I guess I need to write this down now, just in case I’m right and I’m dead tonight. My name is Tom, I’m 14 years old, and I did something horrible. I killed someone. Well, I mean, it was an accident and it wasn’t just me, but I caused someone’s death, or helped do it, and now he’s coming after me. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true, and I need to get all of this stuff off my chest before it’s too late.
My two best friends are dead. Brayden died last Wednesday, and Bart died the Wednesday before that. They were bullies, and I guess I am too, but they were my friends and I miss them. Bart was kind of the leader, I guess you could say. He was this big tough kid, and he loved picking on people. I used to think it was funny. That’s wrong of me, I know, but you sort of sometimes get like, excited that someone isn’t picking on you, so you join in when they’re picking on someone else.
This kid named Max was Bart’s favorite target. he was this little guy, skinny and short with big buck teeth and shaggy hair. he wore glasses, and his family doesn’t have much money so his clothes were always too big because they came from his older brother. Hand me downs. Max has an older sister too, this weird girl about to go to college, she always dresses in black clothes and stuff, and everyone makes fun of her and calls her a witch or things like that. She’s a total loon.
My parents didn’t like when I started hanging with Brayden and Bart. Brayden was an alright guy I guess, but he was kind of like me. Caught up in Bart’s crap, and just thankful not to be on the receiving end of everything. Bart beats a lot of kids up. We were just glad to not be getting our asses kicked I guess. And it’s not like Bart didn’t have good qualities. he was a funny guy, and he could be nice sometimes. His dad is a big jerk and he had a bad home life and I guess the bullying makes sense when you filter it through that. I’m sure most bullies are kind of like fighting through something when it comes down to it. No one is mean just for the sake of being mean, right?
Okay, so Bart and Brayden, and I liked to play football in Brayden’s backyard a lot. He had a big backyard, but at the end of it was this little creek, and we had all taken some spills in there before, running down the line trying to evade tackles or whatever. Bart had the idea that we would invite Max over to play with us. He asked him on a Wednesday after school, he was super nice to Max, he apologized for being so crappy to him, and asked him over to play. I was there. max lit up like a Christmas tree. He seemed so excited to be invited. We laughed about it as we walked to Brayden’s. Max wasn’t with us, he said he had to go home and ask his mom first.
We waited for the kid in Brayden’s front yard, and Bart hit my shoulder when he saw him riding his bike down the street to us. We were all super nice. I don’t know, I guess I knew we were being crappy, but we kept catching each other’s eyes and smirking. We went into the backyard and started tossing the football around. Max was better than any of us thought he was going to be. He didn’t seem like the kind of kid who would be good at sports, but he caught everything and had a decent arm on him. He asked if we were going to pay for a game and Bart told him that we were. He asked Max if he had ever heard of the game smear the… well I don’t want to say it. My sister is gay and I love her and support her. I was uncomfortable with the word anytime Bart said it, and he said it a lot. I mean, he said the Q word in a crappy way. Like making fun of people. I’m sure you’ve heard of the game he suggested. Max said he had never heard of it. Bart explained that whoever had the ball was the Q…. and everyone else tackled him. Then he tossed Max the ball. He caught it and we rushed him, knocking him to the ground. Max did, at least. I guess I did too. So did Brayden. Every time Max got up one of us would knock him down. Eventually, he tossed the ball away but we didn’t stop. We just kept tackling him. Max was crying, and he got a split lip. It was bleeding pretty bad and I turned to the others and told them to stop, but Bart got so pissed and knocked me down. he told me if I didn’t want to play anymore I would be the Q and he would smear me. So I played. I knocked Max down, over and over.
Max tried to run. he ran toward the back of the yard and we chased him. Bart was the fastest and he slammed into Max and the kid went flying into the creek. We stood at the bank and I’ll never forget the sight. Max was dead, lying with his head on a rock, his blood leaking out into the slow-moving water. This was about a month ago, and I know I’ll never get that sight out of my mind, as long as I live. Which won’t be that long, I guess. Maybe that’s what I deserve.
The rest of the day is kind of a blur. Brayden’s mom was at work, so we called the police. We told them it was an accident, that we had just been playing and Max had slipped. We had to go down to the station for hours and talk, each of us with our parents and a cop. They asked about his split lip and some bruises. We all just said that’s what happened sometimes when you played football. They bought it.
We all went to the funeral. Brayden and I were pretty shaken up, and we stopped talking to Bart. I could tell he was shaken up too, but he kept making jokes about it. He wouldn’t laugh or anything, I think he was trying to make himself feel better. Like it had been an accident. Max’s sister came up to Bart at the funeral and yelled at him. She was crying, it was hard to watch. She said she knew something had happened. Her parents had to drag her away from Bart. She told Bart that she would bring her brother back, and he would set things right. We all thought she was crazy.
Two Wednesdays ago I was sleeping when my phone rang. It was like two in the morning. I answered it and it was Bart, telling me that Max was in his yard. I told him that was impossible, but he sent me a picture and it sure looked like Max, right outside his window. He was just standing there, wearing the suit he was buried in, his face gray and gaunt. Bart was scared. He said he was going to hide. He was home alone for the night, his parents had gone out, they went out a lot. he said he was hiding in his closet. He begged me to come over. Begged me to save him. And then he started to scream. The call ended, and I called him back over and over but he didn’t answer. I almost went over there, but I was frozen in fear in my bed. I couldn’t convince myself to get out from under my covers. The next morning at school everyone learned that Bart was dead. His parents had found him early that morning, he was dead in his closet. I told Brayden everything and showed him the picture Bart had sent me. He was terrified.
Last Wednesday was our last day of school before summer. Bart came up to me near the end of the day and told me they had been outside for gym class and he had seen Max standing across the soccer field, just by the trees there. When Bart had pointed him out to someone else, Max was gone. Behind a tree maybe. Bart was scared that Max was coming from him.
The next day Brayden was dead. His mom found him outside in their backyard, and some kids said his head had been turned around, but I don’t know if that’s true or not. I wonder if Max’s sister really brought him back. She must of. Maybe she is a witch.
Today I woke up and looked out my window. I could see someone standing down the road, right in the center of the street. Small and in a suit. It’s Max. I went outside, but he was gone. But I know it was him. I know why he killed Bart first. He knows Bart was the ring leader. Maybe he saved me for last because I tried to stop the others. I don’t know. Maybe he won’t kill me. But I keep seeing him. He’s getting closer. He was at the end of the street earlier, and then when my dad sent me outside to get the garbage cans in from the road he was closer, in a neighbor’s yard, staring at me from around the corner of their house. He’s getting closer. He’s coming for me. I guess I don’t really blame him.