Me, Myself and Ike

By K.L. Denman

After watching a TV program about Otzi, a 5,000-year-old "Ice Man," Kit's friend Ike becomes convinced that Kit's destiny is to become the next ice man—a source of information for future generations. Together they obtain artifacts they think will accurately reflect life in the early twenty-first century and plan their journey to a nearby mountain. Kit gets tattoos similar to Otzi's, writes a manifesto and tries to come to terms with making the ultimate sacrifice. As he grows more and more agitated and isolated, his family and friends suspect that something is terribly wrong, but before they can discover the true severity of the situation, Kit and Ike set off on what could be their last journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
• Release date: Oct 1, 2009
• ISBN: 9781554695065

K.L. Denman

K.L. Denman a écrit de nombreux romans pour la jeunesse, notamment Destination Human et Agent Angus publiés par Orca. Bon nombre de ses ouvrages ont figuré aux palmarès des meilleurs livres de l’année, et Me, Myself and Ike a été finaliste au Prix littéraire du Gouverneur général. K.L. Denman vit à Delta, en Colombie-Britannique.

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ME,

MySELf

and

iKE

ME,

MySELf

and

iKE

K. L. DENMAN

ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

Text copyright © 2009 K.L. Denman

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Denman, K. L., 1957-

Me, myself and Ike / written by K.L. Denman.

ISBN 978-1-55469-086-2

1. Schizophrenia in adolescence--Juvenile fiction.

I. Title.

PS8607.E64M4 2009     jC813’.6     C2009-902805-0

First published in the United States, 2009

Library of Congress Control Number: 2009928211

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Kit is paranoid, confused and alone, but neither he nor his family and friends understand what is happening to him.

Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

Design by Teresa Bubela

Cover artwork by Getty Images

Author photo by Hannah Denman

ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

PO BOX 5626, STN. B

VICTORIA, BC CANADA

V8R 6S4

ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

PO BOX 468

CUSTER, WA USA

98240-0468

www.orcabook.com

Printed and bound in Canada.

Printed on 100% PCW recycled paper

12 11 10 09 • 4 3 2 1

For the moon and the meadow, with love.

I am in you and you in me, mutual in divine love.

WILLIAM BLAKE

CONTENTS

FIVE THOUSAND YEARS AGO…

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

AUTHOR'S NOTE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

FIVE THOUSAND YEARS AGO…

The men are weary. The light is fading. By now they should have arrived at their destination and delivered the copper ax. It’s clear they’ve gone astray, perhaps into enemy territory.

They make camp for the night, huddled in the lee of an overhanging rock. Their fire, which wards off both the mountain cold and the possibility of animal attack, is a calculated risk. Should hostile eyes happen to sweep over them, the smoke will betray their presence, but surely the blowing snow that has obscured the landmarks all day will conceal one small thread of rising smoke. Surely.

They eat quickly, sharing deer meat, flat bread and fruit, and then they notice that the rock above them, its silhouette stark against a star-strewn sky, resembles a fearsome beast. A bad omen. And yes, the treacherous snow has elected to depart, exposing their fire. They argue about dousing it, weigh again their conflicting needs. In the end, a small fire blazes on. Neither of them sleeps.

At first light they set out, plodding steadily on their snowshoes, heading for their home village. Delivery of the ax will have to wait. The stars have at least given them direction, the sun too in its rising. They keep their weapons in hand.

The attack, when it comes, is hardly a surprise. Their enemies are clumsy and overconfident as they attempt to encircle the pair. So noisy, so foolish. The travelers’ first arrows find their marks. So do the next. Perhaps they will escape? Hope flares, hot as breath, as they forge on, eyes darting among the trees for a glimpse of further threat. Have they won? Is it possible?

It is not. The air parts, hissing, and they are hit, one in the shoulder and the other in the arm. They do not fall. They let fly swift replies and now…Now it is done. Incredible. The adrenaline rush of victory allows them to retrieve precious arrowheads, to nod admiration, one for the other. But when that rush has run its course, their wounds begin to speak of pain, of loss, of death.

No, not death. The one most sorely wounded still stands, and the other too. They lean together, share support and go on. How long they struggle forward, neither of them can say. Sweat runs from their brows, but it is as nothing compared to the running of blood.

They sink into the snow, and now they can see that the arrow to the arm was little more than a graze, a flesh wound, easily bound. But that one still lodged in the other’s shoulder…It is not good.

Hold steady now, and I will remove it. Lie down, says the one with the grazed arm.

The other lies down, bites hard on the flap of his bearskin hat. He does not cry out as the arrowhead grinds against bone, but a low groan escapes when he hears the shaft splinter free.

The arrowhead refuses to leave you. It is deep. There is much blood.

The man on the ground nods. After a moment, he says, You must go.

His companion shakes his head. No.

You must. No need for our tribe to lose two metal masters.

I will get help. We will come back for you.

It will be too late. Take the ax.

No. It is a token of my word that I will return. I leave it with you for safekeeping; its weight would burden me.

It is too valuable to leave behind. Take it.

But his companion does not.

The man on the ground reflects on his life. He doesn’t believe he’ll see his tribe again. He would like a proper burial, a ritual to secure his return. All of life returns, does it not? He feels his strength seeping away in steady throbs. He looks about and decides that this unfamiliar place will not do. He stands. Takes one step. Two. More. How many? It doesn’t matter. He must find the proper resting place.

His gaze sweeps from side to side, and he sways, falls backward, feels only dimly the crunch of his skull on rock. Vision fades for a time but when it returns, so too does his compulsion, driving him upright once more. There is blood on the snow, and a shudder takes him; he must distance himself from that. He must. He staggers on, forcing step after step from his broken body, going until he can go no farther. His time has come. He looks about, salutes the holy earth, left hand to heart, and collapses, pitching forward. There is no more pain, no awareness of the avalanche that comes snarling to cover him in white so deep its marrow is black.

ONE

I pace the crumbling sidewalk in front of the old concrete building twice before I glance down the alley and see a sign jutting out. The faded slab of wood hangs crookedly, but the flaking paint says I’ve found what I’m looking for: Tony’s Tattoos. I slip into the alley’s dank shade and adjust the hood on my black sweatshirt, turtling into its depths as I push open the door.

I get a dim impression of clutter, stale cigarette smoke, ragged posters of tattoo designs papering the walls, but I don’t look at these things. I focus on the guy huddled over the spotlighted flesh of a woman’s bare thigh. He’s wielding a tattoo gun with squinting concentration. He doesn’t look up.

He says, Yeah?

The woman he’s working on remains motionless, but her eyes probe mine and she mutters, Jeez. Do you mind?

I hadn’t counted on there being any other customers in a crappy shop like this. I’d pictured myself walking in, demanding my tattoo, getting it and getting out, just like that. I look at the walls and say, Maybe I’ll come back later.

The guy, probably Tony, says, Almost done here. What’ve ya got in mind, kid?

Kid? I start to lie, tell him I’m no kid, I’m plenty old enough to do this, but he asked what I wanted, didn’t he? Maybe he won’t ask for ID.

I’ve got my design right here. I pull a piece of paper out of my pocket.

Briefly, Tony’s eyes squeeze shut. Of course ya do. Doesn’t everyone these days? Sure you don’t want to take a look at my book? It’s right there, on the counter. I do a nice serpent. Pretty nice skull too.

No thanks.

For the first time, he looks up. He’s still squinting when he asks, Ya got cash? It’s one twenty an hour.

I nod.

Okay, take a seat. Be with you in a few.

You’re being careful, aren’t you, Tony? the woman whines. You’re not hurrying, are you?

Cupcake, I’m just like a granny on ice. Don’t worry. It’s gonna be amazing.

She allows herself a small smile, then winces as the needle moves close to the bone. Good. This is for my latest guy, y’know.

Yeah, yeah. Tony snorts. Gotta tell ya, Penny, I hope he goes the same way as the last one.

What? she screeches.

He chuckles. Relax. You and your guys—you’re good for business.

Tony!

All right, all right. I hope you live happily ever after.

I tune them out. I pick up the book of designs and slump into a ratty chair in the corner. I start flipping through but barely register the roses, the ships, the hula girls, all the old-school stuff. Only one stands out: a white stag with intricate antlers crowning his head. The eyes of the stag are uncanny, almost life-like. It makes me pause. White stags are such powerful symbols of…something.

My thoughts drift and settle on my conversation with Ike, the one that led to this. He had said, The Ice Man had tattoos. You’re going to need some.

I said, Right. Like my folks are going to sign off on that one. Forget it.

You’re such a freakin’ pussy, Kit, Ike said. You try hard enough, you’ll find someone who’ll do it. Or you could do it yourself, though I doubt you’d have the balls for that.

Do it myself? Get real.

You think the Ice Man went to a tattoo parlor? Dudes have been doing their own tatts forever, man. Just like piercing. You don’t need a pro for any of that shit. Bet you could go on the Net and find out how to do it in ten seconds.

I thought about it. But if I was going to get a tattoo, it would have to be hidden someplace where my parents wouldn’t notice it. And if I was doing it to be like the Ice Man, then shouldn’t it be on my lower back or behind my knee? How was I supposed to do that myself?

So you take the bus to Nanaimo, Ike said, "or even Victoria. Probably lots of places there. You find a joint that isn’t too bugged about rules and bam! — you’re done. Look at how many kids at school got tatts. There’s places that’ll do it."

There aren’t that many kids at my high school with tattoos, but

Reviews for Me, Myself and Ike

[allyss-3 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I read this when I was a little too old I think (late 20s), because the twist was a little too obvious to me right from the start. That being said, it was a solid portrayal of a teenager struggling with mental illness. The author pulled off writing from the main character's perspective, and his perspective of what he thinks is going on very well.

[librorumamans · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Me myself and Ike would make a valuable addition to any YA collection because of its sensitive portrayal of adolescent schizophrenia. Denman's decision to write in the first person has the double effect of creating a mystery story that the reader can eventually figure out and thus helping the reader experience the viewpoint of the book's schizophrenic narrator. The addition of an afterward with further information about the disease and suggested references is a valuable bonus. The novel is a good read on its own terms while also providing important educational information.

[bellydancer_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Kit is embarking on a life ending adventure. He has been inspired by a T.V. show on the Ice Man to make himself a human time-capsule. Kit is collecting all the things he deems worthy of a place in history. Only, his friend Ike is becoming increasing a contributor to the friendship. But this is no ordinary friendship, Ike is not ordinary friend, so who is Ike?Written in the first person this is a fast paced novel about a teenage boy’s daily struggle with mental illness. I thoroughly enjoyed the story of Kit. I found it an intriguing read and wanted to see where Kit’s story went. A good read that contains no sex or bad language. A must read for any teens with mental illness in their family or friends situation.

[ninarucker · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is a very interesting view into the life of Kit, a schizophrenic teen on a strange adventure. I thought it was a good, quick read, and would definitely be a good read for a young teen, figuring themselves out.

[prop2gether · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Essentially a study of a schizophrenic teen who tells the story himself of how he plans to become another "time capsule" cave man, this novel is both too long and too short for its audience. The author's statement that she chose the disease appears to say that it sounded interesting, so she researched it and then wrote the book. Denman's writing is elegant, and she is quite skillful at telling how her main character feels and reacts. However, the ending was so abrupt that it seemed as if she did not know how to tell the story of the next step in this disease. I would read other works by this author, but this is not a book I would recommend as an "introduction" to schizophrenia for the teen audience to which it is being marketed.

[mzonderm · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

At first, this book seems to be about two teenage boys embarking on one of the stupidest plans ever. Inspired by a documentary on the Ice Man, one has convinced the other to climb up into the Canadian Rockies and freeze himself, along with examples of modern technology and culture, as evidence for posterity. The book is largely taken up with Kit's preparations for doing so.Fortunately, for both Kit and the reader, the book is really about much more than this moronic scheme. As we follow Kit through his preparations, we begin to see that perhaps all is not what it seems. Through his interactions with others, we learn that Kit used to be a good kid - he had friends, got along well with his family, did reasonably well in school. But a few months before the start of the action, everything changes. We get a sense of this only in the way that others react to Kit, but this is a startlingly effective method of portraying this change. Throughout the book, we also get a feel for what others noticed in Kit that caused them to change their perceptions, although, in a first-person narrative, the changes are only subtly observable to the reader. It isn't until almost the end of the book that we begin to understand what is really going on with Kit, and how dangerous it potentially is.

[sutherhd · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book allows the reader to get inside of the mind of Kit, as he spirals deeper and deeper into schizophrenia. You will feel Kit's loneliness, his heartbreaks and disappointments as his story unfolds. A page-turner from the start, as you try to understand where it all began and where it will lead.