Charm & Strange (2 page)

The private school my brother and I attended sat about a mile from our large estate home, a winding tree-lined stroll through one of the city’s most prestigious neighborhoods. That morning, Keith’s friend Lee leaned out the window of a black Mercedes as his mom drove past and asked Keith if he needed a ride.

“No, thanks!” shouted Keith as he kept his eyes on me, a small smile pulling on his lips. “I’m walking with Drew today.” I kept my head down, staring at my ugly black loafers and pressed khaki pants. Severe motion sickness meant I wasn’t allowed to ride the bus. Or get in anyone’s car. My father said I had an inner ear defect. My mother said I’d outgrow it.

“I don’t want you following me,” I said loudly. Keith was thirteen. Walking into school with him was sure to bring a crowd of giggling females over toward us. Inevitably I would get teased or babied in some way that offended me. This would lead to throwing punches and an extra trip to the therapist Soren’s parents insisted I see in return for not pressing charges. Such a waste, I thought. I’d easily mastered the art of sand tray play and sullen silence.

“I don’t want to follow you, either,” Keith said. “So you think we could just walk together? Side by side? We don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to.”

“Well…”

“Well, what?”

“What if I say no?”

“No what?”

“No, you can’t walk beside me.”

“Well, then I’d be following you. And, you know, you already asked me not to do that. So unless you’d prefer to follow me…”

I glared.

He tried changing the subject. “You looking forward to Christmas this year?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“What are you going to ask Santa for?”

It was
October
. I scowled some more. “Santa’s not real, you jerk. Don’t treat me like some little kid.”

“You’re nine, Drew. You are a little kid.”

He was teasing, but I didn’t know he was testing me, too. Losing the belief in Santa Claus was an important developmental milestone. When one can no longer believe in such alluring magic, then rationality has beaten back one’s wide-eyed innocence. For most kids, this milestone means a lot.

For my brother, it meant everything.

chapter

three

matter

I stand before the steaming vats of food with a book beneath one arm and do the math inside my head. It’s complicated and my feet shuffle, trying to get me to leave. Departure is tempting; I’m tired and not hungry and I’m like this close to my goal of 6 percent body fat. But I’m also in season. Coach Daniels is already on my case. I can’t just
starve
.

When I’ve organized my dinner down to the gram, I leave the kitchen and step into the dining hall. It’s like hitting a land mine because the place is a war zone. Bright lights and human noise fray my nerves. Pieces of food lie strewn about like casualties. Waffle fries, cornbread, sheet cake, olive slices that resemble eyes, even a scattering of chicken bones have been ground into the thin carpet and tracked across the room. Disgusting. I’ve never figured out why a school that values tradition as much as ours can’t be bothered to teach its students basic
manners.
And God forbid anyone might clear their own tray every now and then. The only time it’s even halfway civilized around here is Sunday evenings, when the faculty eats with us. That’s when we knot our ties and wear good shoes and the girls are forbidden to bare arms.

I clench my jaw and hold my head high as I walk to an empty table in the far corner by the windows overlooking the playing fields. If my arrogance doesn’t drive others away, the fact that I keep my nose buried in Faust certainly will. I could sit with the other runners, but I’m team captain this year. Distance is good. Separation of authority, it keeps the natural order of things.

I sit. Eat. Read.

“Hey.”

I tense but don’t look up. I know that voice.

“Hey, Teddy.”

He slides across from me, a narrow reed. Something’s wrong. He’s twitchier than usual, blue eyes bouncing around behind wire-rimmed glasses and skinny fingers pattering across the tabletop.

“I saw you,” he blurts out.

“You saw me?”

His nose quivers and the moles on his face look like Dalmatian spots. He’s that pale. He inches his body toward mine.

“
You
know,” he says in a tone that’s supposed to sound serious. “This morning. You were by the bridge when the cops were down there. Doing their investigation thing.”

“Was I?” In fact I was, but I make it a rule not to reveal any detail about myself without good cause.

“Come on, Win. If you know something, spill it. They said an animal killed that guy. Whatever it was, it’s probably still out there.”

“It probably is,” I echo. The rumors about an animal in the nearby woods have been whispered all over campus ever since that hiker was found dead out there, although the school hasn’t made an official announcement. The guy was a townie, not a student. Technically, they don’t have to say anything, but my gut says they’ll address the matter eventually. It’s an issue of public safety. Of course, it’s not a forest animal that
I’m
concerned with, but I did overhear a cop say the guy went missing weeks ago.
Weeks.
Now I can’t help but wonder if it happened during the last full moon.

The back of my neck tingles.

Now I can’t help but wonder if
I
had something to do with it.

“Winston,” Teddy says, leaning closer. He wants to intimidate me.

I stare back. We lock eyes and I don’t move. Not a goddamn muscle.

It works. Teddy slumps in an act of submission, like a dog rolling on its back. But let’s face it, I’m not his alpha male and we both know it.

“I can’t find Lex,” he whines. “He’s missing. I’ve looked everywhere.”

Lex. Of course. That’s what this is about.

“He’s not missing,” I say. “I saw him this afternoon.” Unfortunately I didn’t see him until
after
he shoved me in the back while I was pissing into the river. I think he took pictures of me, too. By now he’s probably uploaded them onto the Internet and is trying to register me as a sex offender.

“You’re sure?” Teddy asks, and right then one of the cooks comes out and shouts that they’re closing in five and would we mind making sure there are precisely six chairs at every table. I shake my head. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking when he says this. An MMA event has broken out, right in the middle of the floor, complete with thundering body slams and flying furniture. It’ll be a plus if the chairs just make it through in one piece. But, hey, shoot for the stars, as my dad used to say.

Ssssnap!

In a flash, the past comes over me—

getoverheredrew

—and then it’s gone, then it’s taken a part of me with it. Sweat gathers on my brow. I turn back to Teddy, and I don’t think he’s noticed, but I feel dark. I feel used.

“I’m absolutely sure,” I tell him. “I absolutely saw Lex.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t show up for band practice. He’s not in his room, either. I just checked.”

“So what’s your point?”

“My point is that the guy they found was…” Teddy licks his lips. “Lex knew him.”

“How?”

“He was at that party last year. You know the one I’m talking about.”

“I do?”

“Yes. I recognized his picture on the news. The dead guy and his friend, they were
there
that night. At the Rite of Spring. I’m sure of it. Lex talked to them before he went back to the dorms and, you know—”

“Right,” I say quickly, because I do know what he’s talking about and because I don’t want to reminisce about the time Lex Emil OD’d. Not again. He was my roommate for two years, and last April I saved his life. In return he’s made mine a living hell. “Well, what are you worried about? He’s fine.”

Teddy shakes his head. “He’s different this year, Win. I can’t talk to him like I used to. He’s drinking again. Way too much.”

I push away the queasy stitch that feels like guilt. I’m good at that by now. “Why are you telling me this? He hates me.”

“It’s not hate! Lex just—”

“Look, I don’t think you have to worry about Lex’s well-being unless he plans on roaming around the woods at night by himself.”

Teddy’s laugh is genuine. “That sounds
exactly
like something Lex would do.”

“He’ll be fine. Him knowing that guy, it’s a total coincidence. This is a small town, after all.” I leave the words unspoken, but the implication in my tone is
and you should know.
And he should, because Teddy’s not like the rest of us. He’s a day student, not a boarder. Meaning he’s a townie, too.

Teddy’s staring at my plate, what’s left of my food, and he’s no longer twitchy. He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes. “Hey, Win, you don’t still, you know, hurt yourself, do you?”

“No,” I say, and I stay very calm, but inside I’m shaken. Yes, he’s seen my marks and bruises in the past, but he has no right to ask me something so personal. None. This school devours privacy, and rumors are like drops of blood in an ocean full of predators. So while I like Teddy in an easy kind of way, I can’t go there and confess my sins to him. I
won’t.
I mean, he’s Lex’s best friend, and if there’s one thing I know, when it comes to humiliating me, Lex Emil is always down for chumming.

chapter

four

antimatter

When you’ve been kept caged in the dark, it’s impossible to see the forest for the trees. It’s impossible to see anything, really. Not without bars.

That’s what that Charlottesville fall was like, the one where I was nine and could still use my real name without fear. Back then I missed everything, even the most obvious clues, trapped as I was in a head filled with bleak and violent urges. So when Keith returned home from school one afternoon all worked up about animal rights, I felt more lost than enlightened.

Playoff baseball blared on the television. Our father sank torpedo deep in his den chair, Braves cap on, beer in hand, work tie still hanging around his neck like a noose. From my position on the carpeted floor, I sensed more than saw him. His presence loomed large, all shadows and chill. I’d inherited his long nose and severe expression. His dark, dark moods.

Dad held a tenured position at the university. I barely had words for what he did, but I knew it was important. And stressful. Phrases like “climate change,” “developing nations,” and “actuarial calculations” got thrown around when people talked about him. He traveled frequently. Drank even more frequently.

I dangled a piece of freeze-dried liver over our dog’s snout. Pilot was a collie, purebred and from impeccable lineage. At least that’s what I’d been told, and it’s what I liked to believe. He’d flown to us on a plane as a puppy, all the way from Ireland, which was where my mother grew up. I wanted him to play dead, so I tried using the treat to lure him onto his side. My father threw me a scornful look. I put my hand down.

“Get over here, Drew,” he said.

I didn’t move. “Huh?”

Dad’s eyes remained glued to the flat screen, but he patted the arm of his chair. “Get over here. I want to hear all about how you’re going to beat Midgins in the Fall Classic.”

“Well, I—I’m not sure if I’m p-playing,” I said, although I was sure. The tourney was next weekend and my coach hadn’t even brought it up. Not after Soren. No way. I couldn’t be trusted.

“What?”

I went to stroke Pilot, but I was too rough. My fingers tangled in his fur. He yelped.

“I just m-mean that I’m—”

“Hey, did you know,” Keith piped up in a singsong voice, “that animals have rights, too?”

“Like the right to vote?” My father glanced over to where Keith sat on the couch with homework spread all around him. Then he took a long swallow of beer. On the television, someone sang the national anthem in a warbling voice. Miles of patriotic bunting lay draped around the ballpark like a military funeral.

My brother kept going. “How about the right not to be exploited or tortured for our consumption?”

“Christ, Keith, where the hell is this coming from?”

“You’re being condescending!”

“No, I’m not. I just want to know where you’re getting these ideas.”

Keith made a loud huff. “Lee did a presentation at school today about the living conditions at poultry farms. He showed video clips of how the chickens are treated. It’s disgusting. Beyond disgusting, Dad. It’s bad enough to raise these animals solely for slaughter, but to keep them in those cages their entire lives, shooting them full of hormones…” He went on like this for a while. Dad nodded along as the Braves took the field, but I knew what he was thinking:
Thanks a lot, Lee.
Lee lived next door. He and Keith had struck up a friendship when Lee’s family moved in three years earlier. His family was Jewish, which still mattered in Charlottesville, but lucky for Lee, our family looked down on everybody—especially bigots—so we didn’t hold it against him. But he was a fat kid who hated all things physical, which meant he hated me. I decided right then and there that whatever stance Lee was taking on this whole animal rights thing, I was of the opposite view. Just because.

I held out the dog treat again. Pilot picked his head up.

“So let me get this straight,” my father rumbled. “You don’t object to the actual consumption of animals, right?”

Keith hesitated. “Right.”

“It’s how the animals are treated before they’re slaughtered that bothers you? Not the actual slaughtering.”

“I guess.”

“So the predator should respect the life of its prey? Am I understanding you? The lion should honor the zebra? It should feel empathy?”

Now Keith looked furious. He
was
being condescended to. It happened all the time. Mom called it “the Socratic method” and said it was the way Dad lectured and the reason he could get so many people to see things his way. She also said it never paid to make him mad, but Keith seemed immune to the whole thing. Or more like allergic. “You know that’s not what I mean. We’re not animals. We’re
human.
We have certain responsibilities—”