Gwendy's Button Box

18

“Imagine that, Gwendy wins again,” Sallie says, rolling her eyes and tossing her cards onto the carpet in front of her.

There are four of them sitting in a circle on the Peterson’s den floor: Gwendy, Sallie Ackerman, Brigette Desjardin, and Josie Wainwright. The other three girls are seniors at Castle Rock High and frequent visitors to the Peterson home this school year.

“You ever notice that?” Josie says, scrunching up her face. “Gwendy never loses. At pretty much anything.”

Sallie rolls with it: “Best grades in school. Best athlete in school. Prettiest girl in school. And a card shark to boot.”

“Oh, shut up,” Gwendy says, gathering the cards. It’s her turn to shuffle and deal. “That’s not true.”

But Gwendy knows it is true, and although Josie is just teasing in her usual goofy way (who else would aspire to be lead singer in a group called the Pussycats?), she also knows that Sallie isn’t teasing at all. Sallie is getting sick of it. Sallie is getting jealous.

Gwendy first realized it was becoming an issue a few months earlier. Yes, she’s a fast runner, maybe the fastest varsity runner in the county. Maybe in the entire state. Really? Yes, really. And then there are her grades. She always earned good ones in school, but in younger years she had to study hard for those grades, and even then, there were usually a handful of B’s, along with all those A’s on her report cards. Now she barely hits the books at all, and her grades are the highest in the whole junior class. She even finds herself writing down the wrong answers from time to time, just to avoid, ho-hum, another perfect test score. Or forcing herself to lose at cards and arcade games just to keep her friends from becoming suspicious. Regardless of her efforts, they know something is weird anyway.

Buttons aside, coins aside, little chocolate treats aside, the box has given her… well… powers.

Really? Yes, really.

She never gets hurt anymore. No strained muscles from track. No bumps or bruises from soccer. No nicks or scratches from being clumsy. Not even a stubbed toe or broken fingernail. She can’t remember the last time she’s needed a Band-Aid. Even her period is easy. No more cramps, a few drops on a sanitary pad, and done. These days Gwendy’s blood stays where it belongs.

These realizations are both fascinating and terrifying to Gwendy. She knows it’s the box somehow doing this—or perhaps the chocolate treats—but they really are one and the same. Sometimes, she wishes she could talk to someone about it. Sometimes, she wishes she were still friends with Olive. She might be the only person in the world who would listen and believe her.

Gwendy places the deck of cards on the floor and gets to her feet. “Who wants popcorn and lemonade?”

Three hands go up. Gwendy disappears into the kitchen.