“If Charlie has nothing to do with the rashes on our arms, why did yours start firing up the other day when you missed rehearsal? Why did mine start hurting once I left the band room?” Travis asked as we waited for the bus. It was Monday morning, two days after we had spied on Charlie, and we hadn’t thought of any other good explanations for why our rashes looked like Charlie’s tattoo since then.
“I don’t know, Travis. We might have to take another look at that Encyclopaedia Daemonica book again. Demons are supposed to be tricksters, right? Maybe a demon is still involved in this somehow, but it used Charlie as a red herring to lead us off its trail. Maybe there’s no supernatural explanation at all and we’re just seeing what we want to believe. I know just as much about this as you do, and I don’t think Charlie’s our main concern here. Even if he’s in on it somehow, we can’t really afford to antagonize him at this point. The battle of the bands audition is this Saturday,” I responded.
SCRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!
The bus was here. Travis and I stepped in and witnessed an unusual sight. Unusual, but not unfamiliar.
Everyone on the bus had gone silent as soon as we entered, and they just stared at us for a few seconds in fear before murmuring to each other. It was exactly like a month ago when everyone thought we had summoned a demon. Just like before, no one would say a word to us, they could barely look us in the eyes, and they were sure to leave a seat open for us to have to ourselves.
Well, I shouldn’t say it was exactly like the last time. Jeff Hennessy was sitting in the back of the bus again, but this time he didn’t look scared of us like everyone else. He wasn’t wearing his usual smirk, either, our usual warning of impending torment. Instead, he just glared at us, as if we had wronged him. It was probably the same face we usually made when we looked at him.
We spent the first few minutes of the bus ride trying to get the other kids to talk to us. After we failed to do so we simply stared off into space for the remainder of the ride, with Jeff glaring holes into the back of our heads. I murmured to Travis that we’d have to make a run for it once the bus got to school, otherwise Jeff would make our Monday morning even more unpleasant than usual. I had predicted that only when the majority of our peers went back to ignoring us would Jeff start to pick on us again. I guess I was wrong.
As the bus arrived at school, Travis and I made a beeline down the aisle, not that anyone would have gotten in our way. We started to book it for the front entrance of the school building, until I glanced behind me and realized no one was chasing us.
“Travis, stop!” I said, “Jeff’s not chasing us.”
Travis stopped and turned around, causing everyone behind us to stop walking as well. They didn’t want to go near us. Travis and I stared back at them in confusion. Only Jeff would make eye contact with us, continuing his glare, but even he wouldn’t take another step forward as long as we stood in the way of the school’s front door.
I don’t know how long this stare-down lasted, but it was long enough for Ms. Putnam, the school’s receptionist, to notice. She came outside and said “What’s the hold up? Come insi-”
She ended her sentence mid-word once she realized Travis and I were the hold up. As soon as we looked back at her she averted her eyes before slowly backing away and going back inside to her desk without saying another word.
That was new. Travis and I looked at each other in shock. The last time something like this had happened it was only the students who were afraid of us. I never even knew if any adult had heard the rumor from last month, and even if they had, who would have believed it? Whatever this new rumor was, it must have been a doozy for an adult to be afraid of us.
We eventually realized we needed to stop blocking the entrance to the school and went inside. The rest of the students followed, albeit at a distance. Once inside, they all dispersed, trying to get as far away from us as possible. Even Jeff did the same, but not before breaking from the herd and speaking to us:
“I know you freaks are behind this! You may have the upper hand for now, but I will find a way to stop you!”
Travis and I just looked at each other in confusion before looking back at Jeff and replying in unison, “What?”
But Jeff had already walked away, like all the other kids on our bus.
We decided to wander through the building to see if the rest of our peers would act the same way. They all did. As we traversed the school we passed the staff room. The door was cracked open, letting the sound of a bunch of bickering adults carry into the hallway.
“…could one really have worked here?”
“…I heard it was enormous…”
“…threatened Erica in her office…”
“…now she’s a scab…”
I tried to listen in a little closer to what the adults were saying until one of them peeked out into the hallway, saw us, and quickly slammed the door.
Attending classes was a learning experience that day, but not because of the class content itself. Travis and I had thought we knew what it was like to be hated by a teacher before. We thought it was stuff like being lectured, yelled at, humiliated in front of the class, or otherwise punished. That wasn’t hate. That was more akin to cursing out a computer when it won’t work. Sure, you might be angry at it for not functioning the way you expect it to function, but at the end of the day you don’t actually hate it because it’s just an inanimate object with no free will of its own.
I learned that hate requires you to recognize that someone has full control over their actions, and chooses to do something that offends you anyway. The only problem was we had no idea what we had done to offend them.
I also learned that the best way to express hate was not always to take action against your object of contempt. Sometimes the silent treatment was more than sufficient.
“Can I go to the bathroom?”
“…”
“I have a question about the assignment!”
“…”
“Mr. Richards, your fly is down.”
“…”
Since the teachers showed no interest in teaching us and we showed no interest in learning from them, Travis and I both decided to excuse ourselves to the restroom. Normally teachers only allowed one of their students to use the restroom at a time, but Mr. Richards unsurprisingly said nothing to us when we left.
Since we had the time, we decided against going to the nearest restroom, which had four stalls and urinals each, at least one of which would undoubtedly be occupied. We instead opted to go across the school building to the handicapped restroom which just had one stall and one urinal, where we knew we could speak without being overheard. Once inside, we locked the door to the hallway and wedged the trash can underneath the doorknob to make sure no one barged in on us.
“What did we do now?” I asked once I knew we had privacy.
“Well, we definitely didn’t summon a demon this time,” Travis said, “We already ruled that possibility out last Saturday.”
“Thanks, Travis,” I replied sarcastically. Beginning to pace the room, I said “How are we supposed to figure out what we did if no one will talk to us?”
“They won’t talk to us because they won’t go near us,” Travis observed.
“I realize that, Travis,” I shot back. He must not have picked up on the annoyance in my voice.
“And they won’t go near us because they’re afraid of us,” he continued.
“Yes, Travis, I’ve been here with you the entire time. I’ve seen all the same stuff you have this morning,” I tried to keep myself from raising my voice, unsuccessfully.
“But if we can get near one of them, we can scare them into telling us what they think we did, because they’re afraid of us,” he concluded.
My boiling frustration with Travis ceased as I realized he actually had a point and wasn’t just pointing out the obvious.
“Travis, that might actually work…”
Then I became frustrated with him again when I realized the hole in his argument.
“Okay, genius, how are we supposed to get near someone when you just explained in your own words why none of them will come near us?”
FLUSH!
We both went silent. In our efforts to make sure no one outside the restroom would be privy to our conversation, it appeared we forgot to do the same for anyone inside the restroom.
We turned in unison to face the single stall in the restroom as the door creaked open to reveal Tom Seiks, wearing earbuds that were probably playing Green Day or some garbage, blissfully unaware of our presence. Until we made eye contact.
Time froze. As surprised as we were to see Tom in the handicapped restroom, there was no way it matched his surprise at seeing us. At that moment, the rational part of my brain shut off and instinct took over.
“Get him!” I shouted.
“Nooooo!” a terrified Tom wailed.
Travis and I tackled Tom to the ground and tried to restrain him. Despite it being two against one, Tom held us off at first, getting his hand in Travis’s face to push him away.
“Aaaaah, Eric!” Travis shouted, “This guy doesn’t know how to wipe! He’s getting crap all over my face!”
“Well you didn’t exactly give me a chance to wash my hands, did you, jerk!” Tom screamed back.
The struggle continued in a series of twists, slaps, bites, and holds. As Travis and I gained the upper hand, the rational part of my brain came back and I had some kind of out-of-body experience; I realized that not only were we doing the same thing Jeff Hennessy and his friends did to us, we were doing it to one of the only kids in school who was actually nice to us.
However, my ethical dilemma came to a halt as Travis and I eventually pinned him, with some help from his earbuds which had gotten tangled around him during the struggle. At that moment I realized that in only a couple days I went from being a law-abiding citizen, to trespassing, to now assault and wrongful detainment.
“Why are you afraid of us?” Travis asked.
“Yes, yes I’m afraid of you! Of course I am!” Tom screamed, sounding as if he were on the verge of tears.
Despite the rational part of my brain screaming to let him go before this got any more out of hand, my body and motor functions reflexively doubled down instead. “No, he asked why are you afraid of us?” I growled.
“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because I thought you’d randomly tackle me in the bathroom!”
Well at least we weren’t scary enough for Tom to forget his sense of sarcasm.
“You think that was bad? Keep acting smart with us and you’ll find out just how scary we really are. Now answer the question!” I hissed.
Travis looked at me in shock as if to say “Dude, what are you doing?” I didn’t have the answer to that question. All I knew was I wanted answers of my own.
“Okay, alright, you win!” Tom squealed, “Everyone here knows you did it again! Everyone knows you sicced the demon on Ms. Hemway-Fischer!”
Both Travis and I paused for what seemed like ages.
“What?!” I asked, still trying to sound intimidating but probably failing.
“The same demon you tools summoned to take care of Jeff Hennessy and his friends a month ago!” Tom explained in frustration, “You summoned it again last Thursday to get Ms. Hemway-Fischer to let you out of detention! There are witnesses! Everyone knows this! Now let me go!”
Tom took advantage of us being taken aback by his revelation and was able to break our pin on him and make a run for the door. We didn’t try to stop him, staring at each other in dismay as poor Tom struggled to unwedge the trash can from under the doorknob and unlock the door with his violently trembling hands.
“Hey, Tom?” I called over to him, “You’re not going to tell the teachers on us for this, are you?”
My attempt to ease the tension with humor failed as Tom shot me one last dirty look before finally unlocking the door and bolting into the hallway.
Travis and I looked back at each other again before we said in unison:
“We gotta find Charlie.”