Uncomfortable riding home with Draculaura or Cleo, Josie wandered into the school music department to get in some homework and maybe a little violin practice while Uncle Mike finished up his after school duties.
Opening the door to the main rehearsal room, she was greeted by the sound of a bittersweet melody played softly on the battered piano.
Damn.
In no mood for company Josie discreetly walked behind the hunched pianist and found an empty desk near the teacher's tiny, instrument cluttered office.
The melody rose and fell, like any other, but each pulse, every chord, hit differently, a punctuation, a comma, a continuation. Like running or funny enough, breathing.
Feet idly kicking an inch off the floor like always, Josie half-listened, absolutely confounded: how is anybody supposed to find the square root of a circle when circles aren't even squares? Anyway, if a square is round, wouldn't it be a circle? In no mood for somebody's rules on what makes up a square vs. a circle, Josie pulled out another assignment: Government. Government was easy, just Google some answers and paste them into the right slots of her upcoming slide presentation.
Typing quietly, Josie finished slide four of her presentation on The Articles of Confederation vs. The Constitution. The vents rattled and the reverb pedals thumped and squeaked as the unusual melody meandered around her. Other than that, the building was so quiet that she could hear what few electronics were in her humming and buzzing like winter flies against a window.
Whew, two more plus a citation slide and she'd be finished. She needed to pull up from a C, but motivation was zero when life sucked because all you had were borrowed friends and were easily distracted by sewing patterns.
"Hey, Josie?"
The music stopped, Josie looked up.
"Fugo?" Incredulous that he was here, Josie closed her laptop. "I didn't know you could play piano."
"Yeah, since I was four."
Josie gave him a look. "What? Four? Are you serious?"
"Yeah. Why'd you ask?"
"When I was four, Uncle Mike was deployed to the Gulf, and I was eating Play-Doh in Misawa, Japan." Josie said, pulling out her folder. "What's the song called?"
"'The End'." Fugo answered. "By Cawthon. You lived in Japan?"
Josie studied his sweater, something more casual than what he usually wore, a muted green with a high, zippered collar and intricate stitchwork like one Aunt Raina's grannies had made for her when she was little, sky blue with rainbow trim before they'd died. But it got lost, like so many things, when Aunt Raina's orders sent them all to Okinawa and all their stuff wound up in Korea by mistake and somebody stole it.
"My aunt and uncle were career active duty. We were all over the place until they retired here because Uncle Mike got a good job offer."
(Or something like that. Can it, bitch!)
Fidgeting, the two stared at each other until Josie broke the silence: "Sorry if I bothered you." She grimaced down at the contents of her math folder. As much as she wanted to leave, Fugo's rigid demeanor subtly softening at learning it was her was kinda cool.
"No, it's fine. I knew someone was here. Just wasn't sure who."
"Oh, okay." Josie said as she forced herself to make eye contact. His eyes were a strange shade of violet and messy strawberry strands fell over them. Face warming, she shrugged, "I like to work here while I wait for my uncle."
"Oh." Fugo said, "I should leave then."
"If ya really want to." Josie said, wanting very badly to figure him out right now.
He began putting away his sheet music. "Before I go, do you need anything?"
"I'm good. I only have math left to finish. I'll just go in early during homeroom tomorrow and ask Ms. Strode for help."
"I can help." He said cautiously. "If you want me to."
"Really?" Josie asked, "Okay, what's the square root of twelve?"
Without appearing to think about it, he casually said, "3.464, when simplified."
"Seriously?" Josie exclaimed. She'd just pulled a number out of the air and he'd batted an answer back at her without even pausing to think about it.
"Need a calculator?" he asked, pulling a TI83PLUS from his bag, plopping down next to her, and hitting "Enter".
Josie felt dizzy just looking at the expensive device, "Square roots are easy." He pointed with a pencil at the third digit, adding. "Just rounded it to the third, making this 3.464."
"How?" Josie asked, "How did y'all do that so fast? I've been in class for weeks now and I'm starting to think they're speaking Mandarin!"
"Once you get a certain set of foundations learned, it's just a matter of memorizing." Fugo explained, "Math is just learning and relearning stuff. Square roots are just fractions but mean."
"I like your funny words, magic man." Josie wiggled her eyebrows, stifling a laugh.
Fugo suddenly looked really tired, "Just give me one of your assignments and show you how."
"Okay," Josie said, pulling her folder back out and handing him a Geometry assignment she was re-doing, "Thanks for helping me."
Outside Chet squinted over his sunglasses in the growing darkness as the Senior parking lot emptied after football practice.
"...Black cats and goblins and broomsticks and ghosts, pumpkins of witches are there to roast. You may think, they scare me; you're probably right, black-cats and goblins on Halloween night! - TRICK OR TREAT!"
What the hell?
A car, one he didn't recognize, was across from his cherry red Porsche.
It was the kind of mid-seventies beater his restoration nut of an old man would've creamed his pants over; and what the fuck was a mid-seventies Ford Station Wagon doing here?
Parking lot completely empty, Chet dropped his sweaty gym bag, no longer thinking about getting a real shower at home after stopping for food on the way home. Chet put his keys back into the pocket of his Supreme brand parka as he walked towards the strange vehicle.
Barefoot except for fishnets, a girl, small, skinny, in a skin-tight brown dress, sat on its rust freckled roof.
Not much up top, not much on the bottom, but a tiny waist, slim arms, and legs up to here.
Chet licked his lips, hands suddenly sweaty in his pockets, mouth unaccountably dry.
"Yo! BABE!" He called to the sophomore, "What are you doin' out here?"
No answer.
Her head was concealed by a fuzzy gold-colored Teddy bear head with gaping eye sockets, making it hard to tell if she heard him or cared enough to notice.
Instantly, Chet, God's gift to women, leaned against the station wagon, leering up at her.
A real girl.
He missed real girls.
Marlene was hot, and her dad the Senator was LOADED, but nothing compared to factory parts.
"So, Teddy Bear, come here often?" He grinned, mouth turning into the Sahara, not noticing the Smith's Grove County Hospital – Missouri Department of Mental Health logo on the door he was leaning against.
"Teddy Bear" ignored him.
"Y'know, a bunch of monsters ruined Halloween for the rest of us." Chet said, "But I will say, the costume's nice."
Silence.
Oh, come on, any girl would kill just to talk to him! And this one looked like a theater geek. Theater girls were desperate: every male paraded past them was a fag!
White feathers drifted unnoticed past Chet. Geez, his mouth was dry!
Maybe he'd stop by and get a Powerade after bagging this one.
Chet brightened: Teddy's fingernails were black but the fingertips were turning blue. "Yo, babe! Come sit in my car while you wait for your boyfriend. I have a blanket in the back seat."
The blankly staring mask, looked down at him – cha-ching!
Chet's grin turned crafty, "You like old cars? My ol'man has a whole garage of them! How you feel about a hot pink 50s' convertible?"
No answer.
He furrowed his brow.
Usually by now, he'd get a yes and a trip to the gas station for Red Bulls and condoms. Instead, he was getting a rude silence.
Refusing to be bested by some frigid little bitch, he continued, "I'm not trying to start anything, but if your man is taking this long, is he really your man?"
No reply.
"Look, come can sit in my car warm up until he gets here." Chet said, God, what was her problem?
The mask, or was it a helmet? Stared forward and above him.
He brightened "Are you a furry?"
Once again, no response.
"I get what you're into." Chet leered, "I get it. I've been thinking about trying on a fursuit, just to see what it's all about. Is it heavy or anything? I heard they can be hard to breathe in."
After a few seconds, he continued his ramble, "Maybe you could show me sometime?"
She stretched out her long legs, still quiet.
"I can't stand to see a pretty girl like you to end up on the morning news as a block of ice. I don't think he's gonna be here for a while. Let's go to the gas station real quick. I'll buy you anything you want, you can warm up, and I'll drop you off back here. He'll never know!"
Something buzzed somewhere in the vicinity of his nuts. Chet pulled out his iPhone Pro Max.
Abbie Bominable - Cha-ching!
Abbie was a big Russian girl who could kick his ass and DAMN, was he a fan. Who cared if she was RAD? She was in girl's rugby and going to be in tonight's Powderpuff Derby event, Seniors vs Freshmen.
Reading the banner, he let Face ID register and deleted all notifications - Marlena was a snoop.
"Some dude needs me to send him some homework." Chet assured her, waving the iPhone, "So, how's about it, babe? I'll even drop you off at your place, If you need to borrow my phone to let him know, it's available."
She didn't even look at it.
"C'mon, what's it gonna take to get you to-"
Chet suddenly found himself being gently turned around by a large man in blue coveralls.
Wearing a mask.
Chet stared upwards, the blackness of the Void staring back at him in a roar of total silence.
The man cocked his head, releasing Chet.
Chet felt a warm sensation run down his legs and into his Nikes as the man picked Teddy Bear from the roof and placed her beside the car. She let herself into the passenger seat while he folded himself behind the steering wheel.
Without remembering how he'd got there, Chet and his urine soaked Michael Kors jeans found themselves locked in his cherry red Porsche.
Terrified.
The raven landed, blinking it's single eye.
Well, that wasn't supposed to happen.
Curiouser and curiouser.
The Master would be very interested in such a pair.
It launched itself in the air, leaving a large messy white splat on Chet's Porsche's roof.