottom feeders,” he said, turning the jeep off the cliff road and pulling into the street where Emerald’s school was. She could’ve walked, but she figured her dad wanted to check in.
Emerald kept looking out the window.
“The coastal life is being decimated. We haven’t seen a shark, a tuna, a mackerel, a sting ray in weeks.”
“It sucks,” she said, dismally, still looking out the window, “...probably global warming, climate change…”
“Sure, okay.....Or a giant, rogue sea monster, maybe?”
Emerald turned and looked at her dad.
“What?”
“I’ve been studying the board in your room…”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Wait. You looked at my private research?” she was turned to him now, her anger flaring like a bottle rocket.
“You know we don’t breach each other’s research.”
The jeep pulled up to the school. There were news vans and police cars parked everywhere. Emerald threw open the door and jumped out. Slamming it hard.
“How could you look at my private stuff, dad?”
“Emerald,” Howard said, in a calm voice, leaning across the seat.
“I wasn’t snooping on you. I mean it’s not like I read some diary entry about how you liked some boy,” he said with a smile.
Howard almost never got angry. He was calm in his heart.
“Ew, dad...shut up!” Emerald said, her arms crossed over her chest. Then, she laughed. She couldn’t help herself. Howard laughed, too.
“Yeah, I’m not ready for you to like boys...or girls...or whoever you decide to date, you know, whenever you’re ready….” Howard said, fumbling for the right words.
“...which hopefully will be after I’m dead.”
“Ew dad, shut up. My brain is melting," she said, grabbing her head like it was falling apart.
" I can’t talk about this with you.”
"I know...' Howard said, pushing the hair back on his head
"I wish your mother was here...She knew how to talk to you about everything."
They were silent. They pretended to watch something outside and far away.
“Your research is good," he said, finally.
They were both happy not to dwell in their sadness and science helped distract them.
“I had discounted that a super-fish could exist, but it’s possible.”
“It’s happening, dad," she got back in the jeep, and told him everything that happened.
It was an unbelievable tale. The more cynical part of him, the dispassionate academic, wanted to discount all of it, but his daughter’s face was just like Arataki’s when she was on the trail of some scientific puzzle. There was nothing dispassionate about either his daughter or his wife, he considered, as he watched Emerald tell him everything that happened at the Organic Food Shop.
He couldn’t turn away from his daughter, even if all of it seemed implausible and slightly crazy. And he wanted to help her find Trinket, if there was a possibility they could do that, they had to try it.
Howard and Emerald hugged it out in the jeep. After school, they planned to pool their research. Between them, maybe they could save Trinket.
Maybe they could even save Josie.
✽✽✽
Emerald threw her backpack on the bed. She checked her phone and saw there were 72 text messages, which was a lot since she barely had time to get to know anyone at school. Something big was happening, and she was pretty sure it wasn't good.
It was a video.
She sat on her bed, threw her shoes and socks in the corner, unzipped her hoodie, and dumped it on the floor.
She clicked the button on her phone and watched the video. It was Josie, climbing out of the bathroom window of what could only be the boys room. Then some movement, the scre
en shifting and moving, and Josie sitting in the tree outside school.
Whoever shot the film, and she had a good idea who it was, edited in words on the bottom of the screen: “Josie Brown, escaped child kidnapper, on the lose in Tamamara.”
“Of course, he misspelled ‘loose’....Idiot.” Emerald grumbled to herself.
She noticed the video had gone out to every kid in their school and that a stream of messages and had cropped up discussing it. Kids formed gangs to find Josie, headed up by Grotty Greg. They wanted to get to him before the cops did. Maybe torture him a little with pipes and bush knives before they turned him over.
Emerald pulled her t-shirt up over her head and flung it on the floor. She unbuttoned her jeans. She needed to be comfortable to think.
“OH MY GOD, STOP!”
She jumped and screamed.
Josie came out of the closet with his hands over his eyes.
“I don’t want to see you naked,” he whimpered.
“Really, you’re scared of naked girls, Giraffe Boy?”
She worked the t-shirt back over her body, and buttoned her jeans.
“You can look now…” she said.
“...and what are doing here, Josie? I mean isn’t it enough you tried to kill me, and you left Trinket in that-that-haunted shop with fish who have legs and big fat sponge heads,” her arms were flying around her head, and she was exasperated and talking so fast.
“...and oh, oh, oh, this is the best, you are basically now mind-melted with Bangkok,” her hands made an exaggerated melting together gesture around her head.
“There is a gang of kids looking to beat you senseless for escaping the police at school,” she shoved her phone at him and he saw that someone had filmed him leaving the bathroom. By now, everyone was looking for him.
Emerald was still yelling at him.
“I’m not sure who is the bigger predator, you or Bangkok, and you’re...”
“Musa’s gone.”
That was all he could say.
She had a hundred questions all at once and wanted to blurt them out at the same time, but she couldn’t find her voice.
“Musa? Who’s Musa?” she hadn’t quite learned all the names of the kids yet.
The boy who lives down the street…His older sister has the...” Josie made a swooping gesture over his head like Rasha’s mohawk.
