Ok, při čtení tohohle chcípnete. Udělala jsem celou kapitolou, příště bude kapitola to be beautiful. UwU
He dead possum's still there." Oswald was looking out the passenger window at the gray. furry carpet on the side of the road. Somehow it looked even deader than it had yesterday: Last night's rain hadn't helped. "Nothing looks deader than a dead possum." Oswald's dad said,
"Except this town," Oswald mumbled, looking at the boarded-up storefronts and the display windows, which were displaying nothing but dust.
"What's that?" Dad said. He was already wearing the stupid red vest they put him in when he worked the deli counter at the Snack Space. Oswald wished he'd wait to put it on until after he dropped him at school.
"This town," Oswald said, louder this time. "This town looks deader than a dead possum." His dad laughed. "Well, I don't guess I can argue with
that."
Three years ago, when Oswald was seven, there had actually been stuff to do here-a movie theater, a game and card store, and an ice-cream shop with amazing waffle cones. But then the mill had closed. The mill had basically been the reason the town existed. Oswald's dad had lost his job, and so had hundreds of other kids' moms and dads. Lots of families had moved away, including Oswald's best friend, Ben, and his family.
Oswald's family had stayed because his mom's job at the hospital was steady and they didn't want to move far away from Grandma. So Dad ended up with a part-time job at the Snack Space, which paid five dollars an hour less than he'd made at the mill, and Oswald watched the town die. One business after another shut down, like the organs in a dying body, because nobody had the money for movies or games or amazing waffle cones anymore.
"Are you excited it's the last day of school?" Dad asked It was one of those questions adults always asked, like "How was your day?" and "Did you brush your teeth?" Oswald shrugged. "I guess. But there's nothing to do
with Ben gone. School's boring, but home's boring, too." "When I was ten, I wasn't home in the summer until I got called in for supper," Dad said. "I rode my bike and played baseball and got into all kinds of trouble."
"Are you saying I should get in trouble?" Oswald said,
"No, I'm saying you should have fun." Dad pulled into the drop-off line in front of Westbrook Elementary.
Have fun. He made it sound so easy.
Oswald walked through the school's double doors and ran smack into Dylan Cooper, the last person he wanted to see. Oswald was apparently the first person Dylan wanted to see, though, because his mouth spread in a wide grin. Dylan was the tallest kid in fifth grade and clearly enjoyed looming over his victims.
"Well, if it isn't Oswald the Ocelot!" he said, his grin spreading impossibly wider.
"That one never gets old, does it?" Oswald walked past Dylan and was relieved when his tormentor chose not to follow him. When Oswald and his fifth-grade classmates were preschoolers, there was a cartoon on one of the little kid channels about a big pink ocelot named Oswald. As result, Dylan and his friends had started calling him "Oswald the Ocelot" on the first day of kindergarten and had never stopped. Dylan was the kind of kid who'd pick on anything that made you different. If it hadn't been Oswald's name, it would have been his freckles or his cowlick.
The name-calling had gotten much worse this year in U.S. history when they'd learned that the man who shot John F. Kennedy was named Lee Harvey Oswald. Oswald would rather be an ocelot than an assassin.
Since it was the last day of school, there was no attempt at doing any kind of real work. Mrs. Meecham had announced the day before that students were allowed to bring their electronics as long as they took responsibility for anything getting lost or broken. This announcement meant that no effort would be made toward any edu cational activities of any kind.
Oswald didn't have any modern electronics. True, there was one laptop at home, but the whole family shared it and he wasn't allowed to bring it to school. He had a phone, but it was the saddest, most out-of-date model imaginable, and he didn't want to take it out of his pocket because he knew any kid who saw it would make fun of how pathetic it was. So while other kids played games on their tablets o handheld consoles, Oswald sat. After just sitting became intolerable, he took out
notebook and pencil and started to draw. He wasn't the best artist in the world, but he could draw well enough that his images were identifiable, and there was a certain cartoony quality about his drawings that he liked. The ben thing about drawing, though, was that he could get lost in it. It was like he fell into the paper and became part of the scene he was creating. It was a welcome escape.
He didn't know why, but lately he had been dra ing mechanical animals-bears, bunnies, and birds. He imagined them being human-size and moving with the jerkiness of robots in an old science-fiction movie. They were furry on the outside, but the fur covered a hard metal skeleton filled with gears and circuits. Sometimes he drew the animals' exposed metal skeletons or sketched them with the fur peeled back to show some of the mechanical workings underneath. It was a creepy effect, like seeing a person's skull peeking out from beneath the skin.
Oswald was so immersed in his drawing that he was startled when Mrs. Meecham turned off the lights to show a movie. Movies always seemed like a teacher's final act of desperation on the day before break-a way to keep the kids quiet and relatively still for an hour and a half before set ting them loose for the summer. The movie Mrs. Meecham opinion, too babyish for a roomful of fifth graders. It was about a farm with talking animals and he had watched it before, but he watched it again because, really, what else did he have to do?
At recess, kids stood around tossing a ball back and forth and talking about what they were going to do over the summer:
"I'm going to football camp."
"I'm going to basketball camp."
"I'm going to hang out at my neighborhood pool." "I'm going to stay with my grandparents in Florida."
Oswald sat on a bench and listened. For him there would be no camps and no pool memberships and no trips because there was no money. And so he'd draw pictures, play his old video games that he'd already beaten a thou sand times, and maybe go to the library.
If Ben were still here, it would be different. Even if they were just doing the same old stuff, they'd be doing it together. And Ben could always make Oswald laugh, riffing on video game characters or doing a perfect imper- sonation of one of their teachers. He and Ben had fun no matter what they did. But now a summer without Ben yawned before him, wide and empty.
Most days Oswald's mom worked from 12 p.m. until 12 a.m., so his dad had to make dinner. Usually they got by on frozen meals like lasagna or chicken pot pie, or on cold cuts and potato salad from the Snack Space deli that were still good enough to eat but not good enough Dad did cook, it was usually things that just required boil. ing water. to sell. When
While Dad got their dinner ready, Oswald's job was to feed Jinx, their very spoiled black cat. Oswald often thought that he used about the same amount of cooking skill in opening Jinx's can of stinky cat food as his dad used in his dinner preparations.
Tonight Oswald and Dad were sitting down to plates of blue-box mac and cheese and some canned corn his dad had zapped in the microwave. It was a very yellow meal.
"You know, I was thinking." Dad said, squirting ketchup onto his macaroni and cheese. (Why did he do that? Oswald wondered.) "I know you're old enough to stay home by yourself some, but I don't like the idea of you staying by yourself the whole day while your mom and I are at work. I was thinking you could ride into town with me in the mornings and I could drop you off at the library. You could read, surf the net-"
Oswald couldn't let this one slide. How out of date could his dad be? "Nobody says 'surf the net' anymore, Dad."
"They do now... because I just said it." Dad forked up some macaroni. "Anyway, I thought you could hang out in the library in the mornings. When you get hungry, you could head over to Jeft's Pizza for a slice and a soda, and I could pick you up there once my shift's over at three."
Oswald considered for a moment. Jeff's Pizza was kind of weird. It wasn't dirty exactly, but it was run down. The vinyl on the booth seats had been repaired with duct tape, and the plastic letters had fallen off the menu board above the counter so the listed toppings included pepperon and am urger. It was clear that Jeff's Pizza used to be something big ger and better than it now was. There were tons of unused floor space and lots of unused electrical outlets along the base of the walls. Also, on the far wall was a small stage, even though there were no performances there, not even so much as a karaoke night. It was a strange place sad and not what it had once been, like the rest of the town.
That being said, the pizza was decent, and more impor tant, it was the only pizza in town if you didn't count the kind from the frozen food department at the Snack Space. The few good restaurants in town, including Gino's Pizza and Marco's Pizza (which, unlike Jeff's, had real pizza maker names), had closed their doors not long after the mill had.
"So you'll give me the money for pizza?" Oswald asked. Since Dad's job loss, Oswald's allowance had dwindled to practically nothing.
Dad smiled a kind of sad smile, it seemed to Oswald. "Son, we're bad off, but we're not so bad off I can't spot you three-fifty for a slice and a soda." "Okay," Oswald said, It was hard to say no to a warm, gooey cheese slice. Since it wasn't a school night and wouldn't be again
for quite some time, Cswald stayed up after Dad went to bed and watched an old Japanese monster movie, with Jinx curled up purring on his lap. Oswald had seen a lot of B-grade Japanese horror films, but this one, Zendrelix 19. Mechazendrelix, was new to him. As always, Zendrelix Just looked like a giant dragon thing, but Mechazendrelix reminded him of the mechanical animals he drew when he stripped them of their fur. He laughed at the movie's special effects-the train Zendrelix destroyed was clearly a toy-and at how the actors' lip movements didn't match the dubbed-in English. Somehow, though, he always found himself rooting for Zendrelix. Even though he was just a guy in a rubber suit, somehow he managed to have a lot of personality.
In bed, he tried to count his blessings. He didn't have Ben, but he had monster movies and the library and lunch time pizza slices. It was better than nothing, but it still wasn't going to be enough to keep him going all summer. Please, he wished, his interesting happen. eyes closed tight. Please let something
Oswald woke to the smell of coffee and bacon. The cof fee he could do without, but the bacon smelled amazing. Breakfast meant time with his mom, often the only time he got with her until the weekend. After one necessary stop, he hurried down the hall to the kitchen.
"Well, look at that! My rising sixth grader has risen!" Mom was standing over the stove in her fuzzy pink bath robe, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, flipping
oh, yum, were those pancakes? "Hi, Mom."
She opened her arms. "I demand a morning hug."
Oswald sighed like it annoyed him, but he went over and hugged her. It was funny. With Dad, he always said he was too old for hugs, but he never turned down his mom's open arms. Maybe it was because he didn't get to spend much time with her during the week, while he and Dad spent so much time together they sometimes got on each other's nerves.
He knew Mom missed him and felt bad for having to work such long hours. But he also knew that since Dad's job at the Snack Space was just part-time, Mom's long hours were most of the reason the bills were getting paid. Mom always said that adult life was a fight between time and money. The more money you earned to spend on bills and necessities, the less time you got to spend with your family. It was a difficult balance.
Oswald sat down at the kitchen table and thanked his mom when she poured his orange juice. "First day of summer break, huh?" Mom went back to the stove to scoop up a pancake with her spatula.
"Uh-huh." He probably should have tried to sound more enthusiastic, but he couldn't muster the energy She slid the pancake onto his plate and then served him two strips of bacon. "Not the same without Ben, huh?" He shook his head. He wasn't going to cry.
Mom ruffled his hair. "I know. It's a bummer. But, hey, maybe a new friend will move to town."
Oswald looked at her hopeful face. "Why would any body move here?"
"Okay, I see your point," Mom said, piling on another pancake. "But you never know. Or maybe somebody cool already lives here. Somebody you don't even know yet."
"Maybe, but I doubt it." Oswald said. "These pancakes are great, though."
Mom smiled and ruffled his hair again. "Well, I've got that going for me anyway. Do you want more bacon? If you do, you'd better grab it before your dad gets in here and vacuums it all up."
"Sure. It was Oswald's personal policy never to refuse more bacon
The library was actually kind of fun. He found the latest book in a science-fiction series he liked and a manga that looked interesting. As always, he had to wait forever to use the computers because they were all taken by people she looked like they had no place else to be men with scraggly beards wearing layers of ratty clothing, too thin women with sad eyes and bad teeth. He waited his turn politely, knowing that some of these people used the library for shelter during the day, then spent the night on the streets.
Jeff's Pizza was as weird as he remembered. The big empty space beyond the booths and tables was like a dance floor where nobody danced. The walls were painted a pale yellow, but they must have used cheap paint or only one coat, because shapes of whatever had been on the walls before were still visible. It had probably been some kind of mural with people or animals, but now it was just shad ows behind a thin veil of yellow paint. Oswald sometimes tried to figure out what the shapes were, but they were too blobby to make out.
Then there was the stage that never got used, standing empty but seemingly waiting for something. Though a feature even weirder than the stage lay in the back right corner. It was a large rectangular pen surrounded by yel- low netting, but it had been roped off with a sign that said DO NOT USE. The pen itself was filled with red, blue, and green plastic balls that had probably been brightly colored once but were now faded and fuzzy with dust. Oswald knew that ball pits had been popular features in kiddie playland but had largely disappeared because of concerns about hygiene-after all, who was going to disinfect all those balls? Oswald had no doubt that if ball pits had still been popular when he was little, his mom wouldn't have let him play in one. As a licensed practical nurse, she was always happy to point out places she found to be too germy to play in, and when Oswald would complain that she never let him have any fun, she'd say, "You know what's not fun? Pinkeye."
Except for the empty stage and the ball pit, the strang est feature in Jeff's Pizza was Jeff himself. He seemed to be the only person who worked there, so he both took orders at the counter and made the pizzas, but the place was never crowded enough that this was a problem. Today, like all other days, Jeff looked as if he hadn't slept in a week. His dark hair was sticking up in weird places, and he had alarming bags under his bloodshot eyes. His apron was stained with both recent and ancient tomato sauce.
"What can I getcha?" he asked Oswald, sounding bored. "A cheese slice and an orange soda, please," Oswald said.
Jeff stared off into the distance as though he had to think about whether the request was a reasonable one or not. Finally he said, "Okay. Three-fifty."
One thing you could say about Jeff's pizza slices: They were huge. Jeff served them on flimsy white paper plates that were soon stained with grease, and the corners of the tri angles always overlapped the plates' rims.
Oswald settled in to a booth with his slice and soda. The first bite-the tip of the triangle-was always the best. Somehow the proportions of all the flavors in that bite were perfect. He savored the warm, melty cheese, the tangy sauce, and the pleasantly greasy crust. As he ate, he looked around at the few other customers. A pair of mechanics from the oil change place had folded up their pepperoni slices and were eating them like sandwiches. A table full of office workers clumsily attacked their slices with plastic forks and knives, so they wouldn't drip sauce on their ties and blouses, Oswald guessed.
After Oswald finished his slice, he wished for one more but knew he didn't have the money for it, so he wiped off his greasy fingers and took out his library book. He sipped his soda and read, falling into a world where kids with secret powers went to a special school to learn how to fight evil.
"Kid." A man's voice startled Oswald out of the story. He looked up to see Jeff in his sauce-stained apron. Oswald figured he had outstayed his welcome. He had sat in a booth reading for two hours after having bought a meal that cost less than four bucks. "Yes, sir?" Oswald said, because politeness never hun "I got a couple more cheese slices that didn't sell lunch. You want 'em?" "Oh," Oswald said. "No thanks, I don't have any more
money." He wished he did, though.
"On the house," Jeff said. "I'd just have to throw 'em out anyway.'"
"Oh, okay. Sure. Thanks."
Jeff picked up Oswald's empty cup. "T'll get you some more orange soda while I'm at it."
"Thanks." It was funny. Jeff's expression never changed. He looked tired and miserable even when he was being extra nice.
Jeff brought two slices stacked on a paper plate, and a fresh cup of orange ting down the cup soda. "Here you go, kid," he said, set and the plate.
"Thank you." Oswald wondered for a minute if Jeff felt sorry for him, if Jeff might think he was terribly poor like the homeless people who hung out all day in the library, instead of just the regular, barely-making-ends-meet poor
that he was.
But then Oswald figured if there was free pizza sitting in front of you, maybe it wasn't time to worry about the reasons for it. Maybe it was time to eat.
Oswald had no problem polishing off the two huge slices. For the past month, his appetite had been unstoppable. when Mom cooked him piles of pancakes in the mom she said he must be having a growth spurt, causing him to eat like he had a hollow leg
His phone vibrated in his pocket the second he
sucked down the last of his soda. He looked at his dad's
text: will be out front at jeffs in 2 min. Perfect timing. It had been a good day
The days at the library and Jeff's Pizza started to add up The first couple of weeks had been great, but now the library didn't have the next book in the series he was reading, and he had grown bored with his online fantasy game, which, while advertised as free, now wouldn't let him advance any further without paying money. He had gotten tired of not having anybody his age to hang out with. He hadn't gotten tired of pizza yet, but he was starting to imagine that he might in the future.
Tonight was Family Fun Night, a one-night-a-week event that varied depending on Mom's work schedule. Back when the mill was still open, Family Fun Night meant dinner in a restaurant-pizza or Chinese or Mexican. After their meal, they'd do some fun activity together. They'd go to the movies if something kid friendly was playing, but if not, they'd go to the bowling alley or to the roller rink where Mom and Dad used to go on dates when they were in high school. Mom and Dad were great skaters and Oswald was terrible, but they'd skate on either side of him holding his hands and keeping him up. They'd off their evening with a waffle cone at the ice-cream place downtown. Oswald and Mom would make fun of Dad because no matter what ice-cream flavors were available, he always got vanilla. usually top
Since the mill closed down, though, Family Fun Night had turned into an at-home affair. Mom would make something for dinner that was easy but festive, like tacos from a mix or hot dogs. They'd eat and then play board games or watch a movie they'd rented from Red Box It was still fun, of course, but sometimes Oswald wished aloud for the old days of seeing new movies at the theater and having waffle cones after, and Dad had to remind him that the Important Thing Was That They All Got to Spend Time Together
Sometimes when the weather was nice, they'd have a Family Fun Night. They'd pack a picnic of cold cuts and salads courtesy of the Snack Space and head over to the state park. They'd eat their dinner at a wooden table and watch the squirrels and birds and raccoons. Afterward, they'd go for a walk on one of the hik ing trails. These outings were always a nice change, but Oswald was also aware of why these were the only Family Fun Nights that ever got them out of the house:
Picnics were free. Tonight they were staying in. Mom had made spaghetti and garlic bread. They had played a game of Clue, which Mom won as she usually did, and now they were piled up on the couch together in their pajamas with a huge bowl of popcorn between them, watching a remake of an old science-fiction movie.
Once the movie was over. Dad said, "Well, that was pretty good, but not as good as the real version." "What do you mean, the real version?" Oswald said.
"That was a real version."
"Not really," Dad said. "I mean, it was set in the same universe as the real version, but it was kind of a cheap knockoff of the one that came out when I was a kid."
Dad always had to be so opinionated. He could never just watch something and enjoy it. "So the best movies are always the ones that you watched when you were a kid?" Oswald said.
"Not always, but in this case, yes." Dad was settling in,
Oswald could tell, for one of his favorite things: a good argument "But the special effects in the original version stink,"
Oswald said. "All those puppets and rubber masks."
"I'll take a puppet or model over CGI any day." Dad said, leaning back on the couch and propping his feet on the coffee table. "That stuff is so slick and fake. It's got no warmth, no texture. And besides, you like those old Zendrelix movies, and the special effects in those are terrible.
"Yeah, but I just watch those to make fun of them." Oswald said, even though he really did think Zendrelix was pretty cool
Mom came in from the kitchen with bowls of ice cream. Not as good as the waffle cone place, but nothing to turn your nose up at, either. "Okay, if you guys don't cut out the nerd argument, I'm going to pick the next movie we watch. And it's going to be a romantic comedy."
Oswald and his dad shut up immediately.
"That's about what I thought," Mom said, passing around the bowls of ice cream.
As Oswald was lying in bed sketching his mechanical ani mals, his phone vibrated on his nightstand. There was only one person other than his parents who ever texted him.
Hey, Ben had typed on the screen,
Heyback, Oswald typed. Hows your summer?
Awesome. At Myrtle Beach for vacation. Its so cool. Arcades and mini golf everywhere.
Jealous, Oswald typed, and he meant it. A beach with arcades and mini golf really did sound awesome.
Wish you were here, Ben typed.
Me too
Hows your summer
OK, Oswald texted. He was briefly tempted to make his summer sound cooler than it was, but he could never lie to Ben. Been going to the library a lot, lunch at Jeffs
Pizza
Thats all?
It did sound pathetic compared with a family trip to the beach. He texted, Pretty much yeah
I'm sorry, Ben texted, and then, that pizza place is creepy
They chatted a little while longer, and although Oswald was happy to hear from Ben, he was also sad that his friend was so far away and having such a good time without him.
Monday morning, and Oswald was in a bad mood. Even his mom's pancakes didn't help. In the car, Dad turned up the radio too loud. It was some stupid song about a tractor. Oswald reached for the knob and turned it down.
"Hey, dude, driver picks the music. You know that," Dad said. He turned the awful song back up even louder. "It's bad music," Oswald said. "I'm trying to save you from yourself."
"Well, I don't like those video game songs you listen to," Dad said. "But I don't just barge into your room and turn them off." "Yeah." Oswald said. "But I don't force you to listen to them, either."
Dad turned the radio down. "What's with the attitude, son? Whatever's bothering you, it's not just that I like country music
Oswald didn't feel like talking, but clearly he was being forced to. And once he opened his mouth, he was sur prised to feel complaints erupting from him like lava from a volcano. "I'm tired of every day being exactly the same. Ben texted me yesterday. He's at Myrtle Beach having an awesome time. He wanted to know what I was doing, and I told him I was going to the library and Jeff's Pizza every day, and you know what he texted back? 'I'm sorry' and That pizza place is creepy."
Dad sighed. "I'm sorry we can't go on vacation and have an awesome time, Oz. Things are hard right now where money's concerned. I'm sorry it affects you. You're a kid. You shouldn't have to worry about money. I'm hoping they'll move me to full time at the store in the fall. That'll help a lot, and if I get promoted to deli manager it'll be another dollar-fifty an hour."
Oswald knew he shouldn't say what he was about to say, but here he went anyway. "Ben's dad got a job that even better than his old job at the mill." pays
Dad tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Yeah,
well, and Ben's dad had to move five hundred miles away to get that job." His voice sounded tight, as tight as his grip on the wheel, and Oswald could tell his jaw was clenched, Your mom and I talked a lot about it, but we decided not to move, especially with your grandma living here and needing help sometimes. This is our home, kiddo, and things aren't perfect, but we just have to make the best of them."
Oswald felt himself crossing the line from grumbling into grounding territory. But why did some people get the best of everything and others had to settle for free library visits and cheap pizza? "And so every day you toss me out on the street like garbage. If this is the best of things, I'd hate to see the worst!"
"Now, son, don't you think that's a little dramatic Oswald didn't stick around to hear the rest of his dad's criticism. He got out of the car and slammed the door. His dad sped away, probably glad to get rid of him.
Just as he predicted, the library still didn't have the book he wanted. He flipped through a few magazines—the kind with exotic jungle animals, which he usually liked, but they weren't doing much for him today. When his turn came for a computer, he put in his earbuds and watched some YouTube videos, but he wasn't in a good enough mood to laugh.
At lunchtime, he sat in Jeff's Pizza with his slice and soda. Every day, a cheese slice. If his dad wasn't so stingy, he'd give him another dollar so he could have pepperoni o sausage. But no, it had to be the cheapest pizza you could get. Sure, money was tight, but really, was another dollar a day going to break the bank?
Looking around the place, Oswald decided Ben war right. Jeff's Pizza was creepy. There were those shadowy painted-over figures on the walls, the dusty abandoned ball pit. And when he thought about it, Jeff was kind of creepy, too. He looked a hundred years old but was probably just thirty. With those heavy-lidded, bloodshot eyes, the stained apron, and the slow speech and movement, he was like a zombie pizza chef.
Oswald thought about his argument with Dad that morning. Soon Dad would be texting him, expecting him to come outside to the car. Well, today was going to be different. Today Dad would have to come and find him.
There was one perfect place to hide.
Oswald was going into the pit.
The pit was pretty gross, really. Obviously untouched for years, the plastic spheres were covered in a gray, fuzzy dust. But hiding there would be a great prank on his dad. His dad, who was always dropping him off and picking him up like somebody's dry cleaning, would actually have to get out of the car and make an effort for a change, Oswald wouldn't make it easy for him, either. Oswald took off his shoes. Yes, the ball pit was disgust- ing, but at least getting into it would make today different from all the other days that had come before it
He climbed into the pit and felt the balls parting to make room for his body. He moved his arms and legs. It was a little like swimming, if you could swim in dry plas ac spheres. He found his footing at the bottom of the pit. Some of the balls were strangely sticky, but he tried not to think about why. If he was going to trick his dad, he was going to have to go all the way under.
He took a deep breath, as if he were about to jump into a swimming pool, and fell to his knees. That put him in up to his neck. Wiggling around so he was sitting on the pit's floor put his head under, too. The balls spread apart far enough that he could breathe, but it was dark and made him feel claustrophobic. The place stank of dust and mildew.
"Pinkeye," he could hear his mother's voice saying. "You're going to get pinkeye."
The smell really was getting to him. The dust tickled his nose. He felt a sneeze coming on, but he couldn't move his hand through the spheres fast enough to reach his nose and muffle it. He sneezed three times, each one louder than the one before.
Oswald didn't know if his dad was looking for him yet, but if he was the sneezing ball pit had probably given away his location. Besides, it was too dark and too gross in there He had to come up for air.
As he rose, his ears were assaulted by the sound of beep ing electronics and yelling and laughing kids.
It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust from the darkness of the pit to the brightness that now surrounded him, the flashing lights and vivid colors. He looked around and muttered, "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore.
The walls were lined with shiny arcade cabinets hous ing games he'd heard his dad talk about from his own childhood: Ms. Pac-Man, Donkey Kong, Frogger, Q*bert, Galaga. A neon-lighted claw machine displayed plush blue elf-like creatures and orange cartoon cats. He looked down at the pit and realized he was surrounded by little kids wallowing in the strangely clean and now brightly colored plastic orbs. He stood over the pre schoolers like a giant. He stepped out of the pit to find his shoes, but they were gone.
Standing on the colorful carpet in his sock feet, he looked around. There were lots of kids his age and younger, but there was something different about them. Everyone's hair was styled and fluffy, and the boys wore polo shirts in colors lots of guys wouldn't be caught dead in, like pink or aqua. The girls' hair was almost unbelievably big, with bangs that stood out from their foreheads like claws; they wore pastel-colored tops that matched their pastel colored shoes. The colors, the lights, the sound it was sensory overload And what was that music?
Oswald looked around to see where it was coming from Across the room on a small stage, a trio of animatronic an mals blinked their big blank eyes, opened and closed their mouths, and pivoted back and forth in sync with a jangly, annoying song. There was a brown bear, a blue rabbit with a red bow tie, and some kind of bird girl. They reminded Oswald of the mechanical animals he had caught himself drawing lately. The difference was that he could never decide if the animals in his drawings were cute or creepy
These were creepy.
Strangely, though, the dozen or so little kids surround ing the stage didn't seem to think so. They were wear ing birthday party hats with pictures of the characters on them, and dancing and laughing and having a great time.
When the smell of pizza hit Oswald's nose, he understood.
He was still in Jeff's Pizza, or more accurately, what Jeff's Pizza had been before Jeff took over. The ball pit was new and not roped off, all the outlets on the wall had arcade games plugged into them, and he turned around to face the left wall. In the shapes of the shadows on the wall of Jeff's Pizza was a mural of the same characters "per- forming" on the stage: the brown bear, the blue rabbit, and the bird girl. Below their faces were the words E FAZBEAR'S PIZZA FREDDY
Oswald's insides turned to ice water. How had this hap- pened? He knew where he was, but he didn't know when it was or how he got there.
Somebody bumped into him, and he jumped more than was normal. Since he felt the physical contact, this not be a dream. He couldn't decide if this fact was good must
news or not. "Sorry, dude," the kid said. He was about Oswald's age and he was wearing a light yellow polo with the collar turned up, tucked into what looked like a pair of dad jeans.
The white tennis shoes he had on were huge, like clown
shoes. He looked as if he had spent a long time fixing his
hair. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, sure," Oswald said. He wasn't sure he was okay actually, but he didn't know how to begin to explain his situation.
"I've not seen you here before," the kid said,
"Yeah," Oswald said, trying to figure out an expla nation that wouldn't sound too weird. "I'm just visiting here... staying with my grandma for a few weeks. This place is great, though. All these old games"
"Old games?" the kid said, raising an eyebrow. "You're joking, right? I don't know about where you're from, but Freddy's has the newest games around here. That's why the lines to play them are so long."
Oh yeah, I was just kidding." Oswald said, because he couldn't think of anything else to say. He had heard his dad talk about playing a lot of these games when he was a kid. Absurdly hard games, he said, on which he had wasted many hours and many quarters.
"I'm Chip," the kid said, running his fingers through his poofy hair. "Me and my buddy Mike"-he nodded at a tall black kid wearing huge eyeglasses and a shirt with wide red and blue stripes—"were about to play some Skee Ball. Want to come with?"
"Sure." Oswald said. It was nice to hang out with some other kids, even if they seemed to be kids from another time. He didn't think this was a dream, but it sure was as weird as one.
"You got a name?" Mike said, looking at Oswald like he was some kind of strange specimen.
"Oh, sure. I'm Oswald." He had been too weirded out to remember to introduce himself.
Mike gave him a friendly slap on the back. "Well, I've gotta warn you, Oswald. I'm a beast at Skee-Ball. But I'll go easy on you since you're new here."
"Thanks for having mercy on me," Oswald said. He followed them to the Skee-Ball area. On the way they passed somebody in a rabbit suit that looked like a version of the animatronic rabbit on the yellow stage. Nobody else seemed to be paying attention to the rabbit guy, so Oswald didn't say anything. It was probably Fazbear's employee dressed up to entertain the little kids at the birthday party a Freddy
Mike wasn't kidding about being a beast at Skee-Ball. He easily beat Chip and Oswald three times, but he was a good sport, and they spent the whole time joking around It felt good being included.
But after another couple of games, Oswald started to worry. What time was it really? How long had his dad been looking for him? And how was he going to get back to his real life? Sure, he'd wanted to give Dad a little scare, but he didn't want to scare the old man so much he got the police involved
"Hey, guys, I'd better run," Oswald said, "My grandma-" He almost said "just texted me" but realized Chip and Mike would have no idea what he was talking about. Whenever this was there were no cell phones. "My grandma's supposed to pick me up in a few minutes."
"Okay, dude, maybe we'll catch you later," Chip said, and Mike gave a little nod and wave.
Oswald left his companions, stood in a corner in his sock feet, and wondered what to do. He was having some kind of magical experience, he was late getting back, and he was missing his shoes. He was like some kind of mixed
up guy Cinderella
How to get back? He could walk out the front door of Freddy Fazbear's, but where would that take him? It might be the right place to find his dad's car waiting, but it wasn't the right time. Not the right decade, even
Then it dawned on him. Maybe the way out was the
same way he got in. At the ball pit, a mom was telling her
nyo little kids it was time to leave. They tried to argue with her, but she turned on her Stern Mom Voice and threatened them with an early bedtime. Once they got out, he got in. He sank beneath the surface before anybody could see that a kid over the height limit was in the ball pit. How long to stay under? Randomly, he decided to count to one hundred, then stand.
He rose to his feet and found himself standing in the dusty, roped-off ball pit at Jeff's Pizza. He climbed out and found his shoes right where he'd left them. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and read,
Will be there in 2 min.
Had no time passed at all?
He headed out the door, and Jeff called, "See ya, kid"
behind him.
"This looks great, Mom," Oswald said, spearing a sausage
link with his fork. "You're in a good mood today," Mom slid a waffle onto his plate. "Quite a contrast from yesterday when you were Mr. Grumpy Pants
"Yeah," Oswald said, "they're supposed to get my book in the library today." This statement was true, but it wasn't the reason Oswald was in a good mood. Of course it wasn't like he could tell her the real reason. If he said, "I discovered a ball pit at Jeff's Pizza that lets me travel in time," Mom would be dropping the waffles and picking up the phone to all the nearest child psychologist.
Oswald picked up his book at the library but was too impatient to read it. He headed over to Jeff's Pizza as soon as it opened at eleven.
Jeff was in the kitchen when he got there, so he made a beeline for the pit. He shucked off his shoes, stepped in, and sank into the
depths. Since it had seemed to work before, he counted to
one hundred before he stood. The animatronic band was "playing" some weird jangly song that was partially drowned out by the beeping, blip ping. and dinging of a variety of games. He wandered the floor and took in the video games, the Whac-A Mole, the neon-lighted token suckers that let you win some tickets (but probably not) if you pushed the button at the right time. Older kids crowded around the video games. Preschoolers climbed on the crayon-colored play equipment. Pinkeye, Oswald thought, though he had no room to talk, the way he was diving into the ball pit these days.
Everything looked as it had before. He had even caught sight of a calendar hanging in an open office that helped him pinpoint the date: 1985.
"Hey, it's Oswald!" Chip was wearing a baby-blue polo with his dad jeans and giant sneakers this time. Not a hair on his head was out of place.
"Hey, Oz," Mike said. He was wearing a Back to the Future T-shirt. "Anybody ever call you that like the Wizard of Oz?"
"They do now," Oz said, grinning. He had gone from having the loneliest summer ever to having two new friends-and a nickname. True, all of these seemed to be happening in the mid-1980s, but why get hung up on the
details?
"Hey." Chip said, "we just ordered a pizza. You want to come have some? We ordered a large, so there's more than we can eat."
"Speak for yourself," Mike said, but he was grinning.
"Okay," Chip said, "how about I say it's more than we
should eat? Wanna join us?"
Oswald was curious how Freddy Fazbear's pizza com pared with Jeff's. "Sure. Thanks." On the way to their table, they passed someone in that same yellow rabbit suit who was standing in ner, still as a statue. Chip and Mike either didn't see him or ignored him, so Oswald tried to ignore him as well Why hide in the corner like that, though? If he worked for the restaurant, surely he wasn't supposed to act all creepy. a cor
At the table, a young woman with big blonde hair and blue eye shadow served them a large pizza and a pitcher of soda. In the background, the animatronic band played on The pizza was pepperoni and sausage with a crispy crust, a nice change from plain cheese slices.
"You know," Mike said between bites, "when I was little, I loved Freddy Fazbear's band. I even had a stuffed Freddy I used to sleep with. Now I look up at that stage and those things give me the creeps."
"It's weird, huh? How stuff you like as a little kid gets creepy when you're older?" Chip helped himself to another slice. "Like clowns."
"Yeah, or dolls," Mike said between bites. "Sometimes I look at my sister's dolls all lined up the shelf in her room, and it's like they're staring at me."
Or like that guy in the yellow rabbit costume, Oswald
thought, but he didn't say anything.
After they demolished the pizza, they played some Skee-Ball, Mike mopping the floor with them again but being really nice about it. Oswald didn't worry about time anymore, because apparently time here didn't pass the same way as in his own time zone. After Skee-Ball, they took turns playing air hockey in pairs. Oswald was surprisingly decent at it and even managed to beat Mike once.
When they started to run low on tokens, Oswald thanked them for sharing their wealth and said he hoped to see them again soon. After they said their good-byes, Oswald waited until no one was looking and disappeared into the pit.
Hanging out with Chip and Mike turned into a regular thing. Today they weren't even playing games. They were just sitting at a booth, drinking sodas and talking, trying to ignore the animatronic animals' annoying music as much as they could.
"You know what movie I liked?" Chip said. His polo shirt was peach-colored today. Oswald loved the guy, but really, didn't he own one shirt that wasn't the color of an Easter egg? "The Eternal Song."
"Seriously?" Mike said, pushing his huge glasses up on his nose. "That movie was so boring! I was like, The Eternal Song is the perfect title for this movie because I don't think it's ever going to end!"
They all laughed, and then Chip said, "What did you think of it, Oz?"
"I haven't seen that one," Oswald said. He said that a lot when hanging out with Chip and Mike. Oswald always listened to them talk about movies and shows they like. When they mentioned one he didn't know, he'd look it up online when he got home. He made a list of '80s movies he wanted to watch and checked the TV listings on the DVR to see when any of them might be showing. Oswald participated in Chip and Mike's con- versations as much as he could. It was kind of like being a foreign exchange student. He sometimes has to fake his way through by smiling and nodding and being generally agreeable.
"Man, you need to get out more," Mike said. “Maybe you can go to the movies with Chip and me sometime." "That'd be cool," Oswald said, because what else could he say? Actually, I'm from the distant future, and I don't think it's physically possible for me to see you anyplace but in Freddy Fazbear's in 1985. They'd both think that was a joke on Mike because his favorite movie was Back to the Future.
"Name one movie you've seen that you really like," Chip said to Oswald. "I'm trying to figure out what your taste is."
Oswald's mind went blank. What was a movie from the 80s2 "Uh...E.T?"
"E.TI?" Mike slapped the table, laughing. "E.T. was, like, three years ago. You really do need to get out more! Do they not have movie theaters where you come from?" They do, Oswald thought. And they have Netflix and PlayStation and YouTube and social media. But he didn't say it.
of course there was technology Chip and Mike talked about that he had only the vaguest knowledge of, like VCRS and boom boxes and cassette tapes. And he constantly had to remind himself not to talk about things like cell phones and tablets and the internet. He tried not to wear T-shirts with characters and references that might confuse them or the other customers at 1985 Freddy Fazbear's.
"Yeah, we definitely need to bring you up to date." Chip said.
If you only knew, Oswald thought.
"Hey, do you want to go play some games?" Mike said. "I feel the Skee-Ball calling me, but I promise I'll go easy on you guys."
Chip laughed. "No, you won't. You'll murder us." "You guys go ahead," Oswald said. "I think I'll just stay at the table."
"What, and watch the show?" Mike said, nodding in the direction of the creepy characters on the stage. "Is some thing wrong? If you've suddenly decided you like Freddy Fazbear's music, we need to get you help fast."
"No, nothing's wrong," Oswald said, but really, some thing was. For his first few visits to 1985 Freddy Fazbear's, it hadn't even occurred to him that he was basically mooch ing off Chip and Mike's generosity because he never had any money of his own. And even if he wasn't broke in his own time zone, would the money he brought from the present day even work in 1985? It was kind of pitiful, being broke in two decades.
Finally he said, "I just feel like I'm always taking your money because I never have any.
"Hey, dude, it's cool," Chip said. "We hadn't even noticed." "Yeah," Mike said, "we just figured your grandma never gave you any money. I know my grandma doesn't except when it's my birthday."
They were being really nice, but Oswald still felt embarrassed. If they had talked about his lack of money, that meant they had noticed it. "How about I just go hang out with you while you play?" Oswald said.
When he stood up, he felt a strange heaviness in his pockets. Something in them was so heavy he felt like his jeans might fall down. He reached in his pockets and pulled out double handful of 1985 Freddy Fazbear's game tokens. He produced handful after handful and dumped them on the table. "Or we could all play using these," he said. He had no idea how to explain the magic that had just occurred. "I guess I forgot I was wearing these pants.. . the ones that had all the tokens in them."
Chip and Mike looked a little confused, but then they grinned and started raking coins from the table into their empty soda cups. Oswald did the same. He decided just to go with the weirdness. He didn't know how the tokens got there, but then again, he didn't really know how he got there, either.
In the morning, as Dad was driving him to the library, Oswald asked, "Dad, how old were you in 1985?"
was just a couple years older than you," Dad said, And other than baseball, all I could think about was how many quarters I had to spend at the arcade. Why do you ask?"
"No reason in particular," Oswald said. "I've just been
doing some research. Jeff's Pizza—back before it was Jeff's Pizza, it was some kind of arcade, wasn't it?" "Yeah, it was." Dad's voice sounded strange, nervous
maybe. He was quiet for a few seconds, then said, "But it closed."
"Like everything else in this town," Oswald said. "Pretty much, yeah," Dad said, pulling up in front of
the library
Maybe it was Oswald's imagination, but it seemed like his dad was relieved to get to their destination so he wouldn't have to answer any more of his questions.
At eleven o'clock sharp, Oswald headed over to Jeff's Pizza, as had become his habit. With Jeff nowhere in sight, Oswald proceeded to the pit. After his count to one hundred, he stood. There were noises but not the usual ones of Freddy Fazbear's. Screams. Crying children. Yells for help. The fast footfalls of people running. Chaos.
Were Chip and Mike here? Were they okay? Was any. body here okay?
He was afraid. Part of him wanted to disappear back into the pit, but he was worried about his friends. Also, he was burning with curiosity about what was going on, even though he knew whatever it was, it was horrible.
He wasn't in danger, he told himself, because this was the past, a time way before he was born. His life couldn't be in danger in a time before he even existed, could it?
His stomach in knots, he moved through the crowd, past crying mothers running with their toddlers in their arms, past dads grasping children's hands and leading them swiftly toward the exit, their faces masks of shock. "Chip? Mike?" he called, but his friends were nowhere
to be seen. Maybe they hadn't come to Freddy Fazbear's today. Maybe they were safe. Scared but feeling as if he had to know what was happen
ing, Oswald walked in the opposite direction from everyone
else with an escalating feeling of dread.
In front of him stood the man in the yellow bunny costume... if it was a man under there. The bunny opened a door that said PRIVATE and went inside.
Oswald followed.
The corridor was long and dark. The rabbit looked at him with blank eyes and an unchanging green, then walked farther down the hall. Oswald wasn't chasing the rabbit. He was letting the rabbit lead him, as if he were in a terri fying version of Alice in Wonderland, going down the rabbit hole.
The rabbit stopped in front of a door with a sign read ing PARTY ROOM and beckoned for Oswald to come inside Oswald was shaking with terror, but he was too curious to refuse. Besides, he kept thinking, you can't hurt me. I haven't even been bom.
Once inside the room, it took Oswald a few seconds to register what he was actually seeing and a few more sec onds for his brain to process it.
They were lined up against the wall, which was painted with images of the place's mascots: the grinning bear, the blue bunny, and the bird girl. Half a dozen kids, none of them older than Oswald, their lifeless bodies propped into sitting positions, their legs stretched out in front of them. Some of them had their eyes closed as if asleep. Others' eyes were open, frozen in an empty, doll-like stare.
They were all wearing Freddy Fazbear birthday party hats.
Oswald couldn't tell how they had died, but he knew the rabbit was responsible for it, that the rabbit had wanted him to see his handiwork. Maybe the rabbit wanted Oswald to be his next victim, to join the others lined against the wall with their unseeing eyes. up
Oswald screamed. The yellow rabbit lunged for him, and he ran out of the room and down the black corri dor. Maybe the rabbit could hurt him; maybe he couldn't Oswald didn't want to hang around long enough to find out
He ran across the now-empty arcade toward the ball pit. Outside, the police sirens' screams matched Oswald's own. The rabbit ran after him, getting so close that a fuzzy paw brushed Oswald's back.
Oswald dove into the pit. He counted to one hundred as fast as he could.
When he stood, the first thing he heard was Jeff's voice. "There's the little stinker!"
Oswald turned to see his dad stomping toward him while Jeff looked on. Dad looked furious, and Jeff didn't look happy, either not that he ever did.
Oswald stood frozen, too overwhelmed to move. His dad grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the pit. "What were you thinking hiding in that nasty old thing?" Dad said. "Didn't you hear me calling you?"
After Oswald was out, his dad leaned over the pit. "Look at how dirty this is. Your mother-"
A pair of yellow arms reached out of the pit and pulled
Dad under.
The struggle would have been cartoonish if it hadn't been so terrifying. Dad's feet in their brown work boots kicked up to the surface, only to disappear below, then a pair of big fuzzy yellow feet appeared, only to disappear, too. The balls in the pit roiled like a stormy sea, and then they were still. The yellow rabbit rose from the pit, adjusted his purple bow tie, brushed off his front, and turned toward Oswald, grinning,
Oswald backed away, but the rabbit was beside him, its arm firmly around Oswald's shoulders, guiding him toward the exit.
Oswald looked at Jeff, who stood behind the counter. Maybe Jeff would help him? But Jeff wore the same hang dog expression he always wore and just said, "See you later, guys."
How could Jeff-how could anyone--act like this situ ation was normal?
Once the rabbit got him outside, it opened the passen ger door of Dad's car and pushed Oswald in.
Oswald watched as the bunny buckled its seat belt and started the car. He tried to open the door, but the bunny had activated the power lock from the driver's side.
The bunny's mouth was frozen in a rictus grin. Its eyes stared blankly.
Oswald pushed the unlock button again even though he knew it wouldn't work. "Wait," Oswald said. "Can you do any of this? Can you even drive a car?"
The bunny said nothing but started the car and pulled it into the street. It stopped at a red light, so Oswald fig ured it must be able to see and must know the basic rules of driving
"What did you do to my dad? Where are you taking me?" Oswald could hear the panic in his voice. He wanted to sound strong and brave, like he was standing up for himself, but instead he just sounded scared and confused. Which he was.
The bunny said nothing.
The car made a familiar right turn, then a familiar left into Oswald's neighborhood.
"How do you know where I live?" Oswald demanded. Still silent, the bunny turned into the driveway in front of Oswald's ranch-style house.
I'll run for it, Oswald thought. As soon as this thing unlocks
the car door, I'll run to a neighbor's house and call the police once I'm safely inside. The locks clicked, and Oswald jumped out of the car. Somehow the bunny was standing right in front of him.
It grabbed his arm. He tried to break free, but its grip was
too strong The bunny dragged Oswald to the front door, then yanked off the chain around Oswald's neck that held his house key. The rabbit turned the key in the door and shoved Oswald inside. Then a ood in front of the dow Hocking the exit
Jinx the cat wandered into the ling tom, took one look at the rabbit, arched her back, popped out lower tail, and hissed likea cat on a Halloween decoration Oosald had never seen her act scAred or unfriendly before, and he watched as she turned tail and led down the hall IE Jins knew this situation was bad, it must be really bad
"You can't do this, Oswald said to the rabbit, in ears He didn't want to cry. He wanted to look strong, but he couldn't help it. "This-this is kidnapping or something My mom will be home soon, and she'll call the police
It was total bluff, of course, Mom wouldn't be home until after midnight. Would he even be alive by the ue Mom got home? Was his dad even alive now?
He knew the bunny would grab him if he tried to make a run for the back door. "I'm going to my room now, okay? I'm not trying to escape. I'm just going to my room." He backed away, and the bunny let him. As soon as he got inside his room, he slammed the door and locked it. He took deep breaths and tried to think There was a window in his room, but it was high and too small to climb through. Under his bed. Jnx let our a low growl.
Oswald could hear the bunny outside his door. If he made a phone call, it would hear him. But maybe he read a text.
He took out his phone and with shaking hands texte Mom, emergency! Somethings wrong with dad. Coms home now
Oald knew even as he texted that she wouldn't ng home now. Because she was always dealing with medical emergencies at work, sometimes it took her a long time to check her phone. It was Dad who Oswald was supposed to contact in the event of an emergency. Bur obviously that wasn't going to work now
A miserable hour passed until Oswald's phone vibrated Afraid the rabbit might still be listening outside his locked door, he picked up without saying hello
"Oswald, what's going on?" Mom sounded terrified "Do I need to call nine one one?"
"I can't talk now," Oswald whispered.
"I'm on my way home, okay?" She hung up.
Fifteen minutes seemed to pass more slowly than Oswald thought was possible. Then there was a knock on Oswald's door.
Oswald jumped, his heart in his throat. "Who is it?"
"It's me," Mom said, sounding exasperated. "Open the
door."
He opened the door just a crack to make sure it was really her Once he let ho n, le sosed and ticks the door behind the
"Owald. you need to tell me what's going on Moms brow wax furrowed with worry Where to start? How to explain without sodmg
crazy? "les Dad He's
where he is
he's not okay. I'm not even see
Mom put her hands on both his shoulders "Old 1 just saw your dad He's lying on the bed in our bedroom watching TV. He made you a chicken porpie for dinner It's sitting on the stove
What? I'm not hungry." He tried to wrap his mind around his mom's words. "You saw Dad?" Mom nodded. She was looking at him like he was one
of her patients instead of her kid, like she was trying to figure out what was wrong with him
"And he's okay?"
She nodded again. "He's okay, but I'm worried about you." She put her hand on his forehead as if checking for a fever.
"Tm okay," Oswald said "I mean, if Dad's okay. I'm okay. He just didn't seem okay."
"Maybe it's good school's starting back think you're
spending too much time by yourself" What could he say? Actually, I've been spending time with my new friends in 1985 "Maybe so. I probably should Ro on to bed Have to get an early start in the morning I think that's a good idea," Mom said: She put he
in the ever "And Listen, if you're going to text me at work, make it's a real emergency You scared me
hands on his checks and looked him directly
"I thought it was a real emergency I'm sorry "It's all right, honey. Get some rest, okay?"
"Okay." After Mom left, Oswald looked under the bed Jinx was still there, crouched in a ball like she was trying to make herself as small and invisible as possible, her eyes wide and looking terrified. "It's okay, Jinxie, Oswald said, reaching under the bed and wiggling his fingers at her. "Mom says it's safe. You can come out now."
The cat wouldn't budge.
Oswald lay awake in bed. If Mom said Dad was there and okay, then it must be true. Why would she lie? But Oswald knew what he had seen.
He had seen the yellow thing, as he had started to think of it, drag his dad into the pit. He had seen the yellow thing climb out of the pit, had felt its grip on his arm, sat beside it in the car as it drove him home,
Or had he? If Mom said Dad was home and okay, he must be. Oswald trusted his mom. But if Dad was okay, it meant Oswald hadn't seen what he thought he saw, And that must mean that Oswald was losing his mind.
After only a few hours of fial sleep, Oswald woke to the
aroma of try ing ham and baking biscuits His stomach rumbled, reminding him he had missed dinner last night Everything felt normal Maybe he should just trust yes terday like a bad dream and try to move forward A pew school year a new beginning
He stopped in the bathroom, then made his way to the kitchen.
Feeling better Mom asked There she was, her hair na a ponytail, wearing her pink fuzzy bathrobe, fining breakfast just like always. Something about this fact made Oswald feel tremendously relieved.
"Yeah he said, "I'm pretty hungry, actually "Now that's a problem I can fix." Mom said. She set down a plate with two ham biscuits on it and poured him
glass of orange juice.
Oswald ate the first ham biscuit in three big bites,
The yellow thing walked in and sat across from him at
the breakfast table.
"Uh... Mom?" Oswald's heart beat like a jackhammer in his chest. The ham biscuit sat heavy in his churning stomach
"What is it, hon?" Her back was turned as she fiddled
with the coffeemaker
"Where's Dad
She turned around the coffeepot in her hand, "Oswald, e rivers sde It backed out of the driveway and passed jogging weighbors who waved at it just as if it were his dad
don't understand." Oswald said, on the edge of tears "Are you real? Is this real? Am I going crazy
The yellow thing said nothing, just stared at the road ahead.
When it pulled up in front of Westbrook Middle School, the crossing guard and the kids at the crosswalk didn't seem to notice that the car was being driven by a giant yellow rabbir.
"Hey" Oswald said before he got out of the car, "don't bother picking me up this afternoon. I'll just catch the bus." The school bus was a big yellow thing he could handle
Because it was some kind of cosmic law, the first person Oswald saw in the hall was Dylan, his tormentor "Well. well, well, if it isn't Oswald the Oc-"
"Give it a rest, Dylan." Oswald said, pushing past him: ve got way bigger problems than you today."
I was impossible to concentrate in class. Usually G ald was a pretty decent student, but how could he has with his life and possibly his sanity falling apart Maybe we should talk to someone, the school.counselor the school police officer. But he knew anything that out of his mouth would sound dangerously crazy He could he convince a police officer that his dad was msn if everybody who looked at the yellow thmg s Oswald's dad?
There was no one to help him. Oswald was going to have to figure out how to solve this problem himself
At recess he sat on a bench by the playground, grateful thar he didn't have to pretend to listen to a teacher and could just think. He couldn't imagine how his life coula Bet any weirder The yellow thing seemed to think it was his father This was weird enough. but why did everybody close think it was his father, too?
"Do you mind if I share your bench?" It was a gul Oswald had never seen before. She had curly black hair and big brown eyes and was holding a thick book.
"Sure. help yourself," Oswald said.
The girl sat on the opposite end of the bench and opened her book. Oswald went back to his confused, confusing thoughts.
"Have you gone to this school for a long time?" the girl asked him after a few minutes. She didn't look over at Oswald when she talked; she just kept staring at the pages of her book. Oswald wondered if this meant she was shy,
Since kindergarten," Oswald said, and then, because
he couldn't think of a single other thing to say about him
self, he asked, "What are you reading?" "Greek mythology," she said. "Tales of heroes. Have you read much mythology?" didn't want to give the impression that he was die kind of guy who never read books. In desperation, he added, "I love to read, though." and then he felt even stupider.
"Me too," she said. "I've probably read this book a dozen times. It's like a comfort book for me. I read it when lored to be brave."
The word brave struck a chord in Oswald Brave was what he needed to be, too. "Why's that?"
"Well, the Greek heroes are super brave. They're always doing bade with some kind of big monster, like the mino taur or the hydra. Ir kind of purs things in perspective, you know! No matter how bad my problems are, at least I don't have to do battle with a monster."
"Yeah," Oswald said, even though he was trying to figure out how to do battle with a monster-a yellow, long-eared monster-in his own home. He couldn't tell this girl about the yellow thing, though. She would think he was crazy and would be leaving their shared bench in a hurry. So you said you read that book when you need to be brave." He was surprised he was having this conversa tion given the way his mind was racing For some reason. this girl was easy to talk to. "I mean, it may be none of my business, but I was wondering why you needed to be brave." te gave a shy Little smile "First day at a new school third day in a new town. I don't know anybody yer
Yes, you do," he sad He held out his hand " Oswald " He didn't know why he was offering his hand like he was some kind of businessman, but it felt like the right thing to do
She took his hand and shook it surprisingly firmly. "Tm
Gabrielle Somehow, this was the conversation Oswald had needed
to have
He took the bus home from school. When he came inside the yellow thing was vacuuming the living room.
He didn't ask it any more questions. It wasn't as if 1t could give him any answers anyway, and besides, if he was going to make his plan work, he was going to have to act like everything was normal. And as anybody who had seen him in the fourth-grade class play knew, acting was not one of his talents
Instead, he did what he was supposed to do when life was normal, when his real dad was vacuuming the living room. He got the feather duster out of the cleaning closet and dusted the coffee table, the end tables, and the lamps He emptied the wastebasket and neatened the throw pil lows on the couch. Then he went to the kitchen and took car the garbage and the recycling Once he was outside, aw tmptung.to run, but he knew running swas not the answer If everybody saw the yellow thing a hn dad
body would help him The vellow thing would
He went back inside
always catch him
Hus chores done, he walked right past the yellow thing I'm gonna go chill out a while before dinner." heard.
even though the possibility of relaxing in any way was unimaginable He went to his room, but he didn't close the door. Instead, he took off his shoes, sprawled on the bed, and started drawing in his sketchbook He didn't want to draw mechanical animals, but they seemed to be all he could draw. He shut his sketchbook and started reading a manga, or at least pretending to. Normal. The plan could only work if he acted like everything was normal
When the rabbit appeared in his doorway, he managed nik to gasp. It beckoned for him the same way it had when it led him into the murder room at Freddy Fazbear's, and he followed it into the kitchen. On the table was one of the grocery store pizzas his dad kept in the freezer, baked to A pleasing golden brown, and rwo glasses of the fruit punch Oswald liked. The pizza had already been sliced, which was a relief, because Oswald couldn't imagine what he vuld have done if he had seen the thing holdmg a knife Run screaming our into the street, probably.
Oswald sat down at the table and helped himself to a slice of the pizza. He didn't feel much like eating, ba knew he couldn't act like anything was wrong He bite of pizza, a sup of punch "Aren't you going t anything Dad? he said It was hard calling the thg Dad, but he managed
The yellow thing sat across from him in silence with unblinking stare and frozen grin, an untouched pizza li on a plate in front of it beside an untouched glass of punt Could it
Could it even eat? Oswald wondered. Did it need to What was it anyway? At first he thought it was a guy in suit, but now he wasn't so sure. Was it some kind of highly sophisticated animatronic animal, or a real, flesh-and blood giant bunny? He didn't know which possibility the most disturbing
With great effort, he finished his pizza slice and glass of punch, then said, "Thanks for dinner, Dad. I'm going to get a glass of milk and go do my homework now." The yellow thing just sat there.
Oswald went to the refrigerator. He checked to make sure the yellow thing wasn't watching and poured some milk into a bowl. Once he was in his room, he didn't close and lock the door because he wouldn't if he were home with Dad. Normal. Normal so as not to arouse suspicion
He slid the bowl of milk under his bed where Jinx was still hiding. "It's going to be okay, girl," he whispered.
He hoped he was right.
He sat on his bed and in a few minutes heard Jinx lapping the mall. He knew from past experience that even when terrified, she couldn't türn down dairy products. He made a halfhearted attempt at his homework, but he couldn't concentrate. All he could think about was his dad. The yellow thing had dragged his dad into the pit and under the surface. Did this mean his dad was at Freddy Fazbear's circa 1985, wandering around an arcade of games he had played as a kid? That was the most likely explana tion, unless the yellow thing had killed
No. He couldn't let himself think that. His dad was alive. He had to be. The only way to know was to go back into the pit.
But first he was going to have to get out of the house without the yellow thing noticing
Oswald waited until dark, then waited some more. Finally, he grabbed his shoes and tiptoed out of his room and into the hall in his sock feet. The door to his parents' bedroom was open. He sneaked a glance inside as he crepe past. The yellow thing was lying on its back on his parents bed. It appeared to be staring at the ceiling. Or maybe it wasn't staring. Maybe it was asleep. It was
hard to tell since its eyes didn't close, Did it even need to sleep? Holding his breath, he passed his parents' room and
Liptoed into the kitchen. If the yellow thing caught him, he could always say he was just getting a drink of water The kitchen was the best escape route. The door there was less squeaky than the front door.
He dipped into his shoes and pulled the door open slowly. inch by inch. When it was open just wide enough, he slipped through and shut it softly behind him
Then he ran. He ran through his neighborhood and past neighbors walking their dogs and kids riding bicycles Some people looked at Oswald strangely, and he couldn't figure out why. People ran in this neighborhood all the time
But then he realized he wasn't running like he was doing it for exercise. He was running like something was chasing him. And it might be.
Ir was a long way to Jeff's Pizza on foot, and Oswald knew he couldn't keep up this pace all the way there He slowed to a walk after he was out of his neighborhood and chose to walk side streets instead of the more direct route so he'd be harder to follow
He was afraid Jeffs Pizza might be closed by the tim he reached t, but when he arrived, hot and out of branch the lighted OPEN Sign was still on Inside, Jeff was at the counter, watching a ball gate on TV, but otherwise the
place was empty "You know we just serve whole pizzas at night A ces, Jeff said in his annual monotone As ahas Innked exhausted. yeah,just popped ty o soda n g Pwd sid. his gaze roaming to the coped-off ball p Jeft looked a little puzzled, but rinally said okay. let me get a pie out of the oven, then VWl get it for you Orange, right
Right. Thanks
As soon as Jeff disappeared into the kitchen, Oswald ran to the back corner and dove into the pit.
The familiar musty smell filled his nose as he sank beneath the surface. He sat on the pit's floor. Be counted to one hundred as he always did, even though he WAsn't sure it served any purpose in getting him to make the jump to Freddy Fazbear's in 1985. He shifted on the pit's Door and felt something solid press against his lower back.
A shoe. It felt like the sole of a shoe., He scooted around and grabbed it. It was a boot, a steel-toed work boor like his dad used to wear to work at the mill and now wore to his job at the Snack Space. He moved his hand up a little. An ankle! An ankle in the kind of thick boot sock his dad liked. He crawled farther across the floor of the pit. The face. He had to feel the face. If it was some giant furry head like the yellow thing's, he might never stop screaming. But he had to find out
His hand found a shoulder. He reached to the chest and felt the cheap fabric of a white undershirt. He was shaking as he reached higher. He felt an unmistakably human face. Skin and stubble. A man's face. Was it Dad. and was he
He had to be alive. He had to be
Oswald had seen shows where people who had been in emergency situations suddenly developed amazing strength and found themselves able to lift the front end of a car tractor. This was the kind of strength Oswald needed to find. His dad wasn't a big man, but he was still a man and weighed at least twice as much as his son. He had to move his dad if he was going to save him
If this even was his dad. If this wasn't some kind of cruel hoax set up by the yellow thing to trap him. Oswald couldn't let himself think these thoughts, not if he was going to do what he had to do.
He got behind the person, grabbed under his arm pits, and pulled. Nothing happened. Dead weight, Oswald thought. No, not dead, please not dead.
He pulled again, this time with more force, making a noise that was somewhere berween a grunt and a roar. This time, the body moved, and Oswald pulled again, standing up and getting the person's head and shoulders above the surface. It was his dad, pale and unconscious, but breath ing, definitely breathing, and around them, not Freddy Fazbear's in 1985, but the normal, present-day weirdness of Jeff's Pizza.
How could Oswald get him out? He could call Mom. As a nurse, she would know what to do. But what she thought he was crazy or lying? He felt like the Boy Who Cried Wolf. Or the Boy Who Cried Rabbit
He felt it before he saw it. The presence behind him the awareness of something in his personal space. Before he could turn around, a pair of furry yellow arms locked around him in a fearsome embrace
He got his right arm free enough to jab his elbow into the yellow thing's midsection. He got loose, but the thing was blocking the exit to the pit. He couldn't get out of the pit by himself, let alone with his poor, passed-out dad.
Acting more than thinking, Oswald charged at the rabbit with his head down. If he could just throw it off balance or knock it under the surface, maybe he could make it end up in 1985 Freddy Fazbear's and buy Oswald and his dad some time to escape.
He head-butted the yellow thing and knocked it into the ropes and netting that surrounded the ball pit. It stum- bled a little, righted itself, and then, arms outstretched, lunged toward Oswald. It pushed Oswald against the wall of the pit. Its eyes dead as always, it unhinged its jaws to reveal double rows of fangs as sharp as scimitars. Mouth open freakishly wide, it lunged for Oswald's throat, but he blocked it with his arm.
Pain pierced Oswald's forearm as the yellow thing sank
its fangs into his skin.
Oswald used his good arm to punch the rabbit hard in the face before the fangs pierced too deeply. Fangs What kind of crazy rabbit had fangs?
The thing's jaws released their grip, but there was no time to survey the damage because the thing was lurching toward Oswald's dad. its jaws wide open, like a snake about to swallow its unsuspecting prey
Its fangs were red with Oswald's blood Oswald elbowed the yellow thing aside and moved
between it and his still unconscious father. "You leave my dad ALONE!" he yelled, then used the netting to bounce off and clamber onto the yellow thing's back. He hit its head with his fists, scratched at its eyes. which didn't feel like a living creature's eyes. The rabbit stumbled back into the netting and ropes, then grabbed Oswald's arms and slung him hard off its shoulders and into the pit.
Oswald fell headfirst under the surface, grateful that the bottom of the pit was soft. His arm was throbbing, his whole body was exhausted, but he had to get up. He had to Save his dad Like those ancient Greek heroes Gabrielle had told him about he had to be brave and face the monster
Oswald rose unsteadily to his feet.
Somehow, when it shook Oswald off, the yellow thing must have gotten tangled in the ropes and netting that lined the ball pit. A rope was looped around its neck, and it grasped the rope with s bng pas, trying to get free. Oswald couldn't understand why it was failing to free itself until he saw that the yellow thing's feet weren't touching the floor of the pit. The yellow thing was suspended from the rope, which was tied securely to a metal rod at the top of the ball pit
The rabbit had hanged itself. Its mouth was opening and closing like it was gasping for breath, but no sound came out. Its paws clawed desperately at the ropes. Its stare, still terrifying in its blankness, was aimed in Oswald's direc tion, as if it were asking him for help.
Oswald certainly wasn't going to rescue it.
After a few more seconds of struggling, the yellow thing
was still Oswald blinked. Hanging from the rope was nothing but a dirty, empty yellow rabbit costume His dad's eyes opened. Oswald rushed to his side
"I don't understand why I'm here," Dad said. His face was pale and unshaven, his eyes puffy with dark half-moons under them. "What happened?"
Oswald debated what to say: You were attacked and left for dead by a giant evil rabbit who tried to replace you, and I was the only person who could see it wasn't you. Even Mom thought it was you.
No. It sounded too crazy, and Oswald didn't relish the idea of spending years in therapy saying. But the evil rabbit WAS real.
Jinx was the only other member of the family who knew the truth, and being a cat, she wasn't going to say anything in his defense
Besides, his dad had already suffered enough
Oswald knew it was wrong to lie. He also knew the lying was not a skill he had. When he tried, he alwa got all nervous and sweaty and said "oh" a lot But in th situation, a lie might be the only way forward. He took deep breath
"So, ub I had in the ball pit to play a prank on you, which I shouldn't have done. You came to look for me, and I guess you must've hit your head and lost consciousness Oswald took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean for things to get so out of hand."
This part, at least, was the truth
"I accept your apology, son." Dad said. He didn't sound mad, just tired "But you're right-you shouldn't have done it. And Jeff really should get rid of this ball pit before he has a lawsuit on his hands."
Definitely. Oswald said. He knew he would never set foor in the pit again. He would miss Chip and Mike, but be needed to make some friends in his own time. His mind flashed to the girl on the bench at recess. Gabrielle. She seemed nice. Smart, too. They had had a good talk.
Oswald reached for his dad's hand "Let me help you stand up"
With Oswald steadying him, Dad rose to his feet and let his son lead him to the exit of the ball pit. He paused to look up at the hanging yellow costume. "What is the Creepy thing?
"I have no idea," said Oswald.
This, too, was the truth
They climbed out of the pit and walked through Jett's Pizza Jeff was wiping the counter will watching the ball game on the restaurant's TV Had he not seen or heard anything
Still holding Oswald's hand-when was the last time he and his dad had held hands - Dad lifted his son's arm and looked at it. "You're bleeding."
"Yeah," Oswald said, "I must've scraped my arm when I was trying to pull you out of the pit."
His dad shook his head. "Like I said, that thing is a pub lic safety issue. Just sticking up a sign saying KEEP OUT 1sn't enough." He let go of Oswald's arm. "Well get your arm cleaned up at the house, and then your mom can dress the wound once she gets home from work."
Oswald wondered what his mom would say when she saw the fang marks,
As they approached the front door, Oswald said, "Dad, I know I can be a pain sometimes, but I really do love you, you know"
Dad looked at him with an expression that seemed both pleased and surprised. "Same here, kiddo." He ruffled Oswald's hair. "But you do have terrible taste in sciences fiction movies, "Oh, yeah?" Oswald said, smiling. "Well, you have ter
rible taste in music. And you like boring ice cream."
Together, they opened the door into the fresh night air, Behind them, Jeff called, "Hey, kid! You forgot your soda!