Forever Freaky

by Tom Upton

  Then the doorknob started to turn. I focused on the door just in time to stop Mrs. Stock from entering the room and catching me. The doorknob jiggled.

  “Oh, for the love of… Now what?” I heard her mutter on the other side of the door. The knob kept jiggling in an agitated way. “Julia…Julia… Did you lock the door?”

  I walked out from behind the desk. “Uh, no,” I said. “Must be stuck.”

  “This is ridiculous,” she grumbled. The knob was turning back and forth frantically now, and I could hear the wood creak, as she must have been pushing against the door with her full weight. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, fine…. I’m in my happy place,” I added, and immediately felt like slitting my throat for saying those words.

  I went back behind the desk. I had to get the list fast, but there were too many names to jot down on a piece of paper.

  “I’m going to have to call Maintenance,” Mrs. Stock called through the door.

  “Do what you have to,” I said, trying to figure out how to work her printer.

  “You’re not having an anxiety attack, are you?” she asked.

  “Will you just shut up!” I yelled.

  “Try to stay calm. I’ll get in there soon enough,” she promised.

  I clicked the PRINT button, and the printer, which was set on a side table, spit out a sheet with the names. I grabbed the sheet, folded it into a small square, and stuffed it in my back pocket. After returning her computer to its desktop, I went round the desk, sat back in my seat, and released the pressure my mind had been holding against the door.

  Mrs. Stock had already given up on the door, which remained closed for a few minutes while I sat there like an idiot waiting for somebody to notice that they could now open it freely. Finally I got up and opened the door myself.

  I found Mrs. Stock in the main office, gawking up at the light fixtures, which didn’t look so good. Three of them were dangling from only one of their two chains. Their long fluorescent bulbs were missing, and a small spray of sparks was raining down from a torn live wire. Tiny shards of glass covered the tiled floor in front of the counter, and there was a small flood of water behind the counter.

  I walked up next to Mrs. Stock. “Bummer,” I said.

  I didn’t wait for her reaction, or for her to ask how I’d escaped her office. I walked out into the hallway and went about my business.

  At lunch I sat with Jack and Melody, as usual, but nobody was talking. Melody sat next to Jack. She was picking at her food, brooding, probably trying to figure out how to get Jack interested in her. Up until now, every trick she knew had failed her.

  Jack glanced at me now and then. He seemed reluctant to speak.

  I didn’t want to eat, and although I wasn’t suffering an anxiety attack, I felt like fleeing the building. I had an antsy sensation, as though something was nibbling at my edges. If I weren’t sure I didn’t have one, I would have suspected my conscience was bothering me.

  “You all right?” Jack asked me.

  “I’m fine,” I said curtly. I found his concern more annoying than usual.

  I dug the folded list out of my back pocket, and slid it across the table at him.

  “Oh, you got it,” he said, somewhat surprised, unfolding the printer paper. “I heard there was some kind of— disturbance in the main office this morning.”

  “What is that?” Melody asked, and when neither Jack nor I said anything, she said, “Obviously none of my business.”

  “It would only make your brain hurt,” I told her, and then to Jack I said, “We’re even, right?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good, I have to get out of here,” I said, pushing away from the table. As I turned to head out of the crowded lunchroom, I caught Melody giving Jack a puzzled look, like What’s with her?

  Outside the sky was overcast and a chilly breeze blew across the campus. I found a quiet spot on one of the wooden benches. I sat sideways facing toward the busy street, with my feet on the bench, and I hugged my knees toward me as though trying to make myself into a small ball. I wished for some alone time, but knew Jack would be there soon. He couldn’t help himself. Apparently I was fascinating to him.

  Sure enough, a few minutes later, he sat next to me. I tried not to look at him, although he was right there in front of me.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  “You asked that before. I told you.”

  “Just double-checking.”

  “No need to.”

  “It’s just that you seem mad.”

  I grunted. “I’m always mad.”

  “No, you’re always hostile. There’s a difference.”

  “Jack—just stop talking.”

  “I thought, maybe, because of…” He waved the list he held in one hand.

  “I agreed to get it for you. It was no big deal.”

  “Did you look at this?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “An interesting name popped up on it,” he said, and when I didn’t respond, he said, “Eloise Parker.”

  “Will you just drop it?” I said. “Let the world figure out its own problems.”

  “When does that ever happen?” he asked, and I couldn’t disagree with him. He gave me a strange look. “What’s bugging you anyway?”

  “Nothing,” I lied. “You were saying about Eloise.”

  “Everybody hates her. She knows that—thanks to Jessica.”

  “It’s not Eloise.”

  “It has to be,” he insisted.

  “That wouldn’t make any sense. I talked to her. I didn’t read her but I caught a sense of her. She would never do a thing. She would let the world take care of its own problems. Besides, why would she attack just jocks? Why not attack Jessica?”

  He saw the sense in this. He shook his head and studied the sheet. “I don’t get it, then. There are only four students who transferred to Adler from Mount Olive this year. Eloise seems the most likely.”

  “Jack, did you ever consider the possibility that the right name isn’t on the list? How about the possibility that nobody is starting anybody on fire?”

  “You mean it’s all a series of flukes?”

  “Yeah, why not?” I asked. “Sometimes life is just weird, and there’s no explanation for it.”

  “But you flashed on those burning pants,” he reminded me.

  “I have flashes on a lot of things,” I said. “They don’t all mean something. Jack, just forget about these things. I have to put up with stuff like this. You don’t. I really don’t think it’s healthy for you. You get obsessed. You start seeing things that aren’t there.”

  “You think that’s what I’m doing?”

  “Yeah—well, I don’t know. I just think you need to leave this thing alone.”

  As I tried to ignore him, I felt him studying me closely.

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?” he asked.

  I hesitated a bit too long, before I said, “No.”

  “Jules?”

  “You’re impossible,” I hissed. “Don’t you have any common sense? Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to touch fire? You need to tear that list up. You need to walk away from this little mystery.”

  “I don’t think I can,” he said.

  “You have to,” I said. “You want to go home one day and find your house on fire?”

  “You do know what’s going on, don’t you?”

  “It’s something you can’t stop—no matter what you do.”

  “So I’m supposed just look the other way?”

  “Exactly.”

  He thought about that for a moment. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Of course, I’m right,” I said. “So you’ll stop poking around?”

  “Sure,” he said, but I didn’t believe him. He was just humoring me.

  “Just go to your next class,” I sighed. “Go and be normal, okay?”

  “You going?” he asked.

  “I think I’m going to ge
t an early dismal. My stomach’s bothering me a little,” I lied.

  “Oh.” He studied me. “Call you tonight?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  I didn’t bother going to the office to ask for an E.D. I didn’t care if I got into trouble for that. I just needed to get away from the school.

  After Jack left, I wandered over to the student parking lot. I climbed into my old Chevy Nova and drove away.

  Fine drizzle was falling by the time I got home. The streets were getting wet and slick. The drizzle whispered through the new leaves of the towering trees that lined the block on which I lived. I found the house dark and empty. Dad was at the firehouse, I knew, and my mom had probably volunteered to work a second shift at the hospital. It was for the best; I really didn’t feel like being around anybody.

  I let myself into the house and went up to my room. I changed into a pair of shorts and a black t-shirt. I tried to lie down in bed in my dim room, but couldn’t get comfortable. My mattress felt lumpy and the air in my room smelled stale. So I got up, opened my window, and climbed out onto the small slanting roof at the front of the house. I would do that sometimes, when I wanted to feel like the only person in the universe. Sometimes I needed to feel that alone and free from the burden of other people. I’d sit on the brown shingles and watch the birds fly past. Sometimes, I thought, if there was any happiness in the world for me, I would find it sitting alone out on that roof.

  The roof was wet now, but I didn’t care. I sat and let the cool drizzle fall down on me. I hugged my knees and the rough shingles bite the bottoms of my bare feet. I watched the occasional car that cruised down the street, its tires making sopping sounds as they rolled over the wet asphalt. No birds flew around today.

  Then I heard a sigh. It came out of thin air. A moment later, Jerry was sitting next to me. Jerry was the house spirit, a former cop killed in the line of duty while protecting his canine partner, Sarge. He still wore his uniform and the ugly bullet hole in his forehead.

  “I used to love the rain,” he said wistfully. “The coolness and fresh air that comes with it. It always amazes me—the things I miss the most are always the little things.”

  I grunted. I had learned long ago not to comment on anything a spirit says to you; if you do, they just keep talking more and more.

  “So the facts in evidence,” he continued. “It is a school day. It is raining. And you are home sitting on your roof. Hmmm. This can’t be good.”

  “I just wanted to be alone,” I said, hoping he would take the hint.

  “Trust me: it’s not way to go through life…or death. What’s the matter?”

  “Same old thing,” I said. “I’m always surrounded by weirdness. Sometimes I wonder if I attract it. I wonder if it will always be this way, forever weird.”

  “Some people are born to weirdness,” Jerry said, “and others have weirdness thrust upon them.”

  I stared at him “That’s an awful saying.”

  “Whatever the case, I’m sure you’ll figure it all out,” he said.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I know you,” he said.

  “No, you don’t—nobody does.”

  “It’s easier to believe that, isn’t it?” he said. “Just like it’s easier to pretend you don’t have feelings.”

  “I don’t. Really. And stop reading my mom’s books over her shoulder.”

  As if he hadn’t heard me, he forged on, “And then something happens to remind you that you do have feelings, and the next thing you know you’re sitting up on the roof in the rain and thinking about running away, as though that ever solved anything.”

  I glared at him.

  He shrugged his thick shoulders. “It’s hard to hide things from a spirit. Now, you want to talk about it?”

  “It’s Jack,” I grumbled.

  “That kid? What about him?”

  “He’s an idiot,” I said. “He just won’t leave things alone.” Jerry sat there, waiting for more, so, as briefly as possible, I told him what had been happening.

  “Pyrokinesis? You’re kidding.”

  “No,” I said.

  “What will they think up next?”

  “Jack needs to leave this alone. I know how he is. Even if he says he’ll stay out of it, he’ll keep digging around. He’s stubborn. He’ll end up getting hurt.”

  “And you wouldn’t want that.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Because you care about him.”

  “Duh,” I said glumly.

  “It’s not the end of the world, you know. You can pretend all you want that you don’t care about anybody, but that doesn’t stop the truth from being the truth.” Jerry paused to look over the street; a squad car was cruising past. I thought I heard him sigh. “As much as I hate to admit it,” he continued, “your Jack is right. Nobody can be allowed to go around setting people on fire.”

  “And how do you stop somebody like that, exactly?” I asked.

  “That is the problem,” Jerry said gravely. “The authorities would never believe it—no physical evidence of arson. If you knew who’s doing it, you could try reasoning with them, although a person who would set people on fire isn’t likely to be the reasonable type. So what are you planning to do?”

  “Running away to join some freak show,” I said.

  “You won’t. You’re not the running type.”

  “Isn’t that a shame?” I asked.

  “You’ll work your way through the problem. You always do. Well, I have to get going.”

  “Hey? Where have you been lately, anyway?” I asked, before he faded out on me. “I haven’t seen you around the house.”

  “I’ve been spending more time with Sarge,” he said. “They had to retire him, you know. A couple years after I died, he got hit by a car while running down a suspect. He has bad arthritis in his hips now. Some days he can barely walk. It’s sad…. Actually I might need your help with him one day.”

  “Sure,” I said, wondering what good I could possibly do for an aging German Shepherd.

  “Good luck with that problem,” he said, beginning to fade away. “I have faith in you, kid.”

  “Why was that, again?” I asked.

  But he was already gone and I was once more sitting alone out in the rain.

  **************

  Later I went down to the kitchen and made myself a salad. I choked down most of it, as the room grew darker and darker.

  Outside the window black clouds rolled in, until it was dark as night, and the drizzle turned to hard rain that pattered heavily on the glass. I could hear the sound of thunder starting in the distance.

  I dug my cell phone out of my pocket a moment before it rang.

  “Speak,” I said to Jack.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Sitting in a dark house, listening to thunder.”

  “Sounds like fun. Feeling any better?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I think I am,” I said, and, oddly, it was true. “Look, Jack, I have to say something to you. I’m not sure how.”

  “Just say it,” he said.

  “You were right; these guys starting on fire was no fluke.”

  “I never thought it was.”

  “But you can’t get involved,” I said.

  “Why not? Somebody has to stop it, right?”

  “Maybe, but not you. Let’s just say that this is a freak issue, and you’re not a freak.”

  There was a long pause at the other end of the line. “What are you saying?” he asked. “You telling me you know what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, because I choose not to know. But I do suspect,” I said. It was one of those moments I wondered whether telling the truth was a good or bad thing. “All right,” I blurted out. “I’m a big fat liar, okay? Maybe my pants should be on fire. I think I know what’s going on. There was another name on your short list. Amy Nicci.”

  “Yeah, I saw. Who is she anyway? I couldn’t place her.”


  “Amy—Mean Jessica’s friend Amy.”

  “Oh, her? Short dark hair, dark eyes.”

  “I went to middle school with her,” I confessed.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You were friends,” he concluded.

  “I wouldn’t say that. It wasn’t that simple. Let’s say that I realized she was different and she realized I was different. That was the basis for something that was like friendship, but, trust me, it wasn’t really friendship.”

  “This didn’t end well, did it?” Jack asked carefully.

  I snorted. “Not at all.”

  “What happened?”

  “I stabbed her in the neck with a pencil. A number two pencil, if I remember right.”

  “Any particularly reason?”

  “She gave me the creeps.”

  “She gave you the creeps?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, but what’s her deal exactly?”

  “She thinks she’s a witch.”

  “A witch? Really?”

  “Oh, she’s not—that’s just what she always thought,” I explained. “You know how I hate all these things I can do? Well, she wasn’t like that. She has abilities, too. She loved it, all of it. She totally embraced what she was, and still wanted to be more.”

  I heard him sigh. “Now she can set people on fire.”

  “Apparently,” I said. I listened to the silence; I thought that maybe we had got disconnected. “You see why I never wanted to experiment with my abilities?”

  “But you’re different,” he insisted. “Something like this could never happen to you.”

  “And you know this how?” I asked.

  “I just know. You could never hurt anybody.”

  I chuckled darkly. “Never count on that—never. Sometimes my mind drifts. I think crazy things, and sometimes those things don’t seem so crazy.”

  “Jules, you’re all right,” Jack said through the static of our connection.

  “If you say so…”

  “But what about Amy?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “Nothing? That’s it? Just let her do whatever she wants, no matter who gets hurt?”

  “How would you stop her anyway? Are you fireproof or something?” I asked. “No, you have to stop poking around. You’re asking questions at school, too, aren’t you? That definitely has to stop. It’s a big school, but sooner or later, that’s going to get back to her. Right now she thinks she can get away with anything. It’s safer to let her go on thinking that.”