by Rowe, Brian
I passed by five cop cars, at least, today, and was surprised to not find a single one trailing after me. Considering I struggled to even see the road ahead of me, given that I was a borderline munchkin by now, I was surprised to not be harassed by anyone.
My stomach growled, and I realized by late afternoon all I had eaten this whole day was a stale granola bar that had been lingering for weeks in the back seat of my car. I was a growing boy, let no one forget. I needed food! Eight glasses of water! Four glasses of milk! Fruits and veggies and protein and—
“Screw it!” I had a little money in my wallet. I figured I’d stop by one of the fast food joints and splurge on the kind of junk I used to eat when I was literally eleven years old, seven long years ago.
But seconds before pulling into the drive thru lane, my phone started ringing. I pulled into the parking lot and answered. I decided not to scream out Liesel’s name this time. I thought that maybe if I pretended it wasn’t her, it would actually be her.
“Hello?” I asked.
Silence.
“Hello?”
“The time has come,” an ominous voice whispered.
“What?”
“The time has come, Cameron Martin.”
I tried to swallow my own vomit as I turned my head around to look out my back window, terrified at what I might see. But I didn’t notice anyone, or that van, anywhere.
“Who is this?” I asked.
“You know who it is.”
The voice didn’t sound familiar. More questionably, it didn’t even sound like a girl.
“I don’t.”
“Cameron, I—”
“Tell me who this is!” I shouted, my voice as deep and menacing as I could make it. I tried to control my breathing, but my whole body was shaking with fear and rage. I looked out every window in my car and didn’t see anyone, but I still felt like I was being watched. I wondered, at this moment, if these were my final seconds to live.
“Meet me at the front of CRHS. You have thirty minutes. Don’t be late.”
The caller hung up, and I found my phone slipping through my sweaty hands all the way down to the front of my seat.
CRHS? Why would this woman, or this witch, or this egomaniacal, torturous freak (or, all of the above) want to meet me there, of all places? Does this have something to do with what happened to me last year? With the aging condition? With my relationship with Liesel?
I knew, deep down, that the drive to my former high school was assuredly going to be the last drive of my new younger life. I could barely see the street anymore. I was putting other people’s lives at risk.
But I needed to find more answers. And I thought that finally, for better or worse, I would get some.
I pulled out of the fast food parking lot.
And prayed.
---
I pulled up to the front of the quiet, abandoned school a half hour later. There were a few cars in the parking lot—probably belonging to all the journalism students who had to spend their Saturdays in the grungy downstairs newspaper room—but I didn’t see a single person anywhere. And there was no female figure or van waiting for me. I was all by my lonesome.
Not for long, I knew.
I rolled my driver’s side window down and remained seated, trying to listen for any unusual sounds outside. I kept an eye on my phone, which hadn’t made a peep in the last half-hour.
I heard a car coming toward me. I turned around to see that it was not a van, but one of those little smart cars. I couldn’t imagine the bad guy would be driving in that. And he or she wouldn’t. The car just raced past me.
As the smart car made a right turn at the end of the street, however, I heard, as well as felt, a mysterious car pull up behind me.
I glanced into the rearview mirror to see a medium-sized black car stalling behind mine, a figure wearing black gloves hiding behind the steering wheel.
“What the—”
Before I had a chance to escape, a second figure pulled open my car door, grabbed my arms, and pulled me toward him. He was a big fellow, at least six-foot-four, and he was wearing a ski mask over his face. “CAMERON MARTIN!” he shouted. “It’s time!”
He pulled me all the way out of the car, and while my stronger eighteen-year-old self might have been able to put up a fight, my eleven-year-old self could only smack his sides and scream. The big beast of a guy lifted me up off the ground and dragged me toward the back of the black car. I looked inside to see four people, all sporting large masks on their faces to protect their identities.
“Where are you taking me?” I shouted.
He didn’t answer me. Instead, he kicked open the trunk.
“What… what are you doing… stop!”
He dumped my small, fragile body inside and slammed the trunk shut. There was nothing I could’ve done. The guy was just too strong.
I screamed for a few more seconds, but eventually stopped. I knew yelling wouldn’t get me anywhere. Surprisingly, as the car started up and headed down the street, I felt gratified.
Hey, at least I’m finally going to get some answers to this unsolvable mystery.
At least I’ll get to see Liesel.
I pushed up a few times, but there was no escaping; the trunk was locked from the outside. And while Liesel had inspired me more than any other person in the last ten months, she hadn’t passed along a single ounce of her magical powers over to me that I could use in this situation
Some magic would be nice around now, Leese.
As I felt the car accelerating onto what I believed to be one of Reno’s freeways, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine how lucky I would feel just to brush my hands against Liesel’s soft, velvety cheeks, even if it were to be for the last time.
---
Twenty minutes later the car started slowing down, and I could feel the sounds of rocks beneath the tires. I started wondering if these figures had been hired to take me to the top of Mount Rose and push me over the cliff. If such were the case, there was little I could do or say now to save my life.
When the car stopped, I listened intently as all the people in the car scattered and started running in the distance.
Oh God, are they gonna blow up the car?
I clasped my hands together and quietly prayed. Up until a year ago I had never prayed a single time, but now I tended to do it more often. Liesel and I weren’t invading Holy Mass as often as we should, but I definitely felt a closer relationship with God than ever before.
“God… please…” I whispered. “If you have to kill me… kill me… but don’t take Liesel… I’ll do anything…”
The trunk shot open, and bright light flooded my pained eyeballs. I looked up to see that same large figure, still with the ski mask on.
“They’re ready for you!” he shouted, sticking his hand out for me to grab onto.
They?
I sat up and tried not to barf, my instant headache quickly turning into nausea. I reluctantly grabbed the man’s arm, and he pulled me outside. Once my feet hit the dirt, he started pushing me to the back of a building. It turned out we weren’t anywhere desolate and near a mountain cliff after all. I could see streets and cars in the far distance, and this building, which looked semi-familiar, was hugging busy South Virginia Street.
Oh my God, I thought. No. No way. Is this what I think it is?
The man pushed me inside the back door of the building, probably surprised that I wasn’t putting up more of a fight. He knew by now I had an idea of what was going on, but I was still frightened, still thinking pessimistically, still waiting for a gun to go off behind me.
We walked down three dark hallways, before I saw a giant blue curtain.
“He’s here!” the man shouted, still lightly pushing me forward, even though he had to know by now I could walk.
I finally stopped, hesitating in front of the curtain, not sure exactly what I was going to be met with beyond it.
The man behind me grasped my shoulders with his rough,
giant hands, then kicked me on the butt and sent me crashing forward into the large, abandoned room before me. My head hit the hardwood floor, just as I heard a dozen voices or more shout: “Surprise!”
I looked forward at the curtains to see the tall guy appear. He removed the mask and sported a huge smile. I had never seen him before in my life.
But when I turned to my left, I saw some familiar faces. At the front of the crowd was my basketball buddy Aaron, as well as most of my other former team members. I could see Matt, Cody, Lionel, Mike, Todd, Sam.
As I sat up, Aaron shouted at the top of his lungs: “Who’s ready for a bachelor party!”
Everybody started clapping and cheering as not one but two young strippers appeared, one more voluptuous than the other, the blonde girl on the left wearing a black bra and underwear, and the girl on the right wearing a white bra and underwear. The only addition necessary was one more girl dressed in black on the right to make the perfect Oreo cookie.
“Oh my God,” I said out loud.
“Did we surprise you?” Aaron shouted.
I got up on my feet, and as I turned around to face the group of young men, the applause started to fade. The only two to not break character were the two strippers, who kept walking up to me as if they didn’t have a single problem with my eleven-year-old appearance.
“Was it a surprise, or—” Aaron stopped in mid sentence.
Everybody looked at me with horror. It was unlike last year, when the Principal of our high school forced everyone to treat me like I was just any other student. Today, my younger appearance was a complete surprise to everyone in the room, and they were all undoubtedly going to show their true colors.
The strippers made their way up to me, all smiles. The tanned girl in black took my right arm, and the bustier woman wearing white took my left. “You’re one of the younger ones we’ve had here,” the woman in white said as she stroked the top of my head.
“Cameron?” Aaron shouted.
Nobody moved. Nobody seemed to know what to say. Everybody just stood in a huddle, trying to figure out if the bachelor party should move on as planned.
And then, my old arch nemesis from senior year stepped out from behind the others. I hadn’t seen this guy in forever, and I was shocked to see him looking pretty rough, at least twenty pounds overweight. He was holding a Corona beer, and he, as did everyone else, looked shocked.
“Cameron, what happened to you?” Ryan asked.
“What the hell happened to you?” Aaron repeated, much, much louder.
I took a deep breath and looked up at the strippers. I slowly pulled my arms away from their grasps and nodded to both of them. “Can you give me a few minutes alone with my friends here?”
They both laughed and backed away. “Certainly, kid.”
They started walking to the back of the strip club, the same one I had visited a year ago when I snapped photos of Coach Welch getting a lap dance from a much older, chain-smoking stripper. Now, here I was, a year older, looking like a child, in a place only meant for those twenty-one and older.
Aaron charged toward me and was the first to hug me. “Oh my God, is it happening again?”
Matt, looking even taller than he did senior year, took a few steps forward, too. “Holy shit. Now you’re aging backward?”
“Guys!” I shouted, trying to lower my voice as much as possible, to little success. “You scared me half to death back there! What the hell were you thinking?”
“What do you mean?” Aaron asked.
“Kidnapping me like that? Throwing me in the trunk? Couldn’t you have, I don’t know, just called me and had me meet you here?”
Aaron shook his head. “That’s not the issue, Cam. The issue here is that you look like you’re ten years old.”
“No, actually, today I’m eleven,” I said, correcting him.
He brought his hands to his cheeks, completely flabbergasted. “Oh, you’re eleven! OK… uhh… right.”
I surveyed the room. “I can’t believe you brought me here—”
“Cam, you need a doctor!” Aaron shouted. He reached for me. I jumped back.
“No.”
“No?”
“No,” I said. “You know what? It’s Saturday night. I’ve had a really shitty week. I’m not exactly in the mood to go to a doctor, Aaron.”
Matt laughed. “It’s so funny to hear the word ‘shit’ come out of a little kid.”
I punched him at the bottom of his elbow, which was about the furthest up I could reach, but he didn’t even notice.
“What, are you joking?” Aaron asked. “Come on. You’re coming with me.” He grabbed me by the arm. Again, in my physical state, I had no way to fight back. Everybody in this room, except for maybe the fattened Ryan, was far too intimidating a physical force for little old me to take on by myself.
“No! Aaron! Stop it!”
“I’m taking you to the emergency room,” Aaron said. “You can’t let this happen again! You need help!”
“Please! No!”
“Hey!” a voice shouted behind me. “Aaron! Let him go!”
Aaron turned around as Ryan rushed over to us.
“What?” Aaron asked.
“Do what the man says. If Cameron doesn’t want to go, he shouldn’t have to go. This is his night, after all!”
“What do you suggest, Ryan? Load him up? Lap dances? Just look at him! He’s sick! He’s eleven years old!”
“We will do whatever Cameron wants!” Ryan shouted. “I gave this guy so much shit last year when he was turning into the world’s oldest man. It’s time, for one night, that we all just let Cameron be himself.”
Aaron shook his head. He looked sicker than I did, his head convulsing at such a speed I thought it might explode. “That is bullshit, Ryan! This is ridiculous—”
I found a moment to escape from Aaron’s grasp, and I took it. I ran up to Ryan and jumped behind him.
“Thanks, man,” I said.
“It’s good to see you, Cam,” he said, shaking my hand, “even if you do look like a dweebie fourth grader.”
I shook my head. “Some things never change.”
“Fine!” Aaron shouted. “You guys enjoy yourself. But I can’t stay and watch this train wreck. Cameron needs help, but if he wants to stay, so be it. Not me. I don’t even want to be here, anyway. I’ll go find a bachelorette party somewhere. I’ll have more fun!”
I felt bad about Aaron, but as I watched him storm out of the strip club with an uncontrollable temper I’d never seen on the gay and attractive African American, I knew that I needed this night.
I turned to the dozen or more guys in front of me, more upbeat now than I’d ever been in the last tumultuous week. “So, I know I may look a little young to you guys. But trust me, I’ve had my share of wild nights, and I know how to hold my own. And plus, I’m getting married in two weeks!”
Everyone started cheering, probably not so much because they wanted to party with an eleven-year-old, but so they could get past the emotional drama of the last few minutes and just get their drink on.
“Who’s ready to party?” I shouted, my voice so high that any passers-by outside probably assumed a children’s birthday party was taking place inside.
No birthday parties here. Thank God.
“You want a lap dance?” Ryan asked, motioning for the two strippers to come back over to the center of the room.
“Absolutely,” I said. “But I’m gonna want a beer first.”
“Can I see an ID?” Ryan asked, laughing.
“Sorry. Left it at home.”
I knew I shouldn’t have. I knew I should’ve made a run for it as soon as I got free from Aaron. I didn’t have time to have fun. Fun was something long since gone in my life, after Liesel disappeared, after receiving threats, and after I started de-aging from eighteen to zero. At the same time, though, enjoying myself for a few hours was probably more beneficial to my health than running around Reno trying to find another clue, or
traipsing around a hospital talking to doctors who wouldn’t have a clue about my condition.
I needed this. I didn’t care anymore. Tomorrow, I would continue the quest.
Tonight, I was going to have some fun.
“Where’s my beer?” I shouted.
Ryan tossed me a Corona. I downed the whole thing in ten seconds.
When the lap dance began three minutes later, I found myself in Heaven.
I was the luckiest eleven-year-old in the entire world.
---
Let’s just say I couldn’t really hold my liquor that night. When the manager of the strip club threw us out thirty minutes into the lap dancing, two strippers alternating, all of my guy friends cheering, I found myself performing somersaults on the sidewalk. I threw up a whopping seven times, mainly because my miniscule body couldn’t keep in this kind of excitement, not to mention, all the alcohol.
But I was determined to keep the night going.
Most of the guys followed me across the street to Silver Mine Casino, where I walked up and down the slot machine aisles a pathetic, slobbering mess.
“You know, you might get in trouble if you try to play, Cam,” Ryan said. He was definitely the guy keeping the closest eye on me.
“What are they gonna do, Ryan? Arrest me? I’m just a kid!” I laughed and started heading over toward the big, fancy dollar machines.
A cocktail waitress moseyed on over to us. She had messy black hair and was chewing gum ferociously. “Can I get you boys anything?”
“I’ll take a vodka tonic,” I said.
She smiled. “You’re cute.” She looked up over me. “Are any of you boys twenty-one?”
“I’m twenty-one,” I said.
“Really?”
“Mmm hmm. My birthday’s today actually.”
“Well happy birthday.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re still not getting a drink, kid.” She laughed and started walking past me.
“What about a Shirley Temple, with some vodka mixed in?” I asked. She didn’t answer me; she just kept walking.
I made my way up to the dollar machines. There were at least twenty of them. I watched as Ryan ordered a few drinks from a different cocktail waitress and handed me a Budweiser. I downed half of it in two big gulps.
