"Oh, I'm too busy right now," she said, emerging from the kitchen with a handful of bills. She held them out with an anxious smile. "You can go with Max. Or Brooke."
Aha. This was about Brooke. I felt my face turn red, and turned and stalked into my room. "I said no!" I slammed the door and closed my eyes. I was angry, but I didn't know why. "Stupid Mom trying to send me to a stupid movie with stupid ..." I couldn't say her name out loud. No one was supposed to know about Brooke—Brooke didn't even know about Brooke. I kicked my backpack and it slumped over, too full of books to fly across the room like I wanted it to.
Sitting in the dark with Brooke wouldn't be so bad, I thought, no matter what movie it was. I heard her laugh in my head, and thought about witty things I could say to make her laugh again. "This movie sucks—the director should be strangled with his own film." Brooke didn't laugh at that; her eyes went wide and she backed away, just like at the Halloween dance.
"You're a freak," she said. "You're a sick, psycho freak."
"No I'm not—you know me! You know me better than anyone in the world, because I know you better than anyone in the world. I see things nobody else does. We've done homework together, we've watched TV together, we've talked on the phone to—"
Stupid phone—who was she talking to on the phone? I'd find out and I'd kill him.
I cursed at the window and—
I was in my room, breathing heavily. Brooke didn't know me because we hadn't shared anything, because everything we'd ever done together was really only stuff she'd done alone, while I watched through her window. I'd watched her do her homework a few nights ago, and knew that we had the same assignment, but that didn't count as doing it together because she didn't even know I was there. And then, when the phone rang and she picked it up and said hello to someone else, it was like a wedge between us. She smiled at the invader and not at me, and I wanted to scream, but I knew that no one was interrupting anything because I was the only one in the world who knew that anything was going on.
I pressed my palms into my eyes. "I'm stalking her," I muttered. It wasn't supposed to be like this; I was supposed to be watching Mr. Crowley, not Brooke. I broke my rules for him, not for anyone else, but the monster had shattered the wall and taken over before I even knew what it was doing. I barely even thought of the monster anymore, because we'd merged so completely into one. I looked up and paced across my room to the window, staring out at Mr. Crowley's house. "I can't do this."
I paced back to my bed and kicked my backpack harder this time, skidding it across the floor. "I need to see Max."
I grabbed my coat and rushed out without saying anything to Mom. She'd left the money on the edge of the kitchen counter and I grabbed it as I passed, shoving it into my pocket and slamming the door behind me.
Max's house was just a few miles away, and I could get there pretty quickly on my bike. I looked away as I passed Brooke's house, and flew down the road too fast, not caring about ice or watching for cars. I saw myself putting my hands around Brooke's neck, first caressing it, then squeezing it until she screamed and kicked and choked and every thought in her entire head was focused on me, and nothing but me, and I was her whole world and—
"No!"
My back wheel caught a patch of black ice and swerved out from under me, spinning me to the side. I managed to stay upright, but as soon as I was steady again I leaped off the bike, and picked it up and swung it like a club into a telephone pole.
It clanged and vibrated in my hands, solid and real. I dropped it and leaned against the pole, gritting my teeth.
I should be crying, I can't even cry like a human,
I looked around quickly, to see who was watching. A few cars were driving by, but no one was paying me any attention.
"I need to see Max," I muttered again, and picked up my bike.
I hadn't seen him outside of school in weeks—I spent all of my time alone, hiding in the shadows and sending notes to Mr. Crowley. That wasn't safe, even without my rules. Especially without my rules. My bike looked okay—scratched, maybe, but not dented. The handlebars were skewed to the side, too tight for me to straighten without my tools, but I was able to compensate for it by holding them crooked. I rode straight for Max's house and forced myself to think about nothing but him. He was my friend. Friends were normal. I couldn't be a psycho if I had a friend.
Max lived in a duplex by the wood plant, in a neighborhood that always smelled like sawdust and smoke. Most of the people in town worked at the plant, including Max's mom.
His dad drove a truck, usually hauling wood from the plant, and was gone as often as he was home. I didn't like Max's dad, and anytime I went to his house, the big diesel cab was the first thing I looked for. Today it was gone, so Max was probably home alone.