I'll Stop the World (61)

I know it doesn’t make sense. It’s just the way I’ve always been. Alyssa used to get on my case about procrastinating on stuff, but the truth is, I don’t think that what I do counts as procrastination. Procrastinating is telling yourself, I’ll do it later. What I do is tell myself, I’ll do it now, and then I just . . . don’t.

When I’m on my medication, it’s better, but still hard. When I’m off it . . . well. You may as well ask me to run a triathlon as do my homework. Beginning either seems equally daunting.

Mrs. Hanley comes home from her lunch to find me still sprawled on the couch, paging through the old issues of Better Homes and Gardens on her coffee table while a grainy soap opera plays on the tiny living room TV.

Listen, when you’re staying with an old lady in 1985 who doesn’t even have cable, entertainment options are limited.

She starts shaking her head as soon as she sees me, making disapproving “mm-mm” noises through pursed lips. She switches off the TV—I consider protesting, since I was actually kind of invested in seeing what happened when the guy found out his wife was being impersonated by her evil twin sister—and plucks the magazine out of my hands. “Have you been inside all day?”

I nod, and she actually smacks the side of my head like I’m a faulty microwave. It doesn’t hurt, just surprises me. “Hey!”

“Get outside. It’s a beautiful day, and if you’re going to stay under my roof, you’re not going to waste all your time in front of the TV.”

“But—”

“Out.”

She points toward the front door, her expression leaving no room for argument. So I do the only thing I can—I leave.





Chapter Thirty-Six


KARL

His breath coming in ragged gasps, Karl pushed down hard on the pedals of his bike as he rounded the corner, legs pumping furiously. He risked a glance over his shoulder—and let out a dismayed cry. Robbie Reynolds and his crew—Steve Burks and Kevin Thomas, flanking Robbie on their bikes—were still right behind him, just a dozen or so yards back.

“Get back here, Derrin!” Robbie shouted, rapidly shrinking the short distance between them.

“Leave me alone!” Karl shouted, fear spiking his voice up several octaves.

Harsh laughter carried over the roar of the wind in his ears. Karl’s legs burned, and his back and shoulders ached from where the straps of his backpack pulled and bounced.

Where was he even going? He didn’t have a plan. His idea had been to ride toward the center of town, hoping that the people milling about the sidewalks would discourage Robbie and his gang. It hadn’t worked—Robbie was closer than ever, and now Karl was too tired to outpace them all the way back to his house, which involved riding across Wilson Bridge and through the woods.

If he tried, they’d be sure to catch him, and he knew all too well what would happen then, in the woods, with no one to hear his cries for help.

His parents didn’t believe that Robbie was dangerous, but they also didn’t believe that Robbie had held him underwater at the pool that summer until black spots bloomed in his vision, or that he’d been the one to push Karl down the steps at school last May, sending him tumbling across the floor and giving him bruises so deep they turned black.

Karl was flushed with a sudden, burning rage. It should be Robbie crying and cowering and wetting his bed from the terror of his nightmares. It should be Robbie feeling this overwhelming fear, this utter helplessness.

It was Robbie who deserved to suffer. Not Karl.

So why was it Karl?

And why didn’t anyone care?

Stinging sweat dripped into Karl’s eyes, and he blinked hard, shaking his head to clear his vision, his anger and the strength that had accompanied it vanishing as quickly as they had come, replaced by cold fear. Maybe he should’ve just let them catch him after school, when there were still teachers around who probably wouldn’t have let it go too far. He’d have some bruises, maybe a black eye, but that would’ve been the worst of it, and then Robbie and the others would’ve left him alone, at least for a while.

But he’d been too scared to stand his ground. As soon as Robbie started moving toward him through the middle school courtyard, he’d taken off running, jumping on his bike and pedaling as fast as he could, his heart in his throat.

That just made Robbie mad. Before, Karl had been an amusement. Now, he was prey.

Something bumped against his back tire and Karl nearly lost control of the bike, wobbling wildly for a few terrifying seconds before regaining his balance. He didn’t have to look back to see what it was; he could hear the heavy panting of the boy behind him, so close he imagined he could feel Robbie’s breath on the back of his neck.

Making a last-second decision, Karl leaned hard to the left, dropping his foot and letting it skim the ground as he cut into the alley that ran between the post office and the barbershop. The alley was narrow, and Robbie’s group wasn’t expecting the turn; maybe Karl could increase his lead enough to lose them on the other side.

He pedaled faster, not noticing the stick until it was too late.

It caught in Karl’s front tire, spinning around and biting into the skin of his ankle before becoming entangled in the chain. A cry of dismay escaped Karl’s lips as he went shooting up and over his handlebars, momentarily weightless. Instinctively, he thrust his hands out in front of him, a futile attempt to catch himself before crashing hard into the pavement.