There was a lot of blood here, a little puddle that was still
wet in the crusted middle. Frederick's blood.
He stepped over the grating and shone the light back down the hole,
inviting Kurt to have a look.
"That's where they went," he said as Kurt bent down.
"That hole?"
"That hole," he said.
"Is that blood?"
"That's blood. It's not easy to fit someone my brother's size down a
hole like that." He set the grate back, screwed it into place, and
passed the torch back to Kurt. "Let's get out of here," he said.
On the street, Alan looked at his blood and moss-grimed palms. Kurt
pushed back his floppy, frizzed-out, bleach-white mohawk and scratched
vigorously at the downy brown fuzz growing in on the sides of his skull.
"You think I'm a nut," Alan said. "It's okay, that's natural."
Kurt smiled sheepishly. "If it's any consolation, I think you're a
*harmless* nut, okay? I like you."
"You don't have to believe me, so long as you don't get in my way," Alan
said. "But it's easier if you believe me."
"Easier to do what?"
"Oh, to get along," Alan said.
#
Davey leapt down from a rock outcropping as Alan made his way home that
night, landing on his back. Alan stumbled and dropped his school bag. He
grabbed at the choking arm around his neck, then dropped to his knees as
Davey bounced a fist-sized stone off his head, right over his ear.
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