of a creek. They found David Olson’s body twisted under a tree root. Buried alive. So, if David Olson was murdered, then who fucking buried him?
Because it wasn’t the trees.
Chapter 39
Christopher stared at the trees.
He lay in bed, watching the moon wink through the bare branches. He was too afraid to sleep. Too afraid to dream. He didn’t want the imaginary people poking around in his nightmares to see if he knew about them.
So he stayed awake by reading.
He went to the duck paper bookshelf three times that night. The words worked through him, quieting his mind, and distracting him from the itch. And the fear.
And that fever.
It started slowly. Just a little sweat on the back of his neck. Then it got so hot that he had to take off his pajama bottoms and lie above the blanket, reading with his bare skinny legs.
By the time morning came, he had almost finished The Lord of the Rings.
Christopher’s fever climbed the minute he entered school. He looked at the kids, who all felt gypped that they only got three snow days. He remembered his mother telling Jerry that “gyp” was a bad word. “Gyp” comes from “gypsy.” It’s not nice to say “gyp.”
Jerry is…
Jerry is…looking for my mother.
Christopher felt the hallways go quiet. The itch pounded his ears. Flipping the flash cards faster and faster, like a ten-speed bike changing gears.
The janitor is…
The janitor is…talking to his wife.
I don’t speak Spanish, but I know what he says.
“It’s a sin to get divorced. I will not give up custody of my son.”
“Hi, Christopher,” the voice said.
He turned around and saw Ms. Lasko smiling pleasantly.
Ms. Lasko was…
Ms. Lasko was…standing in line at the clinic.
“Are you okay, Christopher? You don’t look well,” said Ms. Lasko.
“I’m fine, ma’am. Thank you.”
Ms. Lasko got…
Ms. Lasko got…rid of her baby.
“Then come on. We’re all going to the auditorium for the state exam.”
Ms. Lasko went…
Ms. Lasko went…straight from the clinic to the bar.
Christopher followed her into the auditorium. He sat down in his alphabetical seat as all the teachers passed out the state exam. They were supposed to do this last week, Mrs. Henderson explained, but the snow days threw off their entire schedule. She told them they would have to complete all of their work in this last week of school before break. She told them not to feel any pressure. This exam did influence state funding, but Mrs. Henderson and the other teachers were really proud of their progress this year.
Mrs. Henderson is…
Mrs. Henderson is…lying.
The school needs…
The school needs…the money.
When all the tests were passed around, Christopher took out his number 2 pencil and started working. The itch went away, and there was nothing but answers. Beautiful, calm answers. He filled in the little circles row after row until they looked like stars in the sky. Shooting stars that were either a soul or a sun (or a son). In that moment, Christopher couldn’t hear thoughts. All the kids were too busy thinking about the test. There were no flash cards. No itch. Just the test answers, which felt like a warm bath. His mind the cool side of the pillow. Christopher finished the test and looked around the room. All of the other kids were still on page five. Christopher was the only one who had finished his test.
Until Special Ed finished and put his pencil down.
And Mike put his pencil down.
And Matt put his pencil down.
The four boys looked at each other and smiled. Proud that four of the dumbest kids in school had somehow become four of the smartest.
“If you’re done with your test, please put your head down,” said Mrs. Henderson.
Christopher put his head on his desk as he was told. His thoughts drifted to the tree house. To the nice man. And the training they would do. His mind floated away like the clouds up in the sky. Like the sheep he used to count when he couldn’t sleep after his dad died.
Just rest your eyes.
Like your daddy did in the bathtub.
Like the voices told him.
Just rest your eyes and you will sleep forever.
“Christopher!” a voice shouted. “What did I tell you?”
Christopher took his head off his desk and looked up at the front of the class. Ms. Lasko was staring at him with a stern expression, which was strange because Ms. Lasko never got mad at the kids. Not even when they spilled paint in class.
“Christopher! I said come up to the blackboard.”
Christopher looked around the auditorium. All of the