He shifted in his seat and winced. He
grunted a little ouch. Kurt narrowed his eyes and shook his head at him.
"This is pretty fucked up right here," Kurt said, looking down into his
coffee.
"It's only a little less weird for me, if that's any comfort."
"It's not," Kurt said.
"Well, that's why I don't usually tell others. You're only the second
person to believe it."
"Maybe I could meet up with the first and form a support group?"
Alan pushed his omelet away. "You can't. She's dead."
#
Davey haunted the schoolyard. Alan had always treated the school and its
grounds as a safe haven, a place where he could get away from the
inexplicable, a place where he could play at being normal.
But now Davey was everywhere, lurking in the climber, hiding in the
trees, peering through the tinsel-hung windows during class. Alan only
caught the quickest glimpses of him, but he had the sense that if he
turned his head around quickly enough, he'd see him. Davey made himself
scarce in the mountain, hiding in the golems' cave or one of the deep
tunnels.
Marci didn't come to class after Monday. Alan fretted every morning,
waiting for her to turn up. He worried that she'd told her father, or
that she was at home sulking, too angry to come to school, glaring at
her Christmas tree.
Davey's grin was everywhere.
On Wednesday, he got called into the vice principal's office.
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