Backwards by Todd Mitchell Read Free Book Online

stand the way he mumbled his words and swallowed his food without tasting it. And I couldn’t stand how he scuffed his heels as he walked, oblivious to how lucky he was to simply be able to move and talk and feel the ground beneath his feet. There was so much he ignored. This morning, for instance, his mom greeted him when he shuffled into the kitchen, but he didn’t even grunt in response. Then he grabbed the orange-juice container in front of Teagan without offering her the smallest
good morning
or
hello.
    “You better hurry or you’ll be late,” said his mom as Dan poured himself some juice. “And don’t leave the juice out. It’ll spoil.”
    Dan set the orange-juice carton beside the refrigerator and took a sip from his glass.
    “Are you listening?” asked his mom.
    “Yeah,” he mumbled.
    She gave an exasperated sigh and put the orange juice back in the refrigerator. “You’re just like your father,” she said. “Can you at least give your sister a ride? She needs to be there early for some —”
    “History project,” finished Teagan. “And I can’t ride with him.”
    “Why not?” asked their mom.
    “Because I need to go now,” said Teagan. From the way she fiddled with her shirt, I could tell this wasn’t her only reason. “I don’t want to be late.”
    Their mom looked from Teagan to Dan, but the zombie merely shrugged. “I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.”
    Their mom sighed again and checked her phone. “I’ll drop you off, even though it’s not on my way.”
    “If I had a car, you wouldn’t have to take me,” said Teagan. “I could take myself.”
    “You can’t drive.”
    “Not yet, but I could take driver’s ed this fall. I’m old enough.”
    “That costs money.”
    “It’s not that expensive. And then I wouldn’t be a burden to you.”
    “You’re not a burden.” Their mom grabbed her purse and paused before a hall mirror to primp her hair. “I just don’t see why you can’t go with your brother.”
    Teagan gave Dan a long look, waiting for him to say something. The zombie stared at his empty cereal bowl as if the fate of the world rested on what he put in it. I wanted to kick the dolt. He wasn’t blind. He had to know that his sister wanted his attention.
    “Get your things,” said their mom. “We should have left five minutes ago.”
    Teagan grabbed her backpack and hurried out, while the zombie poured cornflakes into his bowl.
    I perked up as soon as we got to school, hoping to run into Cat. Given how depressed she’d been the other night, I figured something bad must have happened recently. Otherwise, why would Tricia and Spooner act so concerned about her at the Coffee Spot? And why would she be angry at Dan? But knowing her past was like knowing my future. I couldn’t be certain what had happened until it happened.
    Essentially, I viewed life from the opposite direction as everyone else. My future was their past and their past my future, so while others perceived events in light of what
had
happened, I perceived them in light of what
would
happen. In English class, for instance, I knew exactly which vocabulary words Mr. Shepherd would include on the pop quiz the next day. And I knew which teacher would collect homework, and which student would be called on and confess he hadn’t done the reading, and who would get a breakup text from her boyfriend. Out of all the countless details in a day, I knew exactly which ones would have a consequence tomorrow. It was like reading the end of a mystery before the beginning, so the clues were all obvious. Yet it was the
how
and
why
of it all that eluded me.
    I worked on paying close attention to everything the zombie observed so I could trace effects back to causes. After the other day, I had a pretty good idea where Cat would be at lunch. Sure enough, she sat at the same table today that she would tomorrow. Tricia sat across from her, and Teagan slumped a few seats down.
    Cat’s gaze crossed Dan’s, lingering a few