This Year...

Ten... 

This year, I’ll be good. I’ve made the promise a thousand times. Everyone has. But this year I swear on Ol’ Mazie’s soul that I won’t do the same thing again. I’ll learn from my mistakes. I’ll remember what my mom told me when I was little. I won’t forget like I did last year. I promise I won’t. 

Nine... 

New year, new me. That’s what they say, when the spinning ball falls. But this time for real. No more hiding or lying or cheating or scamming or digging up the neighbors' flowers or sabotaging the school dance or stealing candy from babies or tying people’s shoes together or dropping ice water from the roof. No more of my bestest friends, forever and always. Mom did always say I shouldn’t have friends after all. This year, I’ll be a model citizen, inside and out. 

Eight... 

But what if I can’t go through with it? What happens then? What if I make it to January 2 and decide it’s not worth it? What if it becomes too much? What if I need? I mean, who’ll fill in for me when I’m too busy being perfect? Jerry Smith can’t do it anymore. Tina Cortez can’t do it anymore. Yasmin Ali can’t do it anymore. They’ve all gone away. I’m not entirely alone in my apartment building, not yet anyway. But they can’t do it right. They’ll be happy I’m gone. I think some of them knew. It’s hard to hide the struggle, hide the disappearance. No one ever looked too close. People don’t ever like what they see. But if I’m not me, then who will be? 

Seven... 

But it’s so much work, being me. So many late nights and early mornings and heavy lifting. I can’t keep this up forever. I know I can’t. I’ll have to stop sometime. Dad called me lazy, he was always right. I could never stick to anything. Nothing kept my interest. I got bored to easy and just moved on. So why not now? Everyone else will be promising to get healthy or stop biting their nails or shooting magpies or something. If they can promise the impossible, so can I. But I’ll do better than them, like I always do. I’ll beat them.  

Six... 

I can be good. Easy-peasy. People do it for their whole lives. I just have to be good for a year. Just one year. That’s it. Then I can be me again. Then I can do whatever I want. Three hundred and sixty-five days. I don’t know how many hours. I was never good at math. Dad thought it was because I wasn’t trying.  

Five... 

Maybe I won’t go the whole year. It would be asking a lot of myself. Maybe I should start with a month. Or just a week. Maybe a day. Mazie always said to start small. She said that the smallest seeds grow into the biggest bushes. The tiniest scrapes get the worst infections. I’m not sure about this. I tried to be good once, it hurt my head. But I can’t stay like this forever. I’ve seen the news. I’ve seen the trials. I’ve even been on the jury for a couple. They are always guilty, that’s what I say. That’s what dad used to say. Better to lock up an innocent than risk another life, he always told me. And I always listen. 

Four... 

I can’t do this. I just know I can’t. But I have to stay strong. I have to be good. I have to make Lola proud. She had been here only a couple minutes before, and her spot was still warm. I wondered if she was cold, by now. After all, it was snowing outside and she hadn’t been wearing her coat. It still hung on the hook next to her door, dark and mysterious. If I dimmed the lights and squinted my eyes, it almost looked like a monster or a ghost. It would probably be a ghost. I must have so many following me. But not a monster. No, they wouldn’t bother one of their own kind. 

Three... 

It’s almost midnight. I have to choose. Maybe I can just be healthier, go on an occasional jog. I mean, let’s not go crazy. We must be reasonable. Do something easy this year, and you can be good next year. By then, you’ll be ready. Just pick something simple. Don’t overthink it. I’m not ready for this. I need more time. Someone rewind the clock. Someone rewind the year. I need more time. 

Two... 

But I can do it. I have to do it. I promised Dorothy I would. It was her dying wish. I liked Dorothy; I really did. I want to do it for her. I will do it for her. She wanted me to be good. I told her to stay quiet, that it would hurt less if she didn’t talk, didn’t scream. So, she had whispered, very soft like a butterfly kiss. She had asked me to be good. I was tired that day. I promised I would. She had smiled at me, lips scarlet and wet, and I maybe didn’t feel so bad. 

One... 

For Dorothy. For Lola. For Jerry. For Tina. For Yasmin. For Mazie. I had to do it for them. I opened the window and called out into the night. I looked down at Lola, where she lay in the snow. I promise, I yelled to her. I screamed it to the world. I ran to my bag full of all my tools and hurled it out of the window. I heard it hit the ground. It was snowing hard. The bag would be buried by sunrise. I would be long gone when it was found. When Lola was found. When Dorothy and Jerry and Tina and Yasmin and Mazie and all of the others were found. Some new, some old. I’ve had a good year. And they will be found. But I wouldn’t be. No, they’ll never catch me.  

Because this year, I’ll be good.