The Brain Invaders

Chapter 17

I hate Mondays. My mom, on the other hand, always loved Mondays. Said Monday was a clean slate and that you never knew what the week would bring or how it would end up. She said it was sort of exciting to see the days unfold. I sometimes hated her optimism.

This was definitely one week I wasn’t excited about. In fact, ever since I realized that people were changing, my weeks have been filled with worry. I dreaded seeing how the days would unfold. It seemed like each one brought another conversion, another person who I knew deep in my gut was no longer normal.

At least my sister wasn’t coming home from college to visit for a few weeks. Hopefully by then, we’d have this mess taken care of. I didn’t want to have to worry about her, too.

When dad died, Cindy took care of Mom and me. Mom sort of lost it for awhile and Cindy made sure we had food to eat, that the wash was done and all those other things that a parent would normally do. After Mom got some help dealing with her grief, Cindy got to go back to being a normal 13-year-old. Well, I’m not sure she was ever “normal” for her age. She always seemed so much older than her friends. More mature. I think it’s because she had to be.

Mom and Dad had been high school sweethearts and when dad died of a massive heart attack, Mom was lost. He had dropped Cindy and me off at school and came home to get some paperwork he had forgotten. He dropped over in the kitchen while Mom was upstairs getting ready for work. Mom heard a loud thunder and ran down to find Dad on the floor. It was too late.

Mom’s come a long way since then. She’s loads better now. And I feel guilty that I didn’t do more to stop this from happening to her. That I’ve let Cindy down by not looking after Mom like she had asked me to.

I inhaled a chocolate Pop-Tart and met Cassie at the bus stop. We had a few minutes before Mr. McCleary pulled around the corner.

“Did it go OK last night? Nothing happened, did it?”

Cassie shook her head no. “Just the usual. Mom and Dad must have asked me if I was playing bingo about a hundred times. I got so sick of the question, that I recorded my answer in my watch. When they asked me, I pushed this button and it

played my response.”

“Cool,” I said, looking at her watch. “Where’d you get it?”

“At the mall,” Cassie said. “Mom got it for me. It’s an early birthday present. You press the button. Say something. Then press the button again and it records what you said.”

“Too cool. Hey, remember I have to go to the dentist after school. Are you going to be OK?”

“No, but I guess I’ll have to be. I figured I go to the library and hang out. Told Mom and Dad that I will be spending most of my afternoons there, with you, working on this big project. At least that gets me out of the house for most of the day.”

“I’ll call you when I get home from the dentist and check in. Zach’s going to call you instead of me since I’ll be with Mom and tied up most of the night. You can fill me in later.”

The bus pulled around the corner and Mr. McCleary opened the door. Cassie went in first. As soon as my foot hit the first step, my gut felt like it had been punched by a heavy weight.

I quickly checked to make sure my sleeve was covering my birthmark and then glanced up at Mr. McCleary. I couldn’t help thinking that underneath his Penn State baseball cap was one big, ugly, slimy slug and it made me sick.

 I slipped in the seat beside Cassie.

“You all right?” she asked.

I bent over. “Yeah.”

“He’s one, isn’t he? Cassie whispered.
          I nodded. “Must have just happened.”

Thankfully, we were the last stop. I couldn’t wait to get off the bus.  

“Remember, Cass,” I said when we were alone in the hallway. “Act normal and get through the day. One day at a time.”

 “Yeah. Get through the day. I’ll meet you at lunch,” Cassie said.”

Cassie walked in her homeroom and I headed to mine.

“Alex, wait up,” Cassie yelled, walking out of the room.

          “What’s up?”

“I just want you to promise me something.”

“Anything,” I said.

“That if something goes wrong. If one of those things gets inside of me and starts controlling me, you’ll find a way to get it out.”

A renegade tear slid down Cassie’s cheek. “Please. Promise me. Promise me you’ll get it out.”

“I’ll find a way,” I said. “But you don’t have to worry because that won’t happen. We’ll take care of them.”

The bell rang.

“Gotta run,” I said. “See you at lunch.”

“See you.”

“Miss Hampton,” my homeroom teacher said as I walked in the door. “I was

just about to mark you absent.”

“I’m here,” I said, collapsing in my seat. “I’m not feeling well – again.”

“I can see that,” she said. “What’s the problem?”

My gut hurt. I held my stomach and laid my head down on my desk. “I’m lactose intolerant,” I lied. “I had cereal this morning and forgot to take a pill. Give me a minute. I’ll be OK.” 

There was a brain invader in the room. And I had no idea who it was.