Easter
by Stephanie Layman

Everyone has to listen to me. Anyone I talk to has to do exactly as I say. When I was
younger, I didn’t know what to do with this odd talent, I barely understood it. Now
that I’m older, I realize what I can do. And now, since I met Alan, I realize who I am.

I am God.

My name is Billie Easter and I’m seven years old. Even though my name is a boy’s, I’m a
girl. I live with my dad and sister. My sister, Jean, is almost three times my age and
works at McDonalds.

My room is the best room in the house. I have lotsa, lotsa toys. My favorite is the
Barbie with brown hair. When ever I ask for a Barbie, and daddy buys me a blond one,
I cut her hair really short and color it with markers. I have about 20 of them. But
there’s only one brown hair Barbie. She’s the queen and makes the blondes bring her
peeled grapes and caviar and paté. I don’t even know what caviar and paté are, I just
know that rich people eat them, so the Queen Barbie should eat them.

At school, I don’t like to tell people what to do, because they get mad at me. I only tell
Melodie what to do because she’s mean to me and blonde. One time I told her to stay
outside when recess was over. And another time, I told her to lick the sliding board.
That was fun.

In October, a new family moved in next door. There’s a mom, and a dad, a little boy,
and a little girl. They have a doggie. I’ve always wanted a doggie, but I sneeze around
them, so I can’t. The boy’s name was Alan, and he was my age, and the girl is called
Marlene. She’s twelve.

Alan was in my class in school. He was really stupid. He didn’t even know most of the
addition. Addition is the easiest thing in the world, I think. So I avoided him for the
rest of the day. When school was over, I started walking home, and Alan tried to walk
with me. I asked him to not walk with me, and he refused.

“Ok, Alan, I tried to be nice,” I told him. “But you don’t listen. Don’t walk with me.”

“I’m sorry, Billie,” he said and then walked across the street so he wasn’t by me.

This happened every single day! After the first couple days, I stopped asking before I
instructed him. Then after a couple weeks I told him not to walk with me ever again,
unless I said it was ok.

In the winter, Alan’s mom started giving me a ride to and from school everyday since it
was cold and daddy couldn’t take me because of his job. She is a very nice lady. I said
“thank you” everyday when she dropped me off or picked me up.

When Alan and I started walking home from school again in the spring, he walked with
me. I thought maybe since he forgot me telling him not to walk with me, he didn’t have
to do that. But when I told him not to walk with me, he still did. How could he do that?
Everyone has to do exactly what I say! I told him to hop on one foot. He didn’t. I told
him to spin in a circle. He asked why. “Because I said so,” I said. He still didn’t spin.
This made me very angry, and so I made daddy buy me more blonde Barbies to worship
the Queen Barbie. I thought for a long, long time about why Alan did not have to listen
to me. It was very puzzling. I even asked daddy about it, and he didn’t have a clue as to
what I was talking about. My father is very stupid.

It was a long time before I realized what was going on. It was the last day of school
before Easter vacation. At recess that day, I tried to make Alan do a lot of things, but
he didn’t. I didn’t know what was wrong, so turning to the strangest place, I decided to
ask Alan. “Alan,” I asked. “Do you know what I can do?”

“What, Billie?”

“I can make people do what I say.”’

“You can?”

“Yes. Except you. I think there may be something different about you.”

“I don’t think I’m different.”

“But you have to be!” I stomped my foot. “Why else can you resist my commands?”

“Maybe you lost your power.”

Lost my power? No! It couldn’t be possible. I ran up to Melodie and made her run
around in circles. So, I hadn’t lost my power. “Alan, something is different about you,”
I told him.

“I don’t know what it is.”

And then, like a bolt of lightning out of a clear blue sky, it hit me. Who else could make
people do stuff with a simple command? My Queen Barbie was one, but blondes can
disobey the queen, but they’d be killed. Only one other possibility: God. I was God. Who
else? And the only reason Alan could resist my power was because he must have been
an angel or messenger sent to me to say that I was to return to heaven.

That’s it. It’s time for me to return to heaven.

I’m writing this down just to let everyone know why I did what I did. You shouldn’t be
sad, I’m in heaven as you read this! Alan has returned as well. He’s an angel and he
belongs in heaven.

Daddy wasn’t careless. He didn’t leave any knives laying around, and the lock was still on
the knife drawer from when I was younger. He didn’t own any guns, so I started to feel
a little upset. How was I to return to heaven if there were no means of getting me
there? I then got an idea and pulled the drain cleaner from underneath the sink. I
poured some of it into a paper cup. How was I supposed to get Alan to drink this? I
pulled a Kool-Aid packet from the cupboard and poured half in. I made a cup for myself
too. I stuck my head out the window and called to Alan who was playing in the yard. He
came over and I gave him the cup. He drank it. This was just a couple minutes ago. Alan’s body looks a funny color. Kind of blue... purple.

My turn now. It smells bad. I’m going to heaven. It’ll only feel bad for a little while,
then I’ll be in heaven; God once again. I’m going to heaven, right? Right. I’m going to
drink it now. ew it taste reaal ba