“I’ve thought about that.”
“That’s the thing,” he said. “How you use it is up to you. Some situations call for violence and they’ll be necessary. But if you’re a thinking person-and I’m pretty sure you’re probably one of those-most situations can be dealt with without anyone getting hurt.” He scratched beneath the cat’s chin and flicked his eyes up to meet mine. “And without you turning into a bully yourself.”
“Isn’t being a bully going after someone for no reason?”
“I’d agree with that.”
“Then I wouldn’t do that. It’s not me.”
“Hope not. You’ve always been a good kid. It’s why I gave it to you-I was tired of seeing you get beat up. But people change, Seth. There’s light and darkness in that amulet. The darkness is stronger-it will come for you. And you’ll like what it does for you. You’ll get a rush out of it. You’ll feel invincible. Power is intoxicating. And that's right, power corrupts. You need to be careful with it.”
“How?”
“By not giving in to it. By controlling it. You need to decide how to use it best.” The cat jumped off his lap and another leaped up to take its place. This one was small and white, with a black mark between its eyes and dainty feet.
“What if I can’t? You know how they’ve been to me. You know what I’ve been through-at least part of it. I think I’ve taken care of Hastings, but there are dozens more like him. My biggest fear is that someone is going to jump me and my reflex will be what it’s always been. I’ll wish they were dead. And it’ll happen. How am I supposed to make sure that won’t happen?”
“Through training. Over and over in your head, you’re going to have to imagine that scenario happening and then figure out your go-to response for it. Needs to be like second nature. You’re going to have to train yourself to think of something else when that happens. And you need to start today. You’re going to have to train yourself for every situation you can think of-kids spitting on you, someone punching you when you’re not expecting it, someone calling you a name. You’re going to have to master how you behave within the element of surprise. Does that make sense?”
“I still could kill someone.”
He nudged the cat down and leaned back in his chair. He studied me. “The bitch of it all is that you probably will.”
“Then I don’t want anything to do with this.”
“Don’t be stupid-you need it.”
“I don’t need it.”
“You won’t get through this year without it.”
“I’ve managed so far without it.”
“And had what kind of life?”
I didn’t say anything.
"Look, Seth. You wouldn’t be the first person to accidentally kill someone with that thing. It happened to me when I was your age and it’s happened with others. It’ll probably happen to you-and then we’re just going to have to deal with it. We’ll clean up the mess and move on. You’ll learn from it.”
“You’re saying I’ll learn from killing someone?”
“I’m saying you’ll learn what not to do so it won’t happen again. That’s why I want you to train. Today, you’ve had a taste. He’ll, you’ve had a damn meal. Now, you need to find time to train. If you don’t, then you’re screwed.”
“Alright," I said.
“And one other thing. I know how you’re tapping into it, but there are other ways. You don’t have to get all pissed off for it to work. You can actually be in a good mood and it will work. You need to create a relationship with it so it responds quickly to your needs. Remember, I told you to use it with your heart and with your head. I never said that you need to be ready to chop off someone’s head for it to work. When you master it, it will work as an extension of your thoughts.”
“How?”
Jim reached down to pick up another cat. “Figure it out.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
But I didn’t want to figure it out that day. I went home, had a quick bite to eat, which in this case meant finishing off the bag of chips I found in my parents’ booze-ridden pantry, and then I went to my room and stayed there. As day stretched into night, I could hear my parents pass by my door as if I didn’t exist.
Sometime after nightfall, they turned on the television and cranked the volume to the point that it was blaring.
They were watching “Dancing with the Stars,” likely at the demand of my mother, who once thought she’d have a career as a dancer even though she couldn’t dance to save her ass.
Sometimes, when I was bored and watched the show with them, I’d see on her face a sense of excitement clouded by a kind of sad longing for what never was. My mother once worked at as a bank manager and she was good-fastidious, polite, accurate. But then the recession hit, she lost her job and somehow found a way to claim disability in an effort to keep the money coming in.
I will give her this-there isn’t a week that goes by when she doesn’t call her old boss at the bank to see if they are hiring again. At least there is a part of her that knows she can’t live like this forever. My father? Ever since he lost his job and gave himself over to the lower calling of the bottle, I’ve never held out much hope for him. Maybe he’d prove me wrong one day, but I doubted it.
I went to my door, locked it and then stood in front of the cheap full-length mirror that hung on the wall next to my closet.
I took off my shirt, my pants, everything but my underwear, and just stood there, looking at my joke of a body.
I was like a piece of thread, only thinner. There was nothing to me. I turned in front of the mirror and hated what I saw. I wondered what I’d look like if I had even a trace of muscle on me. If I had abs, stronger legs, bigger arms. I wore loose-fitting hoodies at school, so no one really knew what I looked like beneath the folds of fabric, though there was no question that I was skinny.
Still, if I was subtle enough over the next several days, I might be able to create a positive change.
In my mind’s eye, I pictured what that body might look like. I never wore T-shirts because they really showed how slight I was, but the idea of filling out one like so many of the other guys at school was tempting.
I looked at my chest and remembered what creepy Jim told me. I didn’t need to be angry for the amulet to work. I just needed to feel what I wanted, see it and then channel it.
I went to my computer and went to the one website where I knew I’d find somebody who I’d like to resemble-Abercrombie amp; Fitch. I clicked through the links and found a guy who was tall like me, had the same angular, chiseled face as me, but who was built a hell of a lot better than me. He probably lived his life at the gym, working out for hours each day to get a build I’d never be able to achieve without a little help.
I looked at him and wondered if he was Jennifer’s type. Looking at the guy, I had to face it-he was flawless. Strong chest, toned arms, an eight-pack. I couldn’t imagine why he wouldn’t be her type. He was paid to be perfect. And guess what? He had achieved something close to it.
I stood in front of the mirror and thought hard of what I wanted. When I could picture it in my head and in my heart, I went to work.
Next morning, I did something I’d never done. I pulled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. No hoodie. No clothes that would conceal my body.
Now, there was no need to.
I showered and looked at my face in the bathroom mirror. It still was something of a shock. I had no acne and no scars-they were gone.
I ran the palm of my hand over my face and was surprised by how sharp my jaw line was in the absence of the boulders that once consumed my skin. And my complexion was different-my face didn’t look raw. It was no longer red but instead reminded me of my father’s olive complexion.