by Jamie Ott
Later that night, they lay awake, watching television: Billy on the floor, Bob on his bed and Layton on a cot.
Molly came in and checked on them. She brought three mugs of hot chocolate with her and set them down on the night stand.
“Don’t stay up too late guys.”
After the movie, Billy went to bed.
Bob was asleep, instantly. Layton, however, was burning up with anger.
He decided to take a walk. It helped last time. But just in case Molly or one of the others found he’d gone, he left a note on his bed.
Quietly, he opened the window and crawled out onto the soft dewy lawn. He looked to his right and left and saw that only street lamps lit the alleyway, except for the sensor light that was on in Rick’s backyard.
He wondered if he and his buddies were camped in the back. It was something they used to do when they were friends, and they’d get too loud.
He ran over to the fence and peaked between the wooden slats, but it was hard to see anything.
It might have been a raccoon or something, he thought.
But for some unknown reason, he quietly unlatched the fence. Then he walked around to the side of the house where Rick’s bedroom was. The curtains to his window had not been completely drawn, and Layton could see Rick was asleep in his bed.
With his fingernail, he put pressure on the perspired glass, and dragged it down ward, creating a high pitched scratch noise.
Rick was a light sleeper; it wouldn’t take much to wake him. He continued scratching the glass until Rick sat straight up in bed with his eyes bugged out and his mouth hanging open.
He looked right at the window, but he must not have been able to see clearly because he looked bewildered.
Layton scratched the glass once more.
Rick screeched, leapt out of bed and ran out of the room.
Not wanting Rick’s parents to find him in the backyard, Layton left quickly, quietly unlatching and closing the gate.
“What are you doing?”
Layton nearly screamed! It was Bob!
“I felt the cold air and it woke me up, then, I looked over, and you were gone. What are you doing?”
“Nothing, let’s go back to bed.”
Fangs
Chapter 3
The next morning, Layton and Bob sat down to eggs and bacon with Billy. Coffee in hand, Molly went to work in the next yard. About noon, the boys decided to walk to the school and play on the grounds there.
“So where do you guys live?” asked Layton.
“On the other side of town. Our mother works a lot to support us, so we come over here,” said Billy.
“What about your dad?”
“Gone. Never see him,” said Bob.
“Sorry to hear that. My dad is around but he’s more concerned with his new family now.”
“I think our dad has a girlfriend, now.”
“My teacher says the average man will have three families in his lifetime,” quoted Billy.
“Three families? That hardly seems fair! No wonder kids never see their fathers.”
“That’s not all. The average woman will have two families in her life.”
“No wonder kids hate their moms,” said Bob.
“Well, I don’t really hate my parents,” said Layton, “but I’m really mad at them, both.”
“Same here,” Bob agreed.
“Ya hoooo!” exclaimed Bob as he ran to the monkey bars and, instead of swinging across by the arms, climbed atop and walked over them, like some sort of balancing act. Layton and Billy followed, and then ran wild through the tubed tunnels of the plastic house that Layton slept in, the night before.
About 5 p.m., Layton returned home for a shower and change of clothes. He started to pack another overnight bag when his mother walked in and asked what he was doing. He explained that he was going to spend another night at Molly’s, with Bob and Billy.
“No, you’re not,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to meet your father. It’s Lily’s birthday today.”
Lily was the name of his new little girl.
“I don’t want to go.”
“Too bad. Put on a clean shirt and then we’ll go pick up Heather.”
Twenty minutes later, they were in the car and driving to Charlotte’s house, where Heather was supposed to be.
Layton knew that this could end with Heather getting in big trouble. Worse, when his mother got mad at one of them, she had a habit of making them both pay. On one hand, he would love to see her get busted for a change, but on the other hand, she’d probably be grounded forever. Layton didn’t know if he could stand her being home all the time.
“Did you call Heather and tell her we’re picking her up?” Layton asked, trying to sound candid.
“No, but I should have,” she said as she reached for her phone. “Hello, Jane, can I talk to Heather, please?”
There was a pause as Charlotte’s mother told her that, as Layton expected, Heather wasn’t there. The look on her face was sour.
Layton’s skin got hot.
“Huh,” sighed his mother.
“W-was Heather there?” he stuttered.
“No, she hasn’t seen her in a couple days.”
Layton knew this wasn’t good news because he didn’t think Heather had been home in a few days, either.
They pulled up to Charlotte’s house.
“Wait in the car.”
Layton watched her walk up the cement path.
She and Charlotte’s mother stood on the front porch for about fifteen minutes before she came back to the car.
“What’s up?”
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “Who else does she know?”
“I don’t know.”
They sat in silence a moment. Then She pulled out her phone and called Layton’s father.
Apparently, he hadn’t heard from Heather, either, yet he enjoyed yelling at his mom and telling her that she was an unfit parent.
Next, she called the police who, as soon as they pulled up to their house, were waiting to take a report, but they didn’t seem to take Heather’s disappearance very serious.
When she asked why, the officer replied, “Children often disappear when their parents work a lot, but they always return.”
“What are you saying? That this is my fault?” she asked incredulously.
“No, we’re saying that most of the reports we get, of this kind, have parents are gone a lot. Now, eventually, they all come home, and we understand you’re struggling – we’re not judging you, but kids need apparent supervision.”
Layton saw his mother’s face turn from sallow to red hot.
And just as he predicted, his sister’s punishment turned into his. She insisted he stay home with her that night, rather than go back to Molly’s. During which, he was forced to listen to his ranting mother.
At nine ‘o’ clock Layton was in the bathroom and brushing his teeth when his mother’s cell phone rang. Wondering if it were Heather, he tip toed down the hallway to listen.
“Where are you?” she yelled.
From there, it got considerably worse.
“YOU’D BETTER GET YOUR BUTT HOME, NOW!”
Layton tried to sneak back to his room, but he stopped when he heard funny sniffling noises.
He walked into the living room and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“She won’t come home. You don’t know where she is, do you?”
“No,” he lied. But then, feeling guilty, Layton added, “Sometimes she hangs out with her friends by the river.”
“Show me!”
She got up and got her purse.
Layton just stood there.
“Come on, let’s go,” she motioned toward the door with her arm.
They got into the car, which was still warm from the heat of the day. They drove to the river site and proceeded into th
e bald spot, where she and her friends were known to be.
In the clearing, there was a small run down wooden house that faced the running water. It should have been condemned, but the trash that littered the ground indicated people spent time there.
His mother looked up and down, but saw no one. Then something caught her attention: a crackling noise came from the other side of the house.
Gripping Layton’s hand tightly, she pulled him across the small porch landing of the old house. The other side of the house came into view, revealing a group of teens huddled around a fire, smoking and drinking. And there, in the middle of the group, was Heather.
They, both, looked shocked; their eyes locked for a moment.
Then Heather got up and ran.
His mother didn’t waste time. She pounded the leaves, ferociously, with her feat, catching up to her easily. She caught Heather by her hair and dragged her back to the car.
Layton followed.
“Laaayton, I’ll kill you!” Heather screamed at him.
“I had to tell her, she was crying and called the cops.”
“Don’t give him a hard time. You’re the one in trouble here. You’re not going anywhere ever again!”
She started the car and drove them away from the river.
There was silence for a few moments, but when they pulled up to a stop sign, Heather jumped out of the car and ran. Leaving the car running, his mother jumped out, too, and went after her.
He turned around in the back seat and watched her disappear into a side alley, with their mother in tow.
A moment later, his defeated looking mother returned to the car without Heather and they went home.
The next morning, she was still gone.
His mom stayed home from work that day and didn’t leave bed.
Not wanting to bother her, he packed his bag, had some breakfast and left. Even if he didn’t see Bob that day, there was no way he was going to stay with her. Not once, throughout the incident, did she ever ask if he was okay.
In fact, he contemplated how his mother hadn’t been around for months, except for the few moments she’d take out of her day to bark orders at them, like they were servants. Now she was depressed about Heather, who was a mean, atrocious little brat. Never had she shown any concern for her son whom she left in an unparked car in the middle of the road.
Why is it that the meanest kids are the most revered?
He, further, contemplated Rick, who had everything – the newest toys and all the superhero comics he could possibly want, and all the birthday parties (no one had ever thrown Layton any kind of party). Jeff Barley who, although dumb as door knob, dressed the best and was always going to amusement parks; the teachers always took extra time to mentor him even though he refused to do his homework (teachers never bothered to see if he was okay, except to punish him after defending himself). Then there were the twins who made intimidation their specialty, always had the best snacks, phones, gadgets and always got looks of approval from teachers.
But going back to Heather, who despite having money troubles, always got brand new clothes and even the contact lenses Layton had asked for! Never mind that she verbally abused him on a daily basis. But did his mother ever stick up for him? No. Neither did his dad.
Although there was a cool breeze in the air, it was already getting pretty hot.
He walked up to the abandoned house and sat on the shaded porch. He pulled out his sling shot and practiced shooting rocks across the lawn at the buds of the roses. It took a while but he started to get somewhat good with his aim, and he hit several buds right on their bases. He grinned as he watched their petals burst and flutter to the ground in veil of pollen.
“Layton,” a voice called, “you’re not shooting my flowers that I worked so hard for.”
“No, I’m really sorry. Please don’t be mad. I won’t do it again.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m cooling off for a bit.”
“Why aren’t you at home? It’s only eight in the morning.”
“I got up early to avoid my mom. She and my sister had a fight, and my sister ran off. My mom is home being depressed.”
“Well, come over. The kids will be here later this afternoon.”
Layton watched television for a while, and then he helped Molly with the flowers. Several hours went by when, at last, Billy and Bob were standing in the yard and Molly was telling them to pot some soil, which they did with great reluctance.
The sun shone harder and harder on their backs but Molly refused to let them go until the job was done. Unfortunately, Bob started a water fight with Billy that led to an all-out war between them: Bob, sick of hearing Billy complain, sprayed him in the back, drenching him. Billy responded by sitting on him and dumping a pot of soil on his head. When Bob tried to get back up, Billy pushed him back down, grabbed the hose and soaked him, turning him into a brown muddy mess.
Finally, Molly told them they didn’t have to work anymore. They went inside and Bob took a shower.
An hour later, and still suffering from the heat, Molly decided they should all go to the mall and get some corn dogs and ice cream.
What a great idea!
As soon as they walked in the door of the Planks, the cold air hit them all.
Layton sighed with relief.
After their indulgence, they walked around and browsed. They went through several toy shops, and a few novelty shops that sold things like fake shrunken heads and loads of incense.
Soon after, they came upon the Haunted Halloween Shop which was always open for the summer. Bob was only too happy to follow Layton when he exclaimed that the joke aisle was his favorite section. They closely examined all the fake candy: cod liver oil candy in a variety of different colors, black pepper bubble gum, itching powder and stink bombs, of which Layton happily stocked up on.
Next they walked through all the costumes. They tried on various monster and superheroes, and numerous funny wigs. When they finally got into the vampire costume section, Layton felt a jolt of excitement in every one of his bones. There were long capes, short capes, red and black capes, black wigs, white wigs as well as white streaked black wigs, short fangs, long fangs, and entire mouth pieces. After trying everything on, Bob, Billy, and Molly tired of the vampire costumes and wondered into some other aisles.
While they were off looking at other costumes, Layton counted his money. He had just $10, but that was enough to buy the fangs with the plastic molds you melt in the microwave – and they could be re melted – for just $5. And there was a cheap little black widow peaked wig for $5! Molly wouldn’t mind lending a little extra for tax, and so he was set.
After that, the wheels turned in his head, and it must have shown too because Bob asked him several times what he was thinking about. He didn’t want to tell him that he could make a cape out of the red sheet his mother didn’t use anymore, that with the stink pellets, sling shot, fangs and wig, he could finally get back at Rick; Rick who was easily scared, and who was probably already feeling paranoid because of what Layton had, already, done.
The day was a fantastic one. Maybe he’d give Rick another visit that night.
All seemed well until his mother called Molly’s house. She was angry that Layton had been away all day, and she ordered him to come home.
“Why? It’s only four ‘o’ clock. You’re always working at this time. You’re always telling me I need to get out of the house, so why are you making me come home, now that I’ve found something to do?”
“I don’t want any more back talk. I want you in this door in 15 minutes!”
“Why is it that whenever Heather makes you angry, you punish me? Heather doesn’t clean her room, so you make me clean the kitchen. She doesn’t call, so you make me stay in my room. She goes missing, and now you want me to come home!”
She started to reply, but Layton hung up on her. She always liked to talk to him like he was an idiot, so there was no poin
t in listening. She’d say he didn’t understand; he should show her some respect, yada yada…
Well, Layton thought she should show him some respect by having an honest conversation: one with real replies, and not just “do as you’re told.” So, when he walked in the door, he went straight to his room and shut the door.
It was the same thing with his dad. He thought Layton couldn’t tell when he was covering. Maybe he didn’t understand everything, but he knew, instinctively, when something he said or did wasn’t quite right.
He ignored his mother’s call for dinner and stayed up, watching television until late. When he knew his mother was sure to be asleep, he crawled out of bed and got the red sheets from the hallway closet.
He traced the pattern of a circle cape, as indicated on the back of the pattern he saw at the Halloween shop. When he’d done, he cut along the lines with a pair of scissors. He pinned it around his neck, put on the wig and inserted his glue in fangs, which he’d snuck out to melt in the microwave.
Whoa! Except for his glasses, he looked pretty spooky. He slipped off the glasses and it was foggy but his vision cleared up a bit after a few minutes. He snuck into Heather’s room and stole her Manic Panic Hemlock and powdered his face and neck, and then applied red lipstick.
He stowed back into his room, pocketed his sling shot, stink bombs and filled his pocket with little rocks he’d gathered from the alleyway, in order to save BBs.
Layton didn’t know what compelled him. But it sure felt good to walk the streets at night, in the cool foggy air that settled that evening.
All the street lights were on and most of the houses were dark. Along the alleyway, it was dead quiet.
He snuck up to the wooden slats and peaked through. Carefully and quietly, he opened the gate and walked up to Rick’s side of the house. Standing on tip toe, he tried to see through the foggy windows. A lamp was alight, inside, and sleeping bags were on the floor.
Layton wiped, clear, a spot on the glass. Although he couldn’t tell which one, at first, one of the twins spotted him and shot up into sitting position from the floor.
Heart beating, Layton ducked below the window sill.
“What was that?” he heard through the pane of glass.
