Prologue
It was the edge of forever ago.
I could see my young self. Fingertips curled tightly around a worn-outpaperback book. White-knuckled and clenching it with the intensity of the words, I wasdevouring it,burningthrough the pages like I was a blazing inferno. The off-white pages were wrinkled and dog-eared; the smell of them, like any true die-hard-reader would admit, washeaven. HeaVEN!In my nine-year-old mind, Judy Blume was the most talented writer ever created, andBlubberwas the most brilliant collection of words giving life to my imagination between the covers of a book.The book was a classic. Joey, my best friend in thewhole entire universe,sat next to me, flipping through my latest sketchbook and sighing loudly and, let’s face it,way toodramatically. He knew my reading rules though - thou shalt not bother me until I finish thechapter. He had felt the wrath of my book upside his head one too many times already—heknew better than to chance fate—again.
Lying back against the dark grey pillows of my bed (because pink was for silly girls), Joey tossed my drawings aside, grabbed one of my Barbie dolls, and swung it around by its platinum blonde hair. It was a newer one that my father’s secretary gave me. She thinks I’m like fiveor something. My dad never bothered to tell her that I hated Barbie dolls or any sort of baby doll. I hadn’t yet chopped all of Barbie’s stupid hair off or gaveit permanent marker tattoos. As she launched through the air, she made a small whizzing sound and smacked up against the wall. Poor Barbie fell onto my rug; her head completely decapitated from her body, and bounced against my feet. Iwantedto laugh, because itwasfunny. But, Iwantedto read more. I had to bite my lip. Rules are rules. Chapters need finishing.
“Whoops,” Joey giggled.
I reluctantly lifted my eyes off the last sentence of the chapter and narrowed them at him.Oh, his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were going down!It was definitely going to be a microwave-his-Ninja Turtles kind of Friday afternoon.
“Charlotte!” my mom’s voice hoarsely called through my bedroom door. Her wild, dark-haired head poked in, her rumpled clothes not hiding her daylong nap on the couch. “Looks like someone bought the house next door. There’s a moving truck outside, and it looks like they have a kid,” she said through a yawn.
Joey jumped off my bed and ran out of my room, “It better be a boy,”
What? No way, Jose!
Are you there, God? It’s me Charlotte… Please, pleeeeeaaasssee, let it be a girl. Not one of those girly-girls, like theONLYother girls on my street, the Jenson sisters (I’m still a little angry with you about them). Rebecca and Rachel Jenson wore pretty, pink, frilly dresses to school every day with shiny patent leather shoes. Shiny,like I-could-see-my-face-in-them shiny!They looked like porcelain dolls that came to life,zombie-Chucky-dolls, and they scared the stuffing out of me with their glossy,red lipstick lipsand their sparkly glitter thatalwaysgot in my eyes, even when I was ten feet away from them. Have you ever had glitter in your eye? Ithurts! I think it’s a form of torture from the olden days.No, God. I need a nice, normal, quiet, smart girl, who loves to read and is not afraid to play with smelly boys (like Joey:best friend extraordinaire), just like me. Amen.
My mother, with her red and glassy eyes, leaned her small frame against my door and pulled out a cigarette from the pack she kept in her shirt pocket. It stuck to her lip as she lit it and she laughed, inhaling deeply. She gave me a wink as I walked past her.
Joey and I quietly watched from my front porch as four huge men carried a large, brown couch into the new neighbor’s house. A woman, a lot younger than my mother, sat almost motionless in a wheelchair that slowly buzzed itself up the sidewalk and up the neighbor’s front walkway. Slightly moving a small lever on the armrest, the woman controlled the chair with one of her stark white, delicate hands. As she rolled by us, a small, tight smile passed her lips, but was gone instantly. Her body looked strange, kind ofscary strange, because her legs looked really tiny compared to the rest of her. I shivered. And before you say anything,I knowthat’s not nice, but I had never seen anything like that before, so it just…it just scared me a little. And remember, I was only nine and quite impressionable. I still slept with a nightlight, but uh, don’t tell anybody that, okay?
Behind her, bouncing a basketball, was a tall kid with shaggy, dark brown hair that whipped up wildly with a passing breeze. His face was focused intently on the ground as he bounced the ball against the back of the woman’s wheelchair, catching it with both hands each time it flew back at him. That bothered me, because isn’t that ameanthing to do to someone in a wheelchair? The ball bounced against the chair and onto the cobbled stones of the walkway three more times before Joey whispered,a bit too loudly,next to me, “Uh-oh.”
The kid’s head snapped up instantly, locking his eyes directly on mine. My body flinched back. This kid had the meanest look on his face, but that wasn’t the part that made my belly feel sick. It was the strange color of his eyes. I had never seen such a color. Eyes that shade of blue couldn’t be real. I never knew such a light shade of blue like that even existed until his eyes stared down mine.
I think he’s an alien.
My mind immediately went allStar Wars, and for a minute, I, Princess Leia, was going to befriend this alien being so he could teach me how to use the force. Not the dark side, though. I was gonna be a Jedi!
Then, the kid stuck his middle finger up at me and walked into his house.
He did!
He just stuck his alienmiddle finger right at meandwalked away. I gasped out loud. I didn’t even know what that gesture meant, but I knew it was really bad, because I’ve seen my dad do it while he drives and curses at people who cut him off.Oh God, it meant he wanted to kill me, didn’t it?
Oh. My. God. The alien-kid hated me. And he stuck his middle finger at me! It was the worst thing in the world to ever happen to me. I really, really, really mean it. It was the worst thing ever. My eyes burned with tears.
Sweat broke out all over my forehead as I stomped back into my house and into my bedroom. Joey was right behind me, closing my bedroom door and running to my window. “That kid is trouble,” he whispered, peeking through my curtains.
Opening and closing my hands into fists, I paced in front of my bed. “That was just so rude! What? Why? And, I don’t get whatthat finger thingmeans!” I stammered, sliding in front of my window and nudging Joey out of the way.
“It means he hates you and wants to poke you in the eye really hard with his finger. Duh,” he said, nervously raking his hands through his dark hair.
From my bedroom window, which faced the alien-kid’sstupidhouse, I could see right where thestupid meanspace-jerk was standing. He was in a room full of boxes, standing on one of them, taping up a poster.I hope he falls.I hope he falls and breaks his dumb stupid mean finger, so he never gives it to me again!
Squinting my eyes, I tried to make out what was on the poster. Some stupid group of superheroes. That’s when I realized:that’s his bedroom! That mean stupid finger giving alien-kid was going to be in a bedroom right across a small alleyway from my bedroom.Oh, snapdragons! This is the worst day ever.WORSTDAY EVERin the history of ME!
Joey stepped in between my curtains and me, flipping themwide open, which,of course, made the stupid alien-kid notice we were at my windowSTARINGat him. He narrowed his eyes at us and started quickly opening a box, looking for something. I wanted to duck down and hide before he zapped me with his laser eyes and toasted me into a crispy pile of ash on the floor, but Joey was in my way, peeking his own head up from wherehe was hidingon the floor.
“This morning, when I went with my mom to the store, I saw that kid taking candy and sticking it in his pocket without paying for it,” Joey said, pointing to the stupid mean alien-boy who was now writing something on a large piece of white paper. “He’s a criminal,” Joey whispered. “And he lives right next to you! What are you gonna do?”
I didn’t dare take my eyes off the mean kid as I answered Joey, “I’m definitely not playing with him. I hope he’s not in our class this year. Do you think he’s the same age as us? You don’t think he’ll be inFreddie Krueger’sclass with us, do you?”
Before Joey could answer, we watched as the mean alien taped a drawing of ahorribleskull and crossbones to his window. Above the skull were the words, “YOU MESS WITH ME,”and below the crossbones were the words, “YOU DIE!”
“Holy Cheese-whiz, he’s gonna kill us,” Joey yelped. “I bet there are lots of dead kids’ bodies in those boxes. We should call the cops!” His big brown eyes looked to me for mybrilliant wisdom and guidance.
