excitement, like his story meant more than the world, and we couldn’t
help but to burst into heady, stomach-clenching laughter. He had always
been a bullshitter.
“A huge threat, I’m sure! And please, do tell us how you saved the
day!” Steven piped in.
“Told her to stomp at it?” I offered.
“Didn’t have to,” he replied, smug. “I stomped at the little rascal,”
he paused, waiting for the hoots to die down. “And it took a chunk out of
me ankle.”
A hushed silence fell over us all, and we leaned in, completely
riveted. It was only once in a great while you heard stories like this.
“Hugo, what was it like?” Lance, a younger-looking one of us,
asked in a whisper.
“It hurt like the dickens!” He chuckled to himself, and a serene
smile smoothed out his sharp-edged features. I wasn’t so sure he was
talking to us anymore. “Like nothing you could ever imagine, boy. It’s
almost like when it’s our time, but so much more. The things I’d do to be
real, be truly there, again. The things I’d do…”
***
I take Pea’s hand and we walk out to join the Bitch in the living
room. I say “Have fun, Pea,” like a good friend and after she starts it, I
perform the second part of our handshake, like I always do. She can tell
that it’s half-hearted. No smile, limp hand. Her shoulders slump a good
three inches as she mutters, “Bye Derek. Love you,”
“Love you too, Pea,”
Her mom yells at her again for talking to someone that isn’t there.
And yanks Pea out the door.
From my previous experiences, I judge that I have a week, maybe
two at most, before I head back to check in with the boss and the others.
There’s