by Beth Goobie
Opening her binder, Maddy tore out a piece of foolscap. In neat square letters, she wrote, I’m very very sorry about your brother. I hope you’ll be okay. Then she folded it and passed it to Kara.
Kara’s eyes darted to the extended note, and she stared at it a moment before taking it. Then she opened and read it. Her mouth sucked in, and Maddy watched her fight off the urge to cry. Tearing off a blank section from Maddy’s note, Kara wrote something and passed it back to Maddy. The actual note, she tucked into a shirt pocket.
Maddy read the note. Thank you, it said. Everywhere I go, nobody says anything. They stare like I’m the end of the world, but they don’t say anything. That was it – nothing further. Kara didn’t look at her, didn’t reach out and touch the back of Maddy’s hand and say, Stop doing that. But Maddy stopped. Letting both hands lie still, she allowed herself to fill with the meaning of the note: She, Maddy Malone, had done something no one else had done. She’d shown courage where others had shown only fear. It was a small thing, maybe, but it had changed the world slightly for Kara. And it had changed the world for Maddy. Somewhere inside herself, the empty hole punched open by that day’s smirks and tweets began to close over. Maddy no longer felt as if she was pouring out of herself like a lost river. Carefully, she slid Kara’s reply note into her binder’s front inside pocket.
. . .
Maddy sat on her heels, observing the tree house mural. Seven trees now arched their frightened branches, and several streetlights glowed in the distance. There were no stars, but then she hadn’t drawn a horizon line – the swirling ground simply rose up and became a muttering sky. Focusing on that swirling ground-sky, Maddy tried to let it talk to her. Shifts of black and gray, groans of brown – it was as if she’d taken the inside of her gut and placed it on the tree house wall. If she reached out and touched the dark mural, she would be touching herself – her pain, her heartbeat. Her terror, and the shape of that terror. For so long, Maddy hadn’t wanted to give form to her fear; all she’d wanted was for it to go away, to vanish. Now, she was calling that night back to herself; her hands ached to touch the memory bit by bit, as much as she could handle.
Her palms were actually throbbing. There, she thought, fixing on a spot between the trees. Right there. Rising to her knees, she touched a stick of chalk to the wall, and began to draw the first figure.
. . .
English class emitted the usual dull roar. As Maddy entered the classroom and turned right, she heard her name called, but didn’t bother to look. Several times earlier that day, guys had spoken to her in the halls; smirks and snickers had followed her everywhere. Or that was the way it felt. At her locker, before homeroom, she’d gotten several comments; after that, like a house of mirrors, every face seemed to reflect the same taunts and sneers.
In addition, her Twitter was growing popular; before breakfast, she’d blocked several new followers, and nine at lunch. Her notifications had also skyrocketed. Previously, on a good day, she might have registered five mentions; her current number stood at nineteen. After reading the first few, Maddy had closed the app. It wasn’t a conscious decision – her mind had gone numb and shut down, and her hand had taken over, doing the thinking for her: No more. No more.
Maddy simply didn’t know how to respond to what was coming at her, what to do with any of it. Like yesterday, the tweets and comments slipslid definition; they referred to nothing in particular and at the same time insinuated everything. How did one fight back against innuendo? How was she supposed to take on a rumor without knowing what that rumor claimed? Sitting down at her desk, she took out her phone and began thumbing. Beside her, Kara was occupied likewise. Since their note-passing episode yesterday, they hadn’t spoken, and at the moment Maddy didn’t feel up to it.
A paper airplane sailed between their desks and crashed into the wall behind them. Without hesitating, Kara swivelled in her seat and picked up the crumpled missive, then unfolded it and read the message scrawled inside. Her mouth dropped open in disbelief.
“Who sent this?” she asked Maddy.
“I dunno,” Maddy replied. Unwillingly, but unable to resist, she read the note Kara held out for her to read: Party time, bitch. A baker’s dozen – twelve guys and you. Don’t you like those odds?
Shock slammed Maddy, followed by something heated and ugly. Shame. Face on fire, she ducked her head.
“What the fuck is this supposed to mean?” demanded Kara. “I want to know who wrote it.” With a hiss, she crumpled the note, just as Ms. Mousumi got to her feet and called Amy Rupp to the front of the room. Looking nervous, Amy rose from her seat beside Jeremy. Nondescript, she tended to fit into the background like Theresa, but without the humorous asides. Nothing about her stood out; she took up an average amount of space and went along to get along. When she reached the front of the class, Amy took a moment to scan her first paragraph. Then she glanced up. Briefly, her gaze locked with Julie’s.
“Farang knew she was beaten,” Amy began. “There was no way she was ever going to change things. At least not for herself. But there was one thing she could do. She could get even.
“Farang decided to become her evil twin. She decided to become her evil rep. Everyone already thought that was the way she was, and it’d be a lot more fun than the way she was living now.
“She snuck into huts at night and stole things. Mostly she stole things to eat – her name was ‘Hunger,’ wasn’t it? But she also stole jewels and clothes, and stuff like that. One night, she stole a kulumulu necklace. She didn’t know what it could do, she just liked it. An hour later, the kulumulu necklace changed color. When it did, Farang was thinking about the high priestess – how much she hated her and wanted to kill her. So the kulumulu necklace made Farang shapeshift into the high priestess.
“Farang didn’t know until she went to the river to take a bath. When she looked in the water, she saw the high priestess, and that’s when she got it – that she now looked exactly like her. She also figured out that her ‘soul’ was the real high priestess. So Farang made up a story to tell the tribe. She said that she was gone for a while because she was kidnapped by bandits. But then she escaped and came back. Farang told this lie to the village and the priestesses. Everyone believed her. Because the high priestess was missing for a while, so this looked like a true reason.
“The real high priestess was still at the temple, pretending to be Farang’s soul. Farang knew this wasn’t true, of course. Just like the high priestess knew who the fake high priestess really was. So there you had it – the high priestess and Farang both looked like each other, and they both hated each other. Both of them wanted to kill each other too, and they plotted in secret. Then the next full moon came around. Of course, no one could find the real Farang to eat the pain. So Farang, looking like the high priestess, said Farang’s soul had to do the job. So there was the high priestess, looking like Farang, crawling out of the bushes and getting spat on by the villagers. Then the real Farang, looking like the high priestess, leaned over her to spit her pain onto her too. But at that moment, both kulumulu stones changed color again. So Farang and the high priestess both shapeshifted back to themselves. So then the real Farang ended up in the cage, and the real high priestess was back in the temple. Y’see, a leopard can’t change its spots. It might be able to hide them for a while, but they always come back. The end.”
A hand went up. “You forgot something,” said Theresa. “There was no allura leaf poison in the food this time.”
Amy blushed, as if guilty of something. “Why not?” she asked.
“Only the high priestess knew about it,” said Theresa. “She was the one putting it into the food for Farang. But this time, she was the one getting the food, so she couldn’t have put it in.”
Another hand went up. “Maybe she put it in at the last minute,” said Julie. “After she shapeshifted.”
“How would she have any?” asked Theresa. “S
he was Farang’s soul up to the last second before they both shapeshifted back, and she didn’t know that was going to happen. So she wouldn’t have been ready for it. That means the real Farang crawled into the cage and ate food without poison for the first time. So she didn’t feel any pain. She’s gotta wonder about that.”
“Yeah,” burst out Paul. “Maybe that’s why she stops believing when she’s fifteen. She figures out the high priestess usually poisons the food and that’s why she feels pain – not because the villagers are giving her their pain.”
Ms. Mousumi got to her feet. “Okay, Amy – you can sit down now. I’m wondering what Kara thinks of all this. Have you had a chance to catch up on the chapters you missed, Kara?”
“Yeah,” said Kara. “I followed them on the website.” She shrugged, her face expressionless. “I guess it’s like any assignment – some kids follow the instructions, and some don’t. But so what? It’s not my story – only the first chapter was.”
Ms. Mousumi hesitated, as if discomfited by Kara’s uncharacteristic lack of interest. The entire class, in fact, looked openly surprised, a few even disappointed. Something had obviously changed for Kara, big time. I guess, thought Maddy, darting a sideways glance at the other girl, if your brother died, you wouldn’t care much about a story anymore. About anything, really.
“Well,” said Ms. Mousumi. “We’ll have to leave that to Ken Soong to solve. So, Ken – Friday? And after Ken, we have two more to go – Sheng Yoo and August Zire. Okay, class, open your books to…”
Tuning out of the teacher’s instructions, Maddy pulled a piece of foolscap from her binder. Across it, she wrote: What do you really think about The Pain Eater – how it’s going? She passed it to Kara.
Kara considered before responding. I think most of it’s crap, she wrote back under Maddy’s original note. But that’s like the rest of life – most people don’t want to really think. It’s no different here.
Maddy read and reread Kara’s reply. She hesitated. Her heart pounded. Then she wrote: How are you? Are you suffering a lot? She passed the note to Kara.
Kara stared at Maddy’s latest words. She blinked quickly; her mouth twisted in, then relaxed into a weak smile. Turning to Maddy, she looked directly at her.
“Thanks for asking,” she whispered. Then she turned her attention back to Ms. Mousumi. Maddy took a moment longer to tune in to the teacher’s words. She was shifting around inside herself, trying to get used to the feeling that had just come over her. The sensation wasn’t new, but it had been a long time since she’d experienced it. It was the feeling of connection – the feeling of belonging in the world of the living. She was no longer a bump on a log, a thing that had been destroyed by fear. Not that she was no longer afraid – some of the recent comments and tweets she’d received had sent fear roaring through her. But somewhere inside herself, over the past six weeks, she’d grown strong enough so that she was now ready to take on that fear. It was no longer so big that it shut her down completely. Which meant there was room inside for something besides terror. For the first time, Maddy found herself wondering what she had to say about The Pain Eater. Not that it mattered – Ken had manipulated her out of the sequence of readers, and it looked like her chance was a goner – but what would she say if she got that chance back?
Whatever that might be, first she was going to have to listen to Ken’s contribution.
. . .
It was the following day. Afternoon classes had ended, and Maddy was on her way out of the school. To her right, the art room door stood open. Inside, she could hear chattering, followed by a wave of boisterous laughter. Maddy’s footsteps slowed; she paused to listen. From the outside, the art room always sounded like so much fun. If, she reminded herself, you aren’t Jenn, or someone else Mr. Zarro takes a dislike to. Still, she thought wistfully, I’m not Jenn. Do I have to suffer for her for the rest of high school? Maddy missed art class, the chance to open up to possibilities of color and form. And Jenn didn’t even know what Maddy had foregone for her sake. What does it matter in the end? Maddy wondered. Was she helping Jenn by not taking art? What was the point?
“Hey!” said a voice. “It’s Malone.”
Before Maddy could respond, three guys had surrounded her. One of them she knew by name – Rory McBriar, a guy from her math class. The rest were hallway faces.
“Oooo hooo!” sang Rory. “Mad Maddy. Watcha doin’, Maddy?” He edged in, crowding her, and Maddy backed up to give herself space. Rory moved in again.
“Maddy, Maddy,” cooed another guy, “come over to my house to play. Oooo – come over to my house to fuck, Mad Maddy.”
They were crowding in closer now, all three to her left. Again, Maddy moved right to give herself room. “Back off!” she said, raising her left arm. Rory grabbed it, just as a door opened to Maddy’s right and a guy emerged, releasing the sound of flushing toilets.
“Quick!” said Rory, and all three grabbed Maddy and pushed. With a cry, Maddy stumbled right, the wall shifting under her grasping hand, the doorframe sliding past her back.
“What’s going on here?” shouted a voice. Suddenly, new hands grabbed Maddy and hauled her back over the threshold and out into the hall. Just as suddenly, Rory and his buddies turned on their heels and took off, leaving Maddy gasping against the wall.
“Thanks,” she whispered. Breath shoved in and out; her heart thundered. Gradually, it quieted, and air came easier. Maddy looked up.
“Hey,” said August. “You okay?”
Maddy nodded.
“I was in the art room, and I came out and saw those guys,” August said. “What’s with them? You know them?”
“Not really,” said Maddy.
“They were trying to pull you into the guys’ can!” said August. “We should go report it.”
Maddy took a step back. Go to the office over a shoving match? It wasn’t that big a deal, compared to…. Fear shifted through her, muttering warnings. If she reported this, Rory and his friends would get into trouble. They might come after her for it, like Ken, Robbie, and Pete. Or they might somehow tell Ken, and The Masked Avengers themselves would come after her. The possibility sent Maddy’s gut oozing down her legs. She’d had enough of Ken and Co., and guys like them. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone?
Leave me alone, she thought. I just want everyone to leave me alone.
“Maddy,” said August. Her hand touched Maddy’s shoulder. Startled, Maddy glanced at the other girl’s face, away, then back again. August kept meeting her gaze, her dark eyes steady, her expression…strong, Maddy realized. August’s face was strong, steady, and concerned, and not going anywhere. No, she looked ready to stand there and wait until Maddy found the strength somewhere inside herself to do what she needed to do.
And Maddy wanted that strength. Suddenly, more than anything, she wanted the strength to wear a face like August was now wearing. She wanted to be like August…and Kara…even her Trucker sister Leanne – part of the normal, functioning, don’t-mess-with-me world again. But being part of that world meant taking on the bad as well as the good. Could she do it? Did wanting the strength mean she actually had it?
“Will you come with me?” she asked.
“You bet I will!” said August, a grin cutting across her face.
Together, they went to the office. A vice principal, Mr. Vaughn, heard them out. Admittedly, August did most of the talking, describing what she’d seen, and filling in words for Maddy when she hesitated.
“You were actually inside the boys’ washroom?” asked Mr. Vaughn, observing Maddy. “The boys pulled you over the threshold?”
Maddy blanched. In her mind, the boys’ hands were on her again, and then they started to change to other hands, and it was night, and…. Hunching forward in her chair, she hugged herself, breathing and breathing as she pushed against the memories, willing them back down down down inside herself.<
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“Maddy,” a voice said quietly. It was August, her hand once again resting on Maddy’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” said Maddy. “I’m okay now.” Straightening, she glanced at Vice Principal Vaughn, then away. “They had me…inside the washroom, sir,” she said, her voice trembling. “And August pulled me back out.”
“Okay,” said Mr. Vaughn. “Did anything else happen? Do you need to see the school nurse?”
“No!” cried Maddy, ducking her head. “I’m fine!” A vice principal was one thing, the school nurse quite another. Next, it would be a psychiatrist.
“Let me get the boys’ names,” Mr. Vaughn said hastily. He took down the three names – August was able to supply the other two – and thanked them for coming in. “We have a zero tolerance policy for this kind of behavior,” he added. “I may have to talk to you again, after speaking with the boys. Thank you for reporting this.”
The girls left the office and stood a moment in the now-empty hall. Maddy knew she should head home – she was on supper prep – but something kept her lingering. August, too, seemed reluctant to go.
“Maddy,” she said, her dark eyes flicking across Maddy’s, “I don’t know if I should say this. I’ve…heard some of the things kids are saying.”
Maddy flushed. Shame seared her; she started to turn away.
August touched her arm. “It’s not true,” she blurted. “I know that.”
Maddy hesitated. “How d’you know?” she asked, staring at the floor.
“I know you a bit,” said August. “No way are you like that. I don’t think anyone’s like that, to be honest. It’s just dirt talking – dirt that likes feeling dirty. That dirt don’t have nuthin’ to do with you.”
The heavy weight pressing down on Maddy lifted slightly. “I don’t know what to do about it,” she said. “I get so many comments. And tweets. My Twitter is going private.”
