December Park(34)

“Hey, I’m Angelo. I live next door. You can call me Angie.”

“I’ve got an aunt named Angie,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets.

I realized that we were two boys who both had girls’ names. When he didn’t introduce himself, I said, “Your name’s Adrian, right?”

“Yes.”

“Where’d you move from?”

“Chicago.”

“Cool.” I thought about sprinting out the front door. “How come you came to Maryland?”

“My mom’s job moved her here.”

While I found it jarring to think of that walking scarecrow of a woman holding down a job let alone being someone’s mother, I merely continued to smile and nod like an imbecile.

“Is that real?” He pointed at my face as he leaned closer for a better look at the bruises.

“Unfortunately, yeah,” I said, instinctively leaning away from him.

“What happened? Did you fall off your bike?”

“No. I got jumped by a couple of guys.”

Adrian’s mouth tightened into a knot.

“It’s not a bad neighborhood,” I said. “I mean, there are some jerks wherever you go, but for the most part everyone is cool.”

“Oh. Okay. Do you have a lot of friends here?”

“Sure,” I said. “There’s a bunch of kids on this block, too.”

He nodded impassively. “Do you like comic books?”

“Sure,” I said, though I didn’t own a single comic book. When I was younger, I used to buy them for a dollar and a quarter at the Newsoleum on Second Avenue, but I hadn’t continued the practice once I started reading horror novels.

“I’ve got a bunch. I was just unpacking some of them upstairs. Do you want to come up and take a look?”

“Well, I sort of have to get back home. I gotta help my grandma hand out candy to the kids.”

“Are you going trick-or-treating?”

My friends and I hadn’t gone trick-or-treating since we were eleven. But this kid looked about my age, and I didn’t want to make fun of him, so I just said, “Nah, I’ve got some homework and stuff to do, too.”

“Where do you go to school?”

“Stanton. You probably saw it when you came into town. It’s a big old building that looks like a medieval fortress.”

“Oh yeah. That’s my new school, too.”

Great, I thought. I would probably wind up sitting next to this kid in half my classes. He would follow me around, inserting himself into my group of friends, and sit next to me at the lunch table.

“Well, maybe you can come by some time, and I can show you my comic book collection. When you have time.”

“Okay.” I feigned interest in the setting sun outside the nearest window. “But I should get back home now.”

Without uttering another word, Adrian turned and led me to the front door. He twisted the doorknob with two hands, the way a small child would do it, and when he pulled the door open it seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. It was like watching someone open a bank vault.

“Well,” I said, hurrying out the door, “I’ll see you around.”

“Hey,” he said. “Does it hurt? Your face, I mean.”

“No, not really. It’s just sort of embarrassing.”

“Wait here,” he said, whirling away from the door and pounding up the stairs before I could say anything.

I turned and watched hordes of witches, ghosts, ghouls, and goblins rove up and down the street. Given all that had been happening in town since the Demorest boy disappeared in August, their joyful screams took on a sinister quality.

Adrian returned with something in his hand. “Sorry,” he said, out of breath. “It took me a while to find it.” He extended it to me and I took it. It was a pair of fake plastic teeth, all yellow and rotted and crawling with plastic bugs. “They’re zombie teeth.”

“Yeah?”

“You can wear ’em when you answer the door to hand out candy. This way, you won’t have to be embarrassed about your face. People will think it’s part of a costume.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. “That’s a good idea. Thanks.”

“Sure,” he said.

“Later.” I hopped off the porch and walked across his front lawn. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw him standing in the doorway, watching me. He was still watching me when I walked through my front door.





Chapter Five


In the Shadows, in the Shade





Following my altercation with Mr. Naczalnik, I was reassigned to Mr. Mattingly’s English class. The polar opposite of the stodgy Naczalnik, Mr. Mattingly was young and looked more like a lacrosse player than a high school teacher. He spoke to his students as if they were peers. This was his first year teaching, and his slight Southern drawl made him seem as foreign and intriguing as someone from the other side of the world. I liked him instantly.

That Monday, I sat in Mr. Mattingly’s class for a good forty minutes before I realized Adrian Gardiner was seated toward the back of the room. His presence surprised me; he looked completely out of his element here, like a ghost who’d just walked in from a graveyard. When he met my eyes he quickly bowed his head and stared at the top of his desk. I turned back around and faced the front of the classroom, inexplicably discomfited by his presence.