"Bob was one of the older kids, an upperclassman—and always a little too intense," said Brad. "I guess it was because of his name. You know, it's really hard to sound evil when your name is Bob. He kinda heard about it, so . . . maybe that had something to do with it. I dunno.
"Anyway, Bob was always trying to prove how evil he was. One day Old Jones, the groundskeeper, left a lawnmower out on the lawn. Bob got hold of it and turned it on, and he thought he'd show off by running it into the pond."
"People weren't really cheering him on," said Gene. "Even if he wasn't evil, Old Jones was pretty okay."
"Yeah, he hated all the same teachers we did and knew stories about pirates and stuff," said Brad. "Everyone kinda liked him. So nobody really wanted to wreck his lawnmower, which meant Bob got a lot of attention trying to hijack it. He was heading for the pond at top speed, and suddenly he runs over a nest of baby bunnies hidden in the grass. Tiny, tiny little bunnies who couldn't even walk yet."
"Oh boy." Jay cringed.
"Yeah." Brad nodded grimly. "And then, when he realized what had happened? He backed up the mower and ran over them again."
A suitably cold silence.
"Remember the screaming?" whispered Gene.
"Do I." Brad shuddered. "I didn't even know rabbits could make that kind of noise."
"And remember how when Bob tilted the mower back, it was a like a lawn sprinkler, only with—"
"Thaaaaat's enough now," interrupted Lloyd, giving the boys a reproachful look. "I think they get the point."
"Psh." Brad rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "Well, anyway. Bob didn't win any friends with that stunt. I mean, we were a school for stock villains, you know? Standard evil cackling, taking over the world, overly complicated schemes, that kind of stuff. Being a total psychopath bunny murderer—that was low, even for Darkley's."
"So some of the other older kids got mad," said Gene. "They wanted to teach Bob a lesson."
"Old Jones had already cleaned up the . . . well, what was left of the bunnies," said Brad. "He put it all in a trash bag and dumped it down the garbage chute—that one over there." He pointed. "The older kids wanted to get that bag full of bunny guts back, but they were all way too big to climb down the shaft. So they started asking around, until finally they found the one kid in the entire school who was small enough to fit down there . . . "
"Lloyd," said Gene.
"What?!" Everyone turned to stare at Lloyd, who was in turn staring in disbelief at Brad and Gene.
"Did you really have to—" he began, but Brad waved for silence.
"You don't have to be modest about it, Lloyd," he said. "It was really brave. Even all the big kids said so."
"I . . . " Lloyd looked like he wanted to say a lot of different things. At last he sighed in defeat and sat back, gesturing for Brad to go on.
"He started a year early, you know," said Brad. "And he was still a first-year back then. He was really small. They let him down the shaft with just a flashlight, and he fetched that bag of mangled bunny guts like it was nothing. Good thing, too, because the big kids said they wouldn't pull him back up if he didn't find it.
"So then the big kids took the bag upstairs to the upperclassmen's dorms. Bob was sleeping. But in the morning . . . just as he was waking up . . . they opened the bag and—"
There was an audible intake of breath. Jay gagged.
"Remember the screaming?" whispered Gene.
"Do I." Brad again shuddered. "We could hear him three floors down in the first-years' dorms."
"Okay, you kids were sick," said Jay. "Absolutely sick."
"That's not the end," said Brad, shaking his head. "You see, after that, Bob was ruined. He was a laughingstock all over the school. Mocked as the guy who could murder innocent bunnies but not stand their blood. After that he just kinda . . . cracked."
"He started tormenting small animals," said Gene softly. "He would torture them to death, trying to prove how tough he was. Then one day, he got bitten by a rabid raccoon. He didn't know it was rabid—he didn't know he would get sick."
"Nobody knew." Brad hung his head. "When he first started stumbling around acting weird, everyone just made fun of him even more. We didn't know he was going to die."
"Then he tried to kill a teacher," said Gene. "Tried to bite his throat right out. They saw he was crazy, and they threw him down into the tunnels, out on the grounds. They closed the trapdoor. They left him to starve."
"He was there for days," said Brad. "Screaming. Always screaming."
"And then, he finally died."
"The screaming stopped."
"For a while."
"But then he came back." Brad looked up to meet each ninja's eyes in turn. "His ghost is out there every night. Eventually they put up a little marker in his memory, just to stop all that screaming. If you throw a stone at the marker, the way Bob used to throw stones at animals, he'll know you respect him and leave you alone. But if you don't . . . he'll come get you. Foaming at the mouth, covered in blood and guts, leading an army of the animals he murdered."
"If you're smart, you won't go down into the tunnels at all," piped up Gene. "Rock or no rock, nobody ever goes down there, except on a dare."
"Didn't you go down there once?" said Lloyd, raising an eyebrow. "I remember that. You wanted to prove the ghost wasn't real."
"Remember the screaming?" said Brad, smirking. Gene huffed, folding his arms.
"The ghost was screaming, not me."
"Go onnn, Gene." Brad gave a snort of laughter. Lloyd tried not to smile. He remembered that night well—it hadn't been so long ago—but he thought it might be untoward to laugh at a kid who was now inexplicably much younger than him. This whole aging-up business was a mess.
"Anyways," said Brad, looking back up to the ninja. "If I were you, I'd throw a whole ton of rocks at Bunnyman Bob's grave tonight. You don't want to take any chances."
The ninja looked at each other.
"We'll keep it in mind," said Kai.
The sober atmosphere was broken by a cheerily clanging bell. Everyone started a little.
"Oh, dinner!" said Brad. "Awesome."
"Shoot, we should go," said Cole, scrabbling to his feet. "Teachers are supposed to be cafeteria monitors!"
"Go ahead Mr. Cole, we'll catch up!" called Brad. He and Gene were already hurriedly packing their schoolbooks away as the ninja headed out of the locker room. Gene swung his backpack on so enthusiastically that he nearly overbalanced.
"Woah," said Lloyd, steadying him. Gene gave him a quick nod and made a beeline for the door, following Brad.
"Just a minute," said Lloyd.
The two former Darkley's boys froze in the doorway. Then they reluctantly turned around.
"What exactly was that?" asked Lloyd, his arms folded. Brad and Gene traded glances, then looked to him.
"You know, Bunnyman Bob," said Gene hopefully. "Classic Darkley's story. Everyone knows it."
"Well sure," said Lloyd. "But last I remember, Bunnyman Bob was one of the school's first students. As in, hundreds of years ago. As in, definitely not me climbing down that trash chute?"
"Ohh," said Gene. "Um."
He and Brad shuffled their feet for a moment. Lloyd waited, his foot tapping.
"Well, we wanted to put you in the story," said Brad. "To—to make the others shut up."
"We thought giving you a part in it would make you look hardcore, get you some respect," said Gene, kicking at the air grudgingly. "Gosh knows you need it."
"What?" Lloyd blinked, feeling a disbeliving smile spreading across his face. "Aww, you guys. Really?"
"They were giving you a hard time," said Brad.
"Aw, no, you didn't have to worry," said Lloyd, chuckling. "The guys are just like that. They mess with me a little now and then, but I tease them too. It's all good."
"Oh." Brad and Gene looked discomfited.
"But hey," said Lloyd gently, tilting his head in an effort to meet their downcast eyes. "Thanks. I appreciate it."
Gene gave a roll of his eyes that might have passed for "yeah, yeah, you're welcome," and whisked out the door. Brad, however, looked up and gave Lloyd a small smile.
"Hey. I know we weren't really good friends, and things have gotten . . . weird, lately . . . " He subtly gestured at how much taller Lloyd was than him now. "But you're still kind of one of us. I know things are gonna be different now, what with you being super-good and old and stuff—"
"I'm not exactly eighty." Lloyd gave an amused snort. Brad smiled sheepishly.
"Anyway. We're still kinda friends."
Lloyd hesitated a moment, but at last gave Brad an honest smile.
"Thanks," he said. "It's an honor."
He held out one hand, and Brad gave it a light five and fist bump. Then he turned to the doorway. At the last moment he looked back.
"Besides," he said. "I have Mr. Kai for history, and he's given me a demerit already. Gotta get him somehow."
Lloyd looked after the youngster blankly as he disappeared. After a moment he sank his face into his hands and started to laugh. There wasn't really much else that could be done.
