The Eyes Of Kid Midas

11 LIFE AS WE KNOW IT

Kirkpatrick was back in school on Monday, as Josh Wilson had hoped.

Josh had avoided Kevin like the plague all weekend, and on that Monday morning he didn't wait for Kevin to show up at his door. He left early because he needed time to think things through without Kevin.... Kevin was getting creepy, and there were things going through Josh's mind that he wouldn't dare share with Kevin, even if he were his best friend.

The fact was, things weren't "right" anymore. Not just the things Kevin had been wishing for, but things in general—things all around. Ever since Kevin had found those glasses, the days had begun to feel strange, but Josh couldn't put that feeling into words—or maybe he was just afraid to.

So Josh went to talk to Kirkpatrick. If he could talk to anyone at school about such things, it was Kirkpatrick. He was the only real philosopher among the Ridgeline Middle School teachers—he always seemed to have a keen interest in and an open mind to even the weirdest of notions. Besides, Kirkpatrick had started the whole thing. He was the one who planted the idea of climbing the mountain in Kevin's head, about as powerfully as Bertram had planted the pinecone in Kevin's mouth.

The first bell was still twenty minutes away when Josh arrived in Mr. Kirkpatrick's classroom. Kirkpatrick sat at his desk, with a red, sniffy nose, correcting papers and taking care of all the problems left behind by Ms. Q. He didn't notice Josh until Josh was halfway to the front of the room.

"You're early today, Josh."

"Yeah. Can I talk to you, Mr. Kirkpatrick?"

The teacher put down his pen and papers and looked up as Josh sat down in the closest chair. "Something wrong? Was it Ms. Quaackenbusch? Are other kids giving you a hard time?"

"No, nothing like that," said Josh. He was beginning to understand just what it was he wanted to ask, but how could he come right out and say it?

"Mr. K.," asked Josh, "how do you think the world is going to end?"

Kirkpatrick looked at him for a moment, and laughed. "I was expecting maybe girl trouble," he said. "I mean, don't seventh graders have enough to deal with without thinking about the end of life as we know it?"

He studied Josh and finally realized that Josh was dead serious. Kirkpatrick leaned back and ran his fingers through his uneven hair.

"I don't think the world will end, Josh. I don't think it can." He glanced up at the humming fluorescent lights and rocked a bit in his chair. "But when I was younger, I used to think about it a lot."

"What did you think about?"

Kirkpatrick shrugged. "A bunch of things. You know, nuclear war—someone turns a key, and poof, everything's gone. Sometimes I would wonder if there was really a great flood thousands of years ago, and if there might be another one. I would think about the dinosaurs and how they might have been wiped out by a meteor striking the earth—and wonder if it could happen again."

Josh felt the tips of his ears begin to tingle as if they were getting cold. There were times when he had thought about these things, too.

"But I don't worry anymore," said Kirkpatrick. "Now I just trust that those things won't happen."

Josh shook his head. "I don't think that's how the world's going to end." He leaned in closer as he spoke. "I think it's going to be a quieter thing. It's going to happen in a way that no one even notices anything is wrong. I think things are going to sort of . . . stop making sense . . . bit by bit. Things won't work right, people won't think right, everything's going to get all mixed up, until nothing in the universe works the way it's supposed to.... And then, everything will just . . . stop."

"The Dream Time," said Kirkpatrick, raising his eyebrows.

"The what?"

Kirkpatrick took on that knowing look of a shaman—as he had around the campfire two weekends before. "There are some cultures," he said, "that believe there will come a time when dreams cross the barrier into the real world, and the real world is dragged into an endless dream. All the laws of science and logic will break down into the chaos of nightmares. Pretty wild, huh?"

Josh could feel his hands and feet grow numb. Kirkpatrick didn't know it, but he had hit the nail right on the head. This was exactly what Josh had been sensing. Everything was sort of . . . slipping away, and it was all because of Kevin and those awful glasses. Josh wanted to run home and take a shower to wash the feeling away. He wanted to slam his fist against the wall, just so he could feel it and know that it was real and not a dream.

"You think that could happen?" asked Josh. "The Dream Time?"

Kirkpatrick waved his hand as if he were swatting away a fly. "Naah. It's an ancient superstition made up by people who needed to explain things. It's the same as believing the world is flat, or that the sun revolves around the earth."

"But the prophecy," said Josh, practically climbing out of his chair. "The legend about the Divine Watch—those people had to know something!"

Kirkpatrick leaned back and laughed again. "Is that what this is all about, the mountain?"

"The prophecy makes sense!" said Josh.

"Maybe so," said Kirkpatrick, "but I made it up."

Josh backed up until the hard wood of his chair pressed against his shoulder blades. "You what?"

"I made it all up. It was a good campfire story," said Kirkpatrick, a bit pleased with himself. "Too good, I guess."

Josh couldn't look at him now. "You don't understand..." he mumbled.

"Sure I do," said Kirkpatrick kindly.

Josh couldn't let it go. There had to be a way to get through to him. "Nicole Patterson is six inches tall!" Josh blurted out.

Kirkpatrick thought about that. "Well . . . I never gave it much thought . . . but now that you mention it, yes, she is about the size of a shoe. So?"

"So, doesn't that seem strange to you?"

"Should it?"

Josh threw his hands up in the air.

Kirkpatrick began to tap his pen against his desk and chew on his upper lip. "Josh . . . maybe you ought to go down to guidance and have a talk with Dr. Cutler."

"Why?"

"Well . . . obviously something is troubling you. Maybe she could help."

"I'm not crazy!"

"No one said you were."

Josh stood up so fast the chair flew out behind him and fell to the floor. He headed for the door as quickly as he could, but before he left he turned back to Kirkpatrick.

"One more thing ..." Josh kept his hand on the doorknob, as if touching something—anything—solid and real would give him the courage to ask the question he needed to ask and face the answer he knew he would get.

"How much," asked Josh, "is two plus two?"

Kirkpatrick looked at him, expecting there to be a punch line. "What's your point, Josh?"

"Just answer the question," said Josh.

Kirkpatrick shrugged. "Three, of course. The answer is three."