Jim Shepard - Project X

“Where’d you get that book?” my mom asks from over my shoulder. She smiles when I jump. I didn’t hear her come in. “I can’t believe they have books like that for kids,” she says.

“It’s not for kids,” I tell her.

“That’s for sure,” she says. She puts away some laundry she’s folded in my drawer and picks up my green pants. “These are about ready to go out, aren’t they?” she asks.

“Leave them,” I tell her.

“We can try to find you a new pair like these,” she says.

“They’re okay,” I tell her.

She drops them and holds up her hands like I’ve gotten all bent out of shape. “Why’re you crying?” she asks. She kneels down next to me. “What’s wrong ?”

“I bit my tongue,” I tell her.

She wants to see, so I open my mouth. “I don’t see it,” she says.

“It’s on the bottom,” I go. I can’t tell whether she believes me or not. She gets to her feet and watches me for a minute, then picks up the laundry basket and heads downstairs. I hear her saying something to my dad.

I lie down and slide under the bed. I push my hands against the planks holding up the box spring. I hear Gus get halfway up the stairs and then stop. “Where’s my ball?” he asks somebody.

“What?” my mom says. She’s in the TV room with my dad.

“Where’s my Nerf ball?” Gus goes.

“I think you left it outside,” she tells him.

“I want it,” he goes.

“Didn’t you leave it outside?” she asks.

“I want it,” he goes.

“Well, we can’t get it now,” she tells him. “We’ll get it tomorrow.”

He’s quiet a minute and then keeps coming upstairs. I can see his feet inside my room. “Edwin?” he says.

He goes back downstairs. “Where’s Edwin?” he asks. “He’s up in his room,” my mom tells him.

He comes back upstairs. “Edwin?” he calls.

I’m crying again. “Edwin?” he calls.

“I’m under here,” I tell him.

He gets down on his hands and knees and looks under the bed. He laughs and crawls under with me. He’s small enough to slide up next to me and roll over on his back. “Are we hiding?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I tell him. We lie like that until my mom comes up to put him to bed.

“Are we sleeping under the bed tonight?” she asks after she sings him his song and shuts his door. Now I can see her feet where his were. She’s wearing her poofy slippers. “Edwin?” she asks.

“I’m just lying here a minute,” I go.

Her feet turn and the bed creaks when she sits on it. The box spring sags closer. “Can I ask you a question?” she asks.

“Uh-huh,” I go.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I go.

“I’m talking to a bed, here,” she goes. “So something’s wrong.”

I’m crying again. I wipe my face so hard it hurts.

“Edwin?” she goes. I try not to make any noise. She gets off the bed and gets on her hands and knees and lowers her head so she can see. “What’s the matter?” she asks. Honey?”

I wish I were Gus. “I hurt my face,” I tell her.

“What’d you do?” she asks. She reaches a hand under and touches it.

“Rubbed it too hard,” I tell her.

“Oh, Edwin,” she goes.

I slide out and sit up next to her. Tell her about it, the baby part of me goes. I can just imagine Flake’s face. “Oh, Ma,” I go.

She hugs me. “It’s okay,” she goes.

“What is?” I go.

“Whatever it is,” she says. She rubs circles on my back. “Sometimes we can’t handle stuff,” she tells me. “Sometimes it’s just too much.”

“I can handle anything,” I tell her.

“Well, don’t get mad,” she says. “What’re you getting mad for?”

“I’m gonna take a shower,” I go. I get up.

“Wait. What’re you getting mad about?” she says.

“Thanks,” I go.

“Honey, you’re just a little guy,” she tells me. “Don’t take everything so hard.”

“Wait,” she says.

I shut the bathroom door behind me and turn the shower on.

“Shit,” she says.

She finally asks through the bathroom door if we can talk tomorrow, and when I say yes she goes downstairs. I turn off the shower and listen. After I’m sure she’s not coming back I dry off and climb into bed naked. I get a hard-on. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” I say to it.

I’m still sniffing and crying. I can’t even stay in bed. It feels like there are bugs in it. Every time I pull the sheets down and turn on the lights, there’s nothing there. I take another shower. I sit in the tub and let the water pound my head until it starts to get cold and I have to turn it off.

I have these weird, dozy, half-dreams sitting in my chair. In one I’m a cowboy. When I remember it it’s a little embarrassing I made myself a cowboy.

I go to the window. Down the street, a few lights are still on.

What will it be like on Saturday? Or a week from Saturday?

I walk all over the room. Sometimes I get down in a squat and press my hands together until they shake. Then I get up again and keep walking.

I grab the phone and dial the first three numbers of our number and then anything, any other four numbers. An answering machine picks up. “Welcome to Target World,” I go after the beep, and then I hang up.

It’s no fun, though, so I don’t do it again.

I go back to the chair. I go back under the bed. This is unreal, I think. This is unreal. But then I think that when people say something’s unreal, they just mean it’s too real.

“Your brother’s upset,” my mom says at breakfast. Gus is crying in the bathroom.

“About what?” I go.

“He can’t find his ball,” she says. “You seen it?”

I nod. “I’ll find it,” I go. I’ll buy him another one, I figure. They have them at the drugstore, and I can ride my bike there.

“Nice way to start the day,” my dad says, sitting down next to me. Gus hears him and starts wailing.

“Don’t make fun of him,” my mom tells him.

“I’m not making fun of him,” my dad goes. “I’m just commenting on our happy home.” She pours him some coffee. “Did he look outside?” he asks.

“He says he looked all over,” my mom tells him.

“I looked all over,” Gus says from the bathroom.

“And how are you today?” my dad asks me.

“I’m good,” I tell him.

“You look great,” he tells me back.

“I think I know where his ball is,” I tell my mom.

“Well, tell him that,” she says. She walks over to the bathroom door. “Honey? Edwin says he knows where your ball is.”

“Where?” Gus wails.

“You’ll have to ask him, honey,” she goes. She comes back into the kitchen.

The bathroom door opens and Gus walks into the room. “You got it?” he asks.

“I think maybe Flake borrowed it,” I go. “I’ll get it from him.”

“Flake has it?” my dad asks.

“I think Flake borrowed it,” I go. “I’ll get it back,” I tell Gus. “I promise.”

“Now?” Gus asks.

“Not now,” I go. I’m so tired it’s like I can’t see. “When I come home from school.”

I finally get my books out of my locker before homeroom and somebody pokes me under the arm and tips them all over the floor.

“Congratulations,” Michelle says when I turn around. “I told you it was a great idea.”

“It wasn’t your idea, ” Tawanda tells her. “It was how he did it.”

I assume they mean the tree with the heads. I start collecting books off the floor, and Dickhead goes by and golfs a paperback with his foot all the way down the hall. A few seventh-grade girls twist to avoid it as it sails by.