This choice: Take the stuff for yourself. • Go Back...Chapter #10A Talk Between Two Liars by: Seuzz   "Okay, sleeping beauty, wake up." You roughly shake Richards into a stupor. "Get up."
"What is that thing?" Javits asks as Richards staggers to his feet.
You shove all the masks into your nearby kit. "I dunno, but the faggot booby-trapped 'em somehow. You guys can go fuck off now. I'll take care of the cocksucker."
"You sure?" Javits asks. You give him a hard look, and he wilts.
You look down at your very sweet haul when they're gone: masks and book. Blackwell is impotent now, but that doesn't mean he can't cause mischief. He's back at your house, and though he has no place to hide, he might hurt your family just out of spite. Or he might take off. He has no money, but running away would be better than the fate he knows you have in store for him. Does he suspect you're inside Black? If he doesn't, then you have some time. If he does, or if he is just deranged with fear ...
You need to move quickly. But you can't fetch him out in your current disguise. You do have the newly made Jeremy mask, though. You look back at the elementary school ...
* * * * *
Prescott looks at you warily from the stairs. You do your best to look abashed. "Hey," you mumble.
"Hey yourself."
"Like, you got a few minutes? Go for a walk?"
"I've got homework."
You grimace. "Come on, man, don't be like this. I wanna say I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted." He turns.
"Prescott! Will!" He pauses. "You're not the kind to hold a grudge. At least, you didn't used to be."
"You didn't used to be an asshole."
"I know. That's why I want to walk and talk. Maybe talk about getting your stuff back."
That gets his attention, and he comes down slowly. "You have any of it?"
"It's in my car. Come on." He follows you out.
"You know," you say as you go out the front. "You weren't the worst ball player back in middle school. You don't gotta be tall or big to swing a bat."
"And play on the team with Lynch? Fuck that."
"Yeah, I guess."
"Where's you car?"
"Back at the school. I walked over. Felt like thinking. Anyway, you never did anything with it. I got tall and, well, I wanted to."
"Is it fun?"
"It has its moments. When Black and Patterson aren't around, mostly. Fuckers."
"And Javits?"
"Oh, he's not bad. It's their influence on him, mostly. They kind of force people to be dicks, in order to survive."
"Javits always used to push Keith around."
"Yeah, I know. But Keith always made it easy for him. Thing is, I don't want you to think that's really what I'm like. It's just— Well, fuck, I guess I'm a pussy, but it's easier to go along with Black and them than it is to stand up for, well, everyone else."
"You don't get off on it?"
"Not really. I don't think so. I try not to. Would you get off on pushing people around?"
"If it was the right people."
"Yeah, well, there's that."
You continue to talk in this vein until you get to the schoolyard. You jerk your chin at the basement. "Why were you hanging out there?"
"Privacy. From Robert, my dad."
"What are those things you were making?"
"Arts project, like Black said. Where is your car?"
"Around front. How'd you get in there? I thought it was all shut up." You saunter over to the basement door, open it, and look in.
"I just busted in. Look, about those masks—"
You ignore him and walk into the middle of the basement. "Great make out place. Oh, sorry. You and Lisa, I mean." You pick up an upturned silver bowl: a concave mirror of some kind. That draws him into the basement.
"It's alright. But I really need to get back."
"Sure. Oh, back on the subject of bullying. Are you sure you wouldn't get off on bullying people around? Hurting them, I mean?"
"Like I said, if it was the right people."
"Who's the right people? Lisa Vredenburg, maybe?"
He gapes, and before he can bolt you tackle him and pin him to the ground. He struggles, but you get your hand up to his brow, and hold it long enough to say the secret words. A moment later there's a ripping sound as Blackwell bursts through your clothes. You leap to your feet and kick him hard in the stomach where he lays.
"I don't have anything magic that can hold you in here, professor," you sneer. "But I bet you can't Houdini your way through a locked door." He can only puff and blow as you dash out the door, slamming it shut and securing it with the new padlock you just picked up from a nearby hardware store.
Now you just need to find some way—hopefully short of murder—of putting Blackwell permanently out of commission.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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