A/N - See also, the very beginning and end of "Let Sleeper Dogs Lie"… No, seriously. This is not a drill. You gotta, bro.

(Posted September 4, 2018)

Everything You Bargained For

Year of Water, Spring of the Aligned Raindrops

Friday, May 14th, 2004 - 8:36 pm

"Ghost boy," Kevin blurted, choking on the word. The child at the bottom of the stairs (who seriously looked like he'd ridden to America on the Mayflower) had already vanished without leaving behind the faintest trace of steam. All that was left to see down there were the bricks.

Bricks.

There definitely hadn't been bricks in the hallway the first time Uncle Denzel led him through it. Had there been? Kevin racked his memory, biting his upper lip. No. No, he would have remembered bricks.

Girlfriend squirmed in his grip like a seal with an attitude, so he let her drop to the floor. Whipping around, Kevin raced back up the stairs to the upper hall. The broken grandfather clock was still hunched beneath the lone light bulb, and the mystery door on his right was still gone. No sign of the ghost boy with the kitten. Even when Kevin spun in a circle three times, constantly checking the dark window and the hall around him.

The walls. The walls were painted grassy green. Is that what they'd looked like the first time he'd come up here? Yes? No? Was he going crazy? Was that the Crocker way?

When Kevin turned around again, the hairless cat was sitting on the triangular, grilled cheese sandwich step that the stairs made as they bent back on themselves to reach the floor below. She hunched slightly into herself whenever she sat, but her eyes were as intelligent as ever.

"What's going on?" he whispered, tasting the flutter of his heart in his mouth.

"You haven't guessed yet?" asked the cat.

Guessed? Guessed what? Kevin, only breathless, shook his head. "Wh-what's the matter with this place? Why is it so weird?"

Thoughtfully, Girlfriend raised one paw to her mouth and gave it a lick. This, she rubbed over her ear. "The homes of witches are breeding grounds for stinky magic. It builds up if given time. I expected your mother would have taught you that. I hope I didn't think too highly of her."

"Um. Okay." Kevin fought to keep his voice from shaking. "That door. The one that was just up here. Where does it go?"

"I saw a door once. The square blue bat child rented it out for a month. I didn't think he was here anymore." Her voice was disinterested, as though this were just another of those human things she couldn't be bothered with. It was certainly not 'just another of those human things.' Kevin didn't know where to start with that one. A) Um, what? B) Um, what?

He decided to push both the mystery door and the ghostly child with the two-legged kitten out of his mind for now. Girlfriend had seen them both and she didn't seem too concerned about either one, and obviously someone in this household must know about the mystery room if it had been rented out once before. If there was a bat child living in there now, maybe he wasn't much of a threat. Besides, Kevin wasn't scared of bats. You couldn't be if you were raised by Denise Quinna Crocker.

But then, Girlfriend wasn't exactly a bat. And Kevin wasn't sure what to think about her. He said, "Are you a talking cat?"

Girlfriend chuckled with a soft mrrow. "Ooh, you're close, luv. I'm a korrigan. One thing by day, its opposite by night. Quite popular at parties." She made a vague circular gesture towards his face with one paw. "And, just like you, I'm not really supposed to be on this planet. Looks like we both have secrets."

"I–I don't understand."

The cat sprang onto the curve of the banister, crouching the way a gargoyle did. Her tail swished low behind her as though she planned to pounce. "A korrigan, dear boy, is one of the many Fairy subspecies in the universe. Although nowadays it seems that Cupid will let just about anyone with a mutation make a name for themselves." The cat wrinkled her nose with distaste, then proceeded to smooth her crumpled whiskers with her paw. "Have you ever met a korrigan before?"

Kevin couldn't take his eyes off her muzzle. Watching it move when she spoke was, uh… weird. Like watching a foreign film with subtitles that didn't sync up to her mouth. On some level, he knew she had to be meowing. That's the way her mouth was moving, in tiny bits. But she was talking? He could understand her? He'd never been able to talk to animals before.

Boy, he should really start leaving his room more often.

He cleared his throat. "I–I don't believe I've ever met anyone like you, um… Miss…?"

"Idaho, dear." She placed her paw to her neck and made as though fluffing up an imaginary ring of fur. "Idaho Powers, but Miss Idaho will do fine."

"Who are you?" he blurted. Maybe that wasn't the most polite way to phrase the question, but the house had been weird before the talking cat, and now it was getting weirder.

Miss Idaho turned her head, keeping one eye fixed on him. "I told you, I'm a korrigan. Curious creatures, and there aren't many of us left. Unattractive in the sunshine, but gorgeous so long as we keep away from natural lighting. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you've never seen one of us before. So many of us travel by bubble nowadays as opposed to finding ourselves caught in the sun while our beauty fades. Not me, of course. I am not one to follow such popular trends. I'm above that."

Kevin looked the cat up and down with raised eyebrows as she patted her whiskers. She was inside now and the sun had set, so why was she still hairless and wrinkled?

"Brains," Miss Idaho snapped, sitting back on her haunches and tapping both paws to her chest. She fixed Kevin with a hard look. "I speak of the beauty of my brains, dear. The universe bends her ear to the passions of a korrigan. Unlike my old-fashioned sisters, I consider intelligence, not outward physical appearance, to be a person's most attractive quality. So that is what I'm forced to sacrifice outdoors."

"I didn't say anything," Kevin said, defensively raising his hands. "Intelligence, I mean, yeah. That's great. Me too. Anyone can be attracted to a pretty girl on the street, but smart girls in cat bodies are the best, right? I'm totally on board with you."

Miss Idaho sniffed and turned her head away. Her tail snapped twice like the paddle of a rowboat. "It isn't the most unpleasant life to live. Inside the Crocker household, I explore my deepest fantasies by developing online fellowships and otherwise living in secret as the most brilliant of philosophers in this entire dirty town. I am beyond your Socrates and Aristotle. I am beyond Jay Rhoswen and Anti-Kahnii. Yet, in the cruel sunlight, I am not but a babbling airhead. Even now, one wrong move, and I revert to nothing but the unintelligent form I was forced to maintain during the time your uncle and I were dating." Disgust dribbled from her voice like drool. One paw clenched into something like a fist.

Briefly, Kevin wondered if he wondered if confidence was another trait that Miss Idaho held dear. After all, her arrogance oozed from every nonexistent hair on her body. Maybe she was always like that, or maybe that was just what being inside all day without a lot of social interaction did to her. Privately, he hoped it was the former option, because then he didn't feel so bad about finding her an annoying show-off.

But that thought only passed through his head briefly, because he couldn't ignore the end of her monologue. Kevin dropped his hands, pressing his palms flat behind him. He stared at the cat, his lips parted, until finally he asked, "You and my uncle actually dated?" Geez, maybe she was supposed to have all those wrinkles.

"After he caught me unawares in my daylight form and confused me for a human," she sneered, as though this meant it didn't count, and as though it didn't mean his uncle had DATED A REAL ACTUAL MAGICAL PERSON. "I don't poof when I travel. Poofing is for sheep who follow trends. I walk."

"Why did you pick him?" Kevin asked, carefully NOT saying, Why did he pick you?

Miss Idaho paused, one forepaw hovering before her mouth. Her tongue was still out, about to lick its back. She seemed to frown with her muzzle, and then turned her blue gaze on Kevin once again. "He's charming. And whether I am in my airheaded form or my intelligent one, I love him. Not enough to intentionally surrender my intelligence for vulnerability, but I love him enough to stay here."

Kevin stifled a snicker at the thought of mushy old people romance. His fingers curled around a peeling scrap of wallpaper behind him. "Does Uncle Denzel know about this? That you only look like a cat indoors, and you look human outside? He's really never seen you switch from one place or the other before?"

"The curse of the korrigan takes a matter of minutes to wear off between the two locations," Miss Idaho explained, with boredom drizzling every word. "The majority of our dates were picnics all those years ago. I am very careful regarding those I reveal myself to."

"Are you going to hurt me?" Kevin asked, keeping his back against the wall.

Miss Idaho eyed him up and down as though she were considering it, then stretched out on her belly. One forepaw dangled from the banister. "No, dear. You're safe with me. Consider me something of a guardian angel, not an enemy."

His shoulders did not relax. "Are you an angel, Miss Idaho?"

"No, dear. I'm just a type of a Fairy easily forgotten by the myths of your day. Do try to keep up."

"Oh." He frowned. "So if a korrigan is a subspecies of Fairy, can you use magic and stuff? I mean, besides the shapeshifting in the sunlight thing?"

"It's overrated. I allowed my license to expire millennia ago." She yawned. "I don't even keep a wand anymore."

That wasn't the answer he'd been expecting, and Kevin hesitated. "Are you the one who changed the walls?"

"I am not."

Kevin glanced up at the green walls once again. "I don't understand. Why do the walls keep changing? What happened to that door?"

The cat tipped her head to one side. "This house lives on through the sweat and tears of witches, dear. It's lived here ever since 1665, just like the Crocker family. The women in your line never moved around much until your mother came along. So I've heard, anyway… I didn't meet your uncle until his sophomore college year. Only met your mother once or twice during the time he and I were dating. Charming girl. By the way, you're welcome."

"Huh? I mean, what do you mean, ma'am?"

"Mm. It's incredible what heartbreak can do to a soul, isn't it? And it may have even saved you. Once your uncle, ah, put me out of his life, as it were, I found myself free to keep tabs on your mother throughout her travels. In my sunlight disguise, I was her landlord when she first stumbled into Peachfield pregnant with you. You could say the state of Idaho is sort of…" She studied her claws, then flicked away a piece of lint. "… an extension of my territory. I kept an eye on the poor girl until she could stand for herself. Elliot never was good enough for her, you know. Filthy rich in secret and your mother never saw a dime."

Kevin crinkled his brow. "What are you saying?"

"Your pa's a sleazeball, luv. Couldn't count his positive qualities on a paw and a half."

"No, no!" Kevin covered his ears. "I figured that already! I meant, about the thing that sounded magic. You said the Crocker family are witches. What does that even mean? Does that mean you're not the only one here who's magic? My Uncle Denzel and Grandmama are magic? And Mommy too?"

I'm magic?

Miss Idaho reached for Kevin's hand and guided it gently to her head for scratchies. "You're a witch too, honey. Everyone in your family is, although your powers are latent and sparse when you're this far removed from your magical ancestor. You haven't guessed? No, I suppose not. After all, you haven't known your uncle long enough to question if he really floats on air, and you spent nine of your eleven years in an apartment your mother was the first to rent. That's hardly enough time for significant stinky magic buildup. You wouldn't have noticed anything as strange as this in your own house."

The hairs trembled on the back of his neck. "What? Everyone in my family? Including me? No, I'm not a witch."

"Oh, but you must be. You see, I only talk to witches, and only when I want to. Ask your grandmother."

Kevin bit his lip. "But–but magic isn't real. I'm going to be a scientist who builds robot friends and babysitters. And before I do that, I'm going to be a dentist until I can support myself on my robots alone. I can't be a witch!"

The cat winked. "Sure, hon. And I can't be a korrigan who broke Da Rules by falling in love with a crazy Fairy-hunting human. Guess we're both a bit insane."

She slipped between his arms like silk, glided through two of the banister bars, and dropped to the floor below. By the time Kevin reached the bottom hall, which was still lined with pale brown and yellow bricks, Miss Idaho had disappeared.

Kevin shivered. There were too many mysteries to unpack here in just one night. What a strange house. He kept his eye out for Miss Idaho as he made his way through the brick passageway, but the only sign of life he noticed was Grandmama's black cat, Smokey, who vanished under the couch without making a sound.

Against all his expectations, Kevin found the kitchen exactly where Uncle Denzel had showed him earlier. There were even working lights in there, although Kevin almost would have preferred not to see the grime and peeling paint. The sink overflowed with dirty dishes. Knives had casually been left out by the cutting board. The brightest thing in the whole room was the sickly-looking orange fridge. Everything else came in one of two shades of brown.

After a quick check through several drawers and cupboards, more out of curiosity than because he planned to eat the first thing he found, Kevin turned his attention to the fridge. There wasn't much in there but some shredded cheese, spaghetti sauce, a half-used roll of cookie dough, and a pot of beans way in the back that he could smell even from here. He picked up some deli meat, but it was just starting to grow mold, so he threw it out. The same went for the strawberries.

At least the grapes looked okay. Kevin pulled out the bag, then grabbed the cookie dough as an afterthought and hunted around the kitchen for bread. He didn't turn up anything for sandwiches, but there were some barbecue chips on a paper plate by the toaster, so that was something. Combine those with the grapes and the cookies in the living room, and he'd be able to get by until Grandmama came home. Maybe she'd bring back pizza. Pizza sounded good.

He turned around, and stopped short. The kitchen walls had been brown when he first came in. Kevin had made sure of it. Now they were tiled white, the backsplash behind the stove china blue and prettied up with flowers. Also, the ghost boy with the hat and the kitten was back, so that was a thing. He sat in a chair at the kitchen table. Looking at Kevin, his eyes enormous behind his thick glasses. Just waiting. His fingers were long, and his nails made them so much longer. His hair was poofy. His black shirt was definitely woolen, with a little lace collar around the neck. And he was just sitting there, waiting for something to happen.

Three doors led out of the kitchen. One to the hall where he'd come from. One in the back to the dining room. One out to the garage. Kevin glanced at each one of them, sending out a silent plea for Miss Idaho to appear. She did not.

"Um." Kevin looked again at the table. "Do you want to share my–?"

The words died in midair. The boy had disappeared again. Well, that did seem like something he would do. But the kitten was still there, sitting on the chair as though it did this every day. Funny. It didn't look much like a ghost kitten. It wasn't glowing or anything. But somehow, even so, Kevin knew that it wasn't supposed to be there. Call it a hunch, maybe. The other objects in the kitchen gave off a certain, well, energy that proved they were just as real when he could see them as they gave off in the dark and he was picking his way through a room by touch alone. The kitten was a blip. Something he couldn't detect. An empty space. Even when it rustled around on the chair, and even when it jumped to the floor, it didn't make a sound.

"Miss Idaho?" Kevin asked, very loudly. He kept his back against the counter. Even louder this time, "Miss Idaho? Can you come in here? Like, now?"

He was answered by the patter of running paws. Miss Idaho appeared like a pink shadow in the corner of his eye. If she'd had fur, it would have been bushed. Her tail stood straight out behind her.

"Yes? What is it? Is something wrong, dear?"

Kevin swallowed. "There's, um, a kitten. Over there. Help."

Miss Idaho said nothing. She stood there, her ears pricked forward, her back arched. Kevin waited for her to attack the kitten, or talk to it, or make it go away somehow. But the longer he waited, the tighter his nerves squeezed together.

"I see nothing," Miss Idaho finally said. Her spine flattened. She wound herself around his legs, butting the backs of his knees with her head. A dull purr thrummed in the back of her throat. "You're restless. Get some sleep."

"But there's a kitten." There was still a kitten sitting sadly in the middle of the kitchen floor. Kevin refused to take his eyes off it. Even when he blinked, he made sure he did so by winking just one eye at a time. He didn't want it to disappear when he looked away like the ghost boy had. The plate of chips felt worthless in his hand.

"It's an old house lived in by generations of witches over the last three hundred years." She was very firm. "You are a Crocker, and you've as much right to live in it as any of the bloodline. The house knows this."

"It does?"

Miss Idaho twitched her ears. "Stinky magic is a tricky thing. Once it builds, it permeates objects and even entire buildings if one allows it to. If you have seen something that clearly does not belong, then the house must have chosen to share one of its memories with you. You're seeing a memory of what once was. That is all."

Oh, sure. That was all. Run along now, kid. The grown-ups are busy talking.

"You mean, you really can't see it?" This news did not make the thought of the ghost boy any less disturbing.

"No, dear."

He watched the two-legged kitten push itself clumsily across the tile in the direction of the dining room. "Um. So, can you not see it because you're a korrigan thing?"

"Perhaps," she said with more than a drop of skepticism. "Although were I to guess, I would say the real reason it's undetectable is because the house doesn't care for me. You're a Crocker. Your family gave it life. It knows you as its master and it seeks your kind affections. I'm nothing to it but a cat."

Kevin's breathing grew faster. "You mean the house really is alive? You–you weren't just saying that to be poetic back there?"

Miss Idaho shook her head. Although she made no attempt to chase the kitten off, she sat between Kevin's feet and began to groom her ears again. "You see, Fairy magic and a witch's magic are two very different things. Fairy magic is a tool. It is gathered from the energy field around us, filtered through the Big Wand in Fairy World, and purified with sacred rosewater contained in the cap of a Fairy wand. A witch's magic is different. A witch's magic is no tool. It's a companion. It's alive inside your mind and in your heart. You have witch's magic deep inside you, however watered-down it may be, because one of your ancestors was a magical creature."

"Oh. Um. Okay then. Is that really how it works? Ma'am?"

"Certainly. These things happen from time to time. Though I can confirm your ancestry isn't Fairy." She sniffed. Her crooked whiskers twitched. "This house has witch's magic deep inside its woodwork because so many witches have lived within its walls for so long. Of course, whether the magic allows itself to be used in any meaningful way is its decision alone. So if one is being technical, it is not the house itself which is communicating with you, but the old and forgotten magic which lives within its walls. That's what seeks your attention. It hopes to greet you. Humor it if you wish, or don't. It makes no difference to me."

The kitten vanished into the dining room. Kevin collapsed, drained, against the counter. "Phew. It's gone."

"Oh, don't be frightened." Miss Idaho's voice turned disinterested again. "A memory can't hurt you, luv. Unlike a ghost, it can't touch you."

Kevin was almost positive she could have found a less terrifying way to tell him that. He swallowed thickly. "But it's weird!"

Miss Idaho sighed. "The magic that lives here is only trying to welcome you in the best way it knows how." With that, she rose to her paws and trotted off to wherever magical cats go after sunset. Maybe the litter box, or maybe the toilet. Maybe she had a blog in desperate need of updating.

"Wait," Kevin called after her, reaching with his hand. Miss Idaho stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Um." Kevin closed his fist. "All that stuff you said just now. About Crockers being witches, all the way down to me. I never knew I was one. What does it all mean? Are you here to teach me all of this? Can I use witchcraft, or magic, or something like that?"

Miss Idaho looked him up and down, as though he were a very interesting cheesecake on a dessert cart, and she happened to despise cheesecake. "What? A good dozen or so generations removed from your magical ancestor? You must be joking. Dear, your uncle possesses the power of levitation. But only in very short bursts, and never of his own volition. His abilities are thinner than ice, and you come a generation later, so frankly, I'd be amazed if you could manage even that. The only witch power I imagine you might show is living beyond age 100."

And seeing ghostly memories floating around the house, though she didn't mention that.

"Then–Then what's the point of telling me the Crockers are witches at all?" He tried to keep the whining from his voice, and probably didn't succeed.

"It's your heritage," Miss Idaho said simply. "I don't make the rules. You're an Idaho-born child, and I happen to like Idaho. Maybe that's why."

She bounded off again. Kevin shook his head. Cats! Even when they were trying to be helpful, they just couldn't give anyone anywhere a straight answer, could they? Even when they were magical creatures.

Oh well. Back to business, then. Reluctant to sit in the same chair as the ghost boy (or the memory boy, or whatever it was), he instead sat on the floor and started eating what he had.

Then the doorbell rang. The batteries sounded all but dead. Kevin looked up, his mouth stuffed with cold cookie dough. What? Had he been in the house a whole hour already? Were those the three stepsiblings Uncle Denzel had called to visit him? Kevin wrapped the cookie dough up again and shoved it somewhere in the fridge, trying not to knock over all the half-empty containers of ketchup and mayonnaise. On his way to the door, he grabbed the china plate with all the cookies. Since the lights in the living room were out of commission, maybe the stepsiblings wouldn't mind hanging out with him outside as long as he brought them something to eat.

A small smile pressed at his lips. Hanging out.

Kevin opened the door. Yes, indeed, there were three kids about his age on the other side. Two of them—one girl, one boy—had blonde hair and blue eyes. The girl's hair was in a ponytail, and she had a skeptical but curious smile plastered across her face. The blond boy hung back on the step and sucked on a grape popsicle. The second boy was dressed identical to the first. White shirt. Unzipped purple jacket. Semi-circle sunglasses halfway down his nose, even though the sun had set. But unlike the other two kids, this second boy had rather dark skin and even darker hair.

Kevin narrowed his eyes, his smile slightly fading. The second boy had a friendly air about him, but the first one kept aloof and refused to look up. The girl seemed halfway between. Although he normally tried to avoid slapping stereotypes on people, Kevin felt he deserved a pass on this one. The too-cool-to-really-want-to-bother-with-somebody-like-you aura around them was so thick, it could've been sliced in half with a piece of bread. "Hmm," Kevin said. "Now, let's see if I can guess which one of you is the stepsibling."

"She is," both boys said together, jabbing their thumbs at the ponytailed girl in the cheerleading outfit, and they cracked up in unison like animatronic dolls on a toy store shelf. The girl rolled her eyes, having obviously heard that joke a hundred times by this point in her life already. The boy with the black hair wiped away an imaginary tear. He took his jacket in two fists and gave it a tug.

"No, seriously, we kid. I'm Chad. He's Tad, she's Veronica. See, they're twins, and my mom married their dad like six years after they were born. I was five and a half."

Tad stepped forward, popping his popsicle from his mouth. He had grape droplets all around his lips. Not seeming to notice this, he wiggled his pinky in front of Kevin's nose. "Yep. That's about how it went down. And get this: When they got married, our parents got me and Chad both pinky rings to match the actual ones they traded at the wedding. We haven't been apart since. Aren't these just the coolest?"

"Boy, I'm sure glad that's not weird," Kevin mumbled to himself.

"Yeah, so." That was Veronica, flapping her own (ringless) hand to the side. "We're the Guildfords. We totally like, all live together on the other side of town and everything."

Other was emphasized. Kevin couldn't miss their calculating eyes tearing him apart and piecing him together again. Especially his pajamas–he was sure of it. Stupid old bears. Shouldn't have changed out of his clothes. His feet curled, toes clenching the front step. "Do you guys want cookies?" he asked, offering the plate.

Chad picked up three, then stopped. "Oh," he said. He let the cookies drop back down. "White chocolate macadamia. No thanks. We only eat good chocolate, or snickerdoodles."

"Really?" Kevin perked up at once. "Oh boy! In that case, come on in! My Grandmama has snickerdoodle dough in the fridge, and I heard she's supposed to be the best cookie baker in the whole city. She'll be home real soon, and when she gets here, she can show us how she makes them."

Tad stifled a laugh. He slipped his popsicle from his mouth again. "Yeah. See, actually, my dad owns the Sundown Bakery, and we're rich, so… Yeah. I don't think that's accurate."

"Oh."

"I'd like a cookie," Veronica said, holding out her arm. She didn't pick one up. Slightly confused, Kevin put one in her hand. She also didn't eat it.

"So?" Chad cracked his knuckles. "You're the Crocker kid. He said you were, what, like his nephew or something?"

"Oh. I'm Kevin. I'm from Peachfield, Idaho. I'm just staying here for the summer while my mom and future stepdad get as much work done as they can on their wedding plans." Kevin realized then that he was holding the cookie plate in his right hand, so he shifted it to his left and held his hand out for a shake. Chad took it and gave it two pats, with Tad following suit with stickier fingers and tangible reluctance. Veronica smiled thinly when Kevin turned to her, firmly keeping the cookie in her hand where it was.

"Um…" Kevin bounced on his toes. Not wanting to leave the door open and allow bugs inside, and since the three kids obviously weren't planning to come in anytime soon, he set the plate down, stepped out, and pulled the door shut. "So I guess you know my uncle. He said he teaches at the school you guys go to. Are you in his class?"

In unison, Tad and Chad snorted. "That class?" Tad asked, twirling a finger around his popsicle stick. "Yeah right. He wishes. We're in a whole other hall. You know. The one that doesn't always have stick figure fairies and barely acceptable mental health evaluations covering the board outside."

All three of them laughed at this, Veronica half a step behind. Kevin swallowed his irritation at the backhanded way they mocked his uncle. Sure, the guy seemed a little off his rocker… a little… but he had to be a good teacher, or else he would've gotten fired by now. Right? He said, "Well, I'll be going to school at Dimmsdale Elementary to finish off this year. When does your class have lunch? Maybe on Monday, we could meet up and you could show me around."

Chad glanced down at his watch. Then he nudged Tad with his elbow. "Speaking of food, we need to get going."

Tad's eyes cleared. "Right! The pizza. Hey, Kenneth, have you eaten yet?"

"Actually my name's Kevin, but no."

"Sweet." Chad tilted his head in the direction of the road. "Come hang with us tonight so we can get a good look at you out on the town. Cool? Thought so."

The three stepsiblings began to move away, as though an agreement had been reached and there weren't any questions to be asked. Kevin hesitated. His shoes were still upstairs in his room. So were his socks. Socks were stupid, but still.

Tad glanced back over his shoulder. "Hey. You coming or what, dude?"

"Uh…"

"Sure he is," Veronica said, setting one hand to her hip. She still hadn't tried the cookie. When Kevin didn't move, both her eyebrows bent up. "Well? Aren't you?"

Kevin's bare toes squeezed the front step. The stepsiblings moved again. One second later, he was flying after them. "Right behind you!"

After all, Uncle Denzel had invited these kids over so Kevin could get to know them, right? And how could he get to know them if he stayed cooped up in the spooky house all day? Surely if Uncle Denzel and Grandmama couldn't find him, they'd figure he just went out to explore for a little while. He'd found his way to their address without their help before, and he could do it again if he had to.

"Hey! So, if you guys aren't in my uncle's class then, um, who teaches you?"

Veronica glanced at him sideways. "Us?"

"Well, we used to be in Mrs. Shickadance's homeroom," Chad reflected, his voice trailing off. He looked right at Kevin. "That is, until Mr. Cuddles got his grubby paws on her. After that, she was never seen again."

Kevin blinked, struggling not to shift to the opposite side of the sidewalk. He couldn't help it. "Wh-who is Mr. Cuddles?"

Chad's smirk widened. He nodded in a knowing way, his eyes wandering to the sky. His hands slipped inside his jacket pockets. "Some say Mr. Cuddles crawled out of the fiery furnaces deep inside the earth and across the land of the dead. Others say he mutated from a nuclear power plant meltdown back in the 1600s. Me? Well, I don't have any proof to show you, but you know what? I really think he's a Beast."

"A Beast," Kevin breathed. "You mean like the ones that were driven underground back in the early 1800s?"

"Yup. Ever heard of Kevin Bitterroot?"

Kevin shook his head. Chad looked more than a little surprised, but went on with his story anyway.

"Well then! See, Bitterroot was the Elias Muckle of Dimmsdale. You do know Elias Muckle, don't you?"

"The guy from Muckledunk? Of course! He was the most famous Creature hunter in the world, until Danny Phantom came along. He chased away more Beasts than anybody."

Chad glanced left, then right. He lowered his voice. "They say Bitterroot alone is responsible for the deaths of all the Beasts in Mr. Cuddles' family. Most Beasts live for centuries, you know, so hey–it could happen. Mr. Cuddles had kids once upon a time, you know. Baby bunnies. Black ones, white ones, blue ones, red ones. Spotted ones and striped ones. Some that wore hats, and some that wore glasses. And Bitterroot took his gun one night and shot them all dead in the street. Blam! Blam! Blam! He shot Mr. Cuddles' parents too, and every cousin, sibling, and stepsibling he had."

"No!"

"Mmhm. Bitterroot would have gotten Mr. Cuddles himself too, if Mr. Cuddles hadn't woken up and dived out of the way just in time." Chad made a diving motion with his hand. "Bitterroot only shot him through the foot. The bullet's still in there to this day, slowing him down like a thorn in a lion's paw. On moonless nights, you can still hear him prowling the neighborhood. His breath stinks of rotting cabbage and fermented shark. His one bad foot drags behind him the whole way. But mostly, if you're lying warm and snug inside your bed at night, where you think you're safe, you can hear him speaking between his pants and growls. 'Kevin… Kevin…'"

Kevin shivered despite himself. Sure, a massive bunny monster sounded insane, but after the evening he'd just had? If Tad had told him the school janitors were secret unicorns, he'd believe it in a heartbeat. "S-so what happened to the Shickadances?"

Furry paws grabbed his neck from behind. Kevin shrieked and spun around, only to find Tad doubled over in laughter, holding fluffy mittens over his cheeks. "Mr. Cuddles devoured them alive!" Chad shouted, cracking up himself.

Kevin's cheeks burned. He brushed his hands down his shirt. "Oh, haha! We're picking on the new kid today. I see how it is. You guys are just playing a game with me, aren't you?"

"Nope, all true," Veronica insisted, doing that hand-on-hip thing again. "Well, yeah. Except for the Kevin part. We changed that bit up. Like, just ask your uncle about Mrs. Shickadance. He was at school the day she disappeared, and he swears it's true."

Kevin gulped, not wanting to believe her but unable to stop himself. The arches of his feet trembled in their middles. "S-so was there ever really a Kevin Bitterroot? I sort of like that name."

Tad shrugged. He returned the mittens to his pocket. "I dunno. Maybe. We had an Alden Bitterroot in Dimmsdale way back when the town was founded. Maybe there was a Kevin too."

Chad tapped his chin with two fingers. "Hey. Yeah, that's right. Hey Tad, isn't Bitterroot one of Crockjob's ancestors or something? I think that'd make him one of this kid's ancestors too."

Kevin did not miss the fact that when Chad hooked a thumb at him, he was still speaking to his stepbrother and did not use the word "your." Still, he perked up at this thread of family history Mommy had never mentioned before. "Really? Wow, that's amazing! How do you cool dawgs know about this Alden guy? Do you have like a section in your library about the early years of Dimmsdale?"

"Sure," Tad said, at the same time Chad said, "Please never say 'cool dawgs' again in your life." "The well he fell down is still standing in this town." Tad shielded his eyes despite the dark and squinted at the pencil-shaped office building in the distance. "I think it's way, way over there someplace."

Kevin tilted his head. "Huh. Those are weird words to say. Alden fell in a well?"

"Yeah," Veronica chirped behind him. "Our whole town is like, named after Dale Dimm, the totally famous witch-hunter who disposed of Alden for good."

Kevin stopped walking. Veronica bumped into him and dropped her cookie. It broke into thirds. "What? A witch-hunter? You mean, Alden Bitterroot was a witch too?"

Tad shot Kevin a smirk. "'Too?'"

"Uh… uh…" Kevin's eyes darted in a circle. He stepped back, his heel coming down on Veronica's shoe. He stumbled away. Oh. Okay. Um. So the fact that the Crocker family were apparently witches with some magic ancestor 12 generations ago or something wasn't actually common knowledge? And Dimmsdale just so happened to be named after its beloved witch-hunter? And maybe there were still witch-hunters living in the town today who would want to run him into the ground and stick his head on a spit?

Veronica stepped around Kevin, pursing her lips. She lifted one hand to her ear. "You know, they say that if you're ever like, standing around Alden's wishing well late at night when it's quiet and you listen real closely, you can like, still totally hear the history. Alden never died when he splashed at the bottom, and he's like, been trying to claw his way out again ever since. When you think you hear the wind rattling through the tree branches, it could be Alden screaming for somebody to help him out again. Like, witches live for centuries just like Beasts, so he could totally still be just chilling down there today."

"Oh. Witches live for centuries?"

"If he's not a witch anymore, then he's a zombie now, so yes," Tad said cheerfully.

Chad slapped Kevin on the back and started down the sidewalk. "Anyway, come on, Crock-kid. We're hitting Shirley's for some pizza. He stays open late on Friday nights. See, we've got someone else we wanna introduce you too, and she's already waiting for us."

Kevin didn't miss Veronica's hands clenching into sudden fists. At that, Tad let out a dreamy sigh. His bare popsicle stick almost fell to the ground.

"Trixie Tang…"

With a snort, Chad smacked his stepbrother upside the head. "Yeah, you wish she was still into you, loverboy. Don't embarrass yourself and let me do the talking this time."

Tad stuck out his tongue. "You just don't get my style, ding-dong. I'm playing the long game."

"You're playing the pathetic puppy dog game, is what that is. 'Oh Trixie, oh Trixie.'" Chad shoved him with both hands. "She has a boyfriend who straight-up hops the border for her, knucklehead. Get over yourself."

"It won't last," was Tad's stubborn reply.

"Doofus."

"Nerd."

"Blockhead."

"Dweeb."

For his part, Kevin fell into step beside the silent Veronica, wondering what kind of name for a pizza restaurant owner was "Shirley."

A/N - … Okay, in my defense, Girlfriend was confirmed sentient at the end of "Viral Videots" and magical Miss Idaho was just handed to me.