Chapter 9:
I want to know what the paint is for.
If they're going to beat us up and everything, why do they need paint? It's in huge cans—it's like the ones they paint houses with.
Cody's moved closer to me, and he looks all scared. I grab onto him. Yeah, everybody always says that Zack is Cody's protector. He's the stronger, bigger twin. Yeah right. If everybody could just see Tapeworm the protector now, I'd laugh at them. So much for Zack protecting his brother.
I just hope that Zack will pay for his actions when he goes down to you-know-where. I want to know what kind of person can hurt his own brother, or rather twin. See, there's nothing wrong with him hurting me. But Cody? Aren't twins supposed to have that whole telepathic communication and closeness thing? I guess Zack broke it, like he took an axe and chopped down a tree, like George Washington and his cherry tree. I guess he broke their bond in the same way.
"You ready?" asks Drew, smirking at Zack. God, I want to punch that face of his—it's all smug like a bulldog's.
Ok, I get ready to run. I really don't feel like being involved in the paint massacre. So I try and get up and make a break for it, only I can't move. Why? Cody's holding onto me as hard as he can with those scared eyes, and he can be heavy when he wants to be.
So I'm yelling at him, "Cody! Cody! Come on, we have to get out of here! We've got to get out of here!" but he's just sitting there looking at Zack with those scared puppy eyes that say, "You're not going to hurt me, are you brother?" So I'm screaming, "Come on! He's going to hurt you!" and Cody's yelling back at me all the sudden, "No he's not! Zack won't hurt me!" and I'm just praying that Cody's right and Zack won't hurt him because that will destroy him worse than anything else that's happened these days. It'll break his heart if Zack does it.
Zack pauses, looking hard at his brother like he's saying, I can't do this. I'm wishing that it will stay that way.
But of course it doesn't, because stories never really have happy endings. They always say that—that they lived happily ever after. Tell me one time that has happened. Life never goes on happily ever after.
Zack does it. He breaks Cody's heart.
Before long, all of them are all standing around, throwing huge buckets of paint on us until I feel like I'm drowning. They're laughing, and Zack's laughing. That's the thing that hurts me the most. Zack's laughing. I really don't care, but I just don't know how he could do that to Cody, the nicest person in the whole school who has never hurt anybody.
The paint—which is all different colors, like pink, purple, white, yellow. I have no idea where they got it, (maybe from the art class?), but it's sliding down my shirt and falling in my hair and covering my face so I can't even breathe anymore. I never knew that paint could be so heavy. I'm punching wildly (and blindly), because I've learned one thing. You can't trust people you don't know and it doesn't matter if I hurt them. It really doesn't matter anymore.
Why? Because I've lost Tapeworm. I've lost Sean. I've lost everything of who I am.
Tapeworm doesn't hurt people. Tapeworm doesn't get mad. Tapeworm just stands there on the sideline—the loud but peaceful guy. Tapeworm comes from a loving family. Tapeworm doesn't cry.
And Tapeworm's gone. Tapeworm's dead.
I realize that and now I'm bawling and just punching everybody. Drew runs back, seeing that I punched him hard in the nose. He's shocked. Why? Because Tapeworm has never hit anybody before—he doesn't know about Zack. I hope I broke his nose. See, that shows how different I am again. I'm not Tapeworm anymore. Tapeworm doesn't want to hurt people.
Some of the jocks are leaving, but they're still grinning and toss the rest of the paint on us. I feel so heavy and weighed down. They take a couple of pictures, laugh at us, and leave.
I manage to open my eyes and that's when I see Cody.
He's curled up and if I was bawling, Cody is super-bawling. The tears are just running down his face like his life depends on it, and all this pink paint is dripping from his hair, and his sobs are coming out in these soft hiccupy gasps. He looks at me with this sad look and his lip is trembling, and his brown eyes are asking one question: Why?
And I just give him this look that says, I don't know. Because I don't know anymore. I don't know. I don't know why Zack could do that to his brother—the kid who's been his best friend all his life. I don't know why Drew finds it funny to hurt other people. I don't know why I punched Drew in the nose. I don't know who I am, I don't know who Zack is, I don't know who my dad is, I may not even know who Cody is anymore.
And it's killing me.
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