Eric came around the corner and found Grant sitting in the shadow of their school's gymnasium. His long legs were shot out in front of him, his heavy eyebrows were hunched over his eyes, and there were fragments of food in his unruly black hair. Eric sighed and walked toward him, swinging his backpack down. It had been getting cooler all week, and the piles of brown leaves in the grass had been growing larger. At least the Halloween decorations were all gone.
He pulled out a big wad of paper towels, and Grant took them without looking up. Eric watched the other boy wipe his hair, face, and clothes. "What did he do this time?"
"He got all of friends to throw banana cream pies at me. The cafeteria was going to serve them Monday for lunch." He wiped his eye.
"How did they taste?"
"I didn't really get any in my mouth." Grant let the paper towels fall next to him on the ground.
"How many of them were there?"
"Five or six. Five or six people. There were probably twenty pies."
"Look at it this way: They could have done a lot of worse things."
"They didn't need to do anything worse!" Grant stood, stick-figure limbs bringing him to his feet. "They know if they do anything to me in school, everybody will laugh!" He kicked at the pile of paper towels, and nearly fell over when he missed.
Eric caught his arm. "Maybe we should bulk you up," he said. "What about a sport? No, never mind, he's in all the sports."
"And all of his friends!" Grant yanked his arm out of Eric's grasp; it slipped out without effort and Grant lost his balance for a moment. "They go along with whatever he says, and they like it." He sighed.
"I still can't believe he's doing this to you. We were really close back in grade school. Until that one time..." Eric paused. "He has to be punished for what he does, right?"
"No." Grant brought his fingers into air quotes. "He always has an alibi." His hands dropped to his sides. "What's worse, everybody else thinks it's funny, so nobody sides with me when I go to complain!"
"Even with everybody trying to stop bullying," Eric said. "Too bad there aren't any more of you. Maybe then your teachers would listen to you."
Grant brought his face up slowly, eyes widening. A lop-sided smile broke out on his face, and Eric caught sight of gaps in his teeth. Grant's nose wrinkled, and a nasally laugh emitted from somewhere in the vicinity of the wrinkles. "Yes...more of me."
"I am...unsure about that look."
Grant was tapping the tips of his steepled fingers together in rapid motions.
"Hey." Eric grabbed Grant's hands. "I may not be a whole lot older than you, but I've dealt with my share of bullies. They get bored after a while, or they do something stupid and get themselves kicked out of school. Like Hollard 'Paper-Eater' Ungertson. He lost a fight and was expelled." Eric smiled for a moment. "Anyway, I just want to make sure you don't do anything stupid. If you let your anger get the better of you you'll end up regretting it."
"You just want me to sit and take it?" Grant asked, sneering. "Get pies thrown at me, or my clothes stolen during gym class, or have water balloons thrown at me during plays, or that time when they used the chickens-"
"No, no...you've told your parents, right?"
"Yeah, but they just think I'm overreacting. They just want me to endure it."
"He's only going to be in this school for another year!"
"Yeah, but I'm going to go to the same high school as him!" Grant said. "And then he'll be bigger and stronger, and I'll still be..." He looked down at his body. "Me." He looked at Eric. "Can you let go of my hands?"
"Sorry." Eric took a step back. "At least tell me what you're planning on doing."
"I haven't worked out all the details yet," Grant said. "Can you come over tomorrow?"
"I guess so. My mom wanted me to help rake the leaves." Eric stared at the sky, thinking. "What time?"
"Noon. I can explain everything then."
"I just have to get all the raking done," Eric said. "Now would you get that look off your face? You're creeping me out."
The lop-sided smile on Grant's face slunk away.
"Come on in," Grant said to Eric the next morning. "Everybody's downstairs. My parents are at work so we won't need to worry about them finding out."
"Why don't you want your parents finding out?" Eric asked as he slipped his shoes off. "And why are your parents working on a Saturday anyway?" He frowned. "And who's everybody?"
"People get hurt on the weekend too," Grant said. "Everything will make sense once we get downstairs."
"I am more confused than before," Eric said, once Grant led him into the downstairs living room. Contained within the unfinished walls, the concrete floor, the myriad couches and chairs and lumpy rugs and low ceiling, were what appeared to be about thirty Grants. They all had huge, fuzzy eyebrows, long, spindly limbs, and dark hair. Some of them had long hair. Some of them were a bit taller, or shorter. Some of them were a bit more proportional. Some had a little bit more weight on their bones, but only a little. Every one of them was looking at Eric with chillingly identical lop-sided grins.
Eric cleared his throat. "You..." he said out the side of his mouth. "You see them too, right?"
"Eric, meet the fully collected Fotopoulos cousins," Grant said. "Uncanny, isn't it?"
"I wish it was uncanny! This has jumped all the way to eerie."
"We should have come up with something to say all at once before he came down here," one of the closer cousins said, and they all started laughing, Grant included.
"Here, let me introduce you," Grant said. A flurry of names came Eric's way, including four Daniels, three Thomases, three Annes, two Peters, two Rebeccas, a Ulysses, a Xerxes, and a Boudrouse.
"Boudrouse?"
"It has quite the interesting etymology," the cousin said, shaking Eric's hand. It was one of the older ones, a year past Eric. "It comes from the Greek-"
"Boo," Grant said. "We should probably get started."
"Right you are, cousin!" The army of Fotopouloses crammed into couches and arrayed themselves on the floor.
Grant took a place in the center of the room. "Sit down, Eric."
Eric looked at the few available spots. One of the cousins patted his knee. Eric squatted on a bare patch of concrete.
"First, I'd like to thank everyone for coming," Grant said. He rubbed his hands over each other. "I know there are plenty of other things you could be doing with a Saturday afternoon. Second, I want to thank everyone who has already agreed to help, without even knowing what it is I want to do."
"What's his name, Grant?" one of the Thomases asked.
"His name...is William Brody. He's two years older than I am, and he's made my time at school the worst. Just the worst. But it isn't just him. He has a bunch of friends that follow him around, and go along with anything he wants to do. So, I decided to get my own bunch of friends to help me out." He spread his arms, encompassing all of his cousins.
"What're we gonna do?" a cousin Bethany asked.
"Confuse him." Grant let a fist fall into an open palm. "Make him wonder if he's doing anything at all. He's going to see us...me...everywhere. I want to drive him crazy."
Grant went to a table and picked up a bundle of papers. "This is the schedule. Matt, would you mind helping?" One of the cousins stood up, took the bundle, and began to pass them out. "Operation 'All of Me' will go for one school week, ending on Friday. At the football game. William is the starting quarterback." Grant laid his palms together and put the edges against his lips. "I want him to fail. I want him to run home shaking. I want him to be afraid to ever show his face in school again."
"Grant," Eric said, looking over the sheet he'd received. "This is pretty complicated." He gestured to the cousins. "How are they going to do all of this during school?"
"We're homeschooled!" they said all at once.
"That explains a few things."
"Hey now." One of the Daniels laid his hand on Eric's back. "Stereotyping is wrong."
"My parents had to enroll me in the school system because they're so busy at work," Grant told Eric, "but my aunts and uncles are all part of the homeschool system. In fact, my aunts and uncles, and my cousins, are the entire homeschool system for the town. They'll still have to get their work done, but they'll be able to help at certain times of the week."
"Your parents will just let you leave?"
"Pretty great, isn't it?" the Daniel said. "Sit around in pajamas until noon, do homework on the couch. On Fridays it's science experiments with dad. They aren't just going to let us do whatever we want, but, say, 'studying with cousins' is almost always an accepted answer."
"Well, okay then," Eric said. "What am I going to be doing during all of this?" He slapped his schedule with the back of his hand.
"You, Eric, are the most important part." Grant reached into his pocket and pulled out a black walkie-talkie. "Here. You're the controller."
"The..." Eric took the walkie-talkie, looking from it to Grant. "The what?"
The cousins, as if on cue, all pulled out identical walkie-talkies. "It's how we stayed connected before we all got cell phones," a Louis said. "We don't really need them any more, but they still come in handy from time to time."
"Like now," Grant said. "Since you have classes with William the whole day, it'll be your job to let us know what his location is, so we can do everything I've planned. Got it?"
"Uh." Eric tapped the alert button, and thirty beeps came at him from around the room. "I think so."
MONDAY
"Are you sure about this, Grant?" Eric said into the walkie-talkie while riding the bus. William Brody was five rows ahead of him. "I think this might be a little illegal."
"A little illegal sounds like 'mostly legal' to me," Grant said. "I'm sure. Ready Peter? Ready Becky?"
"Ready," came through the walkie-talkie.
"Ready. Wait, which Peter?"
"You," Grant said. "The other Peter isn't on till tomorrow."
"Gotta study for a history test!" the other Peter said.
"Remember Peter," Grant said. "Triumphant, exuberant, and oblivious. Radio silence once you're on the bus."
"Nothing easier," the Peter said, as the bus slowed down. Eric watched the driver yank the door lever open. The two girls who were always at the stop came on, followed by Peter. He marched down the middle row and took a seat near William and his friends, who had noticed him enter. They, of course, were under the impression it was Grant.
Even so far back, Eric could hear them muttering things like "what's he doing here?" Peter must have been able to hear it, but his nose was buried in a book and he seemed not to realize there was anybody else on the bus.
A few stops later, the driver pulled the door open again, and the customary boy boarded, followed by Becky, who had cut her hair. Except to the trained eye--certainly not Eric--she and Peter appeared identical. She went past William's section of the bus and found an empty bench near the back, but they had all seen her go past. Instead of grumbling like they had when Peter got on, now they were giving each other confused looks. Eric found himself smiling, and checked to make sure it wasn't lop-sided.
When the bus pulled up to the school's front entrance, Eric watched out the window until William exited. As planned, a pod of three faux Grants wandered by just as he did so, chatting about nothing in particular. Among the students from his and the other buses arriving at the same time, they quickly faded into the crowd, but William had surely seen them. He was pointing in their direction and talking to his friends. Peter and Becky had both left the bus, but had quickly turned to head back home.
Eric chuckled, and disembarked. The students were funneling into the school doors. He watched William go inside, and hit the call button on his walkie-talkie. "William is inside the building."
"Eric, I thought we had agreed to refer to him as 'target.' Everything go okay?"
"Yeah, it was fine." Eric pulled out his schedule. "Second period."
Eric had second period--world history, Mr. Whitscombe--not only with William, but Grant as well.
Grant was trying to keep his lop-sided smile from appearing. "Keep it cool, buddy," Eric said. "Remember, you have nothing to do with this."
"Yeah, yeah," Grant said, and crammed himself into his desk next to Eric's. A few seconds before the bell, William and one of his friends came in and flung themselves into their chairs, laughing to themselves about some joke. Eric assumed William had forgotten the strange sightings from the bus until he looked at Grant from the corner of his eye, the mirth draining from his face. William's friend made a joke and William turned back, chuckling again.
Mr. Whitscombe, with his wild white hair and dancing eyes, could barely tell one student from another, and so twenty-five minutes into the class, when he heard a knock at the classroom door, he paused mid-lecture and cleared his throat. "Enter!"
Grant--or one of the cousins who for all purposes appeared to be Grant--opened the door and stepped inside. "Sorry to bother you mister Whitscombe. Could I borrow Grant for a minute? I need to ask him something about the play drama club is putting on."
"Hmm? Oh, certainly, certainly." Mr. Whitscombe waved a hand, and Grant folded out of his chair and walked to his cousin. The class, now aware it was only a momentary distraction, and class would resume as it always had, turned away, but William's eyes followed Grant, frowning. When Grant left the classroom, and he and his cousin were next to each other, William opened his mouth. Confusion covered his face. Mr. Whitscombe continued to teach, and a few minutes later Grant re-entered the classroom and took his seat.
Eric watched William stare at his desk, his lip wrinkling.
TUESDAY
Peter--the other Peter--entered the bus at the same time as the day before, but when the bus stopped a second time, and Becky climbed on, one of the Annas followed. Even looking at the back of his head, Eric could see William's confused, calculating expression.
The calculations never seemed to come up with a proper value, and for the rest of the ride to the school Eric watched with growing amusement as he tried to balance out what he was seeing. Sometimes, it seemed to Eric, the math would come out to a negative number, or perhaps an impossible one, but William kept trying.
When the bus disgorged its students, the Peter, Anna, and Becky went home, so when William stepped off and looked around for them, he saw only the normal, tired middle school students. And then he looked up the steps of the school and saw Grant talking with one of his cousins.
Eric watched him grab one of his friends and point, but the cousin had already ducked away, leaving Grant on his own. Eric made it to his friend before William went up to him.
"It's working so far," Grant said. "I can't wait until lunch."
"You know he's probably going to figure it out," Eric said. They walked toward Grant's locker. "I don't think you should have had Oscar ask for you during class yesterday. It makes it to easy to figure out you have something to do with it."
"Like he wasn't going to figure that out anyway," Grant said. He put his mouth next to the receiver of his walkie-talkie. "Mama Bird to eggs, Mama Bird to eggs. Operation Snacktime is still go. I repeat, Operation Snacktime is still go. Over."
Eric rolled his eyes.
"Copy that, Mama Bird," one of the cousins said. "What's on the menu? Over."
Grant looked up at Eric. "Fish sandwiches," Eric said. Grant relayed the information.
"While appropriate as far as our call signs go, gross." There was a pause. "Do they have that weird sauce on them? Over."
"It's called tartar sauce. And yes. Over."
"Ugh. Double gross."
"Radio silence," Grant said. "We'll coordinate a few minutes before lunch. Everybody have their positions?"
About ten of the cousins responded in the affirmative. "Good. Over and out."
About three and a half hours later the bell rang for lunch. Eric watched William pack up, and when he was out of the room Eric pulled out his walkie-talkie. "William is on his way to the lunchroom."
"'Target,' please, Eric," Grant said. "Everyone ready? Over."
"We're all ready, over."
"Commence Operation Snacktime."
Eric entered the lunchroom. The noise was the combination of a dull rock concert and a horde of frightened elephants. Every student in the school--and almost a dozen visitors--were lining up to get their food. Squares of pressed fish paste between buns were put on trays, and supplemented with fruit cups, hot vegetables, chocolate chip cookies, and milk. William had pushed his way to the front of the line, as always, and was one of the first to sit at a table, which quickly filled up with his friends.
Grant joined Eric at a table near the wall. "This is gonna be great," Grant said.
They watched as one of the cousins sat at a table next to William's right where he could see. He sat up straight immediately, focusing on the cousin. A second cousin sat next to the first, and William nudged his friend to point. When he did so, he looked to the side and saw a third cousin sitting at the end of the adjacent table.
William whipped his head to the other side, seeing two more cousins chatting over their fish sandwiches. For a number of seconds he kept his eyes on them, blinking rapidly. His mouth, so slow Eric almost didn't notice, was opening, and it hung so for a minute.
Grant laughed to himself. Eric looked at the boy, and then turned his vision back to William. He had spun in his chair, looking behind him. Three of the cousins were talking in a group just behind him, doing their best to mimic Grant's voice.
For the first time, William looked scared. He swept his vision in a circle, finding four more cousins sitting near him.
As William was looking, Grant began to count down. "Three, two, one..."
All twelve of the cousins stopped what they were doing, be it bringing a forkful of food to their mouths or talking, and looked at William. Grant could barely keep from laughing, clamping a hand over his mouth. It was just for a second, but every Fotopoulos cousin stared at William, eyes wide open, mouth in a lop-sided grin. Then they went back to their lunches, and acted as if he wasn't there.
William sat with his eyes on his full lunch tray. His friends were looking at each other, wondering what had happened to their friend. William didn't eat a single morsel while Grant downed his own food with glee.
WEDNESDAY
"Okay, we really have his attention now," Grant said over the walkie-talkie. Eric was squished into his seat on the bus. He watched William spin his head in circles, trying to find any hidden Grants Eric scrunched down farther. "Now we take it up a notch."
"Grant." Eric spoke into his walkie-talkie carefully, under the early-morning conversation. "You're doing more than 'taking it up a notch.' You could be disrupting others."
"No, no, it's fine," Grant said. "I have it all worked out. It'll be perfect."
Eric peeked around the bench in front of him and looked at where William sat. The friend who rode with him on the bus was trying to talk to him, but William looked like he was shaking. Eric even heard a snatch of talk: "...freaking out about the game on Friday, and now I think I'm going crazy!"
William's friend responded: "Yeah, it's weird, but he isn't doing anything, he's just showing up near you!"
"Yesterday at lunch, he...they...they all-"
"Looked at you. I know. You told me. You're just too stressed. Chill out and everything will be fine."
"Are you saying I'm a liar?"
"I see them too! I just don't think they're all Grant!" the friend said. "They...sort of look like him, but I think it's just a trick of the light. Or something. Just ignore them."
Eric unfolded the schedule Grant had given him. Ignoring Grant and his cousins today will prove difficult.
No cousins boarded the bus, and there weren't any waiting near the school's entrance when William got off the bus. Eric watched him enter the front doors a little bit lighter, his head held a little higher.
He entered the front doors, and stopped. From behind, Eric watched him turn his head one direction, then the other.
Inside, lining the walls, were twenty Grant copies, all looking at their phones or reading books, or talking or eating. None of them doing anything out of the ordinary, none of them attracting any sort of attention from anyone except William. He took off, running down the hallway until he had turned a corner and was out of sight.
One of the cousins came up to Eric after he entered the school, until Eric realized it was Grant. "You know what to do after fifth period?" Grant asked.
Yeah, I do," Eric said. "I still don't think-"
"I don't care!" Grant said. "That big idiot has made my every moment here a nightmare, from the very first time he saw me. Do you know why he loves to bully me? He actually gave me a reason--do you know what it is? It's because I was looking at him. I wasn't looking at him, I was just looking in his direction, because that's the direction I was walking. He's spent the last three months flinging pies at me, and pushing me over, and filling my locker with sweaty towels because I was looking at him!"
The lop-sided smile was gone. Balls of fire had replaced Grant's happy eyes. His fists were rigid at his sides, and he was hunched forward. Without another word, he turned and marched down the hallway away from Eric and the cousins.
A few of them came up to him. "We want to help him." It was Boudrouse talking. "But none of us know what school life is like. I'll see if I can speak to him. That sort of anger isn't healthy, no matter what caused it."
"It's like he wants to ruin William. Not just scare him anymore. He wants to hurt William like he thinks William has hurt him." Eric thought for a moment. "I know what I need to do next."
"Are we still...you know, after fifth period?" Boudrouse asked. Eric nodded, and then left the cousins by the entrance, following the path William had fled.
After a few turns he got to the hallway William's locker was in. The boy's top half had disappeared inside, and Eric imagined if it had been big enough, he would have crawled in and shut the door. Eric took a breath and went up to him. "William."
William jumped and pushed away from his locker, flattening himself against the lockers next to his with a crash. When he saw it was Eric and not an army of Grants, he peeled away from the lockers and looked around. "What do you want?" he asked, impatient and curt.
"I need to talk to you about...about Grant."
William's eyes widened. "You see him too?"
"Uh, yeah, I do. Look, William-"
"Shh!" William lunged for Eric, who jerked away, but William just brought his head close. "He could be anywhere. Everywhere. Be quiet!"
Eric frowned and pried William's hand off his arm. "William, he-"
William looked at his watch. "Sorry, gotta do something." He reached in his locker and came out with a bottle of pills, which he cracked open. He fished inside for a pill and slapped it onto his tongue and then swallowed. The entire process looked so automatic it looked like William had his mind in an entirely different place.
William coughed, and then turned to him. "What were you saying?"
Eric thought for a second. "What are you taking pills for?"
"Why? Why do you want to know?" William started digging in his backpack. "I have a prescription! I'm allowed to have them! I have a note from my doctor, I promise!"
"William," Eric said. "Do you have paranoia?"
"It's called paranoid personality disorder, Eric. I'm not crazy, I'm just sick." The phrase sounded like a mantra. "I have to--is that Grant? No, it's just mister Whitscombe, never mind He's always following me! He's been following me ever since the first time I saw him! I can't get him away from me!"
Eric frowned, gaping in awe. "What about last Friday? You and your friends threw a dozen pies at him!"
"Of course I did!" William said. "How else am I supposed to get him to leave me alone?"
Eric took a step back. "That's why you did all those things?"
"I'm not crazy," William said, "I'm just sick."
"Yeah," Eric said. He took a step back.
"What did you want to tell me about Grant?"
Eric looked at the floor. "Uh, nothing." He left, hunting through the halls until he spotted one of the Grants.
"Becky, right?" he asked.
"Rebeccah," she said. "The other one is 'Becky.'"
"Right, okay. I'm changing the plan. We're stopping this. We're hurting William and he's already hurt."
"After all those things he did to Grant you're on his side now?"
Eric explained what had just happened. "Ugh." Rebeccah pressed against the wall. "You used to know him, right? How long..."
"I was friends with him in grade school," Eric said. "But he changed. A lot. He got violent. I guess I know why, now. I used to play with him after school, even. We live on the same street. And then one day he went off, started yelling about people coming to get him. I didn't see him for a month."
"I feel awful," Rebeccah said. "And everything we've been doing...stalking him like this. Oh, Eric!" She looked up at him. "After fifth period, we-"
"I know, I know. We have to call it off. It looked like he was on a tightrope already. If we do what Grant wants..."
"I'm not going to be responsible for that," she said. She took out her walkie-talkie.
"Wait," Eric said, taking it away from her. "I spoke to Grant about what he was doing and he nearly blew up at me. I don't think he really cares how William feels. Or worse, he does, and that's the point. He wants William to be scared and frightened."
"So what do we do?"
"I'm not really sure. Can you talk to the other cousins and see if they have any ideas? I don't think it would be a good idea to let Grant know."
"Right." She nodded. "I'll do what I can. Maybe we can come up with something for after fifth period."
Eric got through the rest of the day on mostly worry. The class he had with Grant, mister Whitscombe's class, was a cold hour. Grant barely looked at him.
It was worst during fifth hour, pre-algebra. Eric could barely concentrate on the whiteboard, and when the bell finally rang, he packed his books slowly. William nearly sprinted out the door to the hallway. Was he spooked because he hadn't seen any extra Grants? Or was he just trying to get to the end of the school day so he could get to football practice, where he seemed to be safe?
Eric left the classroom. There were only a few periods left before the end of the day. Eric looked at his walkie-talkie and thought about asking for an update.
The plan was for an almost identical version of the morning, when William found the cousins just inside the entrance. William had to go down a specific hallway to get to his pottery class, and the plan was for twenty of the cousins to line the hallway, staring. Every single one of them would have their eyes locked on William as he fled through, not blinking, not looking away, not talking.
Eric examined the memory of William swallowing a pill to help control his paranoia, and he ran toward the hallway. He would disband the cousins if he had to.
Grant appeared in front of him. "One of the Daniels had an idea," he said.
Eric skidded to a stop. "Wh...what do you mean? Are you not going to do the hallway thing?"
"No, they still are, they just aren't going to look at him," Grant said. "They're all going to be facing the walls, like he isn't even there at all. It will still be creepy, but in a different way. Rebeccah told me about it."
Bless you, Rebeccah, Eric thought. "Grant I really need to talk to you-"
"It can wait," he said. "I need to get to class." He left Eric standing in the middle of the hallway with students on all sides.
The last two hours of school were worse than the first five in every way. Eric didn't have either class with Grant or William, and so he sat with his head in his hands, wondering what had happened. At the very least, he knew nothing too terrible had happened--if William had gone crazy news would have spread. When the final bell rang he was the first one out the door, looking for Grant or one of the cousins.
In the next hallway, one of the Daniels approached. "Rebeccah told me what you found out," he said to Eric. "I was able to convince the other cousins to adjust the plan a little bit. Were you able to talk to Grant?"
Eric shook his head. "He didn't want to talk. What happened?"
"We did just what Grant wanted, but we faced the wall when William went by. None of us saw him, but we heard somebody running when we were all turned away."
"Could have been worse, I guess," Eric said. "But we'll need to figure out something for tomorrow."
"And Friday!" the Daniel said. "Friday would make someone without paranoia lose their mind!"
"I'm going to talk to William again. I'm going to tell him everything. I just hope he believes me."
"We don't have to keep doing this," Daniel said. "We could just pull the plug. Grant might be furious, but if the choices are that and driving a person crazy, I know which one I would chose. I know which one my cousins would pick, too. Well, Maybe not Isaac. He's always been a bit sideways."
"Good. Can I have your number? I'll try to let you know tonight."
After exchanging numbers, Eric went toward the locker rooms. He spotted William, sitting on a bench between rows of lockers with practice pads on his shoulders and his helmet resting on his legs. His fingers gripped the lip of the helmet, and he was staring down into the opening. He looked up as Eric approached.
"I need to talk to you," he began to say, but William's expression cut him short.
He looked afraid to blink. Eric noticed the pressure cutting the blood flow off from his fingers. His Adam's apple roved forward and back. Eric sat on the bench next to him. His teammates were still getting ready, but Eric noticed none of them were looking in their direction.
"Hey," he said. He put his hand on William's back. He tried to keep his voice casual. "I need to tell you what's going on."
And so he did. He explained what Grant was doing, and why. He didn't explain what Grant had planned for the next two days--he didn't know if it would make the situation worse.
"I know," William said. His voice sounded so strange--strained--Eric recoiled. "I know they aren't really Grant, but I couldn't get the idea out of my head that he was everywhere at once. That's what PPD is, I guess."
"When do you take your pills?"
"I just took one. I can't take them too often." William loosened his grip on his helmet. "You know, liver damage."
"Right." Eric took his hand from William's back. "Uh, look, I'm sorry about all this. I'm going to talk to Grant's cousins and make them stop. I didn't know you were dealing with this; if I had I would have never gone along with it."
"It's kind of funny, you know?" William said. "I know it's my fault Grant is so angry with me-"
"It wasn't really your fault."
"But I still did them. And all my friends went along with it because I'm the star quarterback." William's hand squeezed the helmet again. "And get this: PPD is why I'm good at all these sports. When I'm playing football I'm looking out for the pass rushers. When I'm pitching I'm always looking at the other bases so I know when they're going to try and steal. It's even why I like to work out so much. The gym has mirrors on all the walls. Nobody can hide in there."
"Brody!" the coach shouted from the door. The rest of the locker room was empty.
"Be right there, coach," William said. He stood up. "It doesn't help that I'm already stressing about Friday's game. If we win we're in the playoffs. If not..." He walked away, shoulders slumped and head hanging down, cleats scratching the tile.
As soon as Eric got home he called Daniel. "I'm calling it off. I don't care what Grant says. I should have had them get together with a talk long ago."
"I'll tell the other cousins," Daniel said. "I actually had an idea for Friday."
"We won't be doing anything on Friday," Eric said.
"Hear me out."
Daniel explained. Eric felt a warm feeling spread through him, and he grinned. He caught himself in his bedroom mirror and saw it was lop-sided. He let it continue.
"Now the hard part," he said to himself after Daniel had hung up. He dialed Grant.
"Hello?" Grant said. Eric took a breath.
"We're stopping. The cousins aren't going to go along with it any more. He's sick, Grant. He has Paranoid Personality Disorder. He has to take pills for it. This is going to end in something terrible, and I'm out. One of the Daniels is already telling the other cousins. It's over."
"So he bullies me for months and you side with him just like that? I guess I know what kind of friend you are," Grant said.
"He wasn't bullying you!" Eric said. "He was scared. Even before you got the cousins involved he thought you were stalking him. He did all those things to try and get you to stop following him."
"He sounds crazy to me!"
"He isn't crazy. He's just sick."
"But I wasn't doing anything to him!"
"That's what PPD is."
There was a silence on the other end. "How long has he been like that?"
"Since grade school. It's why he freaked out when he was younger. I only just learned today."
Eric heard a sigh. "I guess you're right." He could still hear the anger in Grant's voice. "It's not fair! He does all those things to me and nobody even cares!"
An idea came to Eric. "You cared. You know what it was like to have to look over your shoulder for him. What would it be like if you felt something like that all the time? So bad you had to take pills?"
"Pretty bad."
"Yeah. And now imagine you're seeing thirty Williams, staring at you and coming onto your bus and appearing everywhere. I imagine you'd be pretty freaked out."
"...Yeah."
"So how do you think he feels? He's had to deal with this for years."
Eric heard nothing on the phone for a few seconds. Then there was a rustling sound near the receiver. "Scared. Glad for even a few seconds when he can't see me. Looking for some way to get away from me, even if I'm not near him."
Eric waited for Grant to continue. When he didn't, he said: "That sounds like it's pretty close."
"You're right. I'll stop."
"You need to make it up for him."
"What?"
"You need to show you regret what you've done."
"Why should I do that? He's never been the tiniest bit sorry for what he's done to me!"
"Maybe he will be if he sees you apologize first. Maybe he'll shake your hand if you put it forward."
"Yeah? What do you think I should do? Bake him a cake?"
A lop-sided grin grew on Eric's face. "The cousins have an idea."
THURSDAY
William closed his locker and found Eric standing next to him. He jumped, and Eric groaned inward.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you."
"I haven't seen Grant at all yet today." William grabbed Eric's shoulders. "Please, you have to tell me what he's planning. If I know what will happen, it won't be as bad."
Yeah, you'll just obsess about it all day, Eric thought. "He isn't planning anything. I got him to stop."
It was as if William deflated. "How?"
"I showed it from your perspective. He understands what it was like to look over his shoulder all day long. Because of you."
"Me?" William seemed surprised. There wasn't outrage, like Grant had exhibited; he really had no idea why Grant had been so scared.
"You tormented him, William." Eric folded his arms. "Less than a week ago you threw a dozen pies at him. How do you think he feels?"
"I was...I was scared."
"I know. You were also wrong. You tortured him because you thought he was following you around, and in doing so, you made him follow you around. Now who's fault is it?"
"I'm not crazy, I'm just sick."
Eric nodded. He unfolded his arms. "I know. But you'd be crazy not to apologize to him. Grant and his cousins are planning something for tomorrow, during the football game. But don't worry, it isn't like the things they've been doing. Grant feels bad about what he did, and he and the cousins are going to make up for it."
"You're sure it will be okay?"
"I promise."
FRIDAY
Friday was cool; they had jackets and scarves. They watched the game unfurl before them, as William led the team against one of their division rivals. They went down early, but got closer and closer to taking the lead as the game went on.
At the beginning of the fourth quarter, the cousins nodded to each other. They, Grant, and Eric took up an entire row from one end to the other, and Boudrouse, at the end of the row, passed the end of a long strip of vinyl to the cousin next to him, who handed the end down the line. The piece of cloth unraveled in Boudrouse's hands.
Eric passed the cloth on to the next cousin, keeping his eyes on the game. William's team was down by four points, sequestered deep in their own territory. Eric imagined he had seen the nearly-identical cousins filling up a row of the metal stands alongside the field. William evaded a sack and ran, gaining fifteen yards in one play. A referee's whistle gave the teams a minute to rest, and the cousins used the time to hoist the immense banner they had made the night before. From one end to the other, it said "GO WILLIAM!" It was big enough for all of the cousins, and Grant, and Eric, to help hold it up. Eric, in the middle, gripped the banner and saw William look in their direction. He stared for a few seconds, then turned back to the huddle.
A few seconds later the huddle broke and the teams lined themselves up. William took the snap and backpedaled. The lines were a churning mass in front of him. He looked one way, looked another, and found both receivers covered by defenders.
An edge defender broke through his blocker and sprinted for William. To Eric it didn't even seem like William had seen it, but he tucked the ball in an elbow and took off, legs pumping him forward.
The cousins cheered. They shook the banner in their hands. William shook a tackle off and charged ahead, all of his limbs cycling as he gained speed. The secondary closed in.
"Do it," Eric said. "Do it."
William spun away, heading for the sidelines but quickly gaining the edge of the safety who had come for him. There was nobody between him and the goal line, and he showed off what all the work in the gym could do. He made it into the end zone with time to spare.
The crowd cheered, but the cousins went wild. They screamed their throats out. They held the banner higher, and it was no longer a command but a tale to tell.
William's team took the lead and held it until the final seconds of the game ticked away. A pile of teammates buried William and hoisted him onto their shoulders, carrying him to the sideline with their helmets in their hands. Eric, Grant, and the cousins all found their way out of the stands and onto the field.
Parents, students, and coaching staff were congratulating the team and William. Eventually a few people spotted all the Grants, and they moved, making a path toward William. Grant went first and the cousins followed, Boudrouse dragging the banner behind him.
Both of the boys looked at each other like you might watch a snake. They were afraid the other would leap and sink fangs into his arm, but the feeling ebbed away after a few seconds. They were both waiting. Eric frowned.
"Go on. You're both at fault."
They looked at him and grimaced. At once, they put their hands out. William, still in his pads and two years older, looked like he could have picked up the slim-limbed Grant and rushed for another touchdown, but their hands met and pumped up and down. Eventually, they looked each other in the eyes. An apology of words would follow, and a heart-to-heart about what each of them had gone through: Grant afraid of William's bullying, and William losing his mind over all the Grants. Eric watched all of them come to an agreement, and a friendship.
He pulled out a big wad of paper towels, and Grant took them without looking up. Eric watched the other boy wipe his hair, face, and clothes. "What did he do this time?"
"He got all of friends to throw banana cream pies at me. The cafeteria was going to serve them Monday for lunch." He wiped his eye.
"How did they taste?"
"I didn't really get any in my mouth." Grant let the paper towels fall next to him on the ground.
"How many of them were there?"
"Five or six. Five or six people. There were probably twenty pies."
"Look at it this way: They could have done a lot of worse things."
"They didn't need to do anything worse!" Grant stood, stick-figure limbs bringing him to his feet. "They know if they do anything to me in school, everybody will laugh!" He kicked at the pile of paper towels, and nearly fell over when he missed.
Eric caught his arm. "Maybe we should bulk you up," he said. "What about a sport? No, never mind, he's in all the sports."
"And all of his friends!" Grant yanked his arm out of Eric's grasp; it slipped out without effort and Grant lost his balance for a moment. "They go along with whatever he says, and they like it." He sighed.
"I still can't believe he's doing this to you. We were really close back in grade school. Until that one time..." Eric paused. "He has to be punished for what he does, right?"
"No." Grant brought his fingers into air quotes. "He always has an alibi." His hands dropped to his sides. "What's worse, everybody else thinks it's funny, so nobody sides with me when I go to complain!"
"Even with everybody trying to stop bullying," Eric said. "Too bad there aren't any more of you. Maybe then your teachers would listen to you."
Grant brought his face up slowly, eyes widening. A lop-sided smile broke out on his face, and Eric caught sight of gaps in his teeth. Grant's nose wrinkled, and a nasally laugh emitted from somewhere in the vicinity of the wrinkles. "Yes...more of me."
"I am...unsure about that look."
Grant was tapping the tips of his steepled fingers together in rapid motions.
"Hey." Eric grabbed Grant's hands. "I may not be a whole lot older than you, but I've dealt with my share of bullies. They get bored after a while, or they do something stupid and get themselves kicked out of school. Like Hollard 'Paper-Eater' Ungertson. He lost a fight and was expelled." Eric smiled for a moment. "Anyway, I just want to make sure you don't do anything stupid. If you let your anger get the better of you you'll end up regretting it."
"You just want me to sit and take it?" Grant asked, sneering. "Get pies thrown at me, or my clothes stolen during gym class, or have water balloons thrown at me during plays, or that time when they used the chickens-"
"No, no...you've told your parents, right?"
"Yeah, but they just think I'm overreacting. They just want me to endure it."
"He's only going to be in this school for another year!"
"Yeah, but I'm going to go to the same high school as him!" Grant said. "And then he'll be bigger and stronger, and I'll still be..." He looked down at his body. "Me." He looked at Eric. "Can you let go of my hands?"
"Sorry." Eric took a step back. "At least tell me what you're planning on doing."
"I haven't worked out all the details yet," Grant said. "Can you come over tomorrow?"
"I guess so. My mom wanted me to help rake the leaves." Eric stared at the sky, thinking. "What time?"
"Noon. I can explain everything then."
"I just have to get all the raking done," Eric said. "Now would you get that look off your face? You're creeping me out."
The lop-sided smile on Grant's face slunk away.
"Come on in," Grant said to Eric the next morning. "Everybody's downstairs. My parents are at work so we won't need to worry about them finding out."
"Why don't you want your parents finding out?" Eric asked as he slipped his shoes off. "And why are your parents working on a Saturday anyway?" He frowned. "And who's everybody?"
"People get hurt on the weekend too," Grant said. "Everything will make sense once we get downstairs."
"I am more confused than before," Eric said, once Grant led him into the downstairs living room. Contained within the unfinished walls, the concrete floor, the myriad couches and chairs and lumpy rugs and low ceiling, were what appeared to be about thirty Grants. They all had huge, fuzzy eyebrows, long, spindly limbs, and dark hair. Some of them had long hair. Some of them were a bit taller, or shorter. Some of them were a bit more proportional. Some had a little bit more weight on their bones, but only a little. Every one of them was looking at Eric with chillingly identical lop-sided grins.
Eric cleared his throat. "You..." he said out the side of his mouth. "You see them too, right?"
"Eric, meet the fully collected Fotopoulos cousins," Grant said. "Uncanny, isn't it?"
"I wish it was uncanny! This has jumped all the way to eerie."
"We should have come up with something to say all at once before he came down here," one of the closer cousins said, and they all started laughing, Grant included.
"Here, let me introduce you," Grant said. A flurry of names came Eric's way, including four Daniels, three Thomases, three Annes, two Peters, two Rebeccas, a Ulysses, a Xerxes, and a Boudrouse.
"Boudrouse?"
"It has quite the interesting etymology," the cousin said, shaking Eric's hand. It was one of the older ones, a year past Eric. "It comes from the Greek-"
"Boo," Grant said. "We should probably get started."
"Right you are, cousin!" The army of Fotopouloses crammed into couches and arrayed themselves on the floor.
Grant took a place in the center of the room. "Sit down, Eric."
Eric looked at the few available spots. One of the cousins patted his knee. Eric squatted on a bare patch of concrete.
"First, I'd like to thank everyone for coming," Grant said. He rubbed his hands over each other. "I know there are plenty of other things you could be doing with a Saturday afternoon. Second, I want to thank everyone who has already agreed to help, without even knowing what it is I want to do."
"What's his name, Grant?" one of the Thomases asked.
"His name...is William Brody. He's two years older than I am, and he's made my time at school the worst. Just the worst. But it isn't just him. He has a bunch of friends that follow him around, and go along with anything he wants to do. So, I decided to get my own bunch of friends to help me out." He spread his arms, encompassing all of his cousins.
"What're we gonna do?" a cousin Bethany asked.
"Confuse him." Grant let a fist fall into an open palm. "Make him wonder if he's doing anything at all. He's going to see us...me...everywhere. I want to drive him crazy."
Grant went to a table and picked up a bundle of papers. "This is the schedule. Matt, would you mind helping?" One of the cousins stood up, took the bundle, and began to pass them out. "Operation 'All of Me' will go for one school week, ending on Friday. At the football game. William is the starting quarterback." Grant laid his palms together and put the edges against his lips. "I want him to fail. I want him to run home shaking. I want him to be afraid to ever show his face in school again."
"Grant," Eric said, looking over the sheet he'd received. "This is pretty complicated." He gestured to the cousins. "How are they going to do all of this during school?"
"We're homeschooled!" they said all at once.
"That explains a few things."
"Hey now." One of the Daniels laid his hand on Eric's back. "Stereotyping is wrong."
"My parents had to enroll me in the school system because they're so busy at work," Grant told Eric, "but my aunts and uncles are all part of the homeschool system. In fact, my aunts and uncles, and my cousins, are the entire homeschool system for the town. They'll still have to get their work done, but they'll be able to help at certain times of the week."
"Your parents will just let you leave?"
"Pretty great, isn't it?" the Daniel said. "Sit around in pajamas until noon, do homework on the couch. On Fridays it's science experiments with dad. They aren't just going to let us do whatever we want, but, say, 'studying with cousins' is almost always an accepted answer."
"Well, okay then," Eric said. "What am I going to be doing during all of this?" He slapped his schedule with the back of his hand.
"You, Eric, are the most important part." Grant reached into his pocket and pulled out a black walkie-talkie. "Here. You're the controller."
"The..." Eric took the walkie-talkie, looking from it to Grant. "The what?"
The cousins, as if on cue, all pulled out identical walkie-talkies. "It's how we stayed connected before we all got cell phones," a Louis said. "We don't really need them any more, but they still come in handy from time to time."
"Like now," Grant said. "Since you have classes with William the whole day, it'll be your job to let us know what his location is, so we can do everything I've planned. Got it?"
"Uh." Eric tapped the alert button, and thirty beeps came at him from around the room. "I think so."
MONDAY
"Are you sure about this, Grant?" Eric said into the walkie-talkie while riding the bus. William Brody was five rows ahead of him. "I think this might be a little illegal."
"A little illegal sounds like 'mostly legal' to me," Grant said. "I'm sure. Ready Peter? Ready Becky?"
"Ready," came through the walkie-talkie.
"Ready. Wait, which Peter?"
"You," Grant said. "The other Peter isn't on till tomorrow."
"Gotta study for a history test!" the other Peter said.
"Remember Peter," Grant said. "Triumphant, exuberant, and oblivious. Radio silence once you're on the bus."
"Nothing easier," the Peter said, as the bus slowed down. Eric watched the driver yank the door lever open. The two girls who were always at the stop came on, followed by Peter. He marched down the middle row and took a seat near William and his friends, who had noticed him enter. They, of course, were under the impression it was Grant.
Even so far back, Eric could hear them muttering things like "what's he doing here?" Peter must have been able to hear it, but his nose was buried in a book and he seemed not to realize there was anybody else on the bus.
A few stops later, the driver pulled the door open again, and the customary boy boarded, followed by Becky, who had cut her hair. Except to the trained eye--certainly not Eric--she and Peter appeared identical. She went past William's section of the bus and found an empty bench near the back, but they had all seen her go past. Instead of grumbling like they had when Peter got on, now they were giving each other confused looks. Eric found himself smiling, and checked to make sure it wasn't lop-sided.
When the bus pulled up to the school's front entrance, Eric watched out the window until William exited. As planned, a pod of three faux Grants wandered by just as he did so, chatting about nothing in particular. Among the students from his and the other buses arriving at the same time, they quickly faded into the crowd, but William had surely seen them. He was pointing in their direction and talking to his friends. Peter and Becky had both left the bus, but had quickly turned to head back home.
Eric chuckled, and disembarked. The students were funneling into the school doors. He watched William go inside, and hit the call button on his walkie-talkie. "William is inside the building."
"Eric, I thought we had agreed to refer to him as 'target.' Everything go okay?"
"Yeah, it was fine." Eric pulled out his schedule. "Second period."
Eric had second period--world history, Mr. Whitscombe--not only with William, but Grant as well.
Grant was trying to keep his lop-sided smile from appearing. "Keep it cool, buddy," Eric said. "Remember, you have nothing to do with this."
"Yeah, yeah," Grant said, and crammed himself into his desk next to Eric's. A few seconds before the bell, William and one of his friends came in and flung themselves into their chairs, laughing to themselves about some joke. Eric assumed William had forgotten the strange sightings from the bus until he looked at Grant from the corner of his eye, the mirth draining from his face. William's friend made a joke and William turned back, chuckling again.
Mr. Whitscombe, with his wild white hair and dancing eyes, could barely tell one student from another, and so twenty-five minutes into the class, when he heard a knock at the classroom door, he paused mid-lecture and cleared his throat. "Enter!"
Grant--or one of the cousins who for all purposes appeared to be Grant--opened the door and stepped inside. "Sorry to bother you mister Whitscombe. Could I borrow Grant for a minute? I need to ask him something about the play drama club is putting on."
"Hmm? Oh, certainly, certainly." Mr. Whitscombe waved a hand, and Grant folded out of his chair and walked to his cousin. The class, now aware it was only a momentary distraction, and class would resume as it always had, turned away, but William's eyes followed Grant, frowning. When Grant left the classroom, and he and his cousin were next to each other, William opened his mouth. Confusion covered his face. Mr. Whitscombe continued to teach, and a few minutes later Grant re-entered the classroom and took his seat.
Eric watched William stare at his desk, his lip wrinkling.
TUESDAY
Peter--the other Peter--entered the bus at the same time as the day before, but when the bus stopped a second time, and Becky climbed on, one of the Annas followed. Even looking at the back of his head, Eric could see William's confused, calculating expression.
The calculations never seemed to come up with a proper value, and for the rest of the ride to the school Eric watched with growing amusement as he tried to balance out what he was seeing. Sometimes, it seemed to Eric, the math would come out to a negative number, or perhaps an impossible one, but William kept trying.
When the bus disgorged its students, the Peter, Anna, and Becky went home, so when William stepped off and looked around for them, he saw only the normal, tired middle school students. And then he looked up the steps of the school and saw Grant talking with one of his cousins.
Eric watched him grab one of his friends and point, but the cousin had already ducked away, leaving Grant on his own. Eric made it to his friend before William went up to him.
"It's working so far," Grant said. "I can't wait until lunch."
"You know he's probably going to figure it out," Eric said. They walked toward Grant's locker. "I don't think you should have had Oscar ask for you during class yesterday. It makes it to easy to figure out you have something to do with it."
"Like he wasn't going to figure that out anyway," Grant said. He put his mouth next to the receiver of his walkie-talkie. "Mama Bird to eggs, Mama Bird to eggs. Operation Snacktime is still go. I repeat, Operation Snacktime is still go. Over."
Eric rolled his eyes.
"Copy that, Mama Bird," one of the cousins said. "What's on the menu? Over."
Grant looked up at Eric. "Fish sandwiches," Eric said. Grant relayed the information.
"While appropriate as far as our call signs go, gross." There was a pause. "Do they have that weird sauce on them? Over."
"It's called tartar sauce. And yes. Over."
"Ugh. Double gross."
"Radio silence," Grant said. "We'll coordinate a few minutes before lunch. Everybody have their positions?"
About ten of the cousins responded in the affirmative. "Good. Over and out."
About three and a half hours later the bell rang for lunch. Eric watched William pack up, and when he was out of the room Eric pulled out his walkie-talkie. "William is on his way to the lunchroom."
"'Target,' please, Eric," Grant said. "Everyone ready? Over."
"We're all ready, over."
"Commence Operation Snacktime."
Eric entered the lunchroom. The noise was the combination of a dull rock concert and a horde of frightened elephants. Every student in the school--and almost a dozen visitors--were lining up to get their food. Squares of pressed fish paste between buns were put on trays, and supplemented with fruit cups, hot vegetables, chocolate chip cookies, and milk. William had pushed his way to the front of the line, as always, and was one of the first to sit at a table, which quickly filled up with his friends.
Grant joined Eric at a table near the wall. "This is gonna be great," Grant said.
They watched as one of the cousins sat at a table next to William's right where he could see. He sat up straight immediately, focusing on the cousin. A second cousin sat next to the first, and William nudged his friend to point. When he did so, he looked to the side and saw a third cousin sitting at the end of the adjacent table.
William whipped his head to the other side, seeing two more cousins chatting over their fish sandwiches. For a number of seconds he kept his eyes on them, blinking rapidly. His mouth, so slow Eric almost didn't notice, was opening, and it hung so for a minute.
Grant laughed to himself. Eric looked at the boy, and then turned his vision back to William. He had spun in his chair, looking behind him. Three of the cousins were talking in a group just behind him, doing their best to mimic Grant's voice.
For the first time, William looked scared. He swept his vision in a circle, finding four more cousins sitting near him.
As William was looking, Grant began to count down. "Three, two, one..."
All twelve of the cousins stopped what they were doing, be it bringing a forkful of food to their mouths or talking, and looked at William. Grant could barely keep from laughing, clamping a hand over his mouth. It was just for a second, but every Fotopoulos cousin stared at William, eyes wide open, mouth in a lop-sided grin. Then they went back to their lunches, and acted as if he wasn't there.
William sat with his eyes on his full lunch tray. His friends were looking at each other, wondering what had happened to their friend. William didn't eat a single morsel while Grant downed his own food with glee.
WEDNESDAY
"Okay, we really have his attention now," Grant said over the walkie-talkie. Eric was squished into his seat on the bus. He watched William spin his head in circles, trying to find any hidden Grants Eric scrunched down farther. "Now we take it up a notch."
"Grant." Eric spoke into his walkie-talkie carefully, under the early-morning conversation. "You're doing more than 'taking it up a notch.' You could be disrupting others."
"No, no, it's fine," Grant said. "I have it all worked out. It'll be perfect."
Eric peeked around the bench in front of him and looked at where William sat. The friend who rode with him on the bus was trying to talk to him, but William looked like he was shaking. Eric even heard a snatch of talk: "...freaking out about the game on Friday, and now I think I'm going crazy!"
William's friend responded: "Yeah, it's weird, but he isn't doing anything, he's just showing up near you!"
"Yesterday at lunch, he...they...they all-"
"Looked at you. I know. You told me. You're just too stressed. Chill out and everything will be fine."
"Are you saying I'm a liar?"
"I see them too! I just don't think they're all Grant!" the friend said. "They...sort of look like him, but I think it's just a trick of the light. Or something. Just ignore them."
Eric unfolded the schedule Grant had given him. Ignoring Grant and his cousins today will prove difficult.
No cousins boarded the bus, and there weren't any waiting near the school's entrance when William got off the bus. Eric watched him enter the front doors a little bit lighter, his head held a little higher.
He entered the front doors, and stopped. From behind, Eric watched him turn his head one direction, then the other.
Inside, lining the walls, were twenty Grant copies, all looking at their phones or reading books, or talking or eating. None of them doing anything out of the ordinary, none of them attracting any sort of attention from anyone except William. He took off, running down the hallway until he had turned a corner and was out of sight.
One of the cousins came up to Eric after he entered the school, until Eric realized it was Grant. "You know what to do after fifth period?" Grant asked.
Yeah, I do," Eric said. "I still don't think-"
"I don't care!" Grant said. "That big idiot has made my every moment here a nightmare, from the very first time he saw me. Do you know why he loves to bully me? He actually gave me a reason--do you know what it is? It's because I was looking at him. I wasn't looking at him, I was just looking in his direction, because that's the direction I was walking. He's spent the last three months flinging pies at me, and pushing me over, and filling my locker with sweaty towels because I was looking at him!"
The lop-sided smile was gone. Balls of fire had replaced Grant's happy eyes. His fists were rigid at his sides, and he was hunched forward. Without another word, he turned and marched down the hallway away from Eric and the cousins.
A few of them came up to him. "We want to help him." It was Boudrouse talking. "But none of us know what school life is like. I'll see if I can speak to him. That sort of anger isn't healthy, no matter what caused it."
"It's like he wants to ruin William. Not just scare him anymore. He wants to hurt William like he thinks William has hurt him." Eric thought for a moment. "I know what I need to do next."
"Are we still...you know, after fifth period?" Boudrouse asked. Eric nodded, and then left the cousins by the entrance, following the path William had fled.
After a few turns he got to the hallway William's locker was in. The boy's top half had disappeared inside, and Eric imagined if it had been big enough, he would have crawled in and shut the door. Eric took a breath and went up to him. "William."
William jumped and pushed away from his locker, flattening himself against the lockers next to his with a crash. When he saw it was Eric and not an army of Grants, he peeled away from the lockers and looked around. "What do you want?" he asked, impatient and curt.
"I need to talk to you about...about Grant."
William's eyes widened. "You see him too?"
"Uh, yeah, I do. Look, William-"
"Shh!" William lunged for Eric, who jerked away, but William just brought his head close. "He could be anywhere. Everywhere. Be quiet!"
Eric frowned and pried William's hand off his arm. "William, he-"
William looked at his watch. "Sorry, gotta do something." He reached in his locker and came out with a bottle of pills, which he cracked open. He fished inside for a pill and slapped it onto his tongue and then swallowed. The entire process looked so automatic it looked like William had his mind in an entirely different place.
William coughed, and then turned to him. "What were you saying?"
Eric thought for a second. "What are you taking pills for?"
"Why? Why do you want to know?" William started digging in his backpack. "I have a prescription! I'm allowed to have them! I have a note from my doctor, I promise!"
"William," Eric said. "Do you have paranoia?"
"It's called paranoid personality disorder, Eric. I'm not crazy, I'm just sick." The phrase sounded like a mantra. "I have to--is that Grant? No, it's just mister Whitscombe, never mind He's always following me! He's been following me ever since the first time I saw him! I can't get him away from me!"
Eric frowned, gaping in awe. "What about last Friday? You and your friends threw a dozen pies at him!"
"Of course I did!" William said. "How else am I supposed to get him to leave me alone?"
Eric took a step back. "That's why you did all those things?"
"I'm not crazy," William said, "I'm just sick."
"Yeah," Eric said. He took a step back.
"What did you want to tell me about Grant?"
Eric looked at the floor. "Uh, nothing." He left, hunting through the halls until he spotted one of the Grants.
"Becky, right?" he asked.
"Rebeccah," she said. "The other one is 'Becky.'"
"Right, okay. I'm changing the plan. We're stopping this. We're hurting William and he's already hurt."
"After all those things he did to Grant you're on his side now?"
Eric explained what had just happened. "Ugh." Rebeccah pressed against the wall. "You used to know him, right? How long..."
"I was friends with him in grade school," Eric said. "But he changed. A lot. He got violent. I guess I know why, now. I used to play with him after school, even. We live on the same street. And then one day he went off, started yelling about people coming to get him. I didn't see him for a month."
"I feel awful," Rebeccah said. "And everything we've been doing...stalking him like this. Oh, Eric!" She looked up at him. "After fifth period, we-"
"I know, I know. We have to call it off. It looked like he was on a tightrope already. If we do what Grant wants..."
"I'm not going to be responsible for that," she said. She took out her walkie-talkie.
"Wait," Eric said, taking it away from her. "I spoke to Grant about what he was doing and he nearly blew up at me. I don't think he really cares how William feels. Or worse, he does, and that's the point. He wants William to be scared and frightened."
"So what do we do?"
"I'm not really sure. Can you talk to the other cousins and see if they have any ideas? I don't think it would be a good idea to let Grant know."
"Right." She nodded. "I'll do what I can. Maybe we can come up with something for after fifth period."
Eric got through the rest of the day on mostly worry. The class he had with Grant, mister Whitscombe's class, was a cold hour. Grant barely looked at him.
It was worst during fifth hour, pre-algebra. Eric could barely concentrate on the whiteboard, and when the bell finally rang, he packed his books slowly. William nearly sprinted out the door to the hallway. Was he spooked because he hadn't seen any extra Grants? Or was he just trying to get to the end of the school day so he could get to football practice, where he seemed to be safe?
Eric left the classroom. There were only a few periods left before the end of the day. Eric looked at his walkie-talkie and thought about asking for an update.
The plan was for an almost identical version of the morning, when William found the cousins just inside the entrance. William had to go down a specific hallway to get to his pottery class, and the plan was for twenty of the cousins to line the hallway, staring. Every single one of them would have their eyes locked on William as he fled through, not blinking, not looking away, not talking.
Eric examined the memory of William swallowing a pill to help control his paranoia, and he ran toward the hallway. He would disband the cousins if he had to.
Grant appeared in front of him. "One of the Daniels had an idea," he said.
Eric skidded to a stop. "Wh...what do you mean? Are you not going to do the hallway thing?"
"No, they still are, they just aren't going to look at him," Grant said. "They're all going to be facing the walls, like he isn't even there at all. It will still be creepy, but in a different way. Rebeccah told me about it."
Bless you, Rebeccah, Eric thought. "Grant I really need to talk to you-"
"It can wait," he said. "I need to get to class." He left Eric standing in the middle of the hallway with students on all sides.
The last two hours of school were worse than the first five in every way. Eric didn't have either class with Grant or William, and so he sat with his head in his hands, wondering what had happened. At the very least, he knew nothing too terrible had happened--if William had gone crazy news would have spread. When the final bell rang he was the first one out the door, looking for Grant or one of the cousins.
In the next hallway, one of the Daniels approached. "Rebeccah told me what you found out," he said to Eric. "I was able to convince the other cousins to adjust the plan a little bit. Were you able to talk to Grant?"
Eric shook his head. "He didn't want to talk. What happened?"
"We did just what Grant wanted, but we faced the wall when William went by. None of us saw him, but we heard somebody running when we were all turned away."
"Could have been worse, I guess," Eric said. "But we'll need to figure out something for tomorrow."
"And Friday!" the Daniel said. "Friday would make someone without paranoia lose their mind!"
"I'm going to talk to William again. I'm going to tell him everything. I just hope he believes me."
"We don't have to keep doing this," Daniel said. "We could just pull the plug. Grant might be furious, but if the choices are that and driving a person crazy, I know which one I would chose. I know which one my cousins would pick, too. Well, Maybe not Isaac. He's always been a bit sideways."
"Good. Can I have your number? I'll try to let you know tonight."
After exchanging numbers, Eric went toward the locker rooms. He spotted William, sitting on a bench between rows of lockers with practice pads on his shoulders and his helmet resting on his legs. His fingers gripped the lip of the helmet, and he was staring down into the opening. He looked up as Eric approached.
"I need to talk to you," he began to say, but William's expression cut him short.
He looked afraid to blink. Eric noticed the pressure cutting the blood flow off from his fingers. His Adam's apple roved forward and back. Eric sat on the bench next to him. His teammates were still getting ready, but Eric noticed none of them were looking in their direction.
"Hey," he said. He put his hand on William's back. He tried to keep his voice casual. "I need to tell you what's going on."
And so he did. He explained what Grant was doing, and why. He didn't explain what Grant had planned for the next two days--he didn't know if it would make the situation worse.
"I know," William said. His voice sounded so strange--strained--Eric recoiled. "I know they aren't really Grant, but I couldn't get the idea out of my head that he was everywhere at once. That's what PPD is, I guess."
"When do you take your pills?"
"I just took one. I can't take them too often." William loosened his grip on his helmet. "You know, liver damage."
"Right." Eric took his hand from William's back. "Uh, look, I'm sorry about all this. I'm going to talk to Grant's cousins and make them stop. I didn't know you were dealing with this; if I had I would have never gone along with it."
"It's kind of funny, you know?" William said. "I know it's my fault Grant is so angry with me-"
"It wasn't really your fault."
"But I still did them. And all my friends went along with it because I'm the star quarterback." William's hand squeezed the helmet again. "And get this: PPD is why I'm good at all these sports. When I'm playing football I'm looking out for the pass rushers. When I'm pitching I'm always looking at the other bases so I know when they're going to try and steal. It's even why I like to work out so much. The gym has mirrors on all the walls. Nobody can hide in there."
"Brody!" the coach shouted from the door. The rest of the locker room was empty.
"Be right there, coach," William said. He stood up. "It doesn't help that I'm already stressing about Friday's game. If we win we're in the playoffs. If not..." He walked away, shoulders slumped and head hanging down, cleats scratching the tile.
As soon as Eric got home he called Daniel. "I'm calling it off. I don't care what Grant says. I should have had them get together with a talk long ago."
"I'll tell the other cousins," Daniel said. "I actually had an idea for Friday."
"We won't be doing anything on Friday," Eric said.
"Hear me out."
Daniel explained. Eric felt a warm feeling spread through him, and he grinned. He caught himself in his bedroom mirror and saw it was lop-sided. He let it continue.
"Now the hard part," he said to himself after Daniel had hung up. He dialed Grant.
"Hello?" Grant said. Eric took a breath.
"We're stopping. The cousins aren't going to go along with it any more. He's sick, Grant. He has Paranoid Personality Disorder. He has to take pills for it. This is going to end in something terrible, and I'm out. One of the Daniels is already telling the other cousins. It's over."
"So he bullies me for months and you side with him just like that? I guess I know what kind of friend you are," Grant said.
"He wasn't bullying you!" Eric said. "He was scared. Even before you got the cousins involved he thought you were stalking him. He did all those things to try and get you to stop following him."
"He sounds crazy to me!"
"He isn't crazy. He's just sick."
"But I wasn't doing anything to him!"
"That's what PPD is."
There was a silence on the other end. "How long has he been like that?"
"Since grade school. It's why he freaked out when he was younger. I only just learned today."
Eric heard a sigh. "I guess you're right." He could still hear the anger in Grant's voice. "It's not fair! He does all those things to me and nobody even cares!"
An idea came to Eric. "You cared. You know what it was like to have to look over your shoulder for him. What would it be like if you felt something like that all the time? So bad you had to take pills?"
"Pretty bad."
"Yeah. And now imagine you're seeing thirty Williams, staring at you and coming onto your bus and appearing everywhere. I imagine you'd be pretty freaked out."
"...Yeah."
"So how do you think he feels? He's had to deal with this for years."
Eric heard nothing on the phone for a few seconds. Then there was a rustling sound near the receiver. "Scared. Glad for even a few seconds when he can't see me. Looking for some way to get away from me, even if I'm not near him."
Eric waited for Grant to continue. When he didn't, he said: "That sounds like it's pretty close."
"You're right. I'll stop."
"You need to make it up for him."
"What?"
"You need to show you regret what you've done."
"Why should I do that? He's never been the tiniest bit sorry for what he's done to me!"
"Maybe he will be if he sees you apologize first. Maybe he'll shake your hand if you put it forward."
"Yeah? What do you think I should do? Bake him a cake?"
A lop-sided grin grew on Eric's face. "The cousins have an idea."
THURSDAY
William closed his locker and found Eric standing next to him. He jumped, and Eric groaned inward.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you."
"I haven't seen Grant at all yet today." William grabbed Eric's shoulders. "Please, you have to tell me what he's planning. If I know what will happen, it won't be as bad."
Yeah, you'll just obsess about it all day, Eric thought. "He isn't planning anything. I got him to stop."
It was as if William deflated. "How?"
"I showed it from your perspective. He understands what it was like to look over his shoulder all day long. Because of you."
"Me?" William seemed surprised. There wasn't outrage, like Grant had exhibited; he really had no idea why Grant had been so scared.
"You tormented him, William." Eric folded his arms. "Less than a week ago you threw a dozen pies at him. How do you think he feels?"
"I was...I was scared."
"I know. You were also wrong. You tortured him because you thought he was following you around, and in doing so, you made him follow you around. Now who's fault is it?"
"I'm not crazy, I'm just sick."
Eric nodded. He unfolded his arms. "I know. But you'd be crazy not to apologize to him. Grant and his cousins are planning something for tomorrow, during the football game. But don't worry, it isn't like the things they've been doing. Grant feels bad about what he did, and he and the cousins are going to make up for it."
"You're sure it will be okay?"
"I promise."
FRIDAY
Friday was cool; they had jackets and scarves. They watched the game unfurl before them, as William led the team against one of their division rivals. They went down early, but got closer and closer to taking the lead as the game went on.
At the beginning of the fourth quarter, the cousins nodded to each other. They, Grant, and Eric took up an entire row from one end to the other, and Boudrouse, at the end of the row, passed the end of a long strip of vinyl to the cousin next to him, who handed the end down the line. The piece of cloth unraveled in Boudrouse's hands.
Eric passed the cloth on to the next cousin, keeping his eyes on the game. William's team was down by four points, sequestered deep in their own territory. Eric imagined he had seen the nearly-identical cousins filling up a row of the metal stands alongside the field. William evaded a sack and ran, gaining fifteen yards in one play. A referee's whistle gave the teams a minute to rest, and the cousins used the time to hoist the immense banner they had made the night before. From one end to the other, it said "GO WILLIAM!" It was big enough for all of the cousins, and Grant, and Eric, to help hold it up. Eric, in the middle, gripped the banner and saw William look in their direction. He stared for a few seconds, then turned back to the huddle.
A few seconds later the huddle broke and the teams lined themselves up. William took the snap and backpedaled. The lines were a churning mass in front of him. He looked one way, looked another, and found both receivers covered by defenders.
An edge defender broke through his blocker and sprinted for William. To Eric it didn't even seem like William had seen it, but he tucked the ball in an elbow and took off, legs pumping him forward.
The cousins cheered. They shook the banner in their hands. William shook a tackle off and charged ahead, all of his limbs cycling as he gained speed. The secondary closed in.
"Do it," Eric said. "Do it."
William spun away, heading for the sidelines but quickly gaining the edge of the safety who had come for him. There was nobody between him and the goal line, and he showed off what all the work in the gym could do. He made it into the end zone with time to spare.
The crowd cheered, but the cousins went wild. They screamed their throats out. They held the banner higher, and it was no longer a command but a tale to tell.
William's team took the lead and held it until the final seconds of the game ticked away. A pile of teammates buried William and hoisted him onto their shoulders, carrying him to the sideline with their helmets in their hands. Eric, Grant, and the cousins all found their way out of the stands and onto the field.
Parents, students, and coaching staff were congratulating the team and William. Eventually a few people spotted all the Grants, and they moved, making a path toward William. Grant went first and the cousins followed, Boudrouse dragging the banner behind him.
Both of the boys looked at each other like you might watch a snake. They were afraid the other would leap and sink fangs into his arm, but the feeling ebbed away after a few seconds. They were both waiting. Eric frowned.
"Go on. You're both at fault."
They looked at him and grimaced. At once, they put their hands out. William, still in his pads and two years older, looked like he could have picked up the slim-limbed Grant and rushed for another touchdown, but their hands met and pumped up and down. Eventually, they looked each other in the eyes. An apology of words would follow, and a heart-to-heart about what each of them had gone through: Grant afraid of William's bullying, and William losing his mind over all the Grants. Eric watched all of them come to an agreement, and a friendship.