Falter Kingdom (18 page)

I'm like, “What?”

Just stay calm.

Father Andrew kneels down so that he is face-to-face with me. He moves the cross closer to me. “Hunter, stay with me. It's normal—say whatever comes to mind.”

I start grinding my teeth. I can feel the pain in my jaw.

Father Andrew moves the cross an inch forward. “Say what's on your mind, Hunter. Say what's on your mind.”

He's trying to get H to speak.

“Say what's on your mind!”

He's trying to get a look at H. He's trying to get a lead on H.

H is resisting. H is on my left side, Father Andrew on my right. H is doing his best. It's like H is telling me to say things that make no sense, just to fight off what's happening. I'm asking H what's happening.

What's happening, H?

I say, “She doesn't really care!”

Father Andrew isn't really listening. “Say what's on your mind!”

He wants to hear H.

What's happening, H?

I say, “Who really cares about me?”

“Say what's on your mind!”

H, what's happening?

I say, “I won't be remembered!”

“Say what's on your mind, Hunter!”

H...

I say, “She didn't really like me!”

“Say what's on your mind, Hunter. Say what's really on your mind!”

Father Andrew brings the cross to my forehead and presses it there. It burns, but I'm not going to budge. H, what's happening? But I hold on, like I'm being torn in two.

Hold on, we'll be okay later.

Hold on.

It will be over soon.

H?

“I command you to show yourself!”

I say nothing.

Father Andrew shouts at the top of his lungs, “Show yourself!”

I find it all so ridiculous all of a sudden.

The tension, the pain, the sudden fever sweats... it all washes clean and I sit there, normal and maybe even a little numb, watching this funny little thing. It's like they really believe it'll work. If this is anything like the exorcism, maybe none of it works. I think about that, watching as Father Andrew says prayers, trying to, like, bring out H from my body or something.

Like H isn't standing on my left, helping me through this.

Father Andrew is clueless.

I'm thinking, like, “If the exorcism is like this, does anyone actually ever get rid of the demon?” And H is sort of playing with me, sending me those ideas, those thoughts, those signals, which makes me think that maybe I'm onto something. Maybe it's all bullshit. Maybe demons stick around, hanging around the people they haunted. Maybe that's the way it really is.

But then again, I don't see why that's a problem. It just means you're never alone, right?

Father Andrew stops, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief.

“You may step in.”

Father Albert and Becca walk back in, concerned looks on their faces.

Father Andrew says, “Despite what you've just heard, it's nothing compared to what would have actually happened if the spirit had advanced itself into gripping on to Hunter.”

Becca doesn't understand.

I'm kind of wondering myself. But I'm the subject here, the victim—I notice that they aren't really talking to me. The conversation is happening around me, and that's basically how every conversation is. People talk and, really, it doesn't matter much if I say anything or not. It's all up to whether I have anything to say or anything I want to say to them.

Father Albert explains to Becca that Father Andrew tested to see whether the unclean spirit had physically attached itself.

“Like...” It's on the tip of Becca's tongue.

“Possession,” Father Andrew says, and nods.

Father Albert smiles. “Hunter will be fine. The unclean spirit remains close, but unattached.”

Father Andrew says, “Therefore unable to manipulate Hunter. At this point, the spirit can only tease and do its best to gain attention.”

Yeah, just talk about me like I'm not really here.

Becca asks, “About the exorcism, will both of you, like, be part of it?”

Father Andrew leaves my side, stepping back toward the side of the table where the “normal” people are. The two priests exchange looks.

Father Albert speaks up: “I will explain it to you, dear. We will explain the entire process shortly before it transpires.”

Father Andrew adds, “We will both be in attendance, yes.”

Then they all kind of talk for a while. I can't hear them. They leave me sitting here like I'm asleep, like I'm not really alive. They leave me here like I'm an outcast or something.

H, what are they saying?

I'm able to hear the phrase “his parents.”

Becca talks for me, as if I asked her to do that. I try to stand up, and the fact that both priests run over to me all concerned makes me feel like I can't stand up, or that I'm not supposed to stand up, so I fall back into my chair.

It's Father Albert's hands on my shoulders that make me twitch.

“Careful, son.”

Father Andrew adding, “You shouldn't overexert yourself.”

Didn't they just say that I'm fine?

Becca is all worried. I look at her. She looks right at me. She looks at me like I'm a sad sack.

Hello, Becca. How are you?

Nothing like that is said though. This all happens in one big wave. They talk it out, and then it's all better again. Becca's mood changes and she's happy because, hey, they'll get rid of H in a few days!

The priests leave, bidding me some kind of fake “good day.”

Father Albert as fake as ever.

Father Andrew at least says something that sticks.

He says, “It's trying to break you down. It wants to become you. Keep fighting, Hunter. It won't be long now. Keep fighting.”

They leave. I'm still in the chair.

Becca's the only one left. She seems really nervous.

I can't help but think of this in the context of the dream I just had.

H, you want to?

It could be the same thing, but this time H scares her and I watch.

But what she says—“Hunter, I... I can't be around you right now”—it's supposed to be heartbreaking. She expects me to say something, waiting around, but then I kind of just shrug and stare at her.

It's like,
Hey, what do you expect? I'm haunted. You liked it up until a few days ago: popular by proxy, boyfriend the talk of the entire school.

Becca breaks into tears. “Hunter...”

Don't say anything. Don't break the mood you have going here.

Becca wipes the tears away, smearing a bit of her eyeliner. “Hunter, I don't know what to say.” Then she's gone, leaving the room.

I hear the front door shut.

Like flicking a switch, I feel better.

I say, “Well, that was intense.”

H seems to think so too.

School. Tomorrow. Seems impossible.

But then, maybe it won't be.

Besides, like Father Albert said, I'm going to be fine, right?

Ready or not, here I come.

9

PEOPLE LOOK AT ME DIFFERENTLY. I'M ALL ABOUT THAT
difference. I think I've made that statement before. I can't remember. Some things are cloudy while others are clear like water. I like water. It cleanses the soul, whatever that means. I'm kind of just rambling until I get to first period.

People are looking at me and it's hard to not look back. They look, but now it's not with those sparkling eyes, it's not with that way where they'll walk up to you, wanting to talk to you.

No one is talking to me.

Everyone's a whole lot like...

How to describe it...

I'm getting this “stay back” vibe. Kind of like how people treat anyone who is contagious. But I'm not contagious.

They just know what I'm capable of.

Well, I mean, they know what H is capable of.

Walking toward my locker, I catch a few people literally stepping back like I'm going to attack them or something. I laugh and say, “Guess you were at my party, huh?”

It doesn't hurt me.

Not after Nikki.

Not after it became obvious that this is all it is. It's the same, but different. Like seeing things from H's perspective:

It's the same but I'm just getting a different take.

It adds depth. It shows me how people can act one way but really be something else. I mean, I do it too. I used to be better at it. You know that. I've stopped trying, I guess.

They just want the attention.

Hell, I want the attention too.

I mean, I wanted their attention. Past tense. Don't want it anymore.

Father Andrew says that H wants my attention. I can see that. I meet him in my dreams and they become far more interesting than any of this.

This school day is even more of a blur than usual.

It's like I'm really asleep, and during those dreams, I'm really awake.

What was it that Father Andrew said?

Cognitive dissonance, confusion, loss of time...

Yeah, I can see that. But maybe it's just because everything else is the same. I look around and I don't find anything here. I find only the same things. Those same things want stuff from me. Everyone wants something from me. Like I owe them something.

I walk these halls and I don't have to push through a crowd. Everyone steps out of the way. I'm untouchable.

I should feel embarrassed, but somehow, I'm protected from their gossip, their whispers, by the fact that I know how fickle they are.

Classes run together and I get really bored.

In second period, the substitute teacher doesn't know what to do so he goes up and down the aisles, asking students to talk about what college they're going to. People get all excited about that, yeah. A few are set for the Ivy Leagues. Most are going to State. When the teacher gets to me, there's a brutal hush, and I'm kind of like,
Really?
And the substitute teacher just skips over me. I didn't get to say, “I'm going to State!”

Oh, bummer.

I really, really wanted to say that.

In Mr. Yan's class, he's lecturing but, as usual, I'm not really able to pay attention. It's just facts mixed in with his own rambling, stuff that he likes, his interpretation, stuff that'll be on the final exam. What will be on the final exam? Everyone in the class takes notes. I'm staring blankly at him. I start to notice that he ignores me. It's like he completely closes his eyes when he looks to the right of the room, where I sit.

At lunch, I sit where I always sit, but they aren't there, the people I barely know. The table is empty.

Well, look at that...

As it gets on in the day, I really see how people are, how “fair-weather” they really can be. I mean, I wouldn't stick around either. That's kind of expected. I don't think we were ever more than people we sort of knew.

But then I see that asshole being an asshole as usual. He really isn't going to wander over, is he? If he does, it's just to spite me. Because he's an asshole.

Brad stops, and I can tell that he doesn't want to, but maybe he has an actual thought and maybe that thought was “Dude might fuck me up,” so he walks over and sits down across from me.

He says, “Bro, um.”

Doesn't really want to look me in the eye, but does anyway.

Then he says, “Oh, man, you look like hell, dude.”

He looks down at the table in front of me. I'm not eating anything, no. I don't have much of an appetite anymore. Brad, on the other hand, really rips into that sandwich of his. He's nervous. When people are nervous, sometimes they eat.

There's a conversation that I'm not really involved in. It has to do with what Becca's been doing.

Sure, I'll chime in. “What is Becca”—I have to breathe in, catch my breath; being around people exhausts me—“doing?”

Brad's like, “Bro, you don't know? Fuck, man, she's spreadin' word that it's real serious. We all fucking saw it at your party. Dude, you look like shit. Everyone's talking! You caught a bad one. Real bad. Like, bro, it's eating you up.”

I stare at him, just long enough to make him feel awkward.

“Bro?”

Yeah, that worked. I say, “Oh.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah...” Brad chugs an energy drink.

“You don't need any more energy. Bro.” It sounds cold.

I think it's funny. I don't know why, I just do.

It kind of messes with Brad. “Yeah, well... um, are you okay, man?”

I do my best to smile and realize that the entire time we've been talking, I have had my hands folded in front of me, back straight, eyes wide, barely blinking, staring, really just glaring at him.

That's intense, right?

I know, I know.

But I get to have fun too.

If they can use me, I can use them.

Brad won't get a word out of me. This is as good as it's going to get.

I mean, I treat him like shit. I know. But I can't help it. I kind of just go with it. The words, and that sense of inaction—just happens. It's like I'm getting revenge but I can't remember why.

Brad's an asshole.

That's what I'm thinking, but there's part of me that's like, “But he's still your friend.”

But in bold letters, like it's a future tattoo of mine, I think, “What makes a true friend?”

And that's why, basically, I keep rolling with it. I treat him like shit and he deals with it. He sticks around, probably because leaving halfway through lunch would be too obvious.

Brad changes the subject, putting something on the table. “It'll be cool, bud. Real soon. Just be tough, and then we'll get so damn drunk during the after party!”

I look down at the card.

Don't make me spell it out. Don't do it.

Becca. It's always Becca.

But he does. He makes me say it. That asshole.

“You get the invitation, man?”

“No, but you'd think I'd get one. It's my exorcism.”

I look around and it's like they weren't there until just now. Invitations, the whole school. I spot a few in people's hands.

I look back at Brad, who finishes the rest of his energy drink. Then Jon-Jon sits down next to me, slapping me on the shoulder. It's like,
What the hell are you doing here?
Jon-Jon doesn't hang in the cafeteria.

Look on Brad's face matches how this isn't normal.

Look on other people's faces, same.

Jon-Jon looks at me like I'm made of money. “How are you faring, on a scale of one to ten, ten being I'm a demon now?”

Fuck you. I don't say anything.

Brad says, “He's going. Not going well. But going.”

Jon-Jon nods, a wink. “Need anything? Anything at all?”

I don't need anything from you.

Needs to be noted that I am still sitting up straight, hands folded. It's funny to me, the way I look, the way it makes other people feel weird.

But Jon-Jon's about business. He's about money. He showed up because he just wants to protect me, his investment. I want him to get caught. I want him to get arrested. I feel like I could—all this gambling and dealing is no good.

He could be done in one single tell.

But then they start talking about my exorcism again, and I can't stand it.

Jon-Jon sees the card on the table. “Got mine this morning too.” He runs his hand through my hair, like I'm some little kid. “You'll be fine, buddy. You'll be drinking and smoking with the best of 'em. And think—when you shake this demon shit, you'll be the talk of the town. Not just the school. The whole town.”

Brad lights up. “Yeah, buddy, now that's what I'm talking about. Fight that shit demon. Fight it and then make bank off it!”

Jon-Jon kind of looks at Brad's hyper response and just says, “Exactly.”

Trying to be all cool, huh, Jon-Jon? Trying so damn hard to keep with it.

He leaves as quickly as he showed up, saying that he's got clients looking for him. Brad's like, “I'll be over in a bit.”

And I know he said that because he's looking for a way to leave the table. Sure enough, when he's done scarfing his food, he tells me, “Going to head over to JJ's.” He stands up, picks up the garbage, bags it, and asks me in a way that's not really asking at all, “You wanna go?”

Maybe I say no.

Maybe I don't.

Can't really tell. He leaves in a sprint, basically.

And I stay right here.

Keep in mind that I'm the same—straight posture, hands folded. Staring. I bet I look insane, and I find it so damn funny.

Around sixth period, I spot Becca handing out those invitation cards.

I have time to reconsider but, yeah, why not? I walk over. She gets all nervous when she sees me approach.

“Hey... Hunter, are you keeping with it?”

I'm acting all action-movie tough guy. “Ran out of sick days so I brought the demon with me.”

She pretends to laugh. She's getting scared; I can see that eyelid twitch thing that she does when she gets really nervous.

“He's moonlighting,” I tell her.

“Who's what?” It's a gut reaction, but she gets it before I say anything. Too late though.

I tell her, “H.”

Nervous laughter and then: “Hunter, you have to stay strong. Please, stay strong!”

She reaches for my hands. I pull them away.

Now's the time to ask: “Where's my invitation?”

Becca stutters, “W-what invitation?”

“My invitation,” I say, “where is it?”

“Why would you need—”

I interrupt, stepping closer and closer, until we're inches apart. “It's my exorcism. Where's my invitation?”

“Yeah, yeah, but see...” Oh, look at Becca's eye twitching.

And let's just get right down to it. I'll save her the trouble.

“You figured since I'm going to be the ‘star' of it, I didn't need one.”

Becca agrees. “Because you don't get invitations to your own, like, thing, whatever it is. You're part of it, you are it, babe...” And then she tries to grab my hands again. “Are you okay? I'm so worried about you, Hunter.”

I push away from her, acting all moody. Really playing up the whole thing to be more dramatic and emo than it really is.

I wander off because doing that would be the funniest.

Becca's all like the concerned girlfriend that, because of the situation, seems to look like she isn't actually the problem. Funny, so damn funny, how the situation changes things. Like Becca isn't obsessive. Just know that she counted every single damn invitation. She not only got them made up, but she also created raffles and other things to get more people to show up to the exorcism.

It's Becca. She does stuff like this.

I can't stand it. It really does make me angry.

Walking to last period, I see Blaire and Blaire sees me. She stops, looks right at me, and then leaves—just turns the other way, the way she came. I want to call out to her. Be like,
Blaire, it's me
...

But that doesn't happen and instead, the day keeps going. It ends exactly the same way every other school day ends.

I drive home.

I find it all so funny, seeing everyone exposed like this.

I mean, I'm not doing this to hurt them. I'm just doing this because I think it's more than a little due. They owe me. But maybe they don't.

But I got a laugh out of it.

That's all that matters, right?

On the drive home, I get to thinking about those invitations. I start fixating on those invitations. Like always, if I think about something long enough, it clicks. It becomes something real.

Turn one corner and I'm laughing about what happened today. How I really messed with people.

Turn another corner and I'm grinding my teeth, trying to tear the steering wheel off just thinking about what those invitations mean.

Left at the light—I think about Brad and feel a little sorry for him. Maybe I really was a little mean.

Left at the next light—I think about Becca and how she sees me as property, sees me as something expected, like I'm really not a person to her, just the part of her life that reads “boyfriend.”

At the red light, I'm fuming, thinking about Becca.

It's my fault for staying with her, yeah.

It's my fault for a lot of things. But then there's this idea of change. People change over time. What makes me the most mad...

I really can't figure out what it is that does it, just sends me over the edge. I speed down the neighboring streets, screeching tires as I make a sharp turn up the driveway and put the car in park.

I storm up the stairs.

I think Mom or Dad is home. Someone stirs from the kitchen.

No, it isn't H. He's already upstairs in my room.

I go right up to my room.

A voice from downstairs: “What's going on?”

Dad.

This means I'll have to lock the door. What he usually does is what he ends up doing today. He follows me up the stairs, stops at the door, talks to me with his face pressed against it. “How's it going?”