Beastly by Alex Flinn Page A

I’m not in a wheelchair. I’m a complete and total freak.” I turned away, so they couldn’t see me lose it.
    “Dr. Endecott,” my father said, “we’ve been to more than a dozen doctors and clinics. At some point…” He stopped. “You came highly recommended. If it’s a matter of money, I’ll pay anything to help my son. This won’t be an insurance job.”
    “I understand that, Mr. Kingsbury,” the doctor said. “I wish –”
    “Don’t worry about the risk. I’ll sign a waiver. I think Kyle and I both agree that we’d rather risk…
    anything than have Kyle continue to live like this. Right, Kyle?” I nodded, even though I realized my father was saying he’d rather see me dead than alive the way I looked. “Yeah.”
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Kingsbury, but it’s really not a matter of money or risk. It’s simply that there’s nothing to be done. I thought perhaps with skin grafts, even a face transplant, but I did some tests, and…”
    “What?” my father said.
    “It was the oddest thing, but the structure of the skin remained unchanged whatever I did, almost as if it couldn’t be changed.”
    “That’s insane. Anything can be changed.”
    “No. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. I don’t know what could have caused it.” Dad shot me another look. I knew he didn’t want me telling anyone about the witch. He still didn’t believe it himself. He still thought I had some weird disease that could be cured by medicine.
    Dr. Endecott continued. “I’d really like to do some more tests, for research purposes.”
    “Will they help my son look normal?”
    “No, but they might help us to learn more about his condition.”
    “My son won’t be a guinea pig,” Dad snapped.
    The doctor nodded. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kingsbury. The only thing I can suggest is that you get Kyle into counseling, to learn to deal with this as best he can.” Dad gave a thin smile. “Yes, I’ll be sure to do that. I already looked into it.”
    “Good.” Dr. Endecott turned to me. “And Kyle, I’m very sorry I can’t help you. But you need to understand that this isn’t the end for you unless you let it be. Many people with disabilities go on to great achievement. Ray Charles, a blind man, had tremendous musical accomplishments, and Stephen Hawking, the physicist, is a genius despite motor neuron disease.”
    “But that’s the problem, Doc. I’m no genius. I’m just a guy.”
    “I’m sorry, Kyle.” Dr. Endecott stood and patted my shoulder again, in a way that said both There, there and Please leave now. I understood and got up.
    Dad and I barely spoke on the drive home. When we got there, Dad walked with me from the limo to the back service entrance door of our building. I pulled the dark veil away from my face. It was July and hot, and even though I tried to keep my face hair trimmed, it grew back almost instantly. Dad gestured for me to go in.
    “Aren’t you coming?” I said.
    “No, I’m late. I’ve missed enough work for this crap.” He must have seen my face because he added, “It’s a waste of time if it’s not accomplishing anything.”
    “Sure.” I walked in. Dad started to close the door, but I let it hit my back. “Will you still keep trying to help me?”
    I watched Dad’s face. My father was a news guy, so he was really good at keeping a straight face even when he was BS-ing. But even Dad couldn’t help the twitch his lips gave when he said, “Of course, Kyle. I’ll never stop trying.”

    4
    That night I couldn’t stop thinking about what Dr. Endecott had said, about how he couldn’t help me because I couldn’t change. It made sense now – how it seemed like as soon as I cut my hair, it grew right back. Same with my nails – claws now.
    Dad wasn’t home, and Magda was gone for the night. Dad had raised her salary and sworn her to secrecy. So I took out a pair of kitchen scissors and a razor. I hacked the hair on my left arm as short as I could, then shaved the rest off