Chapter Eight

Merton wasn't quite sure what was up with Tommy tonight. He had thought that rather embarrassing escapade where he got beat up, and Tommy had rushed out to defend his honour ~ well, he had hoped the whole thing was forgotten. But Tommy kept looking at him like. . .

He had looked at him that day that he had found out someone had the nerve to use Merton Dingle, Tommy Dawkin's own personal shadow, as a punching bag. Merton had heard the gossip that had circulated around the school, and tried, really hard to forget it.

Tommy had beaten someone up. For him. Because he was a nice guy. And it was the last part that kept screwing everything up. Because it was easy to dismiss Tommy pleas of a best-friendship, and not so easy to dismiss Tommy's actions.

Tommy didn't beat up bullies. He talked to bullies, convinced them to see the errors of their ways. He kicked ass on the non-human ones, but even then he really didn't pound them into a bloody pulp, he more defeated them. It always felt like the triumph of good over evil, not a dirty grudge match.

            Tommy was the kind of guy who let cockroaches live and let live.

 So . . . Why did Tommy take that guy out into the parking lot and use him as his own personal punching-bag. If he wasn't just being a nice guy? Was it really that hard for him to admit that maybe, someone did give a damn about him.

Okay, yeah, it was.

"Merton? Earth to Merton? Glad to see I'm not the only one with my head in the clouds tonight."

Lori was tired. And dirty. And wet. And she had never had so much fun. She had taken the opportunity to flirt with Fred Haicks – the school computer maniac. And he had found what she wanted to know. Which was where Ms Howard lived.

And it was really funny. Officially, she lived at 1313 13th street. Only there was a problem with that. According to the records that Fred had dug up, there was no 1313 13th street. The city council had been superstitious during Pleasantville's construction and omitted that address. So, she lived nowhere. You'd think the school board would be a little more thorough in their back ground checks. . . And that left Lori . . .

Visiting the factory to flirt with Dean Haze whose father was the chief of police. And he had been more than happy to show her his father's computer system. And slipped a disk Fred had made into the hard drive. Now she and Fred could track Ms Howard's car. And Fred was actually a nice guy. He had nice eyes, blue, and his puppy-dog features reminded Lori of Merton, but it was somehow . . . cuter. There was something about the way he could pull off the wounded act without getting all bizarrely perky-gothic and well, flamboyant.

So anyway, after visiting with Dean, and doing a little espionage (she was sooo much cooler than any of the spy-chicks on TV. Except maybe Lucy Lui on Charlie's angels.) she got caught in a rain storm heading back to the school. And was drenched to the bone. But Lori hadn't really minded, she had always loved rain storms, full of that crackling energy and cooling strength. And then it started to get even better. . . She caught Ms Howard on her way out of Pleasantville's only supermarket. . .

"Yeah . . . I guess, I'm a little tired. And this book is evil." Merton admitted.

"Evil? Another evil book. You sent away for it, didn't you?" Tommy looked at the book. And drew out a long-suffering sigh. "Couldn't you just leave Alistair's books to Alistair? Do we have to burn this one or take it out into the woods and bury it for consecration?"

Merton jerked his head up. Tommy looked completely serious. Except, maybe there was a little twitch in his eye. "You're pulling my leg."

"Well, I might be biting it, a little." Tommy admitted. "You just looked so. . ." worn out, Tommy thought. "Serious. Why don't we give it a break. This death-pixies can wait a little bit longer. Nobody's actually in trouble yet. No one ever died because their sofa was wet. Why don't I find your hot plate and make some hot cocoa."

And Merton couldn't decide what was more ridiculous. The big strong Captain of the football team, (and secretly the big strong werewolf of Pleasantville), making hot cocoa like, well, somebody's mother. Or said popular all around good guy, making it for him.  "Why?" He asked, uselessly.

It was Tommy's turn to jerk towards him "What do you mean? Hot cocoa? You look like you could use some. Goodness knows I'm no good at the research stuff."

"Not what I meant." Merton continued, suppressing the instincts that screamed, stop, stop!  Now that it was in the air, Merton couldn't just let it float away again. "I mean, why do you put up with me. I mean, besides for the research stuff. What else am I good at. Not much, I know. I guess I have a car. But – " The words came pouring from his mouth like a wave he couldn't stop/couldn't ride.

Until Tommy's finger pressed against his lips. "Listen, Merton, I'm a football player. A dumb jock." Merton moved his lips to protest but Tommy pushed with a soft gentle force. "And I can really only say it this once. This isn't about the way other people treat you. I see them and I can't imagine how they can look at you and not see . . . You look for something in everything, examine everything, searching for some reason not to trust anyone. And I'll admit I've done some pretty stupid things. I'm not Superman, Merton, I make mistakes. And some of my biggest concern you. But I'm never ever going to dislike you, Merton. Nothing, you do or say or any part of who you are can change that. I am always going to love you."

Merton felt, rather than saw the finger being removed from his lips. His eyes were clenched so tightly it felt like it would take a crowbar to wrench them apart. Those lips that had brushed his forehead once, in a dream, touched his cheek. And Tommy's arms were surrounding him.