Today's word count: 2,079 words
Running total: 16,117 words
Summary: Kenneth comes back with a vengeance quite literally and takes the plot by the reins. Honestly, I didn't expect him to get so violent so quickly. It just happened.
Also, there are pot cupcakes? (Only not really.)
Scarlett continues, “We’ve known each other since we were in second grade. We used to be friends, but then she fell in the cliques and stuff.” She wrinkles her nose like a grade student. It’s cute, but not cute enough to make me dump my girlfriend. “She’s always been better than me and she always makes sure I feel terrible about that. You could say we’re rivals. I don’t really care about journalism at all, but I just want to be better than her. Just for once. So I thought I could do that if I joined the news casting club. When the position opened up for president, I was so happy… then Mr. Harris called me a failure. Then it wasn’t so much about her. I had to prove to Patricia that I could do something right, and to Mr. Harris.”
“Wait, he called you a failure?” Mr. Williams is aghast. “That—Jesus, what we teachers can get away with… it disgusts me sometimes.” I guess not the times when he’s calling kids proles (which I’ve seen him do before). Not that it matters much. Scarlett must appreciate his sympathy.
She smiles a little bit and mumbles, “Thanks.” Then she looks back at her paper, scribbles a few more words, then picks up the paper and re-reads it. After some careful consideration, she nods and sets it down again.
“Okay, I think I’m ready to do this and finish up for the day. Everyone ready?”
“Ready!”
----------------------
Scene VI
Things Get a Little Bit Stranger
Kenneth
When I walk into homeroom today I get a hero’s welcome. Everyone cheers and crowds around me. There’s banners and balloons and everything. We’re missing ticker tape but that’s just about all It’s a little bit ridiculous, to be honest; I just got hurt as a result of my bad luck. I don’t really deserve this. But at the moment, I appreciate the gesture. It’s nice to feel this special.
Then I see my friends; the news casting club. When the group disperses, I run over to them.
Brian greets me first. “Kenny!” He hugs me and picks me up. “Dude, you’re light! Did they feed you there?”
When he sets me down, I laugh. “In theory, they gave me food. But it was nearly inedible so…” I make a “so-so” gesture with one hand. “And I haven’t had much of an appetite anyway.”
“Well, we’ll feed you now,” Chase says and puts an arm on my shoulder. He got out of the hospital about four days after being admitted; I was there for a whole month. I’m really behind on my schoolwork, but it’s a small price to pay for my life. Most of the teachers have given me pretty small make-up tasks and it won’t take me too long to catch up. “It’s nice to see you back.”
Scarlett smiles shyly. “I’m so glad you’re okay. We were all really worried about you.”
“Really, all of us,” says Ashley, wide-eyed. From what Brian’s told me, she’s been really meek since the incident. Ghosts weren’t nearly as great as they were when they were fake and couldn’t hurt anyone.
From what I’ve heard, the video was a huge success. Everyone’s now afraid to go within 30 feet of the auditorium, sure, but the segment was exciting and proved the worth of the club. People were especially worried about my negative involvement in the production, so they were excited to see me back. I was glad to know everything was going fine in school.
We all had a big party that morning. A lot of people brought in sugary treats. I didn’t eat that much of it. It seems my appetite still isn’t back.
…Can I be honest here?
I’m really worried about myself.
My appetite has been back for some time. I mean, I’m starving. My stomach’s been rumbling for about a week now. But I can barely eat anything. I mean, the hospital food was disgusting, and everyone thinks so, so I’m not crazy there or anything. But I got home yesterday and my mom made this big dinner for me. I started eating it, but it just didn’t taste right. I thought for a second maybe she had used bad ingredients or something, but everything tasted bad, so that couldn’t have been it. I ate as much as I could because I needed the nourishment and I didn’t want to waste food. I mean, my mom’s usually a great cook. But in the middle of the night I fell into a violent spasm of vomiting.
In addition, I notice that I get especially hungry around healthy people. It’s like they have some qualities that are much more delicious than the food they eat. In fact, I’d go so far as to say it’s not just like that. That is entirely the feeling that I have.
No, stop thinking like that. You’re not a cannibal, Kenneth White, you’re a civilized human being.
Am I? I feel distant from others.
Yes, yes, you’re human. You’re fully human.
Am I dead?
No. You can’t be dead. Everything’s normal. Everything is wholly ordinary and nothing is wrong.
Is it?
~~~
Suddenly a hand is waving in front of my face. I start, then look over to see the owner of the hand.
It’s Chase. He looks concerned.
“Kenny, are you all right?”
I nod and mumble “Yeah, yeah, fine.”
He looks incredulous.
“You’ve been staring out into space for the past fifteen minutes… we have to get this typing assignment done by the end of class.”
“Yeah, right.”
He’s not going to leave me alone about this, I can tell from the look on his face.
“You’ve just been acting funny recently.”
“Funny… how?”
“I don’t—it’s just, like, when I visited you in the hospital, you’d act like this too. You’d space out and when I asked you about it you’d say nothing’s wrong. And you’re not eating.”
“Yes I am.”
He shakes his head. “No, not really. I mean, like, you used to eat a lot. Like a whole lot. You loved eating. That’s why Ashley made those cupcakes specifically for you.”
I chuckle nervously as I say, “Well, her boyfriend is Brian and all, and he’s… you know. I feared they were herbal cupcakes.”
“Hey, Brian’s an irredeemable pothead, but he doesn’t force it on other people like that.”
Chase is defending Brian now? This is new, to say the least.
“Kenny, is something wrong?”
“No, Chase, I’m fine.”
We’re quiet for a second. I almost tell him everything that’s been bothering me lately, but I don’t. I regret not saying anything the second Chase opens his mouth again.
“Okay, fine, you’re perfectly okay.” He turns back to his computer and begins typing furiously. I admire how fast of a typist he is, but that’s not really that important right now. Not looking at me, he says, “Come to club at the end of the day, okay? Mr. Williams wants to talk to you about something. Everyone else wants to talk to you about it too, but he’s going to be leading the discussion.”
He’s really pissed now. I really screwed up, but it’s not like I can do anything about that right now. I’ll have to apologize later…
~~~
As the last bell rings, I take time to gather myself. I haven’t been in great physical shape since the incident. I mean, I’ve been bedridden for almost a month; I was surprised I could even walk. But the scar on my back really hurts still. The skin is all tight and stretched, like it wasn’t made to move. It’s difficult just to lean over to collect my stuff.
Chase leaves before me, giving me an angry glance as he exits the room. I was going to apologize on the way to the room and explain my situation to him in the hall, but I guess that opportunity’s blown.
As I stick the my notebook into by backpack, I feel a firm hand on my shoulder. It’s gripping me tight, almost painfully; where its thumb digs into my scarred back it is seriously painful, but I try not to show it. I don’t want to look dramatic.
“Pretty nice show there.”
I don’t have to turn around to know the owner of the voice. It’s very distinctive and I’ve heard it hurl enough insults and entirely non-witty comments to indentify it immediately.
“I really liked the ghost effect. The month-long absence was a nice touch.”
I don’t fall for the bait. He’s insinuating that the whole thing was a hoax to piss me off. I’m so angry I could—
No, no, don’t go there. Control yourself, Kenneth White.
“So what’s on that tape?”
Dean finally lets go of my shoulder and takes the seat across from me. He looks at me intently.
“What tape?”
“Don’t bullshit me. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t—“
I make the mistake of glancing away from him for a second. He quickly grabs my chin and turns it toward himself.
“You’re not funny or clever, White. Now just tell me what you put on that tape that’s so utterly horrific that you can’t show it for audiences.” He leans back and grins. I want to slit his throat and—
I need to get out of here.
“Look, I just got back from school after being in the hospital for a month. I don’t even know what the show looked like ‘cause I was in a coma when it aired. Can I go now?” I try to chuckle, just to keep myself from doing something out of anger. Then I stand up.
Dean stands up, too. I force another laugh.
“Look, Dean, I don’t know what you’re angry about, but this is getting ridiculous—“
He grabs my arms. More words come out of his mouth, but I don’t even hear them anymore.
I break free from his grasp and grab his shoulder, using my weight to tackle him to the ground. I shouldn’t be able to do this, I know—I was never really a big kid, and I’m especially emaciated right now, but I feel a sudden surge of strength. He has pushed me too far. He’s been the hunter for so long; let’s see how he likes being the hunted.
He’s afraid now, I can tell. He didn’t expect me to lunge like that. He tries to move but I am stronger than him. I am more than him, stronger than a human could ever be. He’s pinned to the ground. I relish the moment before the kill.
He’s still talking to me. I don’t hear his words, only the tone of his voice. It’s scared, panicked. His words come out fast. He wants mercy. He will not receive such a sentiment from me. I slowly raise my other hand, aim for his chest. That’s the quickest way to the good part.
I need the quickest way. I am so hungry.
I strike.
My God, what the Hell am I doing?
I realize the gravity of my action as my hand lands on his chest and I’m able to pull the strike out the last minute. I scramble away from him as quickly as I can. I’m as scared of me as he is. I don’t even—
I look at my hand. “Shocked” doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel. “Horrified” barely covers my feelings. Around my fingers the skin is peeling away. I touch the skin with my good hand; more skin peels off. It’s about the thickness of an onion’s outer layer, and it crackles like an onion. Funny, I liked onions. I don’t think I’ll be able to look at one without being completely disgusted ever again.
Under my skin is a second layer of skin. This layer is black as tar. I touch it. It doesn’t feel like a human’s skin should feel at all. It’s hard, like a shell or an exoskeleton. The most terrifying thing about it all, though, are the claws. Where there should be ordinary fingertips there are long, dagger-like protrusions. I run my normal fingers along the edge of these ones; they would cut my fingers if I pressed any harder. They would have certainly killed Dean. They even—
I look back up at him. He has five puncture wounds on his chest in the vague shape of my new hand. He’s looking at me with wide eyes, completely speechless. He’s legitimately scared. I’ve never seen him look so weak, so helpless, but there he is. I feel bad, but I fear for myself more right now.
I abruptly stand up and apologize profusely. He just looks at me, wide-eyed, mouth hanging open.
“Um… please don’t tell anyone about this. Please?”
He stares a bit more, then nods quickly. I know he’s probably not someone who I should trust just based on words, but I have to. Besides, I think he knows the consequences should he tell.
And there I go thinking like that again. I have to stop.
What if this gets serious?
~~~
When I meet with my friends, their news just makes me feel worse. I hear the tape that Dean must have referred to. I’m really glad they decided not to play it during the show. But as horrifying as it might
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