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Tic Boy by Barry Hollander
Tic Boy told the girl he would kill her in one of three ways: 1. Blinking 2. Shrugging 3. Vocal outbursts
He waited for her to beg and cry and piss her pants like some kids do after a bad dream. Instead she did something worse, she laughed. "You're just Tic Boy. Blink me to death? What a moron." He hated that word. "Dummy." That one, too. She used those and more, so he left her alone with his comic books, a jug of water, and his bug collection. Being tied up, she couldn’t drink the water. But that was okay, he left it there for his bugs; they got thirsty even if they were dead. He sat outside his clubhouse on a tree stump and tried to imagine ways to frighten her. She was always so sure of herself at school, so in control while surrounded by all her friends. Maybe leaving her alone would do it. Some kids were like that about being alone. Not him. He liked being alone. No one called him names when he was alone. *
Tic Boy told her she wouldn’t die by blinking. "That's a relief.” Said in the same mocking tone, but she looked tired, her eyes red. Had she been crying? "No," she replied and straightened her shoulders. "Better let me go before my parents or the police find out.” She waited, as if maybe rethinking her words. No friends around, maybe she had second thoughts. "Retard," she added. Two other methods remain on the list, he reminded her. She snorted. He had never heard a girl snort before and didn’t think it was a very pretty sound, but he gave her a drink of water although he knew the bugs wouldn’t care for it much. He had to leave and think about which way to kill her. If she had a preference now was the time to let him know. He figured that would do it, being forced to choose. "Shrugging," she said without hesitation. Why? "Simple. It’s the one where you don’t talk." Tic Boy didn't want to be with her any more.
Shrugging wouldn't work. How do you kill someone by shrugging? He rolled it over and over in his head and finally decided it simply would not work. He told her and she frowned back at him. "Vocal outbursts, then?" She looked worse. Blotches like giant freckles spread on her sagging skin. He could see skid marks on the floor where she had probably scooted around in the chair trying to escape. All it managed to do was scare off some of his bugs. She gave a girl kind of sigh, the kind they reserve for times you want to be nice and talk to them and all they want is for some other boy to talk to them instead. "Moron," she whispered. He left to look for more bugs.
*
Today: vocal outbursts. He had a simple plan. He would yell and scream just like the doctor told him it was okay to do when he was alone, to let it all out where no one could hear. He would scream until her ears bled, he would scream until she screamed along with him, until they both screamed so loud you could see the sound. Screams were red. That’s the color he expected. She wouldn’t be so pretty then. Once inside the clubhouse he knew something was wrong. Different, like at night when you peek through your eyelids and there is your stepfather hovering over your bed, a funny look on his face and a sour smell hanging in the air. She didn’t look pretty now. Hair hung over her face and the skin on her arms and legs looked like putty after art class, all lumpy and moldy and used up. He felt sorry for her, a little, until he noticed his bugs were gone, all of them. Maybe she’d scared them away? That seemed odd. Dead bugs usually stayed where you left them. She tried to speak but no air gave the words sound, so he pulled a chair close and put his ear to her mouth. It tickled, her warm breath in his ear, tickled and made him feel funny deep inside. Stay. That was the word she whispered. So he waited. Her breath tickled and then tickled in a different way: still in his stomach, but then in his ear and in his head. He wanted to pull away but didn’t dare. Something held the fleshy part of his ear. He craned his neck, trying to make out her face and see what was happening, but all he saw were lumps moving beneath the skin of her arms and legs like mice crawling under a carpet. Stay, she told him. He felt air in his ear. And something else, a lot of something else, in his ear and head, his arms and legs and stomach. * Later, they went out to hunt more dead bugs together.
END __________________________________________________________________
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