Imaginary Friend (ARC), Page 3

  “Wait for me after school. No strangers. If you need me, call Shady Pines. The number is sewed into your clothes. I love you, honey.”

  “Mom?” He was scared.

  “You can do this. You’ve done it before. Right?”

  “Mommy—”

  “You call me Mom. You’re not small.”

  “But they’re going to be smarter than me—”

  “Grades and smarts are not the same thing. Keep trying. You’ll get it.”

  He nodded and kissed her.

  Christopher got out of the car and approached the school. Dozens of kids were already milling about, saying hello after their summer vacations. These twin brothers were pushing and shoving and laughing. The smaller one had a lazy-eye patch. A couple of girls itched at their new school clothes. One of them had pigtails. When the kids saw him, they stopped and looked at him like they always did in new places. He was the shiny new thing in the store window.

  “Hey,” he said. And they nodded the way the kids always did. Quiet and mistrustful at first. Like any animal pack.

  Christopher quickly walked into his homeroom and took a seat near the back. He knew not to sit up front because it’s a sign of weakness. His mother said, “Never mistake being nice for being weak.” Christopher thought maybe that worked in the grown-up world.

  It didn’t in the kid world.

  “That’s my seat, Squid.”

  Christopher looked up and saw a second grader with a rich boy’s sweater and haircut. He would soon know Brady Collins by name. But right now, he was just this kid who was mad that Christopher didn’t know the rules.

  “What?”

  “You’re in my seat, Squid.”

  “Oh. Okay. Sorry.”

  Christopher knew the drill. So, he just got up. Brady Collins said,

  “Didn’t even fight back. What a Squid.”

  “And look at his pants. They’re so short you can see his socks,” a girl said.

  When the teacher took roll call later, Christopher would hear her name, Jenny Hertzog. But right now, she was just a skinny girl with an overbite and a Band-Aid on one knee, saying,

  “Floods! Floods!”

  Christopher’s ears turned red. He quickly moved to the only open seat left. Right in front of the teacher’s desk. He looked down at his pants, and he realized that he must have grown because they looked like Alfalfa in the Little Rascals. He tried to pull them down a little, but the denim wouldn’t budge.

  “Sorry I’m late, boys and girls,” their homeroom teacher said as she quickly entered the room.

  Ms. Lasko was older like a mom, but she dressed like she was still a teenager. She had a short skirt, Sound of Music blond hair, and the thickest eye makeup Christopher had ever seen outside of a circus. She quickly put her thermos down on the desk with a thump and wrote her name on the blackboard with perfect penmanship.

  Ms. Lasko

  “Hey,” a voice whispered.

  Christopher turned around and saw a fat kid. For some reason Christopher couldn’t figure out, the kid was eating bacon.

  “Yeah?” Christopher whispered back.

  “Don’t listen to Brady and Jenny. They’re jerks. Okay?”

  “Thanks,” Christopher said.

  “Want some bacon?”

  “Maybe not during class.”

  “Suit yourself,” the kid said and kept chomping.

  As it was in the kid world, that is how Christopher replaced Lenny Cordisco with a new best friend. Edward Charles Anderson ended up being in Christopher’s remedial reading class, lunch period, and gym. He ultimately proved to be as bad at reading as he was at kickball. Christopher called him Eddie. But everyone else in the school already knew him by his nickname.

  “Special” Ed.

  Chapter 4

  For the next two weeks, Christopher and Special Ed were inseparable. They had lunch every day in the cafeteria (trade you my baloney). They learned remedial reading from the sweet old librarian, Mrs. Henderson, and her hand puppet, Dewey the Dolphin. They failed math tests together. They even went to the same CCD two nights a week.

  Special Ed said that Catholic kids have to go to CCD for one reason…to get them ready for what Hell is really going to be like. Marc Pierce was Jewish and asked him what CCD stood for.

  “Central City Dump” was Special Ed’s hilarious reply.

  Christopher didn’t actually know what CCD stood for, but he had learned a long time ago never to complain about it. There was one time back in Michigan that Christopher hid in the bushes so he didn’t have to go. His mother called his name over and over, but he didn’t say anything. Then, finally, she got really mad and said,

  “Christopher Michael Reese, you get out here…NOW.”

  She used his three names. And when she did that, there was no choice. You went. That’s it. Game over. With a stone face, she told Christopher that his father was Catholic. And she promised herself that his son would be raised Catholic, too, so he would have some connection to his father besides one picture at Christmas.

  Christopher wanted to die.

  When they were driving home that night, Christopher thought of his dad reading the Bible. Christopher’s dad probably didn’t scramble his letters like Christopher did. He was probably much smarter because that’s what dads were. Much smarter. So, Christopher promised that he would learn to read and know what the Bible words meant, so he could have another way to be close to his dad besides the memory of the tobacco smell on his shirt.

  * * *

  As for picking the church, Christopher’s mother always followed the Cold War strategy of her grandmother’s favorite president, Ronald Reagan. Trust but verify. That was how she found St. Joseph’s in Mill Grove. The priest, Father Tom, was fresh from seminary. No scandals. No former parishes. Father Tom checked out. He was a good man. And Christopher needed good men in his life.

  But for her own faith, it didn’t matter who the priest was. Or how beautiful the mass. Or the music. Her faith died in the bathtub next to her husband. Of course, when she looked at her son, she understood why people believed in God. But when she sat in church, she didn’t hear His word. All she heard were whispers and gossip from all the good Catholic women who regarded her as that working-class mother (aka “trash”).

  Especially Mrs. Collins.

  Everything about Kathleen Collins was perfect. From her tight brown hair to her elegant suit to her polite contempt for “those people” Jesus would have actually loved. The Collins family always sat up front. The Collins family was always first in line for Holy Communion. And if her husband’s hair slipped out of place, her finger would be there instantly to put it right back like a raven’s claw with a tasteful manicure.

  As for their son Brady, the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.

  If Christopher’s mother only had to deal with Mrs. Collins on Sundays, it would have been tolerable. But her husband was a real estate developer who owned half of Mill Grove including Shady Pines, the retirement home where she worked. He put his wife in charge of the place. Mrs. Collins claimed that she took the position to “give back to the community.” What it really meant was that it allowed Mrs. Collins to yell at the staff and the volunteers to make damn sure that her own elderly mother, who was suffering from Alzheimer’s, got the finest care possible. The best room. The best food. The best of everything. Christopher’s mother had traveled enough to know that Mill Grove was a very small pond. But to the Collins family, it may as well have been the Pacific Ocean.

  “Mom, what are you thinking about?” Christopher whispered.

  “Nothing, honey. Pay attention,” she said.

  Right before Father Tom turned the wine into blood with a few well-chosen words, he told the flock that Jesus loved everyone beginning with Adam and Eve. This prompted Special Ed to begin singing the jingle for Chili’s restaurant.

  “I want my baby back baby back baby back! Adam’s baby back ribs!”

  This was met with thunderous laughter,
especially by Special Ed’s parents.

  “Good one, Eddie. My baby is so clever!” his mother said, her fleshy arms jiggling.

  Father Tom and the CCD teacher Mrs. Radcliffe sighed, as if realizing that Special Ed’s discipline was now entirely their job.

  “First Holy Communion is going to be awesome,” Special Ed said in the parking lot after church. “We get money. And we even get to drink wine.”

  “Really?” Christopher asked. “Is that true, Mom?”

  “It’s part of Communion. But it’ll be grape juice,” she said.

  “That’s okay. I can get wine at home. Bye Mrs. Reese,” Special Ed said before leaving to hit up the bake sale table with his parents.

  * * *

  On the drive home, Christopher thought about mass. How Jesus loved everyone. Even mean people. Like Jenny Hertzog and Brady Collins. And Jerry. Christopher thought that was amazing because he could never love someone like Jerry. But he would try because that’s what you were supposed to do.

  When they got back to the motel, Christopher held the door open for his mother, and she smiled and called him a gentleman. And when he looked up before going inside, he saw it. Drifting. A shooting star looked like a twinkle in its eye.

  The cloud face.

  Normally, Christopher wouldn’t have thought much about it. Clouds were normal. But every day when his mother drove him to school. Every time they drove past the Mission Street Woods. Every sunset when they drove to CCD. The cloud face was there.

  And it was always the same face.

  Sometimes, big. Sometimes, small. Once it was even hidden behind the other shapes in the clouds. A hammer or a dog or an inkblot like the ones the man showed him after his father accidentally drowned in the bathtub. It was always there. Not a man. Not a woman. Just a handsome pretty face made of clouds.

  And Christopher could have sworn it was watching him.

  He would have told his mother that, but she had enough worries about him already. He could stand her thinking he was dumb. But he didn’t dare risk her thinking that he was crazy.

  Not like his dad.

  Chapter 5

  The rains began on Friday.

  The thunderclap woke Christopher up from a nightmare. The dream was so scary that he instantly forgot it. But he didn’t forget the feeling. Like someone was right behind his ear. Tickling it. He looked around the motel room. The neon from the Laundromat outside turned the front curtains into a blink.

  But there was no one there.

  He looked at the clock next to his mother sleeping in the other twin bed. It flashed 2:17 a.m. He tried to go back to sleep. But he couldn’t for some reason. So, he just lay there with his eyes closed and his mind going.

  And listened to the pouring rain.

  There was so much rain, he couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. He thought it would dry the oceans.

  “Floods! Look at his pants! Floods! Floods!”

  The words came to him, and Christopher’s stomach tied itself into knots. He would be going to school in a few hours. School meant homeroom. And homeroom meant…

  Jenny Hertzog and Brady Collins.

  Every morning, they waited for him. Jenny to call him names. Brady to fight him. Christopher knew his mother didn’t want him to fight anyone. She always said he wasn’t going to become some violent roughneck like the men in her family. She wouldn’t even let him have toy guns.

  “Why not?” asked Special Ed during lunch.

  “Because my mom is a packfist,” Christopher said.

  “Do you mean a pacifist?” Special Ed replied.

  “Yeah. That’s it. Pacifist. How did you know that word?”

  “My dad hates them.”

  So, Christopher turned the other cheek, and Jenny Hertzog was right there waiting to make fun of him and the other kids in the dumb class. Don’t say dumb, his mom would say. Don’t you ever say dumb. But in the end, it didn’t matter. He was in the dumb class, and Jenny was especially mean to the dumb students. She called Eddie “Special Ed.” Matt got the name “Pirate Parrot” on account of his lazy-eye patch. His twin brother, Mike, was the best athlete in the school, but Jenny liked to call him “Two Moms Mike” or “Mike the Dyke” depending upon her mood since he and his brother Matt had two mothers and no dad. But Christopher was the new kid, so he got it the worst. Every home room started with Jenny Hertzog pointing at his short pants, and chanting,

  “Floods! Floods!”

  It got so bad that Christopher asked his mom for new pants, but when he saw in her face that she couldn’t afford them, he pretended that he was kidding. Then, during lunch, he told the cafeteria lady that he didn’t want milk, so he could save his fifty cents every day and buy pants on his own. Christopher had already saved up $3.50.

  He just wasn’t sure how much pants cost.

  He went to ask Ms. Lasko, but her eyes were a little bloodshot and her breath smelled like Jerry’s after a night at the bar. So, he waited until the end of the day, and went up to sweet old Mrs. Henderson.

  Mrs. Henderson was mouse-quiet. Even for a librarian. She was married to the science teacher, Mr. Henderson. His first name was Henry. Christopher thought it was so weird for teachers to have first names, but he went with it. Henry Henderson.

  So many e’s.

  When Christopher asked Mrs. Henderson how much pants cost, she said they could use the computer to look it up. Christopher’s mom didn’t have her own computer, so this was a real treat. They went online and searched the word “pants.” They looked at all these stores. And he saw that things were a lot of money. $18.15 for pants at JCPenney.

  “So, how many fifty cents is that?” he asked Mrs. Henderson.

  “I don’t know. How many?” she asked.

  Christopher was almost as bad at math as he was at reading. But like a good teacher, instead of giving him the answer, Mrs. Henderson gave him a pencil and a piece of paper and told him to figure it out. She’d be back in a bit to check on him. So, he sat there, adding up 50 cents at a time. Two days is 100 cents. That’s a dollar. Three days is 150 cents. That’s a dollar and fifty cents. With the seven dollars in his piggy bank, that meant he could…

  hi

  Christopher looked at the computer. It made a little sound. And there was a little box in the left-hand corner. It said INTSATN MSESGAGE. But Christopher knew that meant instant message. Someone was writing to him.

  hi

  Christopher turned to look for Mrs. Henderson, but she was gone. He was all alone. He looked back at the screen. The cursor blinked and blinked. He knew he wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers. But this wasn’t talking exactly. So, he pecked with the pointer on his right hand. Peck peck.

  “Hi,” Christopher typed back.

  who is this?

  “Christopher.”

  hi, christopher. it’s so nice to meet you. where are you right now?

  “I ma in teh library.”

  you have trouble with letters, huh? which library?

  “At scohol.”

  which school do you go to? don’t tell me. mill grove elementary, right?

  “How did yuo konw?”

  lucky guess. are you liking school?

  “It’s oaky.”

  when are you leaving for the day?

  Christopher stopped. Something felt wrong to him. He typed.

  “Who is this?”

  There was silence. The cursor blinked.

  “Who are you?” Christopher typed again.

  Silence again. Christopher watched the cursor blink and blink. The air was still and quiet. But he could feel something. A tightness in the air. Like staying under the covers too long.

  “Hello?” Christopher asked the empty library.

  Christopher looked around the stacks. He thought someone might be hiding. He started to get a panicked feeling. Like back in Michigan when Jerry would come home from the bar in a bad mood.

  “Hello?” he called out again. “Who’s there?”

  H
e felt this prickle on the back of his neck. Like when his mom used to kiss him good night. A whisper without words. He heard the computer beep. He looked over. He saw the person’s reply.

  a friend

  When Mrs. Henderson came back, the screen went blank. She looked at his math work and told him that he should ask Ms. Lasko for help. In the meantime, she gave him three books for the weekend to help with his reading. There was an old book with a lot of words. Then, there were two fun books. Bad Cat Eats the Letter Z and a Snoopy. Snoopy wasn’t as good as Bad Cat. But Snoopy was still great. Especially with his cousin Spike from Needles. That word. Needles.

  So many e’s.

  When the bell rang, Mrs. Henderson walked Christopher to the parking lot. Christopher waved goodbye as she and her husband got in their old minivan. Ms. Lasko got in her cherry-red sports car that must have cost a million fifty-cent milks. One by one, the teachers left. And the students. The twin brothers—“Pirate Parrot” and “Two Moms Mike”—threw their little plastic football as they got on the school bus. Special Ed blew a raspberry from the bus, which made Christopher smile. Then, the last buses left. And when everyone was gone, Christopher looked around for the security guard.

  But he wasn’t there.

  And Christopher was alone.

  He sat down on a little bench and waited in the parking lot for his mother to come pick him up for Movie Friday. He tried to think about that instead of the bad feeling he was having. The feeling that something could get him. He was nervous waiting outside. And he just wanted his mom to get there early today.

  Where was she?

  The thunder clapped. Christopher looked at his math test. 4 out of 10. He had to work harder. He picked up the first book. A Child’s Garden of Verses. It was old. Kind of dusty. Christopher could feel the spine creak a little. The leather cover smelled a little like baseball gloves. There was a name in the front cover. Written in pencil.