Come As You Are Read online

  “Lonely old bastards,” Dad had said. “And now they just sit in their houses alone, waiting to die. Wondering what they did to deserve this.”

  I don’t know why, but it occurs to me that this is the reason why our neighbor Luckman is so mean and keeps taking it out on the dog.

  Mr. Charbonneau is walking across the parking lot now. I watch as Kirk’s stepdad jumps into his faded, beat-up Toyota truck and peels out. The principal says something to Kirk, who’s still standing there, trying not to cry. Then the kid walks away without saying anything. I can tell he’s super pissed.

  I guess me and Ollie will get ours later.

  Kirk didn’t come to PE and, as a result, Lonnie and Gilbert left us alone. Me and Ollie ate lunch at a corner table in the cafeteria, and when we didn’t see Kirk there either, we figured we were home free. I still planned on getting rid of the notebook and hoped I could slip it into Craig’s locker after school without anyone seeing me. Ollie agreed to be a lookout, in case Hershey showed up. Later, we would go to Gasher’s Park and ride our skateboards. No such luck.

  There’s this girl, right? Regina Sanchez. She transferred into our district last year, and I got to see her through most of sixth grade, though I never talked to her or anything back then. Anyways, I sort of like her now. She’s hella cute, and I can’t be sure, but I think she might like me too a little bit.

  I never talk about Regina to Ollie because there’s no one who’s interested in him yet, and I don’t want him feeling bad and stuff. I didn’t think anyone knew about my interest in Regina. But then after school, I see Kirk talking to her across from the chain link fence, and I know something’s up.

  Ollie is meeting with Mr. Ryan about his math homework, so I’m all alone. I’m just about to sneak in and return the notebook to Craig’s locker when Lonnie and Gilbert appear on either side of me—where in hell did they come from? Lonnie grabs my arms and pulls them hard behind me as Gilbert undoes my jeans and pulls them down around my ankles. Then he does the same with my underwear.

  Everything is happening so fast; I don’t even scream. I’m kicking and trying to get away, but Lonnie and Gilbert have me pressed up against the fence. If there was ever a worse nightmare, I can’t think of it. At least most of the other kids have gone home already. Now, Kirk is laughing and pointing. Then Regina sees me. Seriously, I want to die. But instead of laughing, her face turns dark red, and she runs away.

  “Stupid bitch!” Kirk says, angry as hell. “You were supposed to laugh!”

  I never thought I’d be glad to see Hershey. When he comes around the corner with his cart, the two assholes see him and take off. Hershey walks over fast and parks his cart in front of me to give me some privacy.

  “This Kirk Wardell’s doing?” he says.

  “Yeah.” I’m buckling my belt now as I step around the cart.

  “He’s garbage. But his old man’s worse.”

  “Thanks.”

  I’m trying hard not to cry. The last thing I need is for the school janitor to feel sorry for me. Hershey is saying something else now, but I’m too busy replaying the incident in my head like a movie clip—especially Regina’s reaction. And then I realize she didn’t laugh at me. I guess that’s something. Still, I’m not sure I can ever face her again.

  “Better get home now,” Hershey says.

  I decide not to wait for Ollie. On the way to my house, I pass the 7-Eleven. Kirk, Lonnie, and Gilbert are inside. It looks like they’re giving the old black dude who works there some shit. And then, the anger I was feeling before rises. Tears spring from my eyes, and I feel like screaming. Next thing I know, I’m standing in the alley behind the store, reading Craig’s notebook.

  Absorb the Power.

  Craig had drawn a life-size picture of a hand with a strange symbol on the palm. It looks kind of like an eye, and it’s dark red. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, so I try and figure it out. It looks like if I put my left hand on top of the picture, it will fit perfectly. So that’s what I do. Then I sound out the words below the picture. At first, nothing happens. But on the third try, a sharp pain shoots through my hand and up my arm, causing me to drop the notebook. As I reach down to pick it up, I hear footsteps coming toward me.

  “Hey, look, guys,” someone says. I recognize Lonnie’s voice. “I think Stein wants to whip it out again. Maybe we should help him.”

  I’m gripping the notebook hard now, and when I look at those three losers, they freeze, all the color leaving their faces. Then they turn around and walk away. I have no idea what just happened, but on the way home, all I can think about is the notebook and getting to the next item on the list.

  “How was school today?” Mom says.

  “Another perfect day.”

  Dad and Beth are out again, so it’s just the two of us for dinner. I love my mom, but sometimes, I don’t feel like talking. She’s always asking me about my “plans” and my feelings and stuff. At this point, I’m just playing with my food, not saying anything. When I look up at her, I can see she looks sad.

  Mom married my dad when she was only nineteen, so the story goes. Her parents were “lower middle class,” which in this town meant you were one notch above trailer trash. I think she did it to get out of the house and give her younger sister, Allison, a chance. My aunt wanted to go to college, and I guess Mom figured with one less mouth to feed, maybe their parents would be able to swing it. Aunt Allison ended up with a full ride to the state university. Mom said she was so happy for her, but I think deep down she would have liked to go, too.

  My mom used to work at Walmart, but they had a bunch of layoffs because of the economy. Then Dad got laid off, and everything went to hell. We had to sell one of our cars and cancel our cable subscription. Fortunately, both my parents are really good savers.

  “I’m sorry you don’t like dinner,” she says.

  I can tell by her voice she thinks this is her fault. So, I scoop up a huge glob of instant mashed potatoes, pack them into my mouth, and grin like an idiot, which makes her laugh. And just to prove her wrong, I eat everything on the plate.

  After finishing my homework, I’m sitting on the bed, going through the notebook again. None of the words from the list are glowing now, but as I turn the pages, my palm is starting to feel funny again. I stop at the page with the title Absorb the Power. The picture of the hand is different. I keep looking at it, and as I do, the itching turns into pain. And then I realize the symbol is missing. I turn my left hand over. Now I can see that same symbol on my palm! This is seriously freaking me out. Calm down, Ivan. Just breathe.

  I’m not sure when I fell asleep, but when I open my eyes, I’m lying on my bed in the dark. My hand isn’t hurting as much. I can tell it’s late, and as I lie there quietly, I can hear Beth’s voice next door through the wall. It sounds like she’s whispering something over and over.

  “Beth?”

  The whispering becomes louder. Then I hear the words clearly; only they’re not coming from Beth’s room at all. The voice—which is not hers—is speaking right next to me.

  “Kill them all,” it says.

  I’m really nauseous this morning, and my head is pounding. Ollie notices as we walk to school.

  “You look terrible,” he says.

  “Thanks.”

  “How come you didn’t wait for me yesterday?”

  “There was sort of an incident.” I didn’t want to talk about it.

  “So, I guess you’re too sick to go to Gasher’s Park today?”

  “I don’t know, Ollie. Ask me later, okay?”

  I make sure to keep my left hand tucked inside my hoodie pocket. I don’t want anyone seeing that symbol and thinking I’m a freak. When we arrive at school, Ollie heads straight for his locker. I can see Regina walking toward me. I try going the other way.

  “Ivan?” she says.

  I stop and slowly turn around. Might as well get it over with. She’s so pretty and so sweet. And I hate Kirk so much for ruining that fo
r me.

  “Hi.”

  “I’m sorry about yesterday,” she says.

  “So am I.”

  “And I didn’t think it was funny at all. Because it wasn’t, Ivan. It was cruel.”

  “Regina, I…”

  “I like you, Ivan. Do you think we can just forget about it?”

  I don’t know what else to do, so I give her a hug, which makes her giggle. Then she pecks me on the cheek and steps back, smiling, her cheeks flushed.

  “Maybe we could get an ice cream sometime?” she says.

  “That would be amazing.”

  “Oh, your hand!”

  “What?”

  I had forgotten about that. Too late—she’s holding my hand now and examining it like the school nurse.

  “Does it hurt?” she says.

  “I don’t…”

  “It’s really red.”

  I take my hand back and look at it. Nothing; no symbol. “It’s a little sore. I burned it on the stove last night.”

  The warning bell rings, and Regina heads off to class in the opposite direction from me and Ollie.

  “Maybe you should transfer into Honors,” he says as we beat it to class. “Then you could see her all the time.”

  “What about you?”

  “Well, we still have Gasher’s Park.”

  “I’ll think about it, Ollie.”

  Not even Kirk Wardell could ruin what turned out to be a perfect day. In PE, he keeps his distance. Lonnie and Gilbert continue picking on Ollie, though. When I confront them, they back off.

  At lunch, I can hear people talking about “the incident.” Some are laughing and pointing at me—mostly the guys—but I don’t care. After me and Ollie get our food, we pick a table in the middle of the cafeteria. I can see Kirk lurking in a corner, watching me like a pit bull who’s about to bite. He’ll get his soon.

  After school, me and Ollie run home to get our skateboards. I haven’t felt sick all day. If anything, I’m feeling stronger. When we get to Gasher’s Park, I notice a couple other middle school kids riding around in the skate park. So, we join them and make the most of our time before the high schoolers show up. Afterwards, Ollie buys us all ice cream from the truck. As I’m eating mine, I think about Regina. Then I start thinking of ways I can earn some cash so I can buy her an ice cream.

  After dinner, I’m sitting on my bed and staring at the notebook. It all becomes clear to me now. If I want to be happy, I need to get Kirk and his loser friends out of the way for good. Once I do that, I won’t need the notebook anymore. Besides, I would be helping Ollie, too. Craig must’ve come to the same conclusion, which is why he created the book in the first place.

  I turn to the page Test the Power and find a drawing of a scrawny, bald kid standing in the center of a forest, holding up his left hand like he’s showing it to someone. Craig had drawn these bright rays coming out. I can’t see who he’s showing his hand to, though.

  I’m pretty stoked now and stand in the center of my room, holding up my hand. I’m facing the sliding closet doors, which have mirrors on them because this used to be Beth’s room. I read the words out loud. At first, nothing happens. Then my hand feels like it’s getting hot. I hear a whooshing noise, and a second later one of the mirrors cracks. I realize Mom will kill me when she sees what I’ve done. So instead of practicing anymore in my bedroom, I decide to go outside.

  “Mom?”

  She’s standing over the kitchen sink, rinsing off the last of the dinner dishes. Our dishwasher is busted, and since we can’t afford to fix it, Mom has to wash everything by hand.

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Isn’t tomorrow trash day?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, I thought I’d take the cans out to the curb.”

  She stares at me like I’m three kinds of crazy. Then she smiles. It’s been a long time since she smiled like that.

  “Ivan, thank you for volunteering. Let me get some more trash together, and you can take everything out, okay?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “What’cha got there?” she says, pointing at the notebook.

  “Just some notes. I’m studying for a test.”

  Though I wasn’t even trying to, I must have scored some major brownie points. All I had wanted was to find a logical excuse to go outside. Whatever. My plan had worked.

  Standing in the backyard, I open the notebook and turn to a page with another picture of the bald kid. This time, he’s standing on a deserted road, his hand raised up, and he’s surrounded by dead animals, all lying in a circle. Though the picture is disturbing, it doesn’t bother me.

  I decide to try out my new powers on Luckman’s cat, who likes to hang around our yard for some reason. The animal is ancient. The fur around its face used to be black, but now it’s gray. Also, it has a goofy eye, which is all clouded up. It always reminds me of the old man who gets himself killed in “The Tell-Tale Heart.” Whenever the cat sees me, it makes a low maowing noise and rubs against my pant leg. I don’t mind, I guess. But as a rule, I don’t like cats.

  It takes me, like, one minute to roll each trash can out to the curb. The whole time, the cat is following me, purring like one of those toy drones. When I’m finished, I return to the backyard and look up at the sky. Normally, you can’t see anything in this neighborhood—too many lights—but tonight I can make out all kinds of stars. And they’re really bright.

  When I look down again, the cat is lying on its back in front of me, hoping for a belly scratch. I usually avoid any display of affection, but this time, I crouch down and go to work. As I stroke the thing up and down its stomach, it purrs even louder and kneads the air with its paws.

  Finally, I’ve had enough and stand up straight. My hand is hurting, and when I look at it, I can see that symbol has reappeared on my palm, only darker. Do you remember the scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark, where the evil Nazi dude tries to remove the medallion from the fire and burns his hand? Then later in the desert when he gives the ol’ “Heil Hitler,” the medallion’s face is permanently etched on his hand in scar tissue? Well, that’s what this thing looks like. And it hurts. Bad.

  Before I can think about what I’m doing, I step back, raise my hand in front of me, and aiming it at the cinder block wall, I read the words. Nothing; not even a fizzle. All of a sudden, this voice in my head says to concentrate on the cat, which is sitting a little ways off, licking its front paw.

  I tell myself I’m just going to give it a little shock. As I raise my hand, I can feel the air around me becoming all staticky. Then a white jet of electricity passes between me and the cat. The animal jumps, like, ten feet and, screeching, tears off toward its yard.

  “Ivan?” It’s my mom, calling me from the house.

  “Yeah, coming!”

  I don’t think any more about the cat.

  The next morning when I walk outside, the garbage men are next door. Luckman is carrying a black garbage bag and limping toward the sidewalk. He got his leg shot up pretty bad in Vietnam, and they had to amputate it. Now he wears this fake aluminum thing. Dad told me once he’s in pain all the time and likes to “self-medicate,” which would explain all those empty Early Times bottles in the trash every week.

  “Hey,” my neighbor says. “Any problem if I throw in a dead cat?”

  One of the men shrugs and takes the bag from him. I don’t know; Luckman could’ve killed the cat, for all I know—he’s a mean, peglegged son of a bitch who beats his dog without mercy. But who am I kidding? As we walk to school, I don’t say anything to Ollie about murdering my neighbor’s cat. My friend wouldn’t understand.

  Kirk is absent from school today, apparently, which means Dumb and Dumber will leave me and Ollie alone since they’re basically pussies on their own. I think maybe he senses I’m getting stronger, even though I haven’t made it all the way through the list yet. Or maybe he’s sick at home. Something tells me, though, he isn’t done torturing us, especially now that I know stuff about
his mom.

  Before leaving for school today, I’d gotten out the notebook and looked up the next thing on the list—Affirm the Power. It seemed I was supposed to offer a sacrifice. The notebook didn’t say exactly what, but the picture Craig had drawn showed the bald kid standing over a rickety table, lowering a hunting knife onto his right pinky. Gross. I decided there and then there was no way I was going to cut off my own finger. So, I threw the notebook back under my bed and hoped Mom wouldn’t find it when she vacuumed my room.

  After school, me and Ollie run home to get our skateboards, then head over to Gasher’s Park. The sky looks strange. It’s all overcast like it’s going to rain, but instead of it being gray, the clouds are yellow. I should have known something was up and gone home. But we’re too excited because the high schoolers aren’t anywhere in sight, and we have the whole place to ourselves.

  We’re just getting into it when the king of the douches Franklin shows up and stares at us as we skate around, laughing and fake-punching each other. His missing eye is completely bandaged up—he looks like the freakin’ Mummy. When he sees us, he kind of looks past us like there’s something else in the skate park.

  “Hey!” he says.

  Ollie falls off his board, and suddenly, I have a bad feeling about the whole thing. There isn’t anyone else around, not even those other middle schoolers. And we can’t run away because Franklin is blocking the only exit. So, we stand close together and wait to see what this major dickwad will do.

  Franklin opens the gate and walks in. I notice he doesn’t even have his skateboard, and I wonder what he’s thinking. It doesn’t take long to find out. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a butterfly knife. I can’t believe it. Is this psycho actually going to cut up a couple kids?