Fright Files: The Broken Thing

by Peter Swift

10.

  "It was on the driveway," Stevie said, and stared at her dramatically. "On the driveway!"

  Angie leaned up against the green metal locker next to Stevie's while he pulled out his books for the first two periods. She listened silently while he recited the events of the previous day since they'd parted ways at the library. Stevie spoke in quick, excited tones, often not breaking for silly little interruptions like periods or breathing. Unlike Emily, Stevie knew he could completely download on Angie.

  "And then later I was talking to Em and asked her how she was able to get up the mountain so quickly after she said WHERE IS IT and she said she never followed me down the mountain so she couldn't have said that so who did say it? It was the thing on the driveway, I know it was! It followed us home from The Grove!"

  "Yeah, I don't know, Stevie," Angie said cautiously. She looked down at the ground and shuffled her feet. She didn't sound convinced. "That's pretty intense."

  Stevie turned to his friend. Was she serious? "What, you don't believe me?"

  Angie bit her lower lip. "Of course I believe you! I mean, it's not that I think you're lying. But you were reading that totally scary book in the library, and you had a run-in with Victor, and then Em scared your pants off. Major trauma yesterday, right? Maybe it was just the stress playing tricks on your mind. Let's face it. You do have an active imagination."

  "Active imagination?!" Stevie protested. "I can not believe you! I'd expect this from my parents. Maybe even Emily. But not you!"

  He was angry for a moment, but then she smiled and he let his anger drop. Recently Angie had stopped dressing so much like a tomboy—more like a girl—and he found it harder to stay angry at her. Or say no when she wanted something. It weirded him out.

  "Listen," she said. "I'm not saying it didn't happen and I'm not saying you're lying. I just want you to really think and make sure."

  "I know what I saw, Anj. What I heard. It wasn't in my head. I wish it was."

  "Well, then, I believe you. So what do you want to do—oh, man." Her eyes shifted over Stevie's shoulder, and he turned just as a giant, dirty fist slammed into the locker right next to him. Stevie jumped a foot straight up.

  Victor gave him an ugly grin. "Hey there, Pile. Have a nice trip yesterday, Pile? You know, I was glad I didn't run you over. Don't want poo-stink on my bike."

  Victor's two friends stood behind him again, ready to laugh at whatever he said.

  "Better not breathe on it then," Angie said. She scrunched up her face and waved a hand in front of her nose. "Seriously, were you drinking out of the toilet again, Victor? Do I have to roll up a newspaper?"

  "Woooooah!" one of Victor's friends said. "Pile's bodyguard made a laugher."

  "A pretty good one, too!" the other one added. They both laughed.

  Victor's face turned an angry shade of red. "You'd better keep a leash on her, Pile," he growled at Stevie. Stevie couldn't help but think that Angie was wrong about Victor's breath smelling like poo. It clearly smelled more like week old vomit. "She's like a dog chompin' on a bit to dig your grave!"

  Angie stepped closer to Stevie. "Dogs don't chomp on bits, Victor. You'd think those extra two years in fifth grade would've taught you to keep your metaphors straight."

  Victor looked confused. "My... meta-what?"

  Angie burst out in loud laughter, and so did Victor's friends. Stevie's nerves kept him from laughing, thankfully.

  Victor tried a different approach. "AngIE and StevIE," he said, strongly accenting the second syllable. "What a couple of girly names for a couple of girls."

  "Oh, and Vicki sounds so manly," Angie shot back. "Doesn't it? Vicki?"

  Victor's face turned from angry-red to impossible-purple. "You're lucky I don't hit girls, Lewis!"

  "You're lucky I don't hit girls either, Vicki!"

  Victor's friends both fell against the lockers, roaring with fits of uncontrollable laughter and slapping their hands against the metal doors. Stevie nervously searched the hall for a teacher, and Angie stared at Victor cooly, a slight, twisted smile on her face.

  Victor's fists clenched and unclenched angrily, and then he turned his attention back to Stevie. Stevie knew this was inevitably coming.

  "We'll talk later, Pile," he hissed, little pieces of spittle flying out from behind clenched teeth. "Count on it. You can thank your girlfriend for that!"

  Victor turned and stomped off. As he went, he said to his flunkies, "Let's go!"

  "Okay, Vicki," one of them said, and the two high-fived each other behind Victor's back.

  Stevie closed his locker, took a deep breath, and said, "You know he's gonna kill me now, right?"

  Angie nodded. "Yeah, sorry about that. At least now you'll know why."