The Age of Amy

by BRUCE EDWARDS

  What kind of sick game was this? Was it the product of the sheep’s depraved sense of humor, or was he punishing me for outwitting him?

  I gritted my teeth and looked upward. "What are you doing to me?" I screamed.

  Then a soft, youthful voice spoke to me from behind. "Quiet. You’ll wake the dead."

  I turned around. Standing before me was my late brother, Kurt—big as life, with that Cheshire cat grin of his! I covered my mouth to hide my shock. Kurt had been dead for nearly ten years, yet there he was, wearing the same plaid shirt he had on the last time I saw him.

  My effort to control my emotions couldn’t stop the tears flowing. It was like a dream had come true for me—only, it was an impossible dream. I knew the eyes I stared into couldn’t really be Kurt’s. The day we buried him still haunted my memory.

  "Off to a slow start this morning, aren’t we?" said Kurt, patting me on the head. "Mom’s got breakfast on the table already. C’mon, sleepyhead."

  Kurt brushed past me on his way to the kitchen. I wanted so badly to wrap my arms around his waist and hold him for hours. I reached out, but stopped short of touching him, fearing it would make facing the reality of his death that more painful.

  "Kurt," I said, "is it really you? How can you be—"

  Kurt paid no attention to me. He walked over to the window, lifted up the sash, and inhaled the morning air. "Aw, that sweet smell of exhaust fumes," he said.

  He grabbed a box of birdseed off the mantle and leaned out to refill his bird feeder. The sparrows on the perches were stiff as boards like everything else in town. Then I gasped. While he attended to his wild pets, I noticed that the back of his shirt was soaked with blood stains.

  I composed myself and took a step toward him. "It’s been a long time, Kurt," I said, "but I never stopped thinking about you, not even after—"

  "Dammit!" said Kurt, ignoring me entirely. "Window’s stuck again." He forced the warped window shut. "When’s Dad gonna fix this thing?"

  I moved closer to him. "You were always so much more than a brother to me. I never got the chance to tell you how much I—"

  "Man, it’s cold in here," said Kurt, interrupting me again. "Must have forgotten to pay the heating bill."

  I’d had enough of Kurt’s rudeness. I stepped in front of him and knocked the birdseed box out of his hand. "Why won’t you listen to me?" I yelled. "I’m trying to tell you I miss you. I miss going to the carnival with you. I miss playing those stupid games. I want everything back the way it was then—the tea parties, the roughhousing, the bill collectors, everything. You hear me?"

  Kurt’s gentle smile turned into a surly frown. "I’m disappointed in you, Amy," he said.

  I frowned back at him. "Well, I’m disappointed in you, too. I thought you’d at least be a little more understanding."

  "Oh, I understand perfectly. I understand how Mom and Dad love having you around the house; how close you are to your own brother and sister; and that you’re so popular at school, the students can’t wait to elect you as their president."

  "Back off! You don’t know what it’s like out there. People are stuck-up and selfish. I can’t help it if they’re all too shallow to see that I’m only trying to help."

  "Then you’re a damn fool!"

  Kurt grabbed my arm, dragged me over to the mirror above the mantle, and pointed at my skunk head. "Look at yourself," he said. "That’s the perfect look for you; a mouth that doesn’t know when to shut up; ears that won’t listen to anyone but yourself; eyes that can’t see things the way they really are. You’re a bonehead just like everyone says, and I’ve got no use for a stinking, little brat like you!"

  I shook off Kurt’s grip. We stared bitterly at one another. Who was this guy? The big brother I so loved and admired had turned mean and hurtful. But, I knew better. His phony act didn’t fool me one bit. Obviously, he was acting out of concern for my welfare.

  Still, it must have hurt him to say those awful things. I searched his eyes for some sign he still had room in his heart for me. A faint smile peeked through his grumpy face.

  I opened my arms. He started to reach for me, then stopped to look at his wristwatch. "Oops!" said Kurt. "Gotta go." He trotted over to the front door, jingling his car keys in his hand. "Don’t want to keep my buddies waiting." Then he turned the doorknob.

  "Wait!" I cried. I ran to the door and held it shut. "Don’t go out there."

  "Why not?"

  "You’ll die if you do. You’re going to crash the car and be killed."

  "Don’t be morbid."

  He nudged me aside and opened the door.

  Suddenly, the phone on the sofa end table rang.

  Kurt stopped half way across the threshold. "Well, aren’t you going to answer that?"

  I stared at the phone, gripped with fear.

  "Well, answer it!" said Kurt.

  "I don’t want to."

  The ringing continued.

  "Pick it up!"

  "No. It’s the hospital."

  "Answer it. Now!"

  "No! No! No!"

  The piercing ringing was like fingernails on a chalkboard. I covered my ears and screamed, "Take me away from here! Please, God, take me away!" I pulled Kurt back inside, ran through the open door, and slammed it shut behind me.

  Outside, I was saved from having to relive the end of that painful scene, but I didn’t feel any less brokenhearted. I leaned back against the door and slid down to the ground with my face in my hands. And there I sat, in a world I had visited so often in my dreams, and sobbed.

  My long, tearful fit had finally ended. I sat on the stoop, my arms wrapped around my knees, facing the ground. My eyes were closed. I had no wish to see anymore of my past.

  Then I heard voices. I opened my eyes. The welcome mat under me was gone, and the concrete stoop had turned to soft earth. The door I felt against my back was now the obstacle course wall. It was midday, and I was back at the cornfield crossroads!

  Devin, Jake, and Lydia were sitting on top of the wall. Amazingly, their human heads had returned. Devin and Jake talked on cell phones while Lydia checked her makeup in her handy mirror. I ran my fingers over my own head. Not a single strand of skunk fur had been shed.

  Jake put his phone in his pocket and waved down to me. "Hey there, Alice," he said. "How was Wonderland?"

  I wiped the tears from my face and stood up. "Terrible," I said. "How’d you guys get here?"

  "Beats me, man," said Jake. "One minute the lights go out, next thing here we are."

  "Where’d the mule go?"

  "Back to the stable, and that’s where I’m goin’. Pa got the courts to give us our farm back." He placed his hand on Devin’s shoulder. "Plus, some kind person is loaning us seed money to help get us back on our feet." Jake slapped Devin on the back, nearly knocking him off the wall.

  Devin put away his cell phone, looked down at me, and shrugged his shoulders.

  I crossed my arms and leered back at him. "And what’s in it for you may I ask?"

  ".001 percent interest," said Devin, smiling. "Business is business."

  Lydia combed her long, auburn hair as I moved in front of her. "And what happened to that snake-in-the-grass girl I used to know?" I asked.

  She closed her makeup case. "It’s heading for the green grass of home. Got an appointment to see my real dad first, though. Then we’ve both got a date with a federal judge. Jake’s dad pulled some strings and got us a new trial." She high-fived Jake.

  Jake turned toward the back of the wall. "Off to make more protest signs?" I asked him.

  "Think I’ll try clipboards for a while," Jake said. "Gatherin’ signatures is so much safer."

  He tossed an unopened pack of cigarettes at my feet and gave me a wink. Then he leaped off the wall and vanished into thin air.

  Then Devin lifted his feet over to the other side. "You leaving, too, Mr. Weasel?" I said.

  "Got lots to talk over with my folks," said Devin. Then he held his Rolex up to the sunlig
ht and admired its bright diamonds. "And this should bring just enough to pay off Uncle George. See ya!"

  Devin jumped off the wall and disappeared.

  Lydia reached her hand down to me. "C’mon, Amy," she said. "I’ll help you up."

  I started to reach up to her, then abruptly pulled my hand back. "No," I said, backing away. "I can’t."

  "What do mean you can’t?"

  "I mean I can’t go with you. Nothing’s changed for me. You have a happily-ever-after to go back to. I’d just be goin’ back to the same old problems."

  "What about Hubert?"

  "I can’t see him."

  "What’s stopping you?"

  I grabbed hold of my skunk ears and held them out to the side.

  "I see your point," said Lydia. Then she turned around.

  "Will I ever see you again?" I asked.

  "I never thought I’d say this," said Lydia, "but I totally hope so." She leaned out. "Sorry I won’t be around to wipe the floor with you in the election. Always knew you were the better choice, anyway."

  Then she shoved off and was gone.

  That miserable feeling of abandonment returned in the silence that followed. I walked up to the wall and placed my hand against its cold, hard surface. I was overcome with a loneliness I’d never felt before—but I wouldn’t be lonely for long.

  "ATTEN-TION!"

  It was that pesky Sergeant Sheep again, and I was in no mood to be bossed around by him. "Not now," I said.

  "Listen up!" shouted the sheep. "I order you to get over that wall—pronto!"

  "You’re crazy! How can I go back with this skunk head on my shoulders? Speaking of which, how come the others got their human heads back and I didn’t?"

  "Don’t play dumb with me. You failed the obstacle course."

  "Where have you been? I cleared all those hurdles like the rest of them, even this stupid wall."

  "You’re forgetting the other wall."

  "What other wall?"

  "The one inside your hollow head. Whenever things don’t go your way, up it goes. It stands in the path of reaching your goals. It blocks the way of anyone trying to get close to you. Yet, there it stays."

  "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

  "The hell you don’t! But you keep pretending it doesn’t exist as long as you want to. Just remember this: the longer you ignore it, the higher it gets, and the harder it is to get over."

  "And what about this one," I said, patting the wall next to me.

  "Your orders are to scale that wall and go back where you came from."

  "I’d be happy to, if only because I’m tired of being lectured."

  "And I’m tired of snot-nosed skunks stinking up my bootcamp. Now, get up there. Move! Move! Move!"

  I turned and faced the wall. I was ready to do anything to get away from that crazy sheep, even going back to that dreadful farm town.

  As I reached up, I felt something against the side of my foot. The sheep was crouched down next to me, his hands clasped together, ready to give me a boost. Just as I suspected! Like all the other zany characters he had been playing, the sergeant routine was just an act. Beneath that hard-boiled sheepskin was a real, beating heart. I think I might have even detected a tear in his eye—very uncharacteristic for a shouting sheep.

  I placed my foot in the sheep’s sturdy hands. He lifted me gently. I easily grabbed hold of the wall and sat myself down at the top. On the other side, dawn was breaking over the green fields of Shankstonville that lay stretched out before me.

  I turned back toward the sheep. "There’s something I’ve been wondering about," I said. "What’s your real head look like?"

  "This is my real head," he said. "No human would take the job."

  "You mean you’re not human?"

  The sheep just smiled. Then his hand sprang up to his forehead in a military salute. "On your way, cadet."

  I turned and looked out over Shankstonville, then jumped down into a reality I wasn’t ready to face.

  Chapter 11

  You're Back

  I landed on the sidewalk outside the Shankstonville bus station—my suitcase at my feet, my cell phone in my pocket, just as if I had never left. There was no trace of the obstacle course wall, leaving me to wonder if I had somehow imagined the whole thing.

  The fluorescent sign at the Jiffy-Q came on against the first light of day. The service bay doors at the corner gas station rolled open. Although there were no cars on the street, there was plenty of traffic out in the fields. Tractors worked the open farmland. Dust clouds trailed behind backfiring pickup trucks. I was cool with the crop duster that skimmed the horizon, so long as it didn’t turn in my direction.

  While I had survived Bonehead Bootcamp, returning home offered new challenges. In a town where chin wagging was something of a sport, my biggest hurdle still lay ahead of me, and I didn’t want to start by having the locals see me with my skunk head. I headed home without delay with my suitcase tucked under my arm.

  I felt like Dracula with his coffin running from the sunrise. Fortunately, all the villagers were still asleep, and I made it across town without any of them seeing me.

  With only a few blocks to go, it looked like I was home free, until I heard loud barking up ahead. A large bloodhound had spotted me from his front porch, and was determined to tell the whole neighborhood about it. As he bounded over to me, I recognized him as an old pal who sometimes followed me to school. He saw right through my disguise and greeted me without making a sound. His huge, wagging tail nearly knocked me down as I scratched behind his floppy ears. Good boy!

  Arriving at my house, I hesitated before going inside. All the windows were dark, and since my family never rose before the farmers did, I figured no one was up yet.

  Then I noticed a hint of light through the closed slats of the living room blinds. I eased open the front door, crept through the foyer, and peered into the living room. The TV had been left on. Luckily, no one was in the room. Whew!

  With everything that had happened to me, I was feeling pretty frazzled. My feet felt like 30-pound cinder blocks as I climbed the stairs. I nearly collapsed as I dragged myself down the hall. Inside my room, I kicked off my shoes and sank into bed with all my clothes on.

  Daybreak was just beginning to flood my room with light. I watched the approaching dawn melt away the silver clouds beyond my window. It was so nice to be home again. It even felt good to be back with my family. Only, how was I going to explain my appearance to them? Who would believe what I had gone through? Perhaps some convincing answers would come to me in my sleep.

  The alarm clock on my nightstand blared its wake-up call. I pried my eyes open and reached over to turn it off. Then I rolled onto my stomach and plowed my face into my pillow.

  I heard a knock at the door and my father’s voice from the hallway. "Someone left their suitcase in the hall," he said. "School day, Amy. Time to get up."

  "Do I haaaave to?" I moaned into my pillow.

  "Monday morning," said my father, coming through the door.

  I rolled onto my back and propped myself up on my elbows. Through my clouded vision, I saw a figure standing at the foot of the bed, holding a cup of coffee.

  I wiped the grogginess from my eyes and looked up at him, but something didn’t look right. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. The man standing there was the right height, had the right build, and spoke in my dad’s voice. For sure, he was my dad, but his words were not being formed by human lips. He had the head of a walrus!

  "Dad!" I said. "What happened to your head?"

  "What?" gasped my father. Coffee sloshed over the rim of his cup as he hurried over to my dresser mirror. "What are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with my head."

  "Can’t you see it? The whiskers? The blubber? You’re a walrus, Dad!"

  He puckered his thick lips and took a sip of coffee. Then he came to my bedside and looked down at me through his dark-brown, billiard-ball eyes. "You feeling alright?" he
asked.

  The commotion brought the rest of the family charging into my room.

  "The bonehead’s back," said my sister, wiping the chocolate off her pig cheeks.

  "So soon?" my brother mumbled, through the folds of his bulldog face.

  "Sleeping in your clothes again, I see," said my mother, rolling her baboon fur with a curling iron.

  My family looked like the main attraction at a circus sideshow. They each had animal heads on top of their human bodies. It was like being back at Bonehead Bootcamp all over again. But wait! Why weren’t any of them making rude remarks about my skunk head.

  I reached for the mirror on my nightstand and slowly swiveled it toward me. I caught sight of my right ear, then my right eye, then my nose. It was a human nose—right in the middle of my human face!

  "Well, Amy," said my father, through his long tusks, "I hope you learned something positive at camp. Sorry I had to raise such a stink over it."

  I leaped off the bed, threw my arms around his thick, hairy neck and hugged him tightly. "The only stink you raised was me," I said.

  I headed off to school that morning, alert and full of energy. Though I followed the same route I had taken a hundred times before, everything around me looked different now. There was a beauty to our town I never appreciated before: the green of the pastures, the fragrance of the sunflowers, the song of the meadowlarks.

  I trotted merrily down the school hallway, humming along with the hick music playing over the P.A. system. Like every morning, I watched the students plow their way to class through the crowded corridor, only now it was like a parade at the National Zoo. They all had animal heads, too!

  I saw:

  Sloppy hogs,

  Slimy frogs.

  Lazy cats,

  Dirty rats.

  Hoppity hares,

  Grizzly bears.

  Busy beavers,

  Golden retrievers.

  Every breed in the animal kingdom was represented, yet no one gave it a second thought. And as I gazed into the faces of the critter-headed students, none of them looked at me any differently.