Laurel King - The Matchmaker's Medium

“Don’t call me a jerk you weirdo! I’m not the one talking to my self , Amber!”

Uh-oh , I thought. Not again.

I turned back around, slowly, hoping the kid wouldn’t be there. He was. Just waiting there, one foot on the pedal, like he wanted me to follow him somewhere. Ah, crap.

Chris pulled up next to me, straddled his bike, yanked the candy bag out of his pocket, and presented it to me like a sword to the newest knight of the round table.

“Here ya go, ya big baby.”

I didn’t move a muscle, just kept staring at that kid, hoping he would go away. He was starting to creep me out.

Chris looked at me, followed my eyes to see what I was staring at down the street—then turned back to look at me, frowning.

“What’re you lookin’ at, Amber?”

“That kid,” I said.

He looked all around: back where he just came from, down the street, on both sides. Nothing.

“What kid?”

“That one,” I said, lifting my finger to point at the kid who was slowly shaking his head, now. “Don’t you see him?”

“There’s nobody over there, Stinky.” He called me that because I earned the nickname when I was a baby. My first day home from the hospital, mom put me in his lap; he smiled, and kissed me on the forehead, and I pooped all over him.

“Yeah, there is.”

Chris mulled this over for a minute. Then asked, “Well, what’s he doin?”

“He’s getting ready to ride away on his bike, but he’s just waiting.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to follow him?”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Amber, if there’s some invisible kid trying to get you to go somewhere, you should go. If you don’t, he’s just gonna keep following you till you do. Don’t you ever read anything ?”

“Excuse me for not reading a million stupid comic books a day, like you do!” I yelled, “Some of us actually have a life you big jerk-off!”

“Hey! Don’t get mad at me just because you’re scared of some invisible kid.”

“I’m not scared,” I said, quiet.

“No? Well, maybe you’re ‘terry-fied’?” he laughed for a while at that one.

“It’s not my fault I didn’t know how to say it.”

A few months ago, Chris and I were in the library summer reading contest. For each book you read, they gave you a star or planet sticker, to put on this poster of space with little empty spots all over it. When your poster had all the empty spots filled in, you got a gift certificate for $10 at Kmart. Chris got bored when he found out you had to spend the gift certificate on books, but I wanted to win it really bad. So I checked out a whole pile of books, mostly Nancy Drew and Encyclopedia Brown.

One book I checked out was different, though, these short stories by some guy named Edgar with three names. I liked the scary black bird on the front, so I decided to give it a try. There was one story, “The Black Cat” about this guy who has to kill a mean cat that won’t die. It was hard to read, with all these big words in it, and ‘terrified’ was right near the beginning. When I asked Chris what it meant, he laughed right in my face, then started running around the house yell-singing, “Terry-fied, terry-fied, Amber Green is terry-fied!!!” Jerk.

“Will you come with me?” I asked, trying not to sound like a scared babyish sissy.

“I guess,” he said, rolling his eyes. “But if we’re late for dinner, I’m telling mom I had to chase after you cuz you ran away.”

“Fine,” I said.

I turned back to look at the kid, who was still waiting there. Finally, I made up my mind and started pedaling down the street. Chris followed behind me, whistling. As I watched, the kid started pedaling away from us, heading deeper into the neighborhoods.

Where the heck are we going?

We rode like that for a few minutes, me following the invisible paper boy and Chris following behind me, whistling like we were going to the arcade or somewhere fun. Maybe we were? Who knew.

Finally, after winding around through streets and cul-de-sacs, we turned a corner and the kid slowed down so much my bike almost tipped over. I looked at the house he was heading towards, and almost fell off my bike.

“Hey, Chris? Isn’t this your scout leader’s house?”

Chris stopped, straddled his bike, turned his head to the side in thought, and said, “Yeah. What are we doin’ here, Stinky?”

“I dunno,” I said. The kid stopped, laid his bike down on the ground with no sound and stood there, looking at me. I dropped my own bike down, making a terrific crash! Chris did the same, and came over by me, chomping on some more of my candy.

“Gimme that!” I whisper-yelled, finally snatching the crumpled bag out of his hands.

“God, you’re such a brat ,” he said, popping the last piece of a mini candy bar in his mouth, and wiping his hands on his pants. Every time he did that, mom yelled at him for it, but he just kept doing it, over and over.

The kid motioned with his head, like he was saying: This way .

“He wants us to follow him,” I said, not sounding very brave or grown up.

“Why?”

“I don’t know , Chris. Stop asking me stupid questions!” I whisper-yelled.

The house sat by itself, at the end of a little dirt road. It was two stories tall, with one of those porch-swing things moving a little in the wind. A long time ago, it was probably white, but now it just looked like a peeling grayish-yellow color. The windows were dark and spooky-looking, like empty places where the eyes and teeth should be on a skeleton face.

There were a few jack-o-lanterns on the porch, but they were already starting to look sunk-in, like they’d been out there way too long. Usually, our jack-o-lanterns didn’t look like that till a week after Halloween. Then again, most of the jack-o-lanterns in the neighborhood were smashed the morning after Halloween, by the older kids who got all ‘beered up’ and threw toilet paper and eggs all over the place. Seemed kinda stupid to me.

The kid walked toward the house a few steps, but then he turned like he wanted to go in a big circle around the house, first. I followed him, but my legs suddenly felt all shaky, like when I ride my bike up a big hill for too long. Chris plodded along next to me, like he was bored.

“Why are we walking in a big circle?”

“Shh,” I said, “Just wait and see.”

We walked like that for a while, the kid leading and us following. It was starting to get a little darker, and the air was getting that bitey feeling to it. I wish I had my gloves , I thought, blowing warm breath into my cupped hands, then rubbing them together.

Slam! Somebody’s old screen door opened or closed, back where our bikes lay on the ground. I instantly froze, and Chris bumped into me. My heart pounded in my ears so loud I could barely hear Chris snickering at me, covering his mouth with his hand. Looking around to make sure we weren’t about to be chopped up by some crazy killer in a hockey mask, I managed to get my feet going again.

That’s the last time I sneak to the drive-in and watch a scary movie, I thought, for the gazillionth time. Even without the sound, it scared the living daylights out of me. They were showing Halloween I, II, and III at the drive-in, so teenagers could kiss and wrestle in their cars while some crazy killer on the screen chopped everyone to pieces. Chris thought it was hilarious, and I spent the whole week waking up sweaty from nightmares. And I’m never sneaking out with Chris at night again, either.

The kid turned to look at me like he was annoyed. Actually, I was starting to get a little annoyed, too. The nerve of this kid! Invisible and impatient? What a load of crap.