“Because I’m curious about how much of a loser you are. You’re probably taking me out to see your art collection. Ooooh, robots and monsters and fairies and shit!”
Toby couldn’t wait to watch Owen bite into this jerk. He hoped Owen wouldn’t kill him on the first chomp- Toby would have to somehow encourage him to start with the extremities.
Scream loud, J.D. We’ll be too deep in the woods for anybody to hear you.
He stopped walking.
What the hell was he doing?
“Go back home,” he said.
“What?”
“Go away. We’re done.”
“Seriously? You dragged me out here for nothing?”
“Yes. Fuck off.”
J.D. snorted in disbelief. “I can’t believe you. You are a creepy, nerdy, zit-faced little freak. Go back to the circus.”
“I will. Fuck off and die.”
“God, you’re a loser,” J.D. muttered as he walked back the way they came.
Toby knew he was a loser. He was fine with that. But the fact that he was ready to feed another classmate to Owen scared the hell out of him.
C HAPTER T EN
1963. Age 18.
Toby tossed his graduation cap high into the air, hoping it would get caught in a wind stream and sail away, never to be seen again. It didn’t, it landed on the grass right in front of him, but that was fine because school was over.
No more school! No more books! No more teachers’ dirty looks! No more cretins who test your resolve not to commit the act of murder again, or at least lead them to their violent deaths!
Mom and Dad watched proudly from the bleachers. They would’ve been prouder if he were going to college, but Toby had no interest in that. It was hard to believe that there was an era when he didn’t consider school a waste of time. He’d applied to a few universities just to play along, and been accepted into two of them despite his lackluster grades since freshman year, but that wasn’t where his life was headed.
He wasn’t sure where his life was headed, exactly, but it wasn’t more school. Without Orange Leaf High hogging up all of his weekdays, he could get in a lot more hours at work, make a lot more money, and get his own place. No dormitory with a roommate for him. He was headed for freedom.
“And that’s it. I never have to see that place again. I mean, I guess I have to drive by it sometimes, but I never have to set foot in that stupid, awful building ever again. It’s a day of celebration. Now I can finally figure out what I want to do. I guess you’re supposed to figure that out in school, but I think it’s one big distraction in your life. It doesn’t leave time for anything else. But now it’s all over!” He did a merry little dance with his arms folded, like he’d seen some Russian dancers do on television, then frowned. “What’s up, Owen? You don’t seem all that excited.”
Owen had appeared happy when Toby showed up outside his cave, as the monster always did, but his eyes were glassy and his energy level was low. “Are you sick?” Toby asked. He mimed throwing up to clarify what he meant. “Sick?”
Owen gave him a thumbs-down.
“Does that mean no, you’re not sick, or is that just a thumbs-down to the way you’re feeling?”
Owen lowered his head. It was difficult for a creature with oversize jaws to look pitiful, but Owen pulled off the feat.
“Here, let me feel your forehead.” Toby brushed away some of Owen’s hair and pressed his palm against his forehead. “You’re kind of hot, but I honestly don’t know how that compares to your usual temperature. You don’t look like you’re dying, at least. Maybe you should get some rest.” He tilted his head and placed his hands together under it, miming sleep.
Owen slowly wandered back into his cave.
Poor guy. This was the first time Toby had seen him feeling bad, but he had to get sick sometime, right? Everybody got sick. There was plenty of stuff in the medicine cabinet at home, but Toby had no idea how it would react with Owen’s body, so giving him human medicine was probably a bad idea. Rest was the best answer. And maybe orange juice.
What if his friend was dying?
He wasn’t dying. That was stupid. Glassy eyes and low energy did not mean that the Grim Reaper was chopping down your door with his scythe. Owen would be fine.
Still, Toby should at least make sure that he got into bed safely. They’d been friends for three years. Owen wasn’t going to rip him apart in the cave, especially when he wasn’t feeling well. Toby dug his flashlight out of his backpack, turned it on, and walked into the cave after him.
Owen pushed through some vegetation that hung in the corner-the secret passage that Toby had missed all those years ago. “Fancy,” Toby said. “It’s almost like you’ve got a beaded curtain. I hope you tidied up the place for my visit.”
Toby pushed through the “curtain” as well, stepping into a room that wasn’t much larger than his own bedroom. There were bones everywhere. As Toby shined the flashlight beam around on them, he was relieved to note that none of them looked human, not that he could necessarily tell a human rib from a deer rib at first glance.
“Nice place,” he said. “Not the decorating scheme I would have gone for, but it works. The scattered bones give it sort of a homey feel.”
A large pile of bushes, arranged almost like a nest, rested against the far wall. Owen lay down in it and closed his eyes.
“Don’t worry, buddy,” said Toby. “I’ll take care of you.”
He looked around some more. Not much to it. He hadn’t expected Owen to live in a nicely furnished luxury suite with fine china and a butler, but a bunch of bones and some bushes to sleep on seemed kind of sparse. The next time he came out here, he’d bring a picture of himself to tape up on Owen’s wall. Give the place a little more character.
“Hey, Floren, it’s kind of hard to breathe under here,” said a voice from within the pile of bones.
“So come out. You don’t need my permission.”
Larry pushed his way out of the bones. He was looking bad. He always looked bad, but this was a particularly gruesome day for him. Each of the stab wounds still had a knife embedded in them. The blades wobbled as he got to his feet.
“These hurt,” he noted.
“They would.”
“I can’t pry them out.”
“You did last time.”
“That was different.”
Larry’s appearance changed each time. Sometimes he only had one knife in him, usually in his chest. Sometimes he had no knives, but was covered with hundreds of stab wounds, far more than Toby had caused. Sometimes the cuts leaked. Sometimes they glowed. Sometimes they weren’t there at all. Once, Larry had just been a pool of reddish ooze-Toby knew it was him from the hazel eyes floating in it.
Nick hardly ever showed up. When he did, his body was filled with gaping holes and he didn’t talk much.
Larry tugged at the knife in his chest. “You stuck this thing in deep.”
“I was angry.”
“I’m really sorry about what we did. We should have been nicer to you while we were alive. I think, deep inside, we were just insecure about ourselves. We just wanted to be loved.” He chuckled. “A dumb way of showing
