Wuftoom by Mary G. Thompson Read Free Book Online

around him. Right then it didn’t matter why.

Eight
    W HEN HE SAW his own mother again, Evan was silent. He felt like he had been crying, but his face was dry. He couldn’t move much, nor did he want to. While she talked about her day, he stared at the wall.
    Pictures of Angela punching him, Angela smiling, Angela grabbing his hand, ran through his mind. And then there was Jordan’s bedroom. Jordan’s mother. Jordan’s blue eyes and blond hair in the mirror. Jordan’s unwebbed fingers.
    Evan’s mother didn’t ask what was wrong.
She thinks she knows,
thought Evan.
She thinks I’m just sad because I’m getting worse.
Dully, he wondered what would happen if he told her. Would she laugh? Or cry? Or would she have been through so much that she would just sit there and let it go?
    He slept that night, but when he woke up, he felt no better. It was a worthless, restless sleep. He sat in his bed, wanting to be Jordan, but not wanting to, because he’d just have to give it up again and be
this.
    When he finally jumped, it was after breakfast time. Jordan was already sitting on the staircase, his shoes untied and his head buried in his hands. Evan remained there.
Why can’t I just be happy?
he thought.
Why can’t I enjoy it while it lasts?
He felt a presence standing over him. It was Jordan’s father, dressed in a suit and tie, looking down at him gravely. Evan looked up.
    Jordan’s father was a tall man. Stocky, but still in good shape. Evan knew he was some kind of bigwig who worked at one of the banks on Main Street.
    â€œJordan,” he said. “You have to go to school. You can’t stay home. You’re not sick.”
    Evan looked up at him, unsure of what to say.
    â€œThis business about being possessed. I have an acquaintance who’s a psychiatrist. I’ll make you an appointment.”
    â€œI don’t need a psychiatrist,” said Evan, alarmed. But Jordan’s parents couldn’t really do anything, could they? He tried to smile, wondering how Jordan looked.
    â€œDo you think this is a joke?” asked Jordan’s father. “Why won’t you talk to us?”
    Evan looked down at his feet. Jordan’s father sat down below him on the staircase. He sighed and looked a little kinder. “Your mother and I are still dealing with it too, you know. You’re not in this alone.” He patted Jordan’s knee.
    Abruptly, Evan got up. “Go ahead and make the appointment if you want to,” he said. Jordan would probably need it once Evan was gone. He brushed past Jordan’s father and out to the car, where his mother was waiting in silence.
    Evan had thought it would get easier, but Jordan was pushing him harder than ever. It was all he could do just to walk straight. Angela was waiting at Jordan’s locker. She looked pale and worried.
    â€œJordan, is that you?” she asked.
    â€œWhat do you mean? Of course it’s me. I don’t look that bad, do I?” asked Evan, trying to sound normal.
    Angela looked shocked and took a step backward. Too late, Evan realized that Jordan must have told her. Did they have a code word? What could it be?
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” he asked.
    Angela shook her head, turned, and ran down the hallway away from him. Looking around, he realized everyone was staring at him.
    â€œGuess she’s mad at me,” he said with a forced smile.
    A couple kids laughed, but most gaped at him like he was a moron.
    He stalked off to his first class in an even fouler mood, thrusting Jordan deep inside him. It seemed like fewer people were talking to him than normal. Nobody passed him notes or whispered to him in class. By lunchtime he was boiling with anger. Why were people treating him like he was Evan?
    Outside the cafeteria, he confronted Andy. Andy was supposed to be his best friend. The number two to Jordan’s number one.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Evan asked