text: When I touch people they turn into bears. My mom told me to keep it a secret. She said that’s why she doesn’t say “I love you” out loud. I could accidentally slip up and give her a hug, and then who would cook me dinner? Who would drive me to school in the morning? I just got curious I guess. It had been so long since it actually happened. Last time I was six and my uncle had just died from cancer. I touched him on the arm on his bed. Everyone sort of gasped when he transformed. When I tiptoed up to the coffin at the funeral I saw a teddy bear with a pale face and closed eyes, dressed in a little black suit. Again that was so long ago, I can barely remember. I’m used to not touching anyone nowadays, really. But when I see a fluffy beard or afro, or the smile of my friend when I am sad and not having such a good day, I sort of want to reach forward and touch them with the tip of my pinky. Today was just another day in English. He was sitting in front of me as he always did, green hoody, his elbow slouched on his desk. My crush with the sideswept Korean drama playboy bangs that I’d watched from afar for a year. I’d thought for so many times that if I reached forward, no one would notice. And today was perfect. Mr. Krueger had given us ten minutes to meditate at our desks. It was dark. Everyone was asleep. No one would see me. His hoody would protect him from bearification. So I put my pinky on the outermost crease of his hoody, where it was so baggy it definitely was far from his body. But as soon as I touched him he jerked awake and his elbow came into contact with my pinky. Pop! There was a teddy bear in front of me where my dream boy had been sitting. The lights went on and people started murmuring. I didn’t wait to look around and see what was going on. I made straight for the exit, slammed the doors of the hallway open, and ran the whole fifteen minutes home, slamming the front door closed behind me and barricading it with a chair. I ran into my room and stuffed my backpack with a water bottle, my mp3 player, and random stuff. No one was home. Soon I heard some rustling and men yelling outside. There was a big cracking sound, like wood breaking, being smashed in. “Halt!” said a voice behind me. I turned. A man wearing a helmet aimed a gun at me. “You, the Teddy Bear Toucher. Freeze!” “I just wanted one touch, I swear!” He rushed towards me and I dodged, bumping against him as I escaped. Pop! He was a teddy bear, lying on the floor, his helmet knocked to the side. I sprinted out of the house. For what seemed like hours I dodged this way and that, until I was deep into the wilderness behind my house. I knew where I’d be safe. I crept into the urine-stained tunnel under the old bridge, by which I could escape to the other side of town. Pigeons cooed from dark overhead corners. My heart was still slamming against my ribcage like mad. I just wanted a little touch, I thought. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. But you know how it is. No one wants to be turned into teddy bears. I took out my mp3 player and plugged in my music. Something comforting, like The Coloring Book album from Chance the Rapper. His music feels like how I imagine a hug could be. Warm and inviting, soul-surrounding. I feel like the soul of that human is being sung to me so I can be warm inside. I took Snuggles out of my backpack. He was an OG teddy bear that had come with a pack of laundry detergent my mom had bought once. I could hug him all I wanted and he wouldn’t turn into anything else but himself. He was worn and fuzzy from all the hugs I had given him over the years. I hugged Snuggles tight and imagined he was a real live bear hugging me back and telling me everything was going to be okay. He hugged me back as tight as he could with his little arms. Our hugs filled my soul and expanded my mind, filling me with soft cotton plush warmth. When the men with helmets and guns walked by, we were just two stuffed animals under a bridge.