Inside Out

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. I mean, it was me, but it wasn't me, if that makes sense. It was someone else, someone tired, with waxen, hanging skin from bony cheeks and sunken dark holes for eyes. Someone kinda dead looking, I guess.

It stopped me in my tracks for a second. My first thought was I really needed to lay off the weed. I had been partying pretty hard but who could blame me, it was graduation week. Everyone was partying. Everyone who mattered anyway.

Stupid bathroom mirror. Nobody looked good under those fluorescent lights Dad installed. He got them cheap from his job.

Mom even said so, many times. "James," she'd whine, "I look washed out in this light, it's horrible!" She said it was like being in a gas station bathroom. I never really noticed before.

I went to my room and caught a glimpse of myself in my mirrored closet door. And there I was, undistorted, as nature intended. Not for nothing, but I'm a pretty good-looking guy. More than that, I'm gorgeous!

I'm not bragging, everyone says so. My last girlfriend used to tell me I had the perfect face, a face that made her believe in religion. A face that looked like a creator of some sort crafted it by their own hand out of clay and then left their mark as a thumbprint on my chin.

She wasn't exactly wrong. With my dark hair and eyes, smooth skin, chiseled features, and cleft in my chin, I stopped traffic. Literally. Ever since I was a little kid, people stopped and stared at me. They'd tell Mom what a beautiful baby I was.

I get away with everything. I'm too handsome to be bad. That's what people think. I smile and look a little contrite, bat my deep brown eyes and no matter what it is, I'm off scott-free! I've gotten out of homework, cheating, speeding, you name it, I've done it and my face has gotten me out of it.

I can't help how I look. It's just what it is. I'm better looking than most and I get exactly what I want. I'm also smarter than most. I was, and am in the running for valedictorian. I'll probably get it. The only other person that comes close to me is some arrogant little twerp named Jeremy.

And nobody likes Jeremy. Sure, he's smart, but that's all he's got. And he's not really that smart. If you have to have your nose in the books all the time, you're not smart, you're trying too hard. And arrogant! He really thinks he's something, you know?

I'm not being mean, but he really is. It's like he prances around everywhere thinking his shit doesn't stink when he's got nothing to back it up. I don't mind confidence, but if you have it, at least have something to be confident about. This dude's a troll and he deserves to be under whatever bridge he crawled out from under.

Anyway, nobody wants to think about Jer the Scare. Nobody does. I had a party to go to. One final check in the good mirror, face- perfect, arms - looking pretty ripped in my tank top, ass - come on, red tabbed Levi's never lie, baby!

I heard a horn and then Mom call up, "Jamie, your friends are here."

I told her I'd be right down.

"Maybe I should ask them in while they wait," she hollered in her saccharine-filled way, "it's a warm night, they might want a cold drink. I just made iced tea."

I could feel rage and embarrassment welling up in me. Why did she always have to be like this? Nobody wanted to come in and chit-chat with some middle-aged housewife desperate to relive her so-called glory days by talking to the "kids." And unless that iced tea came from Long Island, we weren't interested, thanks, Boomer, or Gen X, or whatever.

"Leave it, Mother!" I yelled back, and ran down the stairs, "there's no time, I'm ready."

She greeted me at the landing and tried to hug me. I bristled. She stepped back, her eyes looking moist. Here we go again.

"I don't know why you have to be like this," she whimpered.

"I'm not like anything."

"Be nice, Jamie," she pleaded, "be good. Mommy loves you."

I nodded and left. Blah, blah, blah. Same old, same old.

I went out to the driveway and stood at the side of my buddy Carl's car. He was driving and then there was Ellie, some girl that was sort of cute that he liked in the passenger seat, and our other friends, Chad and Kyle in the back.

I opened the passenger side door and waited. Ellie stared at me without moving. I glared at Carl. He nodded his head toward the back seat. I didn't move. She got out and mumbled something about me being a jerk or rude or something. Whatever, next!

"Take your seat in the back, hon, you're lucky to even be rolling with us," I told her as I slid into the front. Some people!

Carl stared at me. They all did. It was strange. Nobody said anything for a minute, they just stared and the air felt like it shifted somehow. It was like they were all pulling away from me, not exactly physically, but sort of. More mentally.

"Dude, you okay?" Carl finally squeaked.

I told him I was fine.

"You look..." he started.

"I look what?" I snapped. Trust me, Carl had no room to talk to me about looks.

"Nothin' man, nothin'," he mumbled, "You look great, like always, great."

Of course, I did. But they were still acting weird. Like they were trying to avoid me even though they were with me.

And at the party, it was the same thing. It was almost like I wasn't even there. Only I was. I got looks and then a chill I can't explain, people turning their backs, not wanting to be around me, and avoiding me which was hilarious because everyone loves me.

It was strange. The air was heavy with something bad. My stomach felt like garbage, like rot, right in the pit of it. Judgment?

It was like I was alone there in the middle of about 50 kids. I asked Kyle what the problem was and he told me there wasn't one. But he was shifty about it, couldn't look me in the eye. I was, I AM, the main attraction, and now people are acting like I don't even exist? What's that?

I left. Jealous assholes! Whatever. I went home and went to bed. I didn't need another night of partying anyway. And if people want to act all stupid, that's on them. They can have their lame party.

The next morning was grey and drizzly, but warm. I stayed in bed until sometime in the afternoon.

Then I got up and showered. I looked in the mirror. I looked a bit off, but nothing too alarming, just like I slept too long, lines from my pillow case in my face, a bit groggy-looking.

I grabbed my razor to shave, lathered up my face and looked again, and there it was. That face, that disgusting face, not me, worse, hollow, waxen, where there was skin, worm-eaten on the side. I cut my neck.

"Fu*k!" I screamed at the smart and put my fist through the reflection. The glass cracked but didn't shatter, leaving the image distorted and my hand gushing blood.

I looked back up and my face was back, the good one. I ran cold water over my hand to flush out the glass and stop the blood and wrapped it in a towel. I rinsed the foam off my cheeks. I guess I wasn't shaving today. I looked good with a bit of scruff anyway.

I took one final look at myself. The lights went out and it was completely dark in the tiny 6x10" water closet. My ears started to ring. I felt dizzy, weak, like a stuffed animal whose stuffing had been ripped from them. I screamed, but no sound came out.

The only light came from the mirror and that wasn't much, just enough to see bones, a skeletal face with a shock of matted, brownish-blonde hair, a tuft, dry, brittle. Tiny bits of flesh hung off it here and there. The same face as before, but worse.

"Get the fu*k outta here!" I yelled, "Leave me alone!"

I grabbed the door handle to leave. This was ridiculous! It wouldn't budge. I shook the door and cried out for help. Then a bony hand. I could feel myself gasping for air as it closed itself tighter and tighter around my neck.

I clawed at it, desperate for breath as I felt myself slipping. My knees buckled as I folded. I got a finger and pried it off my throat. It came off in my hand with a snap and then it was over.

The lights came back on. The hand was gone. I got up off the floor, trembling and I was back in the broken mirror.

Obviously, I needed a break. I decided to go down to the Burton Bridge. It was a local hangout on the river where we all partied and swam on the west end of the bridge that separated Welamooktook from Sheffield, or Shitfield, as we all called it. That's where Jeremy and the other losers lived.

The drizzle stopped and the clouds receded. It was sunny and humid, that kind of day that feels like the hot damp air is covering you with a giant wet blanket of steaming hellfire.

The Bridge was empty at this time of day. It was empty at any time of day. Nothing really happened there until at least 10:00 pm. But during the day, it was peaceful, just the sand, the water, and the hum of cars going over the bridge. It was my happy place, the place I could go to just sit and think.

I hadn't been there in about a month. I sat on Freddy Rock. Yeah, I know, but I didn't name it. It was a huge grey rock with yellow and brown flecks all through it that somehow managed to be carved by the ebb and flow of the water into a perfect granite bench on the beach. At parties, it was MY seat because, well, I'm me, aren't I?

When you're the most popular, best-looking, and smartest guy at school, that's just how it is. Don't hate, appreciate. I don't make the rules, I just live by them and everyone else has to as well. That's why they're "the rules."

I took off my sandals and curled my toes into the sand. It was warm, hot, and dry on top but still cool and damp from the earlier rain just underneath.

I felt a little tug on my big toe, the one on my right foot. I tugged back and giggled to myself. Probably some sort of freshwater crab or something. The wind picked up a bit and the river rippled.

Another tug, this one harder, much harder. I stood up and tried to shake my leg loose. As I extracted it successfully, something in my gut told me I'd better get out of there.

The clouds moved back in again. It looked like we were in for a huge downpour in about ten minutes. The leaves on the trees had all turned over to display their fuzzy underside and the sky went from sunny and bright to dark and foreboding.

But it was more than that. I'm not afraid of a little rain. Everything just felt off somehow.

I turned to leave and another tug, this time hard enough to knock me off my feet. I screamed as I pulled back. The sky opened up with a thunderous roar. Water pelted down on me as I screamed and struggled to free myself.

I felt like I couldn't breathe, but adrenaline kept me going. I braced myself against the wet beach with my left and grabbed onto my right with my hands and pulled for all I was worth. Nothing.

The ground around me collapsed and suddenly I was thigh-deep in wet sand, something beneath me pulling me inch by inch into the Earth as the sky pelted me with a downpour.

Everything around me was dark, the sky, the water, the air. It felt like midnight at 3:00 pm. My hearing faded in and out, thunder, the crackle of lightning, my own cries, and the almost imperceptible "blurp" each time my body sank a little further into the ground.

I tugged and tugged and squirmed and wriggled. Nothing worked. I begged and pleaded for mercy as my fate became more and more obvious. I was hot and cold all at the same time. I had no breath in me. My veins filled with icy terror, that kind of fear when you don't want to die, but you know somehow, that decision isn't yours anymore.

I kept fighting, begging, whatever I could do. And it stopped. Just like that, suddenly. I stopped sinking. I was almost hip-deep. The pulling from below stopped. The rain vanished but the dark clouds remained.

I braced myself on the sand with my arms and tried to lift myself out of the mud. Inch by inch, I was making progress. I got my butt out of the hole and sat it on the edge of the expanse. I paused for a breath. I was exhausted. My arms felt like cooked pasta, limp and lifeless.

I gasped for breath and couldn't get it. The air was too thick. The rain started again with a huge rumble. I sank a little further. And a hand was around my throat again. The same bony hand from the bathroom mirror.

I tried to secure my legs against the edges of the expanse while prying the hand from my throat. I sunk further. I wasn't sure what to do.

I looked down and there was that face again, the one from the mirror. I couldn't speak, I was still trying to get this thing's hand off my neck.

It was a ghastly sight, all bones, except for a big fleshy thing that looked all black and bruised hanging off the left temple area and that tuft of hair, grinning at me as I felt myself slipping away.

"Feel good, big fella?" the thing taunted me. It loosened its grip on my neck just enough to let me catch my breath. I sucked in as much air as I could and wiped the water from my face, allowing even more water to rain down on me.

"Awful quiet now, ain't ya?" it continued to taunt me. "Thought you were the big man? Not so big now." Its laugh rumbled deeply shaking the ground around me.

The skeletal hand released itself from my throat completely but pulled me further underground. I watched maggots and worms crawl in and out of its sinuses and onto me.

I still couldn't breathe. Everything in my field of vision faded, little by little, tunneling into a black little ball. The sound of the thunder and this thing's voice faded, becoming more and more distant. And I lost my fear. All the terror I once had, all the fight, flowed out of me the way blood leaves a dying body, slowly, but when it's gone, it's gone.

I was done. I was resigned to my fate. This was the end. I wasn't going to be Valedictorian and neither was Jeremy. I sure hope Kara still wants to do it. She can have my speech if she wants. Yeah, she'll probably want to do her own.

Then nothing. Blackness. Quiet. A void. A vacuum. I was floating, looking down at that night. The party. Man, that was a time!

We'd just won the track divisionals. Well, I just won them. I broke the state record for both the 200M and long jump. I also broke the district record for the 100 and 400M.

I was a shoe-in for the Gold W, the school's highest award, but I also had to have the highest grades, which I did, except for math. Jeremy and I were neck and neck.

I invited him to the party that night. Not because I liked him. I didn't. I wanted him to see what he was up against. So he could do math? So what. That was no reason for him to take what I worked so hard for away from me. Well, not worked, it came naturally, but that makes my point even more.

I gave him a few beers. We all laughed. It was funny. He came out of his shell, all arrogant like he was the smartest, best guy ever, but the more he drank, the cooler he got. I was almost starting to like the guy. And that's when it happened.

He came up to me and we started horsing around, like who's the best guy and all that. It wasn't even mean, we were actually laughing. He pushed me with his scrawny arms. I pushed him back and he fell onto Freddy Rock.

He hit his head and was bleeding pretty bad! One of the girls there, I think it was Shelley, checked for a pulse and stuff. She was planning on being a doctor, so she knew first aid and all that. She said he was dead, or there was no pulse or something She said we should call an ambulance and she started CPR.

We all stood there frozen. Nobody moved a muscle. She yelled at us again to call for help. There were beer bottles all over the beach. And weed too. I asked her if there was any sign of life.

It was obvious there wasn't. So I told everyone to put their phones away. There was nothing we could do. He was gone and it made no sense for us to cop to any criminal activity.

We cleaned up all the contraband and then called for help. It wasn't long, maybe an hour. He was blue. But he was dead anyway, what were we supposed to do?

When the cops arrived, they asked why we hadn't called right away. I spoke up and said we were all swimming over closer to Oromocto Point and didn't notice Jeremy's absence. My looks and my charm, that was the end of the questions. The death was chalked up to accidental causes. And it was, really.

"Jamie! Jamie," I heard a voice calling me, soft, sweet, almost musical, "Get up, baby boy, today's your big day..."

I shook my head and looked around. I was in my room. Same covers. Same bed. I touched my face. Same me. I inhaled deeply, relieved that it was all a dream.

I hauled myself out of bed and into the bathroom. Graduation day! I made a silent pledge to lay off the parties for a bit, and maybe to be a better person. Sure, I was handsome and smart and talented, but I guess that was what the dream was telling me, that I didn't have to be a dick about it.

I closed the bathroom door behind me and glanced at the mirror. Strange, it was broken, cracked in a sort of sunray pattern from the left side.

I walked past it and peed and then returned to brush my teeth. And there he was, that face, the bones, the flesh, the sinking sockets, ugly, vile, a rotting mess filled with filth and vermin.

I backed myself against the wall behind me. My breath left me. "Who are you? What do you want? I thought it, I couldn't say it.

"Hey, Jamie, what you gonna say about me in your speech today, big fella?" the face grinned a smug menacing little smirk.

"Jeremy?" I managed to squeak.

"You tell me," it laughed as it faded slowly into the medicine cabinet, "is it? Or is it you? Good luck today, you're going to need it..."