Gwendy's Button Box

9

A week before Gwendy starts the tenth grade at Castle Rock High, she runs the Suicide Stairs for the first time in almost a year. The day is mild and breezy, and she reaches the top without breaking much of a sweat. She stretches for a brief moment and glances down the length of her body: she can see her entire damn sneakers.

She walks to the railing and takes in the view. It’s the kind of morning that makes you wish death didn’t exist. She scans Dark Score Lake, then turns to the playground, empty now except for a young mother pushing a toddler on the baby swing. Her eyes finally settle on the bench where she met Mr. Farris. She walks over to it and sits down.

More and more often lately, a little voice inside her head is asking questions she doesn’t have answers for. Why you, Gwendy Peterson? Out of all the people in this round world, why did he choose you?

And there are other, scarier, questions, too: Where did he come from? Why was he keeping an eye on me? (His exact words!) What the hell is that box… and what is it doing to me?

Gwendy sits on the bench for a long time, thinking and watching the clouds drift past. After a while, she gets up and jogs down the Suicide Stairs and home again. The questions remain: How much of her life is her own doing, and how much the doing of the box with its treats and buttons?