The Green-Eyed Monster by Mike Robinson

Author:Mike Robinson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, pdf
Tags: Mystery, Horror
ISBN: 9781620071045
Publisher: Curiosity Quills Press
Published: 2012-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

6

He had it all figured out, or so he thought. Harry would keep the idea from the rest of the class, even Mr. Sizemore, until he was far enough along on the debut article. Likely they would think the idea a gimmick at least at first, a fluff piece to fill up space. But it would grow on them. Where they once saw arrows, they would soon see bullets. The potential of this undertaking weighed in Harry, swelled him with a cool, self-important awe. It would be audacious, this investigation. Why? Even he could not properly say.

He decided he would compare and contrast Becker and Smith, write of their lives, their habits, their quirks, some of which were already known. For inspiration, he looked at coverage of uncanny connections between notable historical figures, such as those between Presidents Kennedy and Lincoln.

At three o’clock that afternoon, Harry went out the side gate, near the weight room and outdoor basketball courts, where he’d seen John Becker exit almost every day. He waited out the current of students, after a while feeling like a mute Wal-Mart greeter.

Over the babble of voices, he heard yelling. It was coming from the area near the butterfly mural, where he normally waited for his mother. Max and Stephanie were there, shouting at one another in broad view. Stephanie seemed the instigator, the one with the upper hand. Max glanced around, as if embarrassed his buddies might bear witness.

They’re fighting. Looks good.

Don’t think anything more because you know it can’t happen. The couple took their argument around a corner and was gone

from sight. Harry resumed his active waiting. After fifteen minutes, John Becker had yet to emerge. Another ten minutes and Harry began to feel what he called ‘museum restlessness’, that itchy urge for greater motion. He shifted his weight to the other leg, slipped on both straps of his backpack even though it didn’t look as cool.

C’mon.

Then he saw him, moving in mechanical stride, marching like a robot that’d yet to be turned off, or informed the revolution was over. Not ten feet from Becker, a basketball player fell hard after a failed dunk and lay blubbering on the asphalt. The passing senior took no notice. His head was fixed, his eyes laser-focused yet, at the same time, not here.

The world is dead to him, Harry thought. Every mind is dead but his.

John was coming closer. When he was not ten yards out, Harry moved to approach him as he came through the gate.

“Um, John?”

The boy stopped and looked at him.

“Yes?”

He looks so… old.

“My name is Harry Zwieg.” Harry held out his hand. It went untouched.

“Unusual name, Zwieg,” Becker said. As he spoke, his bottom lip moved yet his upper lip was as motionless as his arms. Harry was reminded of a ventriloquist’s dummy.

“I know it’s unusual,” Harry said. “I’m proud to be the last alphabetical student.”

“What is it you want?”

Harry was taken aback by the abruptness but maintained his composure. He felt sweaty around his lips. Surely the gooey white crud had returned.

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