OCDaniel (7 page)

I was alone.

I found my way to a table in the corner of the gym. There were bowls of chips on them all. I sat at a table by myself, and then I felt a Zap. I moved the chip bowl. Then I tapped my leg. Then I started to cross my legs. I moved the chip bowl again. The Zaps grew stronger.

You moved the chip bowl wrong. You're going to feel like this forever. Raya is never going to like you because you're crazy. You need to move the chip bowl.

My stomach hurt. My hands were cold. I wanted to run away.

You tapped wrong. Your stomach hurts because you are dying. Now your chest hurts. You are going to die if you don't tap again. Now you need to go home. But you have to tap first. Not eight times. Not nine. Ten. No, that didn't feel right. Back to one. No. Two. No. Three.

I felt the sweat forming on my brow. When I get into these Zap modes, it's hard to think or feel or do anything but try to save myself from the fear. I stood up, sweat pouring down my face.

I wasn't having fun anymore. I didn't want to be there.

I started for the gym door. Sara was watching me again. Now she was interested.

I counted my steps. I avoided the lines. I skipped tables and didn't make eye contact. My entire body was on fire and ice cold and I couldn't breathe right. My chest hurt. My head hurt. I was dying.

“Daniel!” someone called.

I looked back, and Raya was walking toward me. I wanted to smile and say something clever, but I couldn't.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

I only kind of heard her. “Home,” I managed. “I don't feel very good.”

I tried to get away, but she caught my arm. She looked concerned.

“You're sweating.”

I pulled my arm away. “I know. The food or something.”

“You seemed fine—”

“It happened fast,” I said. She seemed so far away. I was disconnecting. The Great Space was here.

“Are you sure?” she said. “Why don't you just stick around—”

“Sorry,” I replied, starting for the door. I was leaving her behind me. Raya Singh. But she was so far away anyway. I couldn't feel anymore. I was passing the door when I saw the switch.
Zap
.

1. 
You will never escape the Great Space unless you switch it.

2. 
The Great Space is even worse than usual. I can't feel. I can't think. I'm drifting away. My chest hurts and I'm going to die. I want to be normal again. I want to go home.

3. 
Flick the switch, and you will feel better.

My rational brain tried to flick on again. I knew the light switch meant nothing. I could leave it and go home, and nothing would change. But then my rational brain started to fade again, and I couldn't think about anything except that I was going to die. And I didn't want to die. I had to fix this.

And then, to my horror, I flicked the switch. The lights came on, and everyone looked up. I didn't really see them, but I saw Sara. She was smiling.

I flicked the lights off again. Everyone was staring at me.

Raya looked confused.

I ran out of the school. Literally ran. I didn't stop until I was far from the school and Max wouldn't be able to find me. I walked home in the darkness, my hands in my pockets, tears streaming down my face. I was still in the Great Space, but this time I could feel fear.

Real fear.

I had just flicked the lights in front of the entire school. I had lost my last bit of control.

My fear started to turn to anger. I didn't want to go home and do the Routine. I didn't want to spend three hours getting into bed. I just wanted to be like Max and Taj and the other kids.

I didn't want to be crazy.

When I got home, I snuck inside. My dad was in the basement, and my mom was watching TV in her bedroom. The house was quiet. I slipped off my shoes, my cheeks still hot with tears. I was furious.

I wanted desperately to skip the Routine, but I couldn't. I ended up walking back and forth to the bathroom for one hundred and forty-nine steps, shouting silent pleas and shaking and trying to go to bed before I turned back and did it again. When I heard my mom stirring, I finally made it to the bathroom, and I brushed my teeth until my gums were bleeding, and kept going until the toothpaste was red. My hands were shaking, but I couldn't stop. If I stopped, I was going to die. I wasn't going to wake up. I used two rolls of toilet paper and clogged the toilet, and I felt my face twisting and tears spilling as I used the plunger. I washed my hands until they were pink and it felt like the skin was peeling off. I heard more movement in my parents' room and stopped, and then I hurried back to my room and flicked the lights. My face was sopping wet with sweat and tears. Sometimes I thought I didn't want to wake up anyway, and then I got scared and I flicked the switch again. It took me hours. I cried the whole time, my body racked with pain, and I would scream out in silence and fall on my knees and sometimes think I couldn't do it anymore. That it would be easier to be gone. But I was afraid of death. I was afraid of everything.

I did the whole Routine in perfect silence. When my dad went to bed, I turned the lights off and climbed into bed. He poked his head inside.

“How was the dance?” he asked.

“Okay,” I said. I had the blanket over my face. I couldn't let him see me.

He hesitated. “I heard you walking around a bit. Everything all right?”

I was glad the blanket was covering my face. “Yeah. Sorry. Just . . . had a bit of a stomach thing. I feel fine now.”

“Good,” he said, sounding unconvinced. “Well, get some sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

When the bedroom door closed, I started again. I flicked the light switch until my hand was numb. I couldn't fix it. The numbers were wrong. Everything was wrong.

Of course I could never date Raya. Not because I was the backup kicker or had toothpick arms.

I could never date her, because I was crazy. And I was afraid.

I lay in bed until my eyes grew heavy and the darkness took me.

The mornings are usually my favorite time of the day. I feel fresh. The Great Space is usually gone, and for a few seconds I am too tired to think about Zaps. It's almost peaceful. But today I woke up and wished for the sun to go away. I wasn't ready to go back to school. I didn't want to face the other kids after last night. It was Halloween, which I had almost forgotten. Some kids would be dressed up at school—maybe I could wear a mask. But they don't let you wear masks to school. That would be too convenient.

I lay there for a while, thinking about my book. Today I wanted to wake up and be the only human on earth.

I wondered if a part of me had always wanted that.

After rolling out of bed, I pulled on a hoodie and some faded jeans, shoved my hands into my pockets, and went downstairs. It was already one of those mornings where it feels like you ate something rotten. It twists around in your gut like a pack of eels. And not the unagi kind.

Emma was waiting at the table, eating alone and reading the paper. She was the only nine-year-old I knew who read the paper. She put it down and flashed me a smile. She wasn't dressed up either. She didn't usually participate in what she called “commercial holidays.”

“How was it?” she asked eagerly.

“Okay,” I murmured, pouring some cereal.

She watched me until I sat down. “You're lying. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you kiss Raya?”

“No.”

“Did you try to dance and humiliate yourself?”

I scowled. “I didn't dance.”

“But you did humiliate yourself.”

I thought about that for a moment, and then dug into my cereal. “Maybe.”

“There's a surprise,” Steve chimed in, shuffling into the kitchen. He grabbed a protein drink. “Did you try to dance?”

I put my spoon down. “Why does everyone assume that would humiliate me?”

Steve took a gulp and stared at me. “Was it to do with that girl?”

“Yes.”

He exchanged a knowing look with Emma. “She was with someone else.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “But I knew that before. I just didn't . . . expect her to be so happy.”

Emma frowned. “Isn't that the point of a dance?”

Steve took another drink, and then gave me a rare pat on the shoulder. “Buck up. No one likes a mope.”

With that, he disappeared upstairs, and I just sighed and looked at Emma.

“He should be a psychologist.”

  •  •  •  

Max hurried over as soon as I got into the yard. He looked concerned.

“What happened to you last night? I texted but . . .”

I shrugged, trying to look casual. “Just wasn't feeling too well. No big deal. How was the rest of the night?”

Max seemed dubious, but he cracked a grin. “Pretty good. Taj and Tom did a full dance routine.”

“I bet that was a hit,” I said darkly.

Max obviously caught the shift in tone. He glanced back at the group, where Raya was talking with Clara. Both of them still had their hair nicely done but were back in their normal clothes. It seemed that none of the eighth graders had dressed up. I was glad I hadn't worn my Luke Skywalker costume.

“She isn't dating him or anything.”

“Doesn't matter,” I said. “She likes him. And let's be honest—she would never like me.”

“Why not?”

I rolled my eyes. “Because I'm me. A nobody. My brother's right. I look like a used Q-tip.”

Max snorted. “That's pretty good.”

“Yeah,” I said, turning for the doors. “I have to use the bathroom.”

“I'm kidding,” Max said.

“It's cool. I just need to pee.”

“Dan?”

I looked back, and Max fidgeted a little, obviously uncomfortable.

“What was with the light thing?”

I paused. “I thought I'd dropped something. Was just having a quick look.”

“Oh,” he said. “Cool. I'll see you in class.”

“Yeah.”

I left him there and went inside, feeling my eyes stinging with pressure. I don't know why, but I felt like tears were about to burst out. I wanted to tell Max, but I couldn't. I wanted to say that I'd flicked the switch because I had to. And that I was tired today because I'd spent hours shaking and crying and silently screaming out in the darkness. And that I'd left because Raya would never like me, and I didn't know how to fix that. I didn't know how to fix anything.

I was walking down the hall when I saw Sara getting dropped off at the front doors.

Her mother was there, watching from an open window of her Lexus. Sara walked in, not waving, and then started for the office. I think she sat there until her TA showed up.

But this time she saw me and stopped. The sunlight lit up the door behind her like a spotlight.

“You're here,” she said.

I looked behind me. “Uh . . . yeah,” I said. “Am I not supposed to be?”

She shrugged. “I thought you would stay home. You looked upset. Because of Raya.”

“How do you know that?”

Sara smiled. “I have eyes, you know.”

“Oh,” I said. “Right. I guess it was obvious, then.”

“Sort of. But I also watch you.”

I froze. That wasn't the kind of thing you said to someone. And it wasn't the kind of thing that you responded to either. I met her piercing green eyes and then looked away. “You . . . what?”

She didn't look away. “I watch you sometimes. You're very interesting, you know.”

I could feel tingles running up and down my arms, like someone was letting their fingertips just glide along, barely touching the hairs. It caused my whole back to straighten by itself. And then I thought of something else.

“Did you leave that note in my bag?”

“Took you long enough,” she said.

I frowned. “So . . . you're a Star Child?”

She smiled and lifted her wrist. For the first time I focused on her bracelet; the charms were little stars. There were a few different kinds—seven of them altogether. “Clearly,” she said. “Just like you.”

“What?”

She shook her head. “You don't even know what you are, do you?”

“Apparently not.”

“Give it time.” She glanced at the office. “Do you agree or not?”

I rubbed my forehead. It was like running a marathon, talking to her. “Agree to what?”

She sighed. “I was hoping for smarter. Maybe you're more of a thinker than a talker. Tough to say. You obviously think a lot, but what about, I have no idea. Agree to help me, of course.”

I hesitated, unsure of what to say. “Umm . . . sure.”

Sara grinned. “Excellent. Meet me after school. Don't even say you have football. We both know you don't play.” She started for the office, and I finally snapped out of it.

“What am I helping you with?”

She stopped and looked at me, stone-faced.

“We're going to find my father.”

I was writing in class an hour later, trying not to think about my discussion with Sara Malvern.

Daniel hurried inside, closing the door behind him. He stood there with his back to the door, trying to make sense of what he had seen. The shape. It had almost been human. Almost.

It had all started with the switch. His father had told him a thousand times to stay out of the attic, but he hadn't been able to resist. Yesterday he had finally snuck up there, slipping through the trapdoor in his parents' closet and picking his way through the stacks of equipment. There, standing alone in the middle of the room, was a computer connected to several banks of servers. It was silent—covered in dust and left alone in the darkness. But what did it do?

He saw the switch soon after. It was on the side of a boxy control panel next to the computer, wired into the whole system. Instantly he knew he shouldn't touch it.