"Hey! Hurry! It's coming on!"
Jackie Nailer brushed the unevenly chopped, green-tinted blond bangs out of his eyes enough to take measure of himself in the bathroom mirror. In the community TV room his girlfriend, Chalice, continued to urge him to hurry up. Jackie ignored her and looked deeply into the reflection of his eyes. What was that look he saw there, far within his dilated pupils? It was
something, something
familiar. And when had he first noticed that odd something deep within the black holes of his pupils, which always seemed to surface whenever he was nervous or scared?
Why, right after meeting the witch, yes, thank you very much.
Even after thirteen years, just the thought of her brought a cold clammy
liquid feeling to his bowels, and he felt the urge to vacate them. Which brought him right back to the problem at hand, and staring into his eyes, seeing the scared animal there, and trying to figure out how
crazy he was, was just another method of procrastination. What it really came down to was: Did he
really want to do this?
You should have thought of that before you signed the contract, took the network's money, and did the interview. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Jackie shook his head and watched his hair flop back and forth.
It's over and done with, he told himself.
Why shouldn't I profit from what happened? Jen has! But then Jen didn't remember
anything that had happened at Grimm Memorials thirteen years ago, while Jackie couldn't forget it--especially after the cameras from CBC had shown up, and he had actually sat down with
the Barbra Waters and dragged the past up, looking at photographs and video from the police and trial files on the Grimm Memorials case. It had brought everything rushing back at him. The years of counseling he'd had as a child went down the tubes. Since then, he'd noticed that scared-little-boy look in his eyes more often than not.
Like now.
As if the fear showing through during his interview wasn't bad enough, like every other sappy guest of Barbra Water's, Jackie had cried. He pushed the embarrassing memory from his mind and thought again of those photos of his former, child self. He looked much different now, and not just because of the choppy punk haircut with its green tint, the stud piercing his left nostril, and a skull head dangling on a short silver chain in his left ear. Thirteen years had passes after all and he had grown up. He had matured physically and now nearly resembled the adult man he would become. His eyes, which had diminished a little their blueness, made up for it in their largeness, which gave him a little-boy quality girls could not resist. Add to that his straight, small nose, full lips, and square jaw and he was one of the best-looking boys on campus, or would be, if he didn't do his best to always hide it.
"Jackie! Come on! It's starting!"
Do I really want to watch this? he asked his mirror image. Chalice certainly did, as did her crew, several other Goth types she'd brought along with her. Jackie regretted now telling Chalice about the TV special; she'd spread it all over campus. Not that it wouldn't have happened anyway--but it would have (
should have) happened after the fact, not before, which ensured that a lot more people on campus would be watching the special than normally would have. Chalice and her crew would have certainly seen it; it was right up their alley: a Barbra Waters Halloween special about the gruesome mass murders that had taken place thirteen years ago at the now infamous funeral home known as
Grimm Memorials.
Sighing, Jackie resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to watch the program with his girlfriend and her friends. He slouched back to the community room, which had the largest TV in the dormitory suite, and slid over the back of the decrepit couch, landing slumped against Chalice. He tried to do it unnoticed, but it didn't work. Every eye in the room was on him, every face shared the same frozen half smile, the same unsure look bespeaking of each person's discomfort laced with anticipation. Of course, when he looked directly at any of them, their expressions changed, their smiles broadened, became fuller, but remained phony.
There was a commercial on for feminine hygiene spray that showed a mother and daughter at the beach sharing quality time over the subject of battling "womanly" odors. One of Chalice's friend's made a comment: "Now if they were selling canned
sweat I might be interested!" To which the others laughed. Jackie half-heartedly joined in though he didn't get it. He was too nervous to think about anything beyond the TV program that was about to reveal his bizarre past.
The last commercial ended and the scene changed to a long shot of Barbra Waters, host of
It Was ? Years Ago Today!, the CBC news program that reveled in revisiting natural disasters, strange crimes, and bloody mass murders. Waters sat, shuffling papers, at a desk on a tastefully decorated office like set, the background of which was a large aerial shot of a typical, peaceful New England town, complete with a white-steeple church spire nestled between gently sloping, breast-shaped, tree-covered hills flamboyant with autumn colors. A title, SEASON OF THE WITCH, appeared in large, Gothic-style letters in the upper right corner of the picture. The song of the same name, by Donovan, with the title/chorus line reaching a crescendo before fading, played in the background. As the camera drew closer, focusing in on Waters, she put her papers down, looked directly into the camera and the living rooms of millions of Americans, smiled her slightly bucktoothed, trademark smile, which was also the cause of her trademark--and much ridiculed--lisp, and began speaking.
The same joker as before (for the life of him Jackie couldn't remember her name) said, "She sounds like Elmer Fudd," and got another big laugh. Jackie didn't join in this time, nor did he bother trying to fake it. His mouth had gone dry and his right leg was jiggling madly. When the laughter died he heard Barbra Waters warning parents that the show's content might not be suitable for children.
"Well, I guess that leaves me out!" Joker-girl commented and made to get up and leave. Surprisingly, few people laughed. Chalice and several others shushed her. Chalice grabbed Jackie's hand, squeezing it reassuringly and giving him a smile and a wink before turning her attention to the screen. The gesture had the opposite effect, making Jackie more uncomfortable than he already was, and he didn't know why. He liked Chalice a lot. He hoped she would still like him an hour from now.
The program went on, but he found it hard to focus. The faces and reaction of the others in the room, especially Chalice, were too distracting. She was watching the screen intently, shaking her head every now and then and clucking her tongue in disbelief. Suddenly, Jackie heard Barbra Waters speak his name, and he became aware that every eye in the room was on him. The screen was showing his first communion picture--him dressed in blue shorts with a white shirt and blue, clip-on bow tie, his white socks pulled smartly up to his knees over his brilliantly shining black patent Leather wing tips.
Jackie glanced at the others, and all eyes avoided his, returning immediately to the screen. Blushing hotly, a blush so hot he knew his pale complexion was glowing bright red, he mumbled, "I need a drink." He rose and stumbled around the corner to the kitchenette as quickly as possible. There, he slumped against the wall and banged his forehead slowly on it.
Why did I agree to be on that show? he wondered. If he hadn't agreed, maybe Jen wouldn't have done it either. Without either of them, they couldn't have done the show.
Yeah, right!
After having met the producers of
It Was ? Years Ago Today! Jackie had known they were going to do their story with or without the Nailer family's input. He had the choice of staying out of it, or helping and getting some money from it. At the time, twelve hundred dollars had seemed like a lot. Jen had thought so, too. Not so his mother.
"Smart, Mom. I've sold my privacy, my anonymity, for twelve hundred bucks," he muttered to the wall between head butts.
For a lousy one thousand two hundred dollars I've made myself into a walking freak show.
"Hey, if ya need to have ya head beat in I'd be glad to do it for ya."
Jackie rested his head against the wall and smiled weakly at Chalice, standing in the kitchenette doorway.
"Actually," he said, "you could be a bigger help if you'd stand behind me and kick me in the ass while I try to knock myself sense-
full!"
Chalice laughed but looked puzzled. "Don'cha mean sense-
less?"
"No, I mean sense-
full, because if I'd had any sense to begin with I wouldn't have agreed to do that stupid TV show. It represents everything that I despise about TV. The only programs worse than that on and its ilk are the reality shows."
"Aw, come on. Whattsa big deal? I seen worse. So ya might become a minor celebrity on campus for a while, what's wrong with that? Think a' all-a hotties that's gonna wanna bang ya 'cause they seen ya on TV."
Jackie mentally winced at Chalice's mangling of English grammar—the only fault he'd yet found with her—and managed a "very funny" smile for her. "I doubt anyone will think of me as a celebrity after this—more like a freak. I might as well go on tour with Lollapalooza."
"I could go with ya," Chalice said, a mischievous grin on her face as she sidled up to Jackie, put her arms around him, and nuzzled his ear. "I'm double jointed, in
all the right
joints," she whispered and winked sexily when Jackie, wide-eyed, turned to stare at her.
He and Chalice had gotten to the heavy petting and tentatively exploring the oral sex part of the relationship, but for reasons she kept to herself, she was reluctant to consummate it. Despite the severe Goth look, she was a very pretty girl. Jackie couldn't be sure, but he thought she might even be beautiful. He had yet to see her without makeup, which was always excessive, or without the many piercing that decorated her face. She was five feet five, a hundred pounds, with hair of varying length that looked like someone had hacked at it with a hatchet, leaving some parts short, others long, and most of it hanging in her face. The hair could be any color, depending on her mood, from orange, to green, purple, red, yellow, to the jet-black she now sported. Her eyebrows were each pierced with three rings, and she wore a stud in both nostrils. Her ears were rimmed with studs and tiny hoops from top to bottom. She had a tongue stud and a lip ring. Her nipples were pierced and ringed, as was her belly button. Add to it her stark-white complexion, intense, intimidating, golden brown felinelike eyes loaded with heavy black mascara to go with her scowling expression--not to mention her terrible grammar, which, at times, truly annoyed Jackie though he'd never tell her--and most people probably thought her ugly and crass. It was the effect she was going for and was very happy to have succeeded. She liked nothing better than running into a bunch of "straights," as she called non-Goth types, and freaking them out with her look.
Jackie couldn't wait until they spent their first complete night together so he could see what she really looked like without the costume. So far, she'd only let him have peeks, but what peeks! Though he still hadn't admitted to himself--much less to her--he was falling in love with her.
"Oh?" Jackie said, matching her mischievous smile and raising an eyebrow. "And exactly
what positions can you double your joints into?"
She giggled throatily and licked the side of his face from his jaw to his eyebrow. "If ya lucky, I'll show ya later, and ya can bet it'll double
your joint in size."
"Mmm," Jackie said, licking his lips. "But can you
smoke a joint while you double your joints and, vis-a-vis, mine?"
"I can smoke
double joints while doubling my joints and watching your joint double." She smirked, proud to be able to keep up in this little game they'd randomly developed and played often and spontaneously.
"But," Jackie said, always ready with another comeback, "can you smoke double joints while doubling your joints and watching my joint double
while in
Dublin chewing
Double Bubble bubblegum?"
Chalice opened her mouth once, twice, and burst into raucous laughter. "No, I can't, you
retard!" She punched his arm.
"That's good," Jackie told her in a mock-serious tone, "because the person who could do all that would...
rule the world!" He said the last with a flourish, raising his right arm, index finger pointed up, like a fleshy exclamation point.
"You are such a dork," Chalice said sweetly. "I'm sorry to use such lame-ass eighties disco terminology, but it's the only fuckin' word that fits ya to a tee. For brainiacs like you, that's
Dork from the Latin,
Dorkus Erectus."
"Then that would make you a
dorkette," Jackie immediately quipped.
Chalice giggled at that, too, and sputtered out, "I could play Radio City Music Hall as a double-jointed dorkette." Her amusement was cut short by the voices of her friends from the TV room.
"It's on!"
"Jackie, you're on!"
"Chalice! He's on!"
Chalice looked at him and touched his face gently. "It'll be cool if ya let it be," she said and took his hand, leading him back to the couch, back to watching his childhood exposed like the guts of the cadavers old Eleanor Grimm had worked on all those years.
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