Antsy Does Time

5. People Sign Their Lives Away for the Dumbest Reasons, but Don’t Blame Me, I Just Wrote the Contract

I don’t think it’s possible not to be selfish. Of course that doesn’t mean everyone’s gotta be like Old Man Crawley either, but there’s a little bit of selfishness in everything. Even when you give something from the bottom of your heart, you’re always getting something back, aren’t you? It could just be the satisfaction of making someone happy—which makes you feel better about yourself, so you can balance out whatever awful thing you did earlier in the day.

Even Howie, who gets screamed at for always buying the wrong gift for his mother, is getting something out of that; each time he gets smacked for getting flowers his mother is allergic to or something, he’s left with the warm-fuzzy feeling of knowing some things never change, and his universe is all solid and stable.

My motivations were getting very muddy when it came to my so-called good deeds for Gunnar, and it was starting to feel more and more like disguised selfishness, because of the Kjersten complication.

Lexie believed that Kjersten’s kiss meant something. I put a lot of stock in what she said, not just because I trusted Lexie’s judgment, but because deep down, I was pretty sure it meant something, too. At the very least it was an invitation to make it mean something. Was it wrong to perpetrate good deeds when attention from Kjersten was one of the perks?

I, Mary Ellen McCaw, being of sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath one month of my natural life to Gunnar Ümlaut, that month being the month of June, which shall be taken from the end of my natural life, and not the middle.

Mary Ellen McCaw

Signature

ANTHONY BONANO

Signature of Witness

Thanks to Mary Ellen, the word about “time shaving” had spread quickly. She bragged to the known world about how she donated a month of her life to poor, poor Gunnar Ümlaut, and how the idea was all hers, although I may have contributed a piece of paper.

As people were not entirely stupid, they saw right through Mary Ellen and realized she was leeching off of my idea—so the next day about half a dozen people came out of the woodwork wanting to donate some of their time. Gunnar was more than happy to accept whatever months came his way, and Kjersten was sufficiently impressed.

“This is just what Gunnar needs,” she said when I showed her Mary Ellen’s contract. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

I could have given her some suggestions.

There was this one girl—Ashley Morales—who was clearly in love with Gunnar—even more so than most of the female student body. She wanted her month to be special. “I want my month to be his last,” she told me. “Can you make sure that he knows my month is his last?”

Since no one else had claimed the honor, I was happy to oblige.

I, Ashley Morales, being of sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath one month of my natural life to Gunnar Ümlaut. The month shall not be this coming May or June, which are months already reserved by others. The month shall be taken from the end of my natural life, and not the middle. The month shall be the absolute last additional month of Gunnar Ümlaut’s life, beyond which there shall only be afterlife, if applicable.

Ashley Morales

Signature

Neena Weyler

Signature of Witness

Then there was this other guy who had come from confession, and his priest wanted him to say like fourteen thousand Hail Marys for writing obscene graffiti on the Gowanus Expressway. He negotiated it down to one month of community service. I guess the kid figured a month donated to Gunnar was just as good.

The kid was all worried about it, though, and took it even more seriously than Ashley.

“I don’t want to give up a month if I’m gonna croak tomorrow or anything,” he told me, “because it means I’ll owe days from last month, and I don’t need that kind of grief.”

“C’mon, it’s not like it’s real or anything,” I remind him. “It’s just to make Gunnar feel better.”

“Yeah,” he says, “but what if turns out to be real after all—like those chain e-mails you gotta forward to ten people, or you die?”

“Those aren’t real!” I tell him.

“Yeah,” he says. “But how can you be sure ... ?”

I think about that and get all uncomfortable, because I have been guilty of forwarding those stupid e-mails, too. But I usually just send them to people I don’t like.

I sigh. “Okay. What if I make your contract void if you’re scheduled to croak before next month? That way you won’t owe any days, and you can enter the pearly gates totally free of debt.”

He thought about that some more, finally agreed, and happily went back to his priest, mission accomplished.

I, Jasper Horace Januski, being of sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath one month of my natural life to Gunnar Ümlaut, subject to the stuff listed below:

1. The month shall not be this coming May or June, or the last month of Gunnar Ümlaut’s life, which are all already reserved by others.

2. The month shall be taken from the end of my natural life and not the middle.

3. The donated month shall be null and void if my own expiration date is less than 31 days from the date of this contract.

Jasper Januski

Signature

Dewey Lopez

Signature of Witness

I have to admit, it felt good to be doing something positive for Gunnar, in spite of the fact that it hadn’t brought forth a second kiss from Kjersten, regardless of how little salami I ate, or how much mouthwash I used. I think maybe her reluctance came from the picture Dewey Lopez published in the school paper of our first kiss. Luckily it wasn’t on the front cover, since he also snapped a picture of Principal Sinclair coming out of the bathroom with his fly open and a piece of shirttail hanging out. Definitely front-page material. Still, the page-four article was seen by the whole school, with the unpleasant headline LOVE SKIPS A GRADE.

I don’t know how it affected Kjersten’s social standing, but it sure did elevate mine. Everybody wanted to know about it, but I kept quiet, because I figured Kjersten might respect a guy who didn’t kiss and tell—even if that guy was one year and seven months younger than her. (Yes, I snuck into the office and checked her school record to find out exactly how much older than me she was.)

Kjersten never mentioned the article or the picture or, for that matter, the kiss. But she did continue to tell me what an entirely great guy I was, which meant another piece of Trident might only be a few days away.

“It’s so, so special that you’re sensitive to Gunnar’s little problem,” Kjersten told me when I handed her the month Howie gave me—which was month number seven and counting.

At the time I had laughed, and wondered how she could call it “a little problem.” I’m not wondering anymore. And I’m not laughing either.

I, Howard Bernard Bogerton, being of somewhat sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath one month of my natural life to Gunnar Ümlaut, subject to the stuff listed below:

1. The month shall not be this coming May or June, or the last month of Gunnar Ümlaut’s life, which are all already reserved by others.

2. The month shall be taken from the end of my natural life, and not the middle.

3. The donated month shall be null and void if my own expiration date is less than 31 days from the date of this contract.

4. Should Gunnar Ümlaut use my month for criminal acts such as shoplifting or serial killing, I shall not be held responsible.

HOWIE BOGERTON

Signature

Ira Goldfarb

Signature of Witness

By Friday, I had gotten Gunnar a full year.