Hyde and Shriek

by David Lubar

  I knew what was about to happen. Worse, I knew there was nothing I could do to prevent it. I tried to hold on to good thoughts, but there weren’t any. There was nothing but a fuzzy thickness, as if my mind had been wrapped in heavy blankets of wool.

  Seventeen

  TROUBLE THAT’S HARD TO STOMACH

  The memory of that wretched nice girl clung to my mind as I emerged from the dizziness that clouded my thoughts. But she was gone. Hopefully, for good. There were only dim memories of that time when I was Jackie, but even those vague images caused me to shudder. She’d been so sickeningly nice. So hideously sweet and kind. Disgusting.

  Maybe it was all my imagination. I couldn’t possibly have been that nauseating creature. Nobody that sweet could survive in this world. She’d be destroyed right away. It didn’t matter. I was me, and I was feeling powerful. Best of all, I had a free period before my first class. Plenty of time for fun. To other people, this might be a school. To me, it was a playground.

  I heard the sound of little feet echoing down the hallway. Perfect. A second-grade boy was hurrying my way. I met up with him in front of the bathroom.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  He pointed at the bathroom door. “My tummy hurts,” he said. But it sounded like, My tummy huts.

  “It huts?” I asked. “What does that mean?”

  “It huts!” he said, as if I could understand him better if he got louder. “It huts bad.”

  “Are you trying to tell me that your tummy hurts?” I asked.

  He nodded, his large eyes staring up at me in a plea for sympathy.

  “Your tummy?” I asked.

  He nodded again, and some of the tension left his face. I guess he was relieved that I understood his problem. Time to show him how wrong he was. “What kind of a stupid word is that?” I screamed at him. “Tummy? What are you? A baby?”

  His face flashed between fright and tears, two of my favorite expressions. “My tummy … my stomach huts.”

  I patted him on the head. “Poor boy. Does it hurt bad?” I asked, speaking as tenderly as I could.

  “Yeah.”

  “Real bad?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Real bad.”

  “Don’t worry,” I told him. I leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “It’s probably just your appendix getting ready to burst.”

  A delicious wave of fear shot from him. At that instant, I realized something wonderful. The more fear and anguish and terror I could produce, the stronger I’d become. And the stronger I became, the harder it would be for anything to make me change. I laughed and left the boy. He was too easy. I needed more of a challenge. That wouldn’t be a problem. This place was crammed with opportunities for sorrow.

  “Miss, excuse me.”

  I looked over my shoulder. It was that pathetic Mr. Rubinitski, sticking his head out of his classroom. He waved a hand, gesturing for me to come over. I decided to treat him to the pleasure of my company.

  “You’re substituting for Miss Clevis, aren’t you?” he asked when I stepped over to him.

  “Yes.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know why she’s out, would you?” he asked.

  Perfect. I could see it in his eyes. He had a crush on her. This was wonderful. “I believe she ran off to get married,” I said.

  He opened his mouth. At first, all that came out was a tiny gulp, like a frog might make if you squeezed it hard enough. Then he managed to gasp out the word, “Married?”

  I nodded. “Rich fellow. He swept her right off her feet. I believe they’re taking his private jet to Hawaii. She’s probably not coming back to school.” I smiled sweetly at him.

  He slumped back into his classroom, looking like a man whose whole world had collapsed around him. I realized his pain made me feel wonderful. This had been even better than scaring the little boy. Terror was tasty, but heartbreak offered special rewards. And I’d ruined all his hopes without raising my voice. Variety was certainly the spice of life.

  The best was yet to come. The bell rang. Unlike the rest of the week, on Fridays I had my sixth-grade science class during second period. Norman and Sebastian and the whole gang. All mine. Time for me to devour a roomful of waiting victims. The very thought made me shiver with joy.

  Eighteen

  DOWN IN THE DUMPS

  I hurried to the room so I could watch each one of them walk in. It was lovely the way they squirmed when they noticed me and exchanged glances with one another. Several of the bolder ones dared a whispered word or two among themselves.

  Fabulous. I’m sure they’d been hoping to get their precious Miss Clevis back. I guess my presence disappointed them. Perfect. Except for one problem: Dawn. Curse her. She smiled at me. How dare she be so cheerful? It almost made me throw up. For a moment, I braced myself against a slight dizziness, but I looked away from her, and the feeling left. I’d have to change her attitude. Fast.

  There was no reason not to have some fun with her. I picked up a notepad and wrote: Please ask Principal Wardner to explain to this girl the importance of honesty. That was certainly a marvelously vague request. Then I folded the paper and walked over to Dawn’s desk. I dropped the note in front of her and said, “Would you be so kind as to take this to the secretary for me? Wait for an answer.”

  “Sure. I’d be happy to,” Dawn said, giving me another sickening smile. I grinned back at her and stepped away, holding on to the wonderful thoughts of what would happen when she gave the secretary the note. She’d end up getting a lecture from the principal, and she’d probably have no idea what she’d done wrong. He’d start talking to her about honesty, and he’d think she’d been dishonest. And she wouldn’t have a clue why she was getting a lecture. Best of all, she was so disgustingly honest that she’d never think of reading the note before she got to the office.

  Sometimes I amazed myself. But there was no time to stand around congratulating myself on my cleverness—I had a class to destruct. I mean, instruct.

  I studied the students carefully as I planned my next move. Their faces reminded me of mice in a tiger’s cage. If I’d shouted, Boo! they would have leaped straight off their seats. But that was too easy. It was always better to strike with the unexpected. “Hello, class,” I said, using my sweetest voice.

  Nobody answered.

  “Hello, class,” I said again, sounding hurt.

  A couple of them said hi. Then a couple more.

  “I have your tests graded,” I told them. I walked from desk to desk, handing back the test papers, enjoying each expression of shock or surprise.

  Norman didn’t react at all when I first gave him his test. I walked down the aisle, wondering how long it would take for the shock to wear off.

  It took about half a minute.

  “You gave me a C?” Norman finally shouted, leaping up from his seat and thrusting out the paper in a clenched fist.

  “If you need extra help, I’ll be happy to stay after class with you,” I told him. “I realize science can be difficult.”

  “But…” He sputtered for a moment or two, but didn’t seem to be able to launch his usual string of words. Wonderful. Things got even better when I handed Sebastian his test.

  “Hey, Norman,” Sebastian said, holding up the paper. “Check it out. I aced the exam. Great, huh?” He grinned at his friend. “Man, I was sure I’d flunked. This is awesome.” It was amazing how unaware he was of Norman’s feelings. I loved it.

  The sound of a garbage truck caught my attention. As I glanced out the window into the parking lot, a brilliant idea hit me. “Come on, class,” I said. “Follow me. It’s time for our field trip.” I led them out to the parking lot and went to my car.

  “Pile in,” I said, flinging open the door of the Volkswagen.

  “But that’s Miss Clevis’s car,” someone said.

  “She let me borrow it,” I explained, dangling the keys I’d pulled from my pocket.

  “We can’t all fit,” Sebastian said.

 
; I grinned at him. “Aren’t you clever to notice that. But it’s not a problem.” I pointed across the field to the Dumpster that had just been emptied by the garbage truck. “Roll that over here,” I said. I pointed back to Sebastian. “Get me some rope from the supply closet.”

  It was wonderful how quickly they followed my orders. When Sebastian brought the rope, I tied the Dumpster to the rear bumper of my car. “Okay. Hop in.”

  There were some protests, but they all got in. I started up the car and headed out to the local landfill. It was on the other side of Anderson Swamp, and a long stretch of the road was flooded with an inch or two of muddy water. All the better.

  I took the curviest roads I could. The Dumpster swung on the rope, throwing the kids from side to side. It was marvelous.

  I could hear them yelping and shouting through my open window.

  Norman found his lost vocabulary again and kept up a running commentary. “Fascinating. Note the effect of angular momentum. Observe the interaction of acceleration and inertia. Notice how—whooooops—!” he screamed as I drove full speed around a tight curve.

  Sebastian started shouting when he discovered a couple bugs crawling around in the Dumpster. I’d have to make sure to introduce him to plenty more bugs when I got the chance. I hit a bump in the road, sending the Dumpster into the air. It landed with a jolt. What fun.

  “We’re here,” I said when I pulled up near a towering pile of garbage. I’d driven all the way around to the back of the dump. “Better take off your shoes so you don’t get them dirty. Toss them in the car so they won’t get lost.”

  It’s amazing what kids will do when a teacher asks them. After I’d gotten all the shoes, I hopped in the car and drove off. Lovely. It was about ten miles back to town, assuming you cut straight across the dump. It was a lot longer if you went around. There wasn’t a phone between here and there, and students weren’t allowed to bring their own phones to class. Have a nice walk, I thought as I headed back to the school. I put the Dumpster where it belonged, then went to the office.

  “I need to report some truants,” I told the secretary in the office.

  “Really?” she asked. “Who?”

  “My whole class,” I said. “They didn’t show up. I suspect it’s some kind of prank. You know—take advantage of the substitute.” I stopped to sniffle a bit.

  The secretary ran around the desk and put a hand on my shoulder. “There, there. Don’t let it get to you. Kids can be cruel sometimes. But I’m sure they didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  I nodded and sniffled some more. “Thank you. You’re very kind.” I felt a flicker of dizziness, but not enough to worry me. I looked past her into the principal’s office. Dawn was there, getting a lecture. I grinned at her. I held my breath as she caught sight of me, bracing for a smile. But she glared back. Excellent. A victory for my side. Even cheerful girls had their limits. It felt especially wonderful to wipe away her smile. There was something about her that worried me. Something about her happy attitude that made me extremely uncomfortable.

  But that wouldn’t be a problem anymore. She’d gotten a good taste of unfairness. That was almost always guaranteed to turn a person bitter. And, to me, nothing tasted sweeter than bitter.

  I spent the rest of the day enjoying my classes. Not that my classes enjoyed me. No, they sure didn’t get anything to smile about. For starters, I pulled out all the smelliest chemicals I could find. Pretty soon, the room stank worse than the back end of a sick cow. I gave them tests they couldn’t possibly pass. I screamed and yelled. Just when they were getting used to my anger, I smiled and praised them. Teaching certainly was turning out to be a satisfying occupation.

  Then, as the day ended and I was leaving the building, I caught sight of one more perfect victim. The day had been dinner. Now, it was time for dessert. There he was. A little boy—just a kindergartner, walking down the hall by himself.

  A million wonderful possibilities flooded my mind as I stalked him. I felt just like a spider. A huge, hungry spider.

  Nineteen

  A GIFT FOR KINDNESS

  I’d have to wait until I saw his face before I’d know the best way to torment him. But that was all part of the fun. I sneaked up on him from behind, then suddenly shouted, “Young man!”

  He spun toward me. Ah. Sebastian’s brother. I smiled, thinking about how Sebastian and the rest of the class were still walking back to school. Walking barefoot through garbage and swamp water, hiking across ten miles of roads.

  Rory looked up at me with those big kindergarten eyes. He smiled, then reached in his backpack and held up an apple in his hand. “I saved this from my lunch for you.”

  I stared at the apple. “What for?” I snapped, trying to take control of the situation.

  “Teachers get apples all the time. But substitutes don’t. At least, I guess they don’t. So I didn’t want you to feel left out. So here.” He thrust the apple right up at my face.

  I took a step away from him.

  “Go on. Take it,” he said.

  I turned and ran down the hall, unable to bear his disgusting kindness. Didn’t he know that kids his age weren’t supposed to think about anyone but themselves? What was wrong with him? Dizziness crashed against me. That wretched, awful feeling …

  My goodness.

  I was far down the hall and around the corner before I stopped running. The memories of the day ripped at me. I shuddered, trying to fling the images of Ms. Hyde from my mind. Finally, as the last of the dizziness left, I settled down. I turned and rushed back to find Rory. He was probably disappointed that his gift had been rejected.

  “Hi,” I said. “Ms. Hyde forgot her apple.”

  Rory nodded. “Maybe she doesn’t like them.”

  I shook my head. “No. I think she was in a hurry. It was very nice of you to do that for her. You’re a really sweet kid.”

  He held up the apple. “Want it?”

  “Sure. Thank you very much.” I took the apple from him. What a great kid. As he left, I thought about all the other kids Ms. Hyde had tormented today. There was nothing I could do about the past. But at least I could control the present.

  Thinking about the last two days, I understood more of what had been happening to me. There was a pattern. The change from Jackie to Ms. Hyde wasn’t random. Any type of goodness—any great act of kindness—could pull me from my evil side. Rory’s actions had done it. So had Dawn’s kindness earlier. And Lud’s actions in the mall.

  But it worked both ways: Bad acts drove Jackie away, leaving the door open for Ms. Hyde to return. I knew that if I wanted to keep from becoming Ms. Hyde again, I’d have to stay away from anger and hatred and anything else that came from the dark side of human nature.

  That would be difficult. Maybe even impossible. But I had to try. I had to stay as Jackie if I ever wanted to become Miss Clevis again. As Jackie, I could search for a cure. Ms. Hyde would never want a cure. She’d want to stay as she was.

  And each time I became her, she got stronger. Worse, she drove the goodness out of all those around her. Look what she’d done to Dawn. Sooner or later, she’d try to destroy Rory.

  Poor Dawn. I realized she must have been hurt by all she’d gone through. I had to see her and try to fix the damage that Ms. Hyde had done.

  I just hoped she wasn’t so filled with anger that she drove me back to being Ms. Hyde. It was a chance I’d have to take.

  Twenty

  FACE-TO-FACE

  I found her sitting on her front porch, brushing Newton. Even from a distance, I could tell she was still hurt and angry. This could be dangerous. If she lashed out with her bitterness, I might get flung back into being Ms. Hyde. And that wouldn’t just be bad for me. I knew that Ms. Hyde would do whatever she could to destroy Dawn, or to drag her down to that world where everything was anger and hate. And an angry Dawn would have no chance against whatever other attacks Ms. Hyde launched.

  “What a beautiful dog,” I said.

 
Dawn looked up from the dog. “Oh, hi.” No smile.

  I hesitated for a moment. But a thought gave me courage: If Ms. Hyde could bring out the bad side of people, maybe I could bring out the good side. And with Dawn, there was already so much goodness. I walked over to the bottom of the porch steps.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked. “You look upset.”

  “That awful teacher,” Dawn said, glaring at me. “She got me in trouble. And I didn’t do anything.” She threw down the dog brush. “It’s not fair.”

  This wasn’t going well. I could feel her anger. It splashed over me like acid. I took a step back. What could I tell her? That life was fair? No. That wasn’t true. Sometimes life wasn’t fair. Good things happened to bad people. And bad things happened to good people.

  “Not fair at all,” she said.

  I couldn’t lie to her. But I couldn’t walk away. And if I stayed, I was sure the waves of hate and self-pity would push me back to where I didn’t want to go. There was only one thing I could do.

  “Hey, I’m really sorry you feel bad,” I said, taking a step back toward her. “You’re a good person. It hurts me to see you unhappy.”

  She looked right into my eyes. I could almost see her own good and bad sides waging war. Newton lifted his head and licked Dawn’s cheek.

  “See,” I said. “He’s sorry, too.”

  She smiled. It was as if a light had been switched on in a dark cave. “Thanks. It’s been a rough day.”

  “You’re telling me.” I smiled back.

  Dawn patted the porch next to her. I climbed the steps and sat down. Newton acknowledged my presence by rolling on his back and letting me rub his belly.

  “Where’d he get his name?” I asked.

  “From the scientist,” she said.

  “Do you like science?” I asked.

  Dawn nodded. “I don’t get the greatest grades in the world, but I really like science. We’ve got a really good science teacher, too.”