Giants and Ogres (6 page)

I turned to my father. “Dad?” I said.

“Yes, Amal?”

“I don't know why she left us.” I could hear my father's swift intake of breath. “I may never know. But I'm glad you stayed.”

He took hold of my hand and squeezed it.

“Let's go home,” he said.

Laura Ring
is an anthropologist and academic librarian living in Chicago. She is the author of
Zenana: Everyday Peace in a Karachi Apartment Building
(Indiana University Press 2006).

“O-g-r-e” I re-type.

Tanner changed the autocorrect on my phone to spell “ogre” as “B-O-O-G-E-R” like a year ago. I need to change it back.

More than that, I can't wait to change my last name from “Ogre.” I mean, it's something my parents should have done 15 years ago when I was born, and they saw that I was ENORMOUS for a preemie. And I had a full head of hair. And my skin was slightly green colored. Yeah. “Patinaed copper.” I guess the only thing worse would have been if they named me Penny. Thank God they didn't.

I'm Verity. And I'm an ogre. Actually, to be specific, I'm an “ogress.”

My brother Tanner is NOTHING like me—something he and everyone else on the planet reminds me of every second. The gene must have skipped him like it skipped everyone else in my family (except some huge ancient guy in a black and white picture so you can't
even tell what color his skin is). No, Tanner's normal—brown hair, brown eyes. He even has dimples, in case I needed a reminder that the universe is totally unfair.

He's a sophomore. And today I'm a freshman. So that should be really fun.

I finish typing my whole name and send the text to my mom. I'm giving her crap for the whole “not changing our name” thing. She's worried about me on my first day of high school and … so maybe I mention the last name thing again to bother her. Or maybe I want her to feel bad and baby me just a little when I get home. Maybe.

I take a deep breath and step into my first official high school class. Geometry. I can handle this.

“Hi, you're one of the freshmen in here, right?”

A frighteningly normal-looking girl is smiling an equally frighteningly white smile at me.

I nod.

“I'm Kelsey. You're Tanner's sister?”

I nod again.

“He and I were in English together last year … Mr. Freidman. Did he … mention that class?

And it's begun! The joys of having an insta-popular brother! I'll be the go-between. Like I've always been. I
can handle that.

“Um, I'm not—”

But she's one of those girls who likes to talk over you.

“I love your skin, by the way. It's beautiful. I'm someone who thinks ‘different' is beautiful.”

I smile politely and wonder if she thinks my huge teeth are differently beautiful, too. I can see by her tiny wince that she doesn't.

“Thanks. I'm Verity. And, yeah, I'm pretty sure my brother mentioned you. English, right?”

Her eyes light up, and she squeezes my hand with her tiny fingers.

“Yes! Oh, I'm so glad we're in this class together!”

She turns to the front as the teacher walks in.

I slouch down and breathe a sigh of relief. Ok. That conversation was easy. I listen really well. I should be a shrink.

As I make my way to World History, I think about it a little more seriously. I mean, maybe I should offer up my services. There have been all sorts of traumas at this school. I don't just mean break-ups at dances, fights at football practice, and that kind of thing. I mean disappearances.

Last year, Jamie Perkins came early for swim practice
because he hadn't been told it was cancelled. Security camera footage showed him going into the school with his swim bag. Two hours later when the gym teacher showed up, a locker was open in the boys' locker room. Jamie's bag was flung on the floor. There had obviously been a struggle. His goggles were hanging from one of the sprinklers on the ceiling, and a flip-flop was stuck into the ceiling. He must have kicked it off hard (though the ceilings seem pretty cheap). Anyway, the police came and everything, but they never found any sign of him.

The candle wax from the vigils for Jamie had hardly dried in the quad six months later, when a substitute teacher—I think her name was Ms. Berlin—also disappeared under mysterious circumstances. She was at school late. The report said she was using the school's wi-fi to do other side work. They tracked her on there until about 8:45. The next morning they found her computer open, her baking blog
Whatchya Knead
half-written, and little pieces of her dress on the floor. No sign of the substitute. A Missing Persons report was filed, and her family came into town and were on TV asking if anyone saw her. But no one had.

Just another disappearance in Wollville. The towns-people are—I wouldn't say used to it—but they don't
stop what they're doing over stuff like that anymore.

I don't worry much because of my size. But of course our parents do, so we always have to tell them where we're going to be and when we'll be home.

I make my way to World History and feel a SHOVE.

I spin around. I'm quick for my size.

It's Tanner.

“What's up, freshman?”

“Hey, Tanner.”

I take him in. Here at school it's more noticeable that he spent the summer working out. He's been trying to move up a weight class for wrestling, and it looks like he will. Not a problem I have.

I look around and there are a lot of people staring. I don't know how many kids here knew we were siblings. We only moved here last year, and our parents decided to spare me Middle School with home schooling. But people have seen me around town. In the back of the movie theater (where I have to sit), at the pool (hello tidal wave), and at back to school shopping at the mall, where I bought shoes in the men's department.

Obvious-alert to parents: don't move when your daughter's in 8th grade. And an ogress. Duh.

I ignore the stares and decide to needle Tanner. “I met Kelsey. She likes you.”

Tanner cringes.

“Oh, no. Did she ask about me?”

“Uh … yeah! That's how I know!”

“Don't tell her about me. She stalked me all last year. She talks CONSTANTLY.”

I pretend to care. I'm not sure why, “Well, she was nice to me, so I like her.”

“Great,” he turns to go. “I'll look for you at lunch.”

“I don't need …,” but I realize how much my voice is booming. And I realize how many people are looking. And I realize that I probably do need someone to sit with.

I head to the cafeteria after Gym and don't see Tanner. I think maybe he's in line for lunch.

I first notice the giant ogre serving lunch, because of his size. He's the first person I've ever met since I reached my full height that I had to look up at. And I've met NBA players (when my parents took me to “fan days” to make me feel better about being 6'1” in 6th grade). The ogre sees me, too. He looks surprised, like he hadn't considered there could be others like him.
Probably because he doesn't go online much—he's older.

I grab a tray and try to blend in. I glance at the other girls. Everybody is slouching and leaning on the buffet. I could never lean on anything. I learned that in second grade when I broke the school jungle gym.

The other girls click away on their phones. Sure, I could do the same. Only I don't really have anyone but my mom to text. So I spend my time stealing peeks at the cafeteria guy. He seems to have makeup on. But it's hard to tell since he barely looks up.

“Hey,” Tanner sidles up beside me. “Can we cut?”

He's brought his best friend Jo-Jo with him.

“Hey, Jo-Jo.”

“Hey, freshman. How's your first day?”

I like Jo-Jo. He's used to my size and ogress-ness and doesn't care. I often think how awesome it would be to strike a deal and just give him a bunch of my muscle. Because he is a serious pipsqueak. He comes up to my chest, which is, I'm pretty sure, why he never looks me in the eye. Just way too awkward an angle.

It's my turn, so I ask for a veggie burger. The ogre server locks eyes with me for a second—yellowish eyes that are frankly terrifying. I'm frozen for a moment, but he slings a veggie burger and turns to Tanner.

“Hamburger,” Tanner orders.

I sit with them for lunch. Kelsey comes by and tries to flirt until Tanner gets up and goes back for a second burger. As he walks away, she deflates.

“He's serious about putting on weight,” I offer, trying to make her feel better. Why? Because it'd be fun to have a friend who's a girl. A normal, nice, talkative high school girl. It'd just be nice to have a friend.

“Oh, totally. I get it. Wrestling!” She smiles then spots her friends. She turns back to me, “Tomorrow? You sit with us.”

“Ok!”

“Byeeee!”

And she's off.

Jo-Jo's looking at me.

“What?” I ask without looking at him.

“You're friends with Kelsey?”

“I just met her. She seems nice.”

I turn and watch Tanner coming back with not one but two more burgers.

“That dude's cool. He gave me two.”

I look at the server again. He's watching Tanner. I shiver, but I don't know why.

And then I hear it. The low grumbling. And I know
it's coming from the ogre.

I don't think human ears can pick up on it. I've only ever heard it two times. Once, when we were little, our parents took us to the zoo. We had to stand back since the animals seemed to react strangely to me. The monkeys would always scream and scream. The snakes would throw themselves out of whatever tree they were curled up in and race for shelter. And the carnivores—the lions, the bears, those guys—would watch us. Just like the cafeteria worker was watching Tanner. They'd watch and growl at us, and I was the only one who could hear it. Whole crowds walked by, old people, school trips, moms with strollers! They'd all walk by and obviously no one could hear it. But I could. It was a low growling. A growling that they wanted to hunt us. And eat us.

I started bawling, and my mom never took us back to the zoo. I even got excused from field trips.

The other time I heard it was a time I've never told anyone about. It was last year. I was out walking. I'd sneaked out because my parents didn't let us out because of the whole missing student thing. But they didn't realize that I could reach the big oak branch four feet from my window with one hand and then swing
down. It was easy. I'm sure I looked like a freakin' gorilla when I did it, but I only did it at night when I needed to think.

That night, I went walking and walking and found myself behind the high school. I didn't go there yet, but I sort of walked up close to it, between the sheds and the track, wandering aimlessly past the football equipment. I noticed a light on, and (like any bored person in the middle of the night) I headed over. I ducked down low (really low) below the window. I could see a teacher in there, or anyway an adult. She worked on a laptop, clicking through pictures of cakes. I thought it was kind of funny, somebody sitting in a dumb classroom with Spanish conjugation on the walls looking at cakes so I hesitated just a minute before leaving. And when I hesitated, she spun around. I ducked. Then I held my breath. Did she see me? I slowly backed up, keeping myself low to the ground and trying not to make any noise. When I was about 10 feet away, I paused. And that's when I heard it. I heard that low growling. I turned to run but slipped on the pebbles. The growling got louder. I jumped to my feet. I looked over my shoulder at the window. The lady wasn't looking at me. She wasn't looking at me at all. She had her arms in front of her face. A shadow stretched
over her, and she screamed. I ran. And I didn't stop until I was back in bed, sweating and panting.

So sitting in the cafeteria, watching my brother cram the rest of his second hamburger into his face, I knew what that growling meant. I knew that the towering man in the cafeteria was no man. He was an ogre, like me. And he was going to eat my brother, just like he ate that substitute teacher that night.