Verse (8 page)

Chapter 31

Erwin comes up to me in the hall and says, “Can I talk to you?”

I nod and I follow him into an empty classroom and I shut the door.

He says, “This is a test right?”

“What?” I say.

“You tell us you’re not the messiah. Then Mr. Pierson tells us none of us are allowed to believe in you. Then all our parents tell us not to talk to you. This is a test.”

“It’s not a test, Erwin.”

I set my bag on the ground and lean on a desk.

He says, “I understand. It’s part of the test. It’s okay.”

“Listen, Erwin. I wish you were right. I wish we could all be fighting this together. I wish I really was the messiah and we’d all be sneaking around school, talking quietly, trying not to get caught. It’d be fun, like a game. But that’s all it would be. Just a game. It’s not real. It’s fake.”

“No. No. This is the realest thing I’ve ever known. The truest.”

I shake my head. “It’s not. And this can’t be a test, because if I were the messiah, I wouldn’t be capable of this.”

“The messiah is capable of anything.”

“But I wouldn’t do this. The messiah would never lie to you, so I can’t be the messiah.”

That look on his face, heartbroken. But he says, “There’s one other possibility. You do believe this, because you’ve been deceived by Satan.”

“The messiah is supposed to defeat Satan.”

“In the end, you will.”

“No. I won’t. There’s no messiah and there’s no devil either. Or maybe there is, but I’m just a regular guy, I’m not involved.”

“I don’t get it. I saw you talking with Iris a lot lately, I wanted to ask her if she knew what was wrong with you, but she said she didn’t know anything. I know she doesn’t believe, did she convince you you’re not the messiah?”

I half-laugh. “No. I mean, kind of, but no. That’s not what this is about.”

“Kind of?”

“No, Iris makes some good points, but I realized I wasn’t the messiah for myself.”

“Is this like a senior thing, you’re all nervous about graduation?”

“No. I mean yes I am, but this isn’t about that either.”

“And I wanted to ask Faye what she thought but I don’t even know if she knows, she’s been absent for two days, she’s sick.”

I glance at the clock. Almost time for class.

“What?” he says.

I look at him. “What?”

“You looked all funny when I mentioned Faye.”

“Nothing.”

“Did she say something to you? I know she can be stupid sometimes, I mean we were dating for a while.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like? Tell me.”

I look down. “I had sex with her.”

“What?”

I look up, he’s turning red.

He comes at me, grabbing my collar. “I should freaking kill you.”

I say, “Are you in love with her?”

He punches me in the side of my face. My head shoots back, snapping my neck.

He’s gone, out the door.

It doesn’t really hurt, but—

My eyes are welling.

It doesn’t even hurt.

I sob.

I lean over, my hands on my legs.

Tears, dripping down.

Why?

It doesn’t hurt, it’s just so, I don’t know, I can’t believe he—

And I can’t stop sobbing.

Chapter 32

The ringing phone wakes me from my doze. It gets dark so early this time of year.

I get up and grab the cordless off my desk and answer, “Hello?” sitting back down on the bed.

She says, “Hi, is Manuel Kadur there?” I don’t recognize her voice.

“This is he.”

“My name is Veronica Sheen. I’m following up on a call you made to the
Times
about some religious censorship at Grant High.”

My stomach drops. “Yeah.”

“You claim to be the messiah and the faculty is preventing you from practicing your faith in school?”

“Okay.”

“Is that true?”

“Am I the messiah?”

“Have you claimed to be the messiah?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“And are the faculty preventing you from religious practices?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to interview you face-to-face.”

I rub sleep out of my right eye. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I understand if you’re having some cold feet. It’s all right, don’t worry. It’s just casual. I’m coming to Grant tomorrow. Maybe we could just have lunch together or grab a cup of coffee after school?”

“I’m really not trying to make this worse than it already is.”

“Okay, but listen, there’s a story here. It’s going to be written. It’s a good idea to have your say.”

Oh man. “Okay. I have a free period at 2:15.”

Chapter 33

I meet Ms. Sheen at the entrance of the school and we go to a coffee shop. She’s buying but I just get a Coke.

She says, taking out a small recorder, “Do you mind if I record this conversation?”

“Yeah, I kind of do.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to be quoted in your article.”

“At least for me while I’m writing the article.”

“No.”

“Okay.” She pulls out a pen and a pad. I look at the recorder to make sure she didn’t turn it on, but she didn’t. “Okay, what’s the name of your religion?”

“Uh, it doesn’t really have a name. It’s not really a religion.”

“So what is it?” She’s writing on her pad, but she has it tipped back so I can’t read it.

“Just those who believe in me. Did you talk to any of them already?”

“Some of them.”

“Who?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t name my sources.”

“What did they say?”

“I won’t discuss their interviews with you any more than I’ll discuss yours with anyone else.” That’s good, I guess. “So why do you think you’re the messiah?”

I take a sip of pop. “They think I’m the messiah.”

“You don’t think you’re the messiah?”

“Uh, no comment.”

“So ‘no comment’ is your comment? Can I quote you on that?”

“Don’t people say ‘no comment’ to reporters all the time?”

“Just a joke.”

“Oh.” I force a chuckle.

She says, “So is your ‘no comment’ just you being modest?”

I shrug.

She says, “Okay. So why do your followers think you’re the messiah?”

“You’ll have to ask them. I’m sure you already have.”

“I know about the announcement you made three years ago.”

“Okay.”

“So why did you make that announcement?”

“That’s just who I was.”

“But it’s not who you are?”

“I’m still the same person.”

“Do you know you haven’t given me a single straight answer?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Well I guess that was a straight answer.”

I shrug.

Chapter 34

I’m eating Special K at the kitchen counter when the phone rings. “Hello?”

“Manuel, it’s Garrett. Have you seen the
Times
?”

“No.”

“You should.”

I hang up and run to my room and pull on the pants I wore yesterday and put on my shoes without any socks.

Oh, I hung up on Garrett. Oops.

I dash out of my room, down the hall and out the front door. I run down the street to the arterial, to the newspaper dispensers. I reach into my pocket for change, but I don’t have any. Damn. Last night I emptied my pockets onto my desk.

I grit my teeth in frustration, hissing in a breath of cold air and rush back to my house. I don’t have keys. I ring the doorbell, then pound on the door, then ring the bell again a few more times. Finally, I calm down and wait.

It’s so cold. I bounce up and down, shoving my hands in my pockets and then pull them out and rub my goose bump covered arms.

Mom answers the door, whining, “What’s going on—?” in that tired, throaty morning voice. I squeeze past her, mumbling about forgetting, and go to my room and find my wallet on my desk, but it doesn’t have any change. I grab my keys off the desk and my coat off the floor and go to my mother’s desk.

I find two quarters in the front drawer. Mom is whining at me from the kitchen, I don’t listen.

I rush back outside.

I jog to the newspaper dispensers, pay, and pull out a paper. I check the cover. Something about North Korea and below the flap none of the stories are about me.

I flip through the paper. Maybe Garrett was calling about something else. I can’t find anything. I’ll go back to the house and call—

The cover of the Local News section says

GRANT HIGH’S MESSIAH

in huge letters at the top and shows the picture of me in front of the school that Sheen snapped on the way to the coffee shop. I laugh.

On a Wednesday afternoon Grant High senior Manuel Kadur goes to Calculus like the thirty other kids in his class, but something sets him apart. Not just his striking good looks and the way he carries himself, but the way the other students regard him.

I’m freezing, I can see my breath. I fold the paper up and jog back to the house. I was expecting a news report but it’s one of those magazine-style puffy profiles.

I’ve left the door cracked and I go inside, the warm air a relief.

I go to the kitchen, where Mom stares at me, from next to the coffee maker. “What the hell is going on?” she says.

I unfold and hold up the Local News section for her to see.

“Oh my god,” she says. “How did they find out about you?”
I shrug.

“Did you tell them?

I shrug.

“What the hell! After that conference we had!”

“Well, I called them before the conference.”

“Don’t be a smartass. This is getting out of control, Manuel.”

I nod. “I know.”

I set the paper on the counter and lean over it and read it. Mom comes around me and reads over my shoulder.

Chapter 35

I go to school, my stomach shaky.

I walk in and people are looking at me, talking about me, everywhere I can hear my name. Copies of the
Times
are being read and lying all over the ground.

I walk down the hall and one girl calls out to me, “Can I join?”

I’m trading textbooks in my locker and a boy shouts, “Messiah!”

I go into first period History class and another boy shouts, “Manuel! Manuel Kadur!”

On the way to English, more people yell at me.

Just block it out.

The final bell finally rings. I head for the exit and no one is paying too much attention to me. I’m already yesterday’s news. Maybe tomorrow things will be normal again.

Chapter 36

I get off the bus, flashing my pass, and I walk toward the school. There’s a news van with a satellite dish on top parked in front.

Has there been a shooting?

No.

Oh no.

There’s a camera crew on the other side of it.

I walk by them, trying to act casual.

Some kid yells, “There he is! The messiah!”

The camera crew is saying, “Who?” and “Where is he?”

And then they’ve caught up to me and this guy in a suit is shoving a microphone in my face saying, “Manuel, can we have a quick interview?”

I stop.

Wait, what?

What am I doing?

The cameraman comes around me, filming me.

I say, “I… I have to get to class.”

I walk around them and keep walking to the school.

The students are yelling, “Messiah!” “Hey dumbass!” and I push through the doors.

Inside, people are all looking at me and I push through the crowd.

I look over my shoulder. The camera crew didn’t follow inside, at least. I guess they can’t.

I keep moving, keep my head down. My Calculus textbook is in my locker, but oh well. I head for class. I sit down in the back, avoiding eye contact.

I go to History and someone has turned on a television and they’re watching a news report about me.

It’s that reporter from outside, standing in front of the school with the microphone, saying,

a different kind of disturbance. A group of students claiming one of their number as Jesus Christ reborn. Conflict has arisen between these students and the PTA

People keep glancing at me, but I stare at the TV.

My head is thrumming.

There’s footage of me saying,

I… I have to get to class.

My hair is messy, so I run a hand through it.

Chapter 37

I approach the school and there are three camera crews and a crowd of people, maybe fifteen, some of them holding signs like

Jesus Saves

and

Blasphamers Burn In Hell!!!!

They see me and they yell and run toward me.

I run for the door, but they’re blocking the way and they surround me and tug on me and yell things at me. One of them tears the neck of my jacket, as I pull loose from them.

I finally shove my way into the school where a crowd of students mobs me, screaming and tugging on me.

Mr. Harris runs over and yells at them to disperse. He finally breaks them up and escorts me to my first class.

At lunch, I won’t even bother to risk the cafeteria, yesterday was such a nightmare. I go out to the sports field. It’s too cold for anyone to be out here and all the reporters and picketers are in the front.

I pace across around the grassy fields. Soccer nets have been set up in front of the field goals. I lie back against a net and look up at the grey sky. I pick at the net with my fingers.

She says, “I thought I might find you out here.”

I sit up and turn around.

Iris is standing by the goal post and I say, “Oh, hey.”

She says, “Surprised you, huh?”

I nod, “Yeah,” and clumsily extract myself from the net.

She comes to face me and says, “How are you doing?” placing a hand on my arm.

I shrug.

She says, “Do you want to be alone?”

“No.”

We walk across the field to the bleachers and sit down in the first row.

We sit in silence. It’s nice, just sitting with her.

This is the first time I’ve been alone with her since that night. I’ve been waiting for a moment to talk to her. I guess this is it if I want it. It makes me queasy to think of saying it.

Ugh. Just do it.

Finally I say, “There’s—” just as she says, “Hey—”

I stop and she stops and I say, “You first,” when she says, “You go ahead.”

We laugh awkwardly and I insist, “You first,” and she nods.

She says, “I didn’t really have anything— I was just gonna say that you’re gonna get through this and that you’re not alone. We’re here for you.”

“Who’s ‘we?’”

She lowers her eyes and says, “Well, me.”

I feel a little nauseated at that and maybe I feel a little less alone.

She says, “What were you going to say?”

And I say, “Well, I wanted to say that I’m sorry I kissed you.”

“What?”

“You know, freshman year.”

“Oh, that’s okay. You know, you were just kind of an asshole afterwards.” I laugh. She says, “You ignored me and acted like… I don’t know, we were young and stupid.”

“So you weren’t offended that I kissed you?”

“No. I mean I was surprised. It was kind of awkward. You know… but we didn’t have to stop being friends.”

I say, “Well, I wanted to say I’m sorry for kissing you, but the truth is I’m not. I’m sorry I was a jerk afterward, but I’m not sorry I kissed you.”

“Manuel…” she says.

But I say, the world tunneling in on me, “Because I love you.”

And I look at her, but she won’t look at me.

She says, “Manuel, you’re the most interesting guy I ever met. And I really like you. But I don’t feel that way about you.”

I stand up and walk back inside.