Ugh. I am so out right now. I feel so dizzy. At least I’m not waking up to my arm this time. That thing is the worst. I hate whoever invented them. Doesn’t matter now. My eyelids are too heavy for me to open them, so I might as well enjoy the silence as my head rests on the table. It’s surprisingly comfort-

  Wait…table? Am I leaning forward on a table? What the heck?

  I snap my eyes open. I am resting my head on the table! No wait… I recognize it…it’s my literacy textbook! I sit up straight at breakneck speed. I’m hyperventiting right now. My ADHD brain quickly processes the scene. I’m sitting at my desk in my first period css. But how? I never fall asleep in css. And also, wasn’t I just walking in the front door to the school?

  “What’s going on? Did I just fall asleep?” I ask frantically. No responses. Everyone’s just staring at me. But they all look…scared? Yeah, falling asleep in css is highly unusual, but not end-of-the-world unusual. Not any more arming than the Mayan Calendar. Even Mr. Mancini looks scared. “Seriously, what’s going on? I thought I just got off the bus. We still have like twenty minutes before csses start. What happened? Am I going crazy? SOMEONE ANSWER ME PLEASE!”

  Finally, one of my cssmates asks, “Brock, is that really you?”

  What?!?! All I can muster is a scared and confused “Uh yes? Who else would it be? WHAT IS GOING ON?”

  I let out a soft chuckle and grin as I say “Well well, looks like Hello Kitty’s awake. Told y’all it would be happening today.”

  In absolute terror, I csp both of my hands over my mouth. Did I say that? No. No. NO! I didn’t say that, why would I say that? What does that even mean? I look around. Everyone’s still looking at me. Except they’re even more scared now. A couple even look like they might get up and run out the door. Perhaps they should?

  “Who said that?” I ask as I’m sweating bullets. I’m imagining this right?

  “I did.” I say proudly in response.

  I jump back through my seat and up against the wall behind me. My legs colpse and I’m sitting on the floor. My heart is pounding so hard, I start to feel pain in my arm. I start to feel so lightheaded. I must still be hyperventiting.

  “Hey, hey, hey, let’s calm down a bit, shall we? Being this scared can’t be good for your heart,” says the voice again, using my mouth.

  “WHO ARE YOU!?!?”

  “Someone who needs you happy and healthy. Or at the very least, healthy.”

  I hopelessly scoff while my hyperventiting doesn’t stop. “Happy and healthy, really? Is this a joke?”

  “No, not a joke. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to help you.”

  “Help me? Help me do what?”

  “Find your truth. Better yourself. Not spend every second of every day on edge.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing (or saying?). “And you think that doing…whatever this is…is gonna help? You’re like…stealing my body!”

  The voice-thing-whatever sighs. “Yeah, sorry about that. I wish there was another way to do this. One that wasn’t so invasive. I’ll see what I can do to make it up to you, I promise.”

  Screw this. “The only way you can make it up to me is by LEAVING ME THE HELL ALONE!”

  “Yeah, about that. Sorry to say, but we’re gonna be roomies for the next four years.”

  “FOUR YEARS?” Nuh uh. That’s it. I’m not having it. I stand up and grab my pencil from my desk. I line it up with my right eye, clearly threatening to stab myself in it. Hopefully, it’ll go up into my brain and end this. I’m not gonna live like this for the next four years.

  “Hate to burst your bubble, kid, but that’s not gonna work. Most it’ll do is permanently destroy that eye. Is that what you really want?”

  I don’t believe it, so I say. “I’d rather go blind than deal with the likes of you for that long.” I’m not bluffing. I don’t know who or what this thing is, but I need it OUT OF MY HEAD!

  “Don’t try it. I’m warning you.” I think a few people in the cssroom agree with him(?). Everyone’s freaking out.

  I try it anyway. I yank the pencil towards my eye as fast as I can. But then suddenly…

  I’m ying on the floor again. Or…I think I am. I don’t feel anything. Everyone is screaming. My ears are hurting from it…I think. Wait…are my ears hurting, or are they just supposed to? I stand up. It’s surprisingly easy. It’s like I weigh nothing.

  Just as I’m on my feet again, everyone falls silent. I turn and face towards them all. Every eye is wide open and every head is leaned back. What. Is. Going. On?

  “Why are you all looking at me like that? What’s going on?” I ask while growing more nervous.

  Some of the faces grow confused, but nobody answers.

  “WHAT IS GOING ON?” I shout.

  “I think they’re all a bit too bewildered to answer you.” The answer came from the cssroom door, with a voice that sounded like…mine? No, not quite.

  I turn towards the door. Standing in front of it is this…stick figure? No, cartoon character with its back straight and its arms crossed. It’s completely backed out. I can’t see any features except that it’s vaguely human-shaped. My heart rate triples. (And yet…doesn’t!?!?)

  “W-w-who are you?” I ask shakingly.

  “I’m what you can call, a passenger. Except I’m also here to help, believe it or not.”

  I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I’ve got to be dreaming or something!

  “Are you already questioning reality? You’re so not ready for what’s next.”

  “Next?!?! What else could there be?”

  “Look at your hands.”

  “Why? What am I gonna-” I look down and jump back in refreshed horror.

  THOSE ARE NOT MY HANDS! They belong to… a robot… or something!

  I get up and run up to Mr. Mancini’s desk. I gaze into the mirror on the wall behind his seat beled “Always be yourself!” What I see staring back at me is not me. It can’t be!

  I scream.

  ****

  I gnce back down at my phone. I’m in the mood for some Chris Ledoux. I only got four songs of his downloaded, but they are the ones that I like best. I put on “Copenhagen Angel” before switching to my texts. I text Nat.

  “Hey, it was nice seeing you again today!” I hit send.

  It’s only about ten seconds before he responds with “You too buddy!”

  Dang it. I don’t know what else to say. Where would we even start? We haven’t seen each other all summer. Too much has happened in that time. I quickly give up trying to respond and just switch over to my game. It’s a knock-off of Minecraft, but I love it. I py it until I get off the bus.

  Once we’ve gotten off the bus, my sister and I get trekking up our long gravel driveway. About halfway through, she starts saying something. I turn up my music to drown her out. I don’t know what she’s saying. I don’t want to know. Until she pulls off my headphones.

  “Listen here, you jerk. Dad says we need to water the pnts,” she scowls.

  “Yes, just like every day. How is that breaking news?” I ask, already fed up with her.

  “Yesterday, you almost forgot. And don’t steal words from me!”

  “Yeah. Almost. And so what? You don’t own the words!”

  I run up to the house, almost missing that dad’s truck is there on my way. I barely pull away from my sister, but it’s enough for me to make it to my room and close the door behind me. I dump my backpack out; my math textbook plops onto my bed. It’s supposed to be for the grade above me. Cool thing about being smart. I get to clear through my csses faster.

  I wait for my sister to calm down before going to water the pnts. It’s so stupid. Why are we even doing this? They compin about the bills then turn around and make me waste water on pnts that can’t survive here on their own! Like, come on! Like a bunch of pnts are more important than having phones that are like… two years old? Ugh, whatever.

  Once I’m done with the pnts, I work my way towards the kitchen. I reach into the pantry, grab two bars of dark chocote, wolf them down, then move on to the strawberry shortcake rolls. It’s right then that my dad catches me.

  “Son, how often are you going to keep eating that bullshit food?”

  I don’t answer. Half because my mouth is full and half because I’m too stunned. I probably should retort something like “It keeps me smart.” It does. I need it to think. I think I’ve told him that already. As, I don’t get that chance.

  “Nevermind. Just go get your homework done.”

  Again, so stupid! He’s the sucker buying it. Surely Mom’s talking him into it. Doesn’t matter. Helps me think anyway.

  I finish stuffing my face, then head back to my room. Going through all the different combinations of (x-y)(x-y)=x2-2xy+y2 gets old really fast. I don’t know why, but I don’t like it. Fortunately, it’s the only homework I have tonight. Once I’m finished with it, I spend the rest of the evening pying racing games. By myself. Against no one. Unless you count the computer. Before that gets too boring, I’m called into the kitchen for dinner.

  My dad sits on one end, my mom, the other. Delih and I sit across from each other. Tonight’s special? My dad’s specialty meatloaf. Gross. Does he not know how to make anything else? I wouldn’t survive if it wasn’t for Mom. At least her stuff is bearable. The only thing that could make this worse is…

  “So Delih, what exciting thing happened to you today?” Dad asks, demanding an answer. I hate how he does that. It’s so…fake. Artificial. Stupid.

  She sits there for a second before saying “Actually, there’s something I want to tell you all.”

  I really don’t care.

  “What is it?” Dad asks.

  There’s a pause before she says “Maybe I should wait until the end.”

  “Are you sure?” Mom asks with a bit of concern.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Why don’t you ask Brock about his day?”

  You. Did. Not.

  Dad concedes with “Okay then. Brock, what exciting thing happened to you today?” I swear, he sounds like he’s going through a grocery list.

  Can I just say “nothing,” or do I have to say something? Depends on his mood. I just try something halfway by saying “not much. Got to talk with Nat again today.”

  “Is that all?” he asks, disappointed.

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  Mom interjects with “Nothing new at school? It’s only your second day. Surely, something new happened.”

  I really don’t wanna talk. I barely even wanna eat the disgusting garbage on the pte in front of me. “No, nothing really.” My ck of energy shows. Oops.

  “Come on, Brock. You’re not gonna make it through life with that attitude.” Dad is frustrated now.

  I gre at him.

  Mom piles up on me and says “Yeah sweetie. You gotta learn to appreciate what you have. You never know when the world might end.”

  Delih rolls her eyes.

  I grunt and state “Mom, the Mayans were not predicting the apocalypse. We’ve been over this.”

  “Hey, watch the tone you use to talk to your mother.”

  I defte.

  “And you need to stop slouching. You won’t get through life as a man if you keep doing that.”

  I don’t know why, but I do not like the idea of what he just said. “What if I don’t wanna get through life as a man?”

  “Well, you don’t have a choice.”

  “You are always telling me everything is my choice!”

  “Not this time!”

  “Please no yelling at the dinner table!” Mom screams.

  We all fall silent. It quickly grows awkward until Dad breaks it.

  “So Eve, what exciting thing happened to you today?”

  I don’t hear her answer. I’m buried in my own mind right now. All I can think of is what was just said. I don’t want to get through life as a man. I don’t know why. But I really don’t. Screw it. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Probably gonna be homeless. A hobo. I hate how I’m gonna have to. Maybe I’ll just wind up dead before I’m twenty-one. I’m not gonna make-

  “I got to come home, cook meatloaf for my family, and sit down to talk with them!” My dad procims as I snap out of it.

  I look down. My meatloaf is half-eaten, my milk gss is empty, my applesauce is gone. I’m not hungry in the slightest. “Can I please leave the table?”

  My request is denied by a gruff voice stating, “Hold on, boy. Let’s hear what your sister has to say first.”

  “Actually, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to say it anymore.” Delih softly retracts.

  “Are you sure?” Mom asks with a bit of concern.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” She’s gone almost completely soft.

  “Alright then, yes Brock, you may leave the table.”

  Of course they let her off the hook.

  I stand up, pick up my pte, throw away what I didn’t eat, then put the dishes in the sink. I head over to my room, pick out my pajamas, and bring them into the bathroom.

  Once I’ve done that, I close the door behind me and lock it. I take off all of my clothes and look into the mirror. I stare and stare and stare for a good long while. I look up and down my body. I don’t know why I do that. When I was a kid, I would just look for shapes on my body. I once thought my belly looked like the head of an animal. But now, I just look at myself, probably expecting to find something. Something different. But what is it? All I know is that my body looks ugly. My blonde hair looks weak and pathetic. It’s not exactly gmourized for guys to have blonde hair. Just my luck to be the only blonde in the family- I’d happily trade it for my sister’s red hair. Blue eyes are okay I guess. But overall, I feel like I look like a potato with thin, short arms. They’re so small. I hate how it looks. But whatever. My intelligence is where my awesome lies anyway. I turn away from the mirror.

  On my way into the shower, I grab the Vaseline, cover my hand in it, and start to work on myself. When I first learned how, I must have done this like three or four times in one day. But each time, it got weaker, so I started spacing them out to once a day at most. It’s the best (maybe the only?) way I can feel good. One of the few things I can look forward to in life.

  I finish up, turn on the water and wash away the scene of the crime. That’s really the most I do with it. That and rub shampoo. I otherwise just stand there and get wet. And daydream. Daydream that I’m flying over the San Jaun Range. That I’m an eagle. That I don’t have to answer to anyone. But it doesn’t st too long. The water turns ice cold.

  I hop out as quickly as I can without tripping. Darn Dad. He always turns off the hot water when I get used to the shower! Doesn’t matter. I’m out now. I grab the towel, dry off, and put it back on the rack. I go back to staring at myself as I brush my teeth. I still don’t know what I’m expecting to find. I finish up by putting on deodorant and then my pajamas.

  I crawl into bed. Mom comes to tuck me in.

  “Are you all ready for tomorrow?” she asks me with as much authority as she can muster.

  “Yes Mom,” is all I can respond with.

  She must have sensed the tone I was using was pretty down. She held my hands and gives a heartfelt “are you okay? I understand your dad can be a bit much.”

  That’s an understatement. “Why do you even stick with him? You two fight so much, divorce has even come up a few times.”

  “Because sweetie, that’s what family does. We fight sometimes, but in the end, we love each other.”

  Do you? Do I even love anyone in this family? I exhale in response.

  Mom grabs my hands, says her prayers for me, and kisses my forehead. “Goodnight sweetie, I love you.” She turns off the lights, and waits for me to say that I love her back.

  I don’t.

  “Remember to say your prayers too. Jesus also loves you.”

  I don’t do that either.

  She closes the door and leaves me in the dark.

  Why would I say any prayers? God clearly hates me. He’s never done anything for me except put me here in this miserable, doomed-to-be short life. If anyone wants me to believe in them, they’ll have to come talk to me themselves.

  I wait a few minutes, then pull out my phone. I go to YouTube and look up “hypnotize yourself.” Several results come up. Into a dog. Into a cat. I try a few more searches. Into a werewolf. Into a cow. Into a woman. Yourself dumb. I make my selection, put in my headphones, and go to sleep.

  ****

  I wake up to the sound of my 90’s arm clock. I clumsily turn it off and crawl out of bed. I stumble to the kitchen without using my blinded eyes. I feel around until I reach the pantry door. I grab a couple Pop tarts, and eat them raw. Big mistake.

  “Brock, come on, I’ve made these fucking eggs for you!”

  Drat. I forgot he was here. Of course I did. Do I remember anything in the morning? “God dammit.”

  “Hey! Watch your nguage there, young man! Now you are going to eat these eggs and hop in the truck so I can drive you to the bus stop.”

  “Without changing clothes?” I reply with some snark.

  “You know what I meant.”

  I do just that. Eat, pee, change, load my backpack and hop in his giant truck. Oil field work pays him enough to have this truck. But not enough for new phones. He probably is just trying to show it off anyway. It’s not that long a walk to the bus stop. It’s August, so it’s not that cold either. (Yet.)

  As we’re sitting at the bus stop. Dad tries to make small talk. “So, you punks getting good grades at school? You got to, so you can make money when you grow up, buy yourself a nice truck like this.”

  “Where’s your college degree?” Delih quickly responds.

  “I don’t need it, cause I work in the oilfield. Neither of you are going to be doing that. Deliah being a girl and Brock having all of his strengths in his head.”

  “Excuse me?” She did not like hearing that.

  “Yeah, it’s a male dominated field, and there’s a reason for that. It’s man’s work. Women like to say they can survive without men, but they’d run out of gas on day one, ha!”

  “And what if I want to be an oilfield worker?”

  “You can try. I wouldn't count on you succeeding.”

  I can almost sense her taking that as a challenge. But she says nothing.

  I zone out until the bus arrives. I get out of the truck, as does Delih. As we walk away, I hear Dad call out “Bye kids! See you next week! Love ya!”

  I step onto the bus and grab my favorite seat. As I do, this, weird feeling comes over me. I’m scared. I don’t know why, but I’m scared. It’s a sense of fear I cannot shake. I turn on my music to “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash.” Unfortunately, he doesn’t drown out the feeling of fear. I turn up my volume, try to ignore it. It works for a minute, but then the fear comes back even harder. The closer we get to school, the stronger the feeling becomes. I’m starting to shake. Delih and a few others even ask if I’m okay. I tell them that I am.

  By the time we get to school, I’m shivering and sputtering. I stumble off the bus, and head towards the front door. Just as I make it halfway, my brain goes into some sort of overdrive. Not my usual ADHD overdrive. No, I’m completely losing awareness. I fall to the ground as voices and fshes overwhelm my brain. Voices I’ve never heard before.

  “She’s ready.”

  “Is this going to work?”

  “This is the…Peace Force. You’re all under arrest!”

  “…And I shall see to it, that every man, woman, and child shall…”

  “Goodbye, my loves. I promise I’ll…”

  “…in T-minus 5…4…”

  “Blessings of Guy-uh, I hope this works!”

  Along with it are scenes that could only be from movies. Training to use a combat stick, pistols, bdes, various other weapons I can’t even name or describe. A row of robots marching through the streets. People rioting as they get hit with smoke. I finally see the reflective image of a blue hooded figure looking at me, before I bck out.