I ditched Grover at the bus station, after he took a trip to the bathroom.
Honestly, he was beginning to weird me out.
School year was over anyway. It was about damn time for me to leave that crazy stalker behind me.
Maybe if I'd known this would happen? Would I have kept him around, especially if I'd known what, exactly, he was?
... Nah, I doubt it.
That sentence sounded cliché anyway.
Chapter Three
Riker's mom's apartment was somewhere in Queens. He didn't really mind it. It was home, he grew up here. Well, here and that awesome cabin in Montuak, during the summers. Still, the apartment wasn't exactly luxurious, and there were times when Riker would wish they'd lived somewhere more... well, less ghetto.
But that didn't really bother him all that much anymore. People like him were found in the ghetto. This, this was...
"Honey, I'm home!" Riker let the world be hollered from his lips as he slammed apartment 27B's door open. It crashed into the wall and he took a confident step across the threshold.
"Punk! How many times to I have to tell ya not to do that?!"
Yeah, it was his home. No matter what disgusting, rotting pig lived there with him.
"Oh, I wouldn't know," Riker rolled his eyes. Maybe his mother wasn't home from work yet? The hog seemed more irritable, like he hadn't had his Mexican food yet. "I never listen when you do. You should know this by now, fucker. Riker Jackson don't listen to no lowlife." He walked up to the man's poker table—where three other obese men sat—and lifted a leg, letting his combat boot come thundering down on Gabe's hold of cards. It was a trashy hand anyway. The jackass should be thanking him, really. "Especially one that fucks up me and my mum's life, yeah?"
"Shitty little brat," Gabe muttered, shoving Riker's foot off the table. He held out an grubby, expectant hand to the teen. "Give me that money for this next round."
Riker drew himself back room the offending limb. "Excuse me, bastard? What money? Even if I had some, why would I fucking give it to you?"
Gabe managed the electronics Mega-Market in Queens, near the apartment He'd actually gotten fatter while Riker had been away at school, even if the teen had only been gone since that morning. He had only three hairs on his head, all combed back as if that made him better looking. His clothes consisted of a baggy white wife-beater, almost soaked in sweat, grime and grease from any fast-food you can name, and gray sweatpants with the same coating, plus some. It made Riker want to wrinkle his nose and shoot the guy with a hydra-pressured water hose.
The obese poker player raised a greasy eyebrow at the teen, who only crossed his arms in defiant. "What the fuck you lookin' at me like that for, you ass?"
"You took a taxi from the bus station, probably paid with a twenty." He said, "You got six, seven bucks in change. Somebody expects to live under this roof, he's gotta carry his own weight. Am I right, Eddie?"
Eddie was the super of their apartment building, and he cast a look of sympathy at Riker, who only clenched his fists at the thought of being pitied. "Come on, Gabe. The kid just got here."
Gabe glared at the guy. "Am I right, Eddie?"
Eddie only scowled into his bowl of pretzels, choosing to say nothing. The other two guys glanced at each other, before beginning a battle for the last slice of pepperoni pizza.
Riker only stared at his so-called step-father in no-less shock than he would give a purple and pink polka-dotted kangaroo. "Well, holy shit. Draw me a manga and call me Kishimoto, the guy can do math! As in, actual math!" The teen turned to Eddie, who gave him a thin, but amused, smile. "Eddie, did you know this?!"
Eddie let out a single chuckle before turning it into a cough as he drew another card from the deck.
Riker threw up his hands and sent Gabe a heated glare. "No way in hell, fucker, am I funding your poker addiction. So dream on." He spun around and stormed off to his room.
"Your report card just came in, brain boy!" Gabe yelled after him. "I wouldn't be so damn snooty!"
"Can't he think of a better insult?" Riker groaned to himself as he slammed the door to his room, falling onto the bed. "He can't even do that right! Honestly, why the fuck did mom ever agree to marry this sleezebag?!"
Riker froze, laid out straight on his bed, his shoulders pressing into the mattress, muscles locked in tension.
Maybe it was because of him?
Was this his fault?
He didn't know how, but it might be true. Gabe was here because of... him?
It didn't make any sense, but Riker couldn't think of any other reason that Sally put up with Gabe. She sure as hell didn't love him, Riker wasn't fooling himself or Gabe for that.
The teen clenched his fists, letting out a low growl from the back of his throat. "Fucker gonna die," he hissed out, hand flying toward the top drawer of his nightstand. It was his special drawer. Holding all of his... well, sharper belongings.
He stared at his open hand for a moment, not even sitting up from his position. His hand reached only half a foot from the table-top, much less able to open the drawer without him moving. Slowly, he clenched the hand into a fist and pounding it to his side, deeply into his black comforter. He let out a strangled sigh and shook his head, squeezing his eye closed. He felt hot, warm, and sweaty, like he'd come down with a fever all of a sudden. The sound of yarn snipping sounding in his mind, and he had a sudden flashback to the three old ladies' fruit stand on the side of the road. He didn't think that sound could ever be described as ominous, but here he was. It made him shiver.
Riker's eyes flew open, then, in a sudden recollection. His fisted hand unclenched and fumbled with the pocket of his jacket, searching until it pressed against a small, rectangular piece of card stock. He pulled it out and brought it in front of his face, squinting at the fancy script. So many times before he'd cursed his dyslexia, but not as much as now. Slowly but surely, like they were wiggling across Jell-O, the letters repositioned themselves until they made out clear words. And numbers, actually.
The Three Fates
Road-Side Fruit Stand of Destiny
(XXX,XXX,XXXX)
[only call in dire circumstances]
[or if you need a snack]
Riker blinked. Well, check it out, he'd been right. Those three grandma's were loopy in the head after all. "I mean, Fruit Stand of Destiny? What the fuck?"
"Riker!" A woman's voice called from his door, "How many times have I spoken to you about cussing like that?!"
Riker jumped up from his bed and looked to the hall. His face broke into a smile. "Mom!"
Sally Jackson gave him a tired smile, shaking her head. "What am I going to do with you?" But she came across the threshold and wrapped Riker in a hug anyway.
Riker's mother could make him feel good just by walking into the room. Her eyes were always sparkling and changing color in the light. Her smile was as warm as a summer night toasting marshmallows around a fire. She had a few gray hairs mixed in with her thick chocolate mane, but Riker had never once thought of her as old. The only wrinkles she had were the crinkles at the edge of her gray eyes from smiling so much, and she smelled like the candy shop she worked in every day and the cookies she would bake at night. When she looked at Riker, it was like she was only seeing all of the good things about him, and never the bad things.
He'd never heard her raise her voice or say any unkind word to anyone, not even to him or Gabe.
"Hey, honey." Sally gave him a heart-warming smile. "Welcome home."
"You too, mom." Riker grinned, before flopping back down onto his bed with a dramatic sigh. Sally gave a roll of her eyes and sat down next to his sprawled out form. "How was school? It was your last day. I hope you didn't get into any trouble." But her eyes were shining along with her smile, and Riker knew she was only teasing. Even if he'd told her he'd gotten expelled, he didn't think she'd think any less of him. That's one of the reasons he loved her so much.
Riker breathe in the scent of his mother, and gave a smirk. Sally's red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniformed smelled like all the best things in the world; chocolate, licorice, taffy, and all the other things she sold at the shop at Grand Central. In her hand was a large bag filled with samples for him, like she always got him at the end of a school-year.
"I survived," he finally replied, slipping the strange old ladies' business card into his the back pocket of his school uniform. He'd think on it later, especially once he was dressed in a more suitable outfit than this. "I wasn't expelled or anything, and my final scores weren't that bad."
"You're a smart boy, Riker," she told him knowingly. "Sometimes I'd imagine you fail tests on purpose!"
"Mom!" Riker whined, bringing up his hands as if to defend himself from an oncoming attack. "I've never outright failed a test! It's always a C or higher!"
Sally gave a laugh—it sounded like the tinkling silver bells that they hung for the Macy's Parade, and in the streets around Christmastime. Riker loved that about her, too. "I know, sweetheart, I'm only teasing you."
She reached over to tousle his hair while Riker attacked the box of black licorice. She'd always bring three of those, and he'd finish one before everything else, after he was done with the rest, and save the last for later. He'd never finished the entire bag in a single week before. Sally wouldn't let him.
"Mom! Stop! You know I hate that!" Riker huffed, before chuckling and swiping playfully at her hand. Here with her, with his mother, he didn't have to worry about keeping up the King of the Popularity Ladder act, or making sure everything anyone saw him do was the coolest thing they could think of to see. With his mother, he could just be himself. Well, most of himself.
She still wouldn't let him curse, dammit.
He shook his head, letting his hair fall back into place like it always did when he had this style, and told the woman she was smothering him. Sally only laughed, and they both knew Riker secretly was very, very glad to see her and didn't actually mind her so-called "smothering."
"Sally!" Gabe's voice suddenly called from the other room. "Hey—how about some bean dip, huh?"
Riker leaned against the bed's headboard and let a scowl come across his features. "That guy..." He growled voice trailing off in the end. He knew his mother didn't appreciate foul language, but Gabe deserved it!
Sally only gave him a knowingly look, before shaking her head. But Riker crossed his arms. His mom was th coolest lady in the fabric of reality(he'd put a patent on that phrase, one day. So he swore). She deserved to marry a billionaire, not some dickless bastard like Gabe.
"I didn't mind it all, really," Riker shrugged, choosing to ignore the elephant that was Gabe in the room. "But I don't think I wanna go back to Yancy next year."
Sally tilted her head with a small frown, and Riker immediately looked for someone to punch to wipe the look off her face. "Why?"
"It's just..." Riker gave a sigh and looked to the side. "It's nothing. Never mind. I'll go."
"Riker," his mom leaned forward and set a hand on his arm. "What's wrong with Yancy, sweetheart? It's okay to tell me. I can look for another school."
That was exactly the reason Riker didn't want to tell her in the first place. His mother tried so hard to give him the best. He didn't think they had the budget to have him switch schools entirely. Not since Gabe intruded into their lives. Before, Riker would go to a different school every year since the beginning of his education. It was like a streak. Some instances it was because he'd been expelled, but most of the time Riker just wanted to get to somewhere new and untouched by him. Another fresh-start. He liked wiping the slate clean and starting over. It was refreshing.
But Sally's eyes tugged at Riker's conscience, trying to pull out his secrets. "Did something scare you?"
Riker sat up, staring at her with wide eyes. "What? No! Mom, why would you think that?" he shook his head, flopping back into the bed in defeat. "Nah. It isn't really any different from any of those other times, y'know? I just didn't think it would be possible... now. Not with... everything that's happened, yeah."
Sally's gray eyes flashed, and Riker knew she understood what he meant. A Mr. Ugliano.
Riker thanked any deity that was out there that Sally hadn't taken his last name when she'd... Ugh... married him.
Still. Riker wanted to tell her about Mrs. Dodds, or the three old ladies, or how Grover acted toward the end of the year—despite how little he really cared about any of it; it was just weird!—but he thought it sounded just too... crazy. He'd been a little frightened, actually, when he realized that everyone else wasn't joking about that Mrs. Kerr, and that no one really remembered the -turned-hag. It was like, when he'd killed her, she'd disappeared from their memories.
That was also another reason. Despite her turning into a hag—which Riker wasn't entirely sure he'd seen(or he wouldn't be, if Grover hadn't been so terrible at lying to him) anymore—he'd still killed her. He wasn't too certain how his mother would take that...
Sally pursed her lips, and Riker just sank down in his seat, smiling sheepishly. "Heh."
She knew he was holding a lot back, but she didn't push him for answers.
Riker would most likely spill the beans sometimes anyway. He'd always been horrible at keeping secrets from his mother.
But this one... it was just too much. She'd never believe him.
Sally shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, then gave him a gleaming smile. "I've got a surprise for you." She said in a sing-song.
Riker tilted her head, like she'd done earlier, but there was a curious look on his face.
"Where going to the beach!"
Slowly, a grin formed on his lips. "Montuak?"
Sally held a finger to her lips and chuckled. "Three nights, same cabin."
He leaned forward, gripping the sheets. "When?" He could barely keep from vibrating in excitement. Finally, no Smelly Gabe to see when he walked through the door! For three whole entire days, plus some hours! How much better could it get?
"As soon as I get changed," Sally's smile had grown, and she stood up from the bed.
Riker just couldn't believe his luck. They hadn't been to Montuak for the last two summers, because Gabe had said there wasn't enough money. It was probably because he was hoarding it all for himself and spent it on beer and nachos(it was the really cheap kind of nachos, too. With the artificial cheese, pre-sauced, that tasted like plastic and dairy), and Riker still wanted to punch his lights out for it. Just like Gabe had done to him when he had more muscle, the first time Riker refused to fund his poker game. When Riker had woken up, he'd quickly established that even touching Riker, or his mother, was a big no-no in the Jackson household.
Safe to say, Gabe had learned his lesson.
Still, just until Sally was ready for Montuak, and then they'd be out of this hellhole that his childhood home had become despite his mother's presence.
Gabe made an appearance in the doorway, and Riker growled. One centimeter over that threshold, and Gabe would be sleeping for the next week, via his fist. That was another House Rule. No Gabe in Riker's room. "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?"
Sometimes, Riker wanted to just call the police and report Gabe as a child molester, wife-abuser, and frame him for theft despite him not having done any of such(that Riker knew of). At least that would get the fucker out of his life forever.
Sally gave Riker a look, though, and Riker let out a reluctant sigh. He understood. It was a he'd told himself before. Just until Sally was ready. Then, they'd be home-free. Literally. Home-free, and Gabe-free. It was a dream worth fighting for, tooth-and-nail.
"I was on my way, dear," Riker wanted to gag. He knew Sally didn't have an ounce of feelings for Gabe, so why she called him such names eluded him. "We were just talking about the trip."
Gabe's eyes grew small, and he started to lean forward," but Riker let out an low, almost animalistic growl in warning. The man(or walrus, Riker was having trouble decided sometimes) quickly reeled back into the hallway. "The trip? You mean, you were serious about that?"
Riker scoffed. As if Sally would ever joke about Montuak!
"Knew it," Riker mumbled to himself. "Bastard won't let us go."
But, lo-and-behold, his mother had heard him, because she replied evenly, "Of course he will. Your step-father is just worried about money That's all. Besides," she added. "Gabriel won't have to settle for just bean-dip. I'll make him enough seven-layer dip for the whole weekend. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works."
Gabe's eyes gained a gleaming glint of eagerness in them. And it made Riker sick. But he'd be away from the man. He just had to wait it out, just a little longer. "So, this money for your trip... It comes out of your clothes budget, right?"
Dafuq? Hell to the no! Riker wanted to rip the man a new one for that. So he could mooch money off of him for poker and waste their allowance of beer, but his mother had to pay for a vacation with the money she set aside for her clothes?
Yes. Riker had already decided long ago, but it was officially confirmed now. The man will die.
"Yes, dear." His mother said. Riker wished that he had her patience. He was beginning to vibrate again.
"And you won't take my car anywhere but there and back?"
That ugly thing? Riker rolled his eyes. Bitch, scratches would make it look better!
"We'll be very careful."
Gabe scratched his double chin. "Maybe if you hurry with that seven-layer bean dip..." he said, "and, maybe if the brat apologizes for interrupting my poker game."
"Maybe if I kick you in the balls," Riker almost purred at the thought, "and make you sing soprano for a week." I walked through the fucking front door, jackass.
Sally hushed him, and gave Gabe a smile. "Of course he will. Won't you, Riker?"
Riker crossed his arms and scowled.
"Riker."
He hissed out a stressed breath. "Uh-huh. I apologize, bastard, for interrupting your very important poker game by walking into my own home. You must have been devastated. I'm sure it was incredibly important to you. Go back to it right now."
Gabe stared at him. Like his pea-sized brain was attempting to detect any hint of sarcasm in the statement. Riker doubted it, though. Throughout that entire address, he'd kept an eerily straight face and didn't even change from the monotone he'd began it in.
"Whatever," Gabe mumbled. He went back to his game.
Yes, minion. Riker mentally cackled. Obey your master's orders at once!
Sally let out a sigh, her face twisting down for a moment. "Thank you, Riker. Once we get to Montuak, we can talk about... whatever you've forgotten to tell me, okay?" For a moment, the teen thought he saw a hint of anxiety in her gray eyes. The same fear he'd seen in Grover's eyes back when he'd bought that delicious fruit from the three old ladies' road-side stand. As if she felt a terrifying chill in the air.
Shit, Riker thought. She knows.
Then, however, Sally smiled again, her eyes reverting to their cheerful sparkles, and Riker relaxed. Maybe... Maybe his mother wouldn't think he was crazy? If he told her after all?
Sally ruffled his hair and went to make Gabe his seven-layer bean dip.
An hour later, Riker slung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way out of his room, locking the bedroom door behind him. He met his mother, and grinned. Off they were.
Gabe took a break from his poker game long enough to watch them lug their bags to the car. He kept griping and groaning about loosing his car for the entire weekend.
"Not one scratch, punk." Gabe said in a warning tone to Riker. "Not one little scratch."
Riker raised a brow. As if the guy drove anywhere in the first place. He lived 24/7 in his own filth. In fact, Riker didn't think he'd ever seen the man even take a shower. He shuddered.
Then, he remembered that he wouldn't be driving either.
He felt slightly disappointed at the lost chance to wreck Gabe's love spectacularly, but there was also irony. That Gabe would threaten him, when the teen was clearly unable to drive.
Well, legally, of course.
As Riker watched Gabe waddle back to the apartment building, he felt his long-time anger spark and flame. He then did something that he, frankly, didn't even expect himself to remember learning. It was a sign he'd actually seen Grover do, many times before. One that warded off evils. He'd thought Grover was just a superstitious freak. But now he wasn't so sure, as he watched the screen door slam shut behind Gabe and clock him on the ass. The man went flying up the stairs as if he'd been shot from a cannon.
Riker blinked, then gave a wicked grin. "Huh. Maybe stalker-boy knew what he was doin' after all?" The tilted his head, then barked out a rough laugh. "Nah."
He hopped into the Camaro and glanced at his mother. "Pedal to the metal, mother dear."
Sally only cast him an amused look, before stepping on it.
The rental cabin was on the south shore, way out on the tip of Long Island. It was a large, round thing, with chipping white paint and faded curtains; it had thin walls and was set deep into the dunes. The sheets were always full of sands and the cabinets full of spiders. There was a huge gaping fireplace that took up most of one wall opposite the front door, a narrow side room with half a wall separating it from the main room that was the kitchen, and two more separate rooms with huge, comfy beds and thick quilts and fluffy pillows. It was usually windy outside, especially during the evenings, and the sea was usually too cold to swim in.
Riker absolutely loved it.
He and his mother had been going there since he'd been a baby. Sally even longer. She never exactly mentioned it, but Riker was halfway certain of the reason she loved it so much. It was the place she'd met his vanished father. Riker didn't hold any sort of feelings, good or bad, for the man, but he knew Sally adored him, deeply.
And as they got closer to Montuak, she began to look younger and younger; years of worry and work seemed to just fall of her slim frame. Her deep gray eyes turned the color of the sea, like Riker's were, but a lighter shade, like during the summer instead of the thrashing storm that the teen was defined by.
Once they arrived at sunset, the two opened all the cabin's windows and went through their usual cleaning routine. Riker never really complained about chores, unlike most teens; in fact, he actually enjoyed doing them, especially with his mother. He knew that by cleaning up a little and helping out around the house, maybe even cooking a meal or too, went a long way in taking off the stress form his mother.
Once the finished, the two took a walk down the beach. Riker was barefoot. He'd left his boots, jacket, and fingerless gloves back on his bed and exchanged his jeans for faded blue denim shorts that had used to be jeans, but had had the legs cut off rather raggedly when Riker got too tall for them around a year before. Sally was snug in a gray sweatshirt, a light blue blouse and white capris, also barefooted. She held out a hand and Riker took it, racing her down to the waterfront. Both hopped down on the very edge of the dock and tossed blue corn chips at the seagulls and shared the bag of licorice and taffy and sour strings and everything else that Sally had brought back for Riker from her job at the shoppe.
When it got dark, they made a fire farther back in the dunes. They roasted hot dogs, squash, and marshmallows. Sally told Riker some stories about her life with her parents before they'd been killed in that plane crash when she'd been a little kid. She told about all the books she wanted to write someday, when they had enough money for her to quit the candy shop.
Eventually, Riker got the guts to steer the conversation to the topic that he usually did on very late nights like this. His father. He watched Sally's bright eyes get all misty, and knew she was remembering some of the best years of her life—her words, quote on quote.
"He was kind." She said, with a dreamy look that Riker was more sued to seeing on the girls at school when they realized their crushes for the first time and started staring at the back of the guys' heads in classes. But he thought it suited Sally much more, making her look even younger. Happier. "Tall, handsome, and powerful."
"Like, he was rich or something?" Riker asked, tilting his head to the side with a raised eyebrow.
Sally looked up, blinking. "Well, I guess you could say that."
"Then, why are we so..." The teen shrugged. "Um, less than rich?"
Sally sighed. "Honey, I already—"
"Yeah, I know, I know." Riker rolled his eyes. "He's lost at sea. Not dead, lost at sea. I get it. But, still. Shouldn't we have gotten insurance or something? Especially since he was lost at sea. And hasn't come back yet?"
But his mom just gave him a sorrowful look, and Riker decided to shut up about it.
Sally fished out a jelly bean form the bag and handed it to him. "I wish he could see you now, Riker. He'd be so proud."
The teen suddenly felt angry. Not at his mother, but at his father. And himself. "Proud? Of what, a punk?" He let out a halfhearted scoff. "Like, yeah. I totally believe that. You don't have to say that kind of stuff to make me feel better, Mom."
Sally instantly went on to assure him that she didn't see it that way. That she really meant it. But Riker was a bit doubtful. He knew, sometimes. He'd walk past his mother's room in the middle of the night, o get a drink of water or a midnight snack or something, and he'd hear soft sniffles. He hated when his mom cried. One day, he'd find his father and punch him. Twice; once in the gut, and once in the face to give him a real shiner. One day. Since, well, he wasn't dead—just lost at sea.
But he also blamed himself. He knew he wasn't the best son in the world. He could be better. He could give his mother less problems.
"I'm I going to another one of those boarding schools next year?" Riker began, fiddling with his metal utensil, marshmallow still heating up at the end.
Sally pulled off a fully cooked marshmallow from her own. "Riker? I thought we talked about that three years ago, when you got expelled form the last one. No boarding schools again, remember? That's what we agreed on."
"But you're going to send me away again." Riker could feel it in his gut.
Her shoulders sagged, as if that burden that lifted from them when they got to the beach was back. Riker felt guilty. "I don't know, sweetheart. I think... I think we'll have to do something."
"Because you don't want me around—" Riker froze as soon as the words were out, and Sally had spun around to stare at him, eyes welling with tears. "No, Mom. I didn't mean that. I know you'd never feel that way. Sorry."
But Sally still shook her head furiously. "No, Riker, no—I-I have to. It's for your safety, and... I have to."
"Because I'm not normal." Riker told her, voice flat. Sally winced.
"You say that as if it's a bad thing, hun." She chastised him. "But you don't realize how important you are. I sent you to Yancy since I thought it was close enough to home, but far enough away from..." She cleared her throat, and Riker felt his eyes arrow. She wasn't telling him something. "To keep you safe, honey."
"Safe from what?!" Riker frowned. "That's what's it! You never tell me!"
Their eyes met. Suddenly, Riker felt all those memories come flooding back to him—all those freaky instances, all the really strange things that had happened to him; things he'd tried to really forget to help along the fantasy that he was just like all the other normal kids(but more awesome). To lie to himself, that he wasn't weird. He wasn't strange. He wasn't crazy...
Third grade. That man in the black trench coat that had stalked him on the playground. When the teachers came out to ask him to leave, threatened to call the police, Riker saw he only had one eye, right in the middle of his head. But his face was hidden in the shadows of his hood, and little Riker didn't want to tell anyone. Maybe he'd just imagined it after all.
And back in preschool. A teacher had set him down for a nap in a cot that held a sleeping snake, with interesting marks decorating it's scaly back. His mother had screamed when she came to pick him up and had found him playing with the limp, stringy rope that he'd strangled to death with his stubby little toddler hands.
In every single school, something creepy like that had happened. That was the real reason Riker always asked to go to a different one every year, or got himself expelled(even though not all of those times were on purpose). But every year, no matter what school he went to. Riker never told his mom. He knew she'd freak.
He knew he should tell Sally about the old ladies at the Fruit Stand of Destiny, and about the Alebra teacher-turned-hag that was Mrs. Dodds. About his weird, maybe hallucination that he'd killed her, Mrs. Dodds, a teacher who no longer existed in memories not records(he's broken into the records room at Yancy. She wasn't listed anywhere). But he couldn't make himself. He had a feeling it would end their trip at Montuak, and Riker never wanted that.
"I tried to keep you as safe as I could." Sally confessed, and Riker's attention was back on her, though he didn't glance up. "They told me it was a mistake. But there's only one other option. Riker—the place where your father wanted to send you. But I—I just couldn't."
Riker frowned. "Father... wanted to send me to a special school?' He clenched a fist.
"Not a school," Sally told him softly. "A summer camp."
Riker blinked. The hell? Why would his dear dad want to send him to a summer camp, before he'd even been born? He mentally shook himself. No way, no fucking way. He wasn't going, even if it had been his father's idea. The man hadn't even stayed for two months after his birth before going on that sea voyage and never coming back.
But still. A summer camp. And why hadn't Sally ever told him before now, if it was that important?
And why did Sally sound scared?
"I'm sorry, sweetheart." His mother looked up at him from behind her lashes. "I don't like talking about it—or, even thinking about it! If I send you there.. I just can't stand to... It might mean saying good-bye to you forever."
Riker's head shot up. "Forever? Mom, it's just a summer camp! As in, a once a year thing! Like, during the summer? Then I come home?"
But his mom turned back to the fire, and Riker knew form her expression that if he said any more she would start to cry.
That night. Riker had a real fucked up dream.
It was on the beach, Montuak, where they were now. A horse and an eagle were fighting to the death, it seemed, Thunder rages and lightning flashed. Riker felt like he was suppose to do something, maybe stop the two from their brawl, or something bad would happen. But he scowled when he found he couldn't move to even cross his arms stubbornly. As if. They were fighting, it wasn't his problem. Why should he stop it?
Besides, he wasn't sure what idiot eagle would choose to take on a horse. It was painfully obvious the stallion would win.
Somehow, Riker felt that that thought was bias. He didn't even know.
Then, from beneath the sandy dunes, a monsterous voice chuckled. The two warring animals didn't even pause. As if they hadn't heard it. Riker blinked, and glanced at the ground. His vision grew dark then, and he glanced up to see one last scene. The eagle diving down to nail the horse right in the eyes.
He woke up, and was surprised to find himself in a cold sweat. The hell? "Fucking dream wasn't even scary." he muttered. "Still, awesome eagle, getting the damn horse in the eye. That evil laughter was way cooler sounding, though." He rolled himself over and scowled at a pattern on the quilt that covered him, one that was large enough to see in the dark. Everything was black and white, like some old movie. But the ocean sounded just outside the window, and Riker felt himself being lulled right back to sleep.
Then he felt himself waking up again, not even reaching unconscious when he was jerked from his daze by loud bangs on the cabin door. He sat up so fast he almost got whiplash. Outside, it really was storming. Long Island never got hurricanes like this in the summer, but the ocean seemed to have forgotten that. Over the howling wind, he heard another sound. An angry, almost tortured sounding bellow that made his hairs stand on end.
And another noise. Like mallets hitting the sand. Someone—the one banging on the door, perhaps, was outside, screaming. Riker blinked, then his eyes widened. Well, hey now. Someone was banging on the door!
He jumped out of bed, still in his sweatpants, bare-chested despite the cold, and raced across the cabin to the door. His hand grasped the handle and jerked the flat sheet of wood open, to see—
"Grover?!" Riker's eye twitched as he stared into his... friends... face, voice hollering over the wind. "Dude, I get that you think I'm your friend and all, but this stalker-stuff—you just took it to a whole new level of creepy!"
"Riker!" Sally shouted from behind him. Riker stood to the side so him mother could come to the door. She stared at Grover for a minute, before pinning her son with a stare. "What happened, at school? What didn't you tell me?"
"Searching all night!" Grover cried over the screaming winds. He was panting as if he'd just finished a long marathon. "What were you thinking?! And you didn't even tell her?!"
His mom turned to look at him in horror. "Riker, what happened at school? Tell me!"
But Riker was frozen, now, looking over at Grover. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"O Zeu kai alloi theoi, P—Riker! It's right behind me! Why didn't you tell her?!"
Riker ignored them—and the fact that his stalker had just cursed in ancient Greek. And the fact that he'd understood him perfectly. He was still too shocked to even wonder how Grover had gotten their in the middle of the night, much less knew where they were staying(it must've been some secret stalker technique that they only shared with their stalker club).
Because Grover didn't have his pants on.
And where his legs should be...
"Riker!" His mother grabbed him by the shoulder. He'd never seen or heard her this panicked or frightened before. "Tell me now!"
He blinked once, before yelling out something about three old ladies that sold really tasty fruit, and then a vague sentence about a crazed math teacher that turned into a shriveled up hag and liked to pick on poor innocent teenagers. Sally's face turned deathly pale, and she scrambled back inside the cabin.
She grabbed her purse, tossed Riker his still un-opened suitcase, and dashed out the door. "get to the car. Both of you—go!"
Grover ran for the Camaro—but he wasn't exactly running. It was this weird trot that was slightly wobbling but still fast as heck, and Riker wondered why he'd never thought of it before aside from the fact that it sounded too crazy for even him to consider, as he ran beside the boy.
And suddenly that cover story—because it could only be a cover story, he realized—about Grover's leg muscle disorder made so much sense to him. How the guy could run so fast but still 'limp' when he walked.
Because where Grover's feet should have been... Well, there weren't any feet. There were hooves.
"God, you bastard!" Riker shouted over the wind. "You're an actual ass!"
Well, half of one. But that wasn't really important right now.
I'm sorry for not updating in a long time. School, life, and all those lame excuses *thumbs up*
I've put up a poll of which pairing Riker should be in. I don't take review votes unless you have a valid excuse for not being able to click on the link to my profile and vote yourself. If you don't have an account to vote, your vote will not be counted.
Tankyoo~
~Scylar X