Beastly (5 page)

SilentMaid:
It’s love on my side, Beast.

Grizzlyguy:
<- doesn’t think Silent should risk it.

BeastNYC:
<- doesn’t believe in love.

Froggie:
Cn I say smthing & cn you wat 4 me be i typ slo
SilentMaid:
Sure, Froggie. We’ll wait.

Froggie:
It ws hrd 4 me be my famy nvr saw me as a frg. I couldnt talk 2 thm. Thy think i disapprd but i didnt. my sis saw me the 1st day and said eek, a warty frog! She thru me outsid in the muk. Thru me!! it hrts 2 not be able 2 tell them wat hapend.

SilentMaid:
That’s terrible, Frog. I’m so sorry. {{{{{Froggie}}}}}

BeastNYC:
UR better off not talking 2 thm, Froggie.

Grizzlyguy:
U don’t know what its like, Beast. You can speak.

SilentMaid:
You be nice, Beast. Be a little human.

BeastNYC:
I CAN’T BE HUMAN!

Mr. Anderson:
No yelling, Beast.

Froggie:
u thnk so bc u dont no wot its lik not 2 be abl to talk 2 yr fam NE more
BeastNYC:
No, Frog. I think so be I know what it’s like to be able to talk to your family and have them not want you around, be ashamed of you.

SilentMaid:
Wow, Beast, sounds awful.

Grizzlyguy:
Yeah, sorry. Tell us about it.

BeastNYC:
I don’t want to talk about it!

SilentMaid:
Talk to us, Beast.

Mr. Anderson:
You brought it up. I think you do want to talk about it.

BeastNYC:
NO I DON’T!

Mr. Anderson:
Shouting, Beast. If you do it again, I’ll have to ask you to leave.

BeastNYC:
Sorry. Caps lock got stuck. Hard typing w/ claws.

BeastNYC:
Hey, Grizz, how does a bear have Internet access anyway? Or a frog?

Mr. Anderson:
Please don’t change the subject, Beast.

Froggie:
i sneak in2 the castl 2 use the computr

Grizzlyguy:
I took my laptop w me. There’s Wi-Fi all over the place now, even in the woods.

Mr. Anderson:
I want to hear about your family, Beast.

BeastNYC:
Just my father. I only have a father. Had a father.

Mr. Anderson:
Sorry. Go on.

BeastNYC:
I don’t want to talk about my father. Let’s change the subject.

SilentMaid:
I bet it hurts too much to talk. {{{{{Beast}}}}}

BeastNYC:
I didn’t say that.

SilentMaid:
No, you didn’t. You didn’t have to.

BeastNYC:
Fine. OK fine. It hurts 2 much so i don’t want 2 talk about it. Boohoohoo. Everyone happy? Can we talk about someone else now?

SilentMaid:
Sorrrreee!

PART 2 - THE BEAST

1

I was a beast.

I stared into the mirror. I was an animal – not quite wolf or bear or gorilla or dog, but some horrible species that walked upright, that was almost human, yet not. Fangs grew from my mouth, my fingers were clawed, and hair grew from every pore. I, who’d looked down on people with zits or halitosis, was a monster.

“I am allowing the world to see you as you truly are,” Kendra said. “A beast.” And then I was pouncing on her, my claws dragging into the flesh of her neck. I was an animal, and my animal voice formed not words, but sounds I couldn’t have made before. My animal claws raked her clothes, then her flesh. I smelled blood, and I knew without even having words for it that I could kill her like the animal I was.

But some human part of me made me say, “What have you done? Change me back! Change me back, or I’ll kill you.” My voice was beyond recognition as I howled, “I’ll kill you.” Then, suddenly, I felt myself being lifted off her. I started to see her ripped flesh, then her clothes repair themselves as if they’d never been torn.

“You can’t kill me,” she said. “I will simply move on to a new form, perhaps a bird or a fish or a lizard. And changing you back isn’t up to me. It’s up to you.” Hallucination. Hallucination, hallucination. This type of thing didn’t happen to real people. It was a dream helped along by seeing the school production of Into the Woods and a few too many Disney movies. I was tired, and all that Absolut I’d had with Sloane didn’t help. When I woke up, I’d be fine. I had to wake up!

“You’re not real,” I said.

But the hallucination ignored me. “You’ve lived your life being cruel. But in the hours before your transformation, you performed one small kindness. It is because of this one bit of goodness that I see fit to offer you a second chance, because of the rose.”

I got what she meant. The rose. The rose corsage I’d given to that nerdy girl at the dance. I’d only given it to her because I didn’t know what else to do with it. Did that count? Was that the only nice thing I’d ever done for anyone? If so, it was pretty lame.

She read my mind. “No, not much of a kindness. And I haven’t given you much of a second chance, only a little one. In your pocket you’ll find two petals.” I reached down to my pocket. There were the two petals I’d shoved in when they’d fallen off the rose. She couldn’t have known about them, which maybe proved it was all in my mind. But I said, “So?”

“Two petals, two years to find someone willing to look beyond your hideousness and see some good in you, something to love. If you will love her in return and if she will kiss you to prove it, the spell will be lifted, and you will be your handsome self again. If not, you’ll stay a beast forever.”

“Not much of a chance is right.” A hallucination, a dream. Maybe she’d slipped me something like acid? But like all dreamers, I went along. What else could I do since I wasn’t waking up? “No one could ever fall in love with me now.”

“You don’t believe anyone could love you if you’re not beautiful?”

“I don’t believe anyone could love a monster.”

The witch smiled. “Would you rather be a three-headed winged snake? A creature with the beak of an eagle, the legs of a horse, and the humps of a camel? A lion, perhaps, or a buffalo? Hey, at least you can walk upright.”

“I want to be like I was.”

“Then you’ll have to hope to find someone better than yourself and that you are able to win her love with your goodness.”

I laughed. “Yeah, goodness. Girls really think goodness is hot.” Kendra ignored me. “She has to love you despite your looks. Different for you, isn’t it? And remember, you have to love her back – that will be the hardest part for you – and prove it all with a kiss.” A kiss, right. “Look, this has been real fun. Now change me back or whatever you did. This isn’t a fairy tale – it’s New York City.”

She shook her head. “You have two years.”

And then she was gone.

That was two days ago. Now I knew it was real, not a dream, not a hallucination. Real.

“Kyle, open the door!”

My father. I’d avoided him all weekend, Magda too, camping out in my room, living on snacks I’d stored. Now I looked around the room. Almost every object that could be broken was. I’d started with the mirror, for obvious reasons. Then I’d moved on to the alarm clock, my hockey trophies, and every piece of clothing in my closet – nothing fit me anyway. I picked up a shard of glass and stared into it. Horrible.

I lowered the glass, considering one quick slice to the jugular that would end it all. I’d never have to face my friends, my father, never have to live as what I’d become.

“Kyle!”

His voice startled me, and I let the glass fall to the floor. The shock was what I needed to come to my senses. Dad could fix this. He was a rich man. He knew plastic surgeons, dermatologists – the best in New York. He’d fix this.

And if he couldn’t, there was still plenty of time for the other.

I headed for the door.

Once, when I was a little kid, I was walking in Times Square with my nanny, and I looked up and saw Dad on the JumboTron, up there above everyone. The nanny tried to hurry me along, but I couldn’t stop staring, and I noticed other people looking up at the television too, watching my dad.

The next morning, Dad was in his bathrobe, talking to my mother about whatever big story he’d been broadcasting the night before that had made all those people look up. I was scared even to look at him. I could still see him, bigger than everything and high above me, a part of the skyline like a god. I was afraid of him. At school that day, I told everyone my dad was the most important man in the world.

That was a long time ago. Now I knew Dad wasn’t perfect, wasn’t God. I’d walked into the bathroom after he’d been there, and I knew it stunk too.

But I was afraid again when I walked to the door. I stood, hand on the doorknob, my hairy face close to the wood.

“I’m here,” I said very soft. “I’m going to open the door.”

“Then open it.”

I pulled the door open. It seemed like all the sounds of Manhattan stopped, and I could hear that moment like I was out in the woods: my bedroom door scraping against the carpet, my breathing, my heartbeat. I couldn’t begin to imagine what my father would do, how he’d react to his son being turned into a monster.

He looked… annoyed.

“What the… why are you dressed that way? Why aren’t you in school?” Of course. He thought it was a costume. Anyone would. I kept my voice soft. “This is my face.

Dad, I’m not wearing a mask. This is my face.”

He stared at me, then laughed. “Ha-ha, Kyle. I don’t have time for this.” You think I’d waste your precious time? But I tried my best to stay calm. I knew if I got upset, I’d begin to growl and snarl, to paw the floor like a caged beast.

Dad grabbed a chunk of my face fur and pulled it hard. I yelped, and before I could even think, my claws were out, close to his face. I stopped myself as my paw met his cheek. He stared at me, panic in his eyes. He let go of my face and backed away. I could see he was trembling. My God, my father was trembling.

“Please,” he said, and I saw his knees begin to buckle. He stumbled against the door. “Where’s Kyle? What have you done with my son?” He looked behind me, like he wanted to push past, to come inside, but he didn’t dare. “What have you done? Why are you in my home?” He was practically crying, and I was too, looking at him. But I kept my voice steady when I said,

“Dad, I am Kyle. I’m Kyle, your son. Don’t you know my voice? Close your eyes. Maybe you’ll recognize it.” Though even as I said it, the horrible thought grew. Maybe he wouldn’t. We’d spoken so little the past few years. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize my voice. He’d throw me into the street looking like this, and tell the police his son had been kidnapped. I’d be forced to run away, to live underground.

I’d become an urban legend – the monster who lived in the New York sewer system.

“Dad, please.” I held out my hands, checking to see if I still had fingerprints, if they were even the same anymore. I looked at him. He was closing his eyes. “Dad, please say you know me. Please.” He opened them again. “Kyle, is it really you?” When I nodded, he said, “You’re not playing a joke on me? Because if you are, I don’t think it’s the least bit funny.”

“No joke, Dad.”

“But what? How? Are you sick?” He passed his hand across his eyes.

“It was a witch, Daddy.”

Daddy? I’d reverted to the word I’d used for two minutes between the time I’d learned to talk and the time I’d realized that Rob Kingsbury wasn’t anyone’s “Daddy.” But I said, “There are witches, Daddy. Right here in New York City.” I stopped. He was staring at me as if he’d been turned to stone, as if I’d turned him to stone. Then, slowly, he sank to the ground.

When he came to, he said, “This… this thing… this disease… condition… whatever’s happened to you, Kyle… we’ll fix it. We’ll find a doctor, and we’ll fix it. Don’t you worry. No son of mine is going to look like this.”

Then I felt relieved, yet nervous. Relieved because I was sure that if anyone could fix it, my father could. My father was a household name. He was powerful. But nervous because of what he’d said: “No son of mine is going to look like this.”

Because what would happen to me if he couldn’t fix it? I didn’t believe for one second in Kendra’s second chance. If my father couldn’t fix it, I was finished.

2

Dad left, promising to be back for lunch after he did some research. But the clock dragged past one o’clock. Two o’clock. Magda went out shopping. I learned that it’s almost impossible to eat breakfast cereal if you have claws. Hard to eat anything, actually. I fed my beast face with an entire package of Boar’s Head ham. Would I start eating raw meat soon?

By two thirty, I knew Dad wasn’t coming home. Was he trying to do anything to help me? But who’d believe him? What would he say: “Hey, my son’s been transformed into some kind of fairy tale beast”?

By three, I’d come up with a backup plan. Unfortunately, it involved Sloane. I called her cell.

“Why haven’t you called me?” Do I need to add, she whined?

“I’m calling you now.”

“But you were supposed to call me before now, over the weekend.” I pushed back my annoyance. I had to be nice to her. She was my best chance. She was always saying she loved me. So if she’d just kiss me, this could be over before Dad consulted with the first plastic surgeon. I realized it was crazy to believe that a kiss would change me, like believing in magic.

But how could I not believe in magic now?

“Baby, I’m sorry. I wasn’t feeling well. Actually, I think I was coming down with something Friday. That’s why I was in such a bad mood.” I coughed a few times.

“You sure were.”

Which pissed me off, but I said, “I know. I was a jerk, and I ruined everything, didn’t I?” I took a deep breath and said what I knew she wanted to hear. “And you looked so beautiful Friday. God, you were the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

She giggled. “Thanks, Kyle.”

“Everyone was eating their hearts out, seeing me with you. I was so lucky.”

“Yeah, me too. Listen, I’m in SoHo, shopping with Amber and Heywood. But I could come over after, maybe. Your dad’s not home, right?”