Imaginary Friend - Stephen Chbosky Page 0,126

then she went over to Mary Katherine, standing at the table with the punch and cookies.

“She’s a sick woman, Mary Katherine. She doesn’t know what she’s saying,” she whispered.

“Yes, she does,” Mary Katherine said.

“What’s wrong, honey? You can talk to me.”

Mary Katherine was silent. Christopher’s mother knew that the girl was suffering with some terrible secret. She had grown up with enough of her own. So, she was about to ask Mary Katherine to step into the kitchen to have a real heart-to-heart.

Then it happened.

Christopher’s mother had no idea how it started, but Special Ed and Brady Collins were standing nose-to-nose in the middle of the parlor.

“Get away from him, Brady!”

“Fuck you, fat boy!”

Out of nowhere, Brady Collins wound up and hit Special Ed in the face. Special Ed fell hard to the ground. Mike and Matt rushed to his side as Jenny Hertzog jumped on top of him. Special Ed threw her back and charged at Brady.

“If you touch Christopher again, I’ll fucking kill you!”

Christopher’s mother rushed to the boys.

“BOYS! STOP IT RIGHT NOW!” Christopher’s mother screamed.

But they wouldn’t stop. They kept hitting and biting and tackling each other to the ground. All except Christopher, who sat down, paralyzed with a headache.

“MS. LASKO…HELP ME!” Christopher’s mother screamed.

Christopher’s mother tried to pull her son’s friends off Brady and Jenny, but they kept fighting and biting like dogs. She looked over at Ms. Lasko, who just sat there, holding her head like she had a hangover after a dry drunk.

“Stop making so much noise! My head is killing me!” she screamed.

The scene was so chaotic that nobody noticed the old woman.

Except Christopher.

*

Christopher was frozen on the ground. The itch was beyond anything he had ever felt before. The thoughts were flying through his mind at such a dizzying speed that he didn’t have a hope of keeping up with them. He heard no voices. Except one.

Hello, little boy.

Christopher looked down the hallway. He saw Mrs. Keizer staring at him from her wheelchair. She pulled out her false teeth and stood up on her spindly legs. She took a step and urinated on the floor. He wanted to scream, but the voice kept coming.

There is no such thing as a crazy person.

The old woman limped toward Christopher. She smiled, but it looked wrong. No teeth. Like a little baby. Christopher wanted to stand, but he was pinned to the ground by the voice.

It’s just a person who is watching you.

For her.

The old woman hobbled toward him. “Chrissstopher…” she hissed. She put her teeth back in the wrong place. Her tops on the bottom. Her bottoms on the top.

She is very angry.

Christopher wanted to scream, but he couldn’t find his own voice. There was just the whisper and the scratch and the old lady coming at him. Her legs got weak, so she knelt down and started crawling on all fours. Like a dog.

You took the nice man from her.

The woman scratched the floor, crawling at him. Christopher looked over as Jenny Hertzog dug her nails into Matt’s face, trying to get to his eyes. Brady Collins and his friends were kicking Special Ed in the stomach. Mike threw Brady down.

She wants him back.

The old woman’s eyes were insane with dementia.

Tell us where he is.

Christopher couldn’t move. He was stuck to the floor. The itch took him until he wasn’t there anymore. He was all of the old people in the room. Their aches. Their pains. Their cancer. Disease. Alzheimer’s. Madness. The old woman crawled at him, slobbering like a dog with no teeth.

“Tell us where he is!” she screamed out loud.

The old woman grabbed his hands in her brittle fingers. Christopher stared into her eyes. He saw an old woman screaming gibberish. But it wasn’t gibberish. Like a newborn. It knows what it means even if no one else understands.

“Death is coming! Death is here! We’ll die on Christmas Day!”

Christopher pushed the itch through his hands into her skin. He saw her sitting in her room, looking out of the window, seeing the clouds. For years. He took her back in time. Before her mind was covered in a fog. They went back to the very last day when she had all of her faculties. She looked so relieved. Like an ice pack on a swollen joint. But this was her mind. The fog lifted. She looked at Christopher.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in an old folks home.”

“Is my name Mrs. Keizer?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is that my grandson Brady over there?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How long have I been

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