I am Kirk

Part 1: I am Kirk

My parents have big ambitions for me. I have no ambition. I am the apple of my Mom's eye, her all American Guy.

I start high school in a week. It is a big deal for Mom. She wants me to look just right, to fit in. She starts getting me ready the week before: highlights my hair, all over spray tan, puts in my corn flour blue contact lenses. "I want you to have the California boy look, all sun kissed and glowing," she says.

On the morning of my first day she fusses over me: applying base make-up to my face, a hint of blusher, a smudge of lip-dye. When she is done, she looks at me, eyes full of pride, "You look so handsome, so strong, so fit – so full of life."

But, I do not have a life – I am a walking, talking corpse. 

A drunk driver smashed my life away two years ago. I remember my soul looking down on my devastated Dad as he carried my corpse back into the house. Mom cradled my body and cried. She would not let me go; they made a decision before my decay began.

They traded with the dark side: my soul, for my re-animation. I do not blame them; grief makes the living do desperate things.

I have no emotions. Mom and Dad teach me how to behave: what to say, when to smile, laugh, when to look sad. It is not easy; and I apologise in advance if I offend anyone here, that is not my intention. I just do not feel anything, except hunger.

High School is my big test. Can I pass as someone like you, mortal? My parents hope so.

I exist to eat. Smell and hunger are my only senses. Imagine being constantly starving, surrounded by your favourite foods, yet not allowed to eat any of it. That is what High School will be like for me. Torment times ten.

Mom is nervous as hell. She wants this so bad, I am her only child, her pride and joy. She will not accept I am gone, an empty shell.

"I'll be back at lunchtime with your favourite meat honey. Don't be tempted. Remember everything I taught you." She drives off.

I am on my own. Mom hopes I will get through my first day without offending any one. I hope I make it without eating any one. 

But, I am not really alone. I cannot be trusted. So, Dad is with me, kind of. He is outside, in the car with blacked out windows, watching my every move, listening. A small camera disguised as one of my shirt buttons transmits all my movements back to him. They cannot take any chances. They are responsible parents.

I enter the main reception area; it is full of freshmeat, I mean freshmen. I stop, lower my head and push my nostril plugs further up; but they still let in little wafts of deliciousness. A hand taps my shoulder, "Hey, are you OK?" It is a girl, a big girl – problem!

 Human fat is my favourite food – hard to resist. 

"I am good thank you," I say, then smile, just like Mom taught me. She sticks out her hand, "I'm Casey, pleased to meet you."

"I am Kirk," I smile, and put my hand in hers.

"Would you like me to show you to class? You look a little lost," she says.

"No."

"Why not?" she asks.

I smile, "Because you are fat."

"Hey, that's really nasty," she says.

"No, it is not, it is really nice, I love it."  

"You're weird."

"No, I am Kirk."

"You're totally weird."

"No, I am Kirk Russel," I smile. She sticks her middle finger up to my face. Is she offering it to me, to eat? Mmmmmmm, I prefer a big juicy buttock, but a finger is a nice snack. I lurch for the bite...JOLT! MEGA JOLT!

Jolts – they come from electrodes placed on various parts of my corpse; Dad activates them when I am about to do wrong. They do not hurt me. They torment me – pull me away from food. But Casey was giving me her finger? I do not understand; I am a confused corpse.

I walk towards class (Mom gave me a map.) A group of girls look at me; they stare, with their mouths open. Do they know I am lifeless? One girl speaks up, "You're cute," she says. "No, I am Kirk," I say. She puts her arm through mine and walks with me. "Nice to meet you Kirk, I'm Jenna. Are you excited to be a freshman," she says, with a big white smile. "Yes, I am excited, but I am not fresh," I say. "That's so sweet, I like a guy who doesn't know they're hot, makes them even hotter."

My Mom makes me hot. She puts heat pads on my corpse before she dresses me. My temperature is controlled from a thermostat at home. Otherwise I am cold, like ice.

"So Kirk, have you seen anyone you like?" says Jenna.

"Yes, I like all people."

She smiles, "And you're so diplomatic. But there must be somebody who's caught your eye, right?"

"Yes, Casey looks delicious," I say. She laughs.

Mom spent a lot of time teaching me how to laugh. I do it, laugh along with her. Then Jenna gives me a look I do not recognise, she stops laughing, closes her mouth and sticks her lips out. Is she offering me her lips to eat? "What about me Kirk, am I delicious?" she says. "Yes, you are also tasty," I say, then laugh again. She laughs too. I think I have passed my laughing test.

Of all the things Mom teaches me, I find face reading the toughest. While Jenna continues to talk at me, I look around and try to read as many faces as I can. I read: nervous, excited, frightened faces all around me. I cannot remember feeling any of these things. 

An older guy approaches and I am confronted by an emotion I cannot read. He looks at Jenna who is still attached to me. "So predictable, you didn't waste your time Jenna, grabbing the freshmen," he says. "Are you jealous, you've got competition. Not the best-looking guy in school now, are you Dale?" she says, while looking up at me. He puts his face close to mine, "What, jealous of a guy who's wearing more make-up than you Jenna, I don't think so," he laughs, and walks away. Jenna pulls away from me. I read a look of mild disgust on her face. 

She joins her friends, and says, "He's wearing make-up, that's kinda creepy." They all stare at me, with looks on their faces that I cannot read.

I stand-alone. People gather round me. They whisper, laugh, stare. They throw questions at me: "Are you gay?"

"I saw a documentary about people like this; are you some kind of transgender?"

"Are you a girl, disguised as a guy?"

"I get it, are you – like a drag queen?

Mom has not taught me the answers to any of these questions. I do not know what to say. Then Casey, the big girl, steps forward, "Kirk, why are you wearing make-up?" I know the answer to this question; Mom spent a long time teaching it to me. I put a kind of sad look on my face and say – "I have a skin condition called vitillgo. I wear camouflage make-up to disguise it and to protect my skin from the sun."

The people begin to walk away, until it is just Casey and me. She smiles, "I have a feeling you didn't mean to offend me earlier. I think we can be High school friends Kirk, what do you say?" I smile, "Yes, I would like that. You smell so nice, I will try my best not to be tempted." She laughs, "Kirk, I have no clue what you're talking about, but you're different, very different – I like that."

I am doing good, I have acquired a mortal friend on my first morning of High School.

I hope Mom comes with my lunch soon. I am beyond starving. I really will fail if I take a bite out of my friend Casey on my first day of High School...