Crush

twenty feet off the ground. They tried to

get Cade, but he locked himself in his

truck. They couldn’t get to him, couldn’t

magically pass through the glass or the

door. They are solid…I think. Is Cade

still alive? Did he go to the police? Would

the police believe anything he said?

Would he blame me? Jesus, he’d probably

blame me. The cops would know I couldn’t

do that to Ox. I’m not strong enough.

They’d know that, wouldn’t they?

What if I am doing this?

Maybe I have some power I don’t even

know about. Is that possible? Is it me?

No. It can’t be. It’s about me but I’m not

doing this. Am I?

No. No. NO!

It’s David. Or it’s Kirsty.

It has to be.

Jonathan flipped the paper over and read it from the beginning. He let the words sink in, and they helped untangle his thoughts.

David.

Kirsty.

He stood from his desk and took the paper with him. In the kitchen, he lit the edge with one of his mother’s matches and watched the sheet burn. He dropped it in the sink and kept his eye on the paper as it blackened and curled. Once it was reduced to ash against the metal basin, he turned on the water and doused the char. With a paper towel, he scooped the mess out of the sink and threw it in the trash.

“Where are you?” David asked.

Jonathan sat in the living room, ears peeled in case his mother returned.

“Something happened last night,” Jonathan said. “Can you talk?”

“Yeah. I’m hiding in the poetry section. It’s totally empty. So what happened?”

“I can’t really get into it right now, not over the phone.”

“Then calling me about it seems kind of pointless,” David said, humored.

“It’s not about that. Well, it is, but not exactly. We need to talk. Can I come by your place when you get off work?”

“Can’t,” David said. “I’m on stud duty. The woman and I are seeing a movie.”

“Kirsty?” Jonathan asked.

“She’s the only one for now.”

“David, we have to talk before you guys go out.”

“I already know the facts of life, Jonny Boy, but thanks for offering.”

“David, I’m serious. Damn serious.”

There was a long silence. Jonathan thought David had hung up on him, but a deep breath, like a sigh scratched through the speaker at his ear.

“Hey? You there?” Jonathan asked.

“Yeah, I’m here,” David said. “Look, I figured something like this would happen.”

“What are you talking about?”

“TAJ, man,” David said, as if it was obvious. “Total ass-faced jealousy. You figure that now that Kirsty and I are together, you’re going to get frozen out. Like we won’t hang anymore or something. It’s totally not like that. I mean, we can’t be kids for…”

“Ox was murdered last night,” Jonathan said to shut his friend up. “Okay? I saw it. He and Cade dragged me down to the lake. They decided to memorialize Toby by throwing me in. Then…” He didn’t know how much he could say without sounding completely nuts, but he had to convince David. “These things came out of the woods. I couldn’t see them real well. They just showed up. They chased Cade off, but they killed Ox. They left his body in the bushes by the lake.”

“No way,” David said. “You saw it?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan said. He struggled against the memory of Ox being engulfed and yanked into the air by a black sheet. “I saw it.”

“Did you call the cops?”

“I couldn’t. I don’t know how to explain it to them. It’s all really screwed up.”

“You said ‘things’ came out of the woods?”

“I can’t explain it,” Jonathan repeated. “Not over the phone.”

“So, what does this have to do with Kirsty?”

“It’s just a feeling I’ve got. It all started happening this year, after she started school.”

“You don’t even know her,” David said, suddenly on the defensive.

“I know. But she’s like always there. She saw what these guys were doing. I can’t think of anyone else,” Jonathan said. Unless it’s you.

“Apparently Special K isn’t just for breakfast anymore.”

“I’m not high, David.”

“You have to be. Think about it, Jonathan. A girl you don’t even know is going around and killing people because they pick on you? Does that sound balanced? Does that sound even remotely two plus two? I mean… Jesus…it’s not like she’s dating you!”

“David, listen…”

“I can’t believe you’re being such a dick about this. Look, man, it’s not my fault you don’t have other friends. Okay? It sucks, but it isn’t my fault. Kirsty and I are having a good time, and you feel left out. Well, tough. I can’t believe you’d make up this kind of crap just to get in the middle of it.”

“I’m not making anything up.”

“Then you’re nuts. You’re paranoid and deluded, and you need to get yourself some meds. And Jonathan, don’t you dare try to implicate Kirsty in any of your paranoid crap. Okay? I’m warning you. Just keep your mouth shut, or you’re asking for a whole lot of trouble.”

“Are you threatening me?” Jonathan asked.

“Just don’t push me, Jonathan.”

The phone line went dead.

11

From The Book of Adrian, Mon. Oct. 17

Knowing whom to trust is like the fable of the two doors. Behind one door is a paradise, lush with comfort and sustenance; beyond the other is a ravenous tiger, aching to rend flesh and fill her belly. Every person one meets is a door—do they offer safety or savagery?

Given time, we could erode the door’s surface and peer through to see what awaits us. Friends may be exposed as false. Those who first seem to be enemies may be revealed as saviors. But what if there is no time and a door must be chosen? In such situations we are at the mercy of fate—the 50/50 chance that our trust will be wasted and our lives further damaged.

Isn’t that right, Jonathan?

Saturday afternoon Jonathan dozed on his bed. Groggy and exhausted but too frightened to actually fall asleep, he tried to rationalize the conversation with David, tried to see it as anything but a threat. He couldn’t. Not really. Every time he thought about David’s words—“Just don’t push me, Jonathan”—he pictured Ox being smothered against the trunk of a tree. The two things were inexplicably connected in his mind.