The Schwa Was Here

By the time the police arrived, half the neighborhood had heard the screaming and came over to investigate. The police went into her yard and came out with a head, just like Mrs. Greenblatt said. She claimed to be having several more heart attacks, until she found out the head wasn't human. It was the head of Manny Bullpucky—slightly dented and singed from our attempt to blow him up, but otherwise completely intact.

My brother Frankie got it back for us, and that evening I snapped it onto Manny's body, then called Ira and Howie to let them know. We began to plan his death one more time.

"Can I come to one of your demolition sessions?" Lexie asked when I told her about it. "It sounds like fun."

"Sure," I told her, although I was doubtful about how much she would get out of merely hearing Manny's destruction. I figured it would be good to have her there, because things were strained between Howie, Ira, and me. Killing Manny was the only thing we had in common anymore.

We met at about four o'clock on Saturday. Our crime scene was the elevated subway station in Brighton Beach, which was pretty deserted on weekends this time of year.

"I don't like this place," Howie says as we climbed the steps. "I mean, is it elevated? Or is it a

subway? It can't be both. It gives me the creeps."

We figured we could get away with making Manny a subway victim here, because Brighton Beach is mostly Russian these days, therefore normal laws, rules, and space-time physics don't always apply. Besides, the police are more worried about the Russian Mafia than about a bunch of kids. You don't want to mess with the Russian Mafia. They make Mob guys like John Gotti look like Mr. Rogers. In Brighton Beach it's always a beautiful day in the neighborhood, and if you don't agree, you may end up sleeping with the beluga.

So anyways, Ira's got his camera filming Manny, who's slouch­ing on a bench, looking like a postapocalyptic crash-test dummy. "With what this guy's been through, he could be a superhero."

"We shoulda done this on a weekday, during rush hour," Howie says. "The more people on the train, the higher gross tonnage. Maximum breakage potential."

"Yeah, but we could derail it," I said, for like the fourteen thousandth time. "Better an empty train than a crowded one."

That's when Lexie comes up the stairs with Moxie, and some­one else. It takes me a moment to realize it's the Schwa.

I hadn't invited him. Not intentionally, of course—he just slipped my mind like always. It hadn't even occurred to me that he would come with Lexie. That's how far out of my mind he had slipped. It spooked me out, the way it spooks you out when you can't remember something simple, like your phone number, or how to spell your middle name. I heard someone say that when that happens, it means the brain cells that held the information just died, and your brain's gotta find the infor­mation in some backup file. This was not a good thing, because if the Schwa Effect was actually killing all the brain cells that re­membered him, I could end up as brain-dead as a Tiggorhoid.

"Hi, Antsy," said the Schwa.

"Hi, Anthony," said Lexie.

The Schwa introduced Lexie, and everyone was polite enough, although Ira and Howie made secret cracks about how they look together—then snickered like a couple of fifth graders. I couldn't get past how awkward this all felt. But the Schwa didn't seem to feel awkward at all. He stood there grinning like an idiot, and clutching Lexie's arm like he was escorting her to the Academy Awards.

"Who's gonna do the honors?" Ira asked.

Usually Howie volunteered to throw Manny to his death, but right now he was too busy staring at Lexie, waving his hand in front of her face. "So you don't see anything at all?" he says. "Not even shadows?"

"Nope."

"When you're blind, you're blind," I said.

"Not always," Howie says. "There are blind people who can read large-print books."

"That's 'legally blind,'" Lexie explained. "I'm not legally blind."

"Yeah," I said, "she's illegally blind. Now can we get on with this?"

"Lexie," said the Schwa, still holding her by the elbow, "would you like me to guide you to a bench?"

"That's all right, Calvin, I'd rather stand."

Ira and Howie shared a look that could have meant any one of a dozen nasty things, then Howie turned to the Schwa. "So, Schwa, done any good vanishing tricks lately?"

While Howie taunted the Schwa, Lexie whispered my name to Moxie, and he led her over to me. "It doesn't sound like you're having fun," she said.

"How do you know? I've barely said a thing."

"That's what I mean."

"Well, I've got a lot on my mind."

A train crashed past on the far track, and Lexie reached up to touch my face.

"Don't," I told her. "Not in front of the Schwa." But she couldn't hear me over the roar of the train. As soon as the train had passed, she leaned in close and whispered, "I really had fun the other night. Let's go to the movies again." Then she kissed me.

When I looked up, the Schwa was standing right behind her.