Cheddar

Do you have a bike I can borrow?

Mr. Klipper

I have an old Suzuki. This 4 Ice?

Cheddar

No, for Asher. So we can go fast while I spy on him.

Fast as Roady?

Mr. Klipper

No Cheddar, I don't have a spare bicycle.

----------------------------------------

Chapter 9 — Asher

----------------------------------------

*FLICK*

The room cheered as Klipper hit the floor. Asher shook his head. It felt as if he'd just taken a punch instead of delivering one.

He moved through a crowd of back pats and shouts. With a glanced over his shoulder, he saw Klipper already on his feet. The shark shook his head with a laugh before heading towards Autumn. For a moment, Asher contemplated heading him off, but the friend he left her with was already helping get her coat on and seemed more than capable of fighting Klipper off if she needed to.

He headed for the kitchen to catch up with O'Leary. Finally.

He got about three steps.

"Hey Asher," said Tabitha. They were in Ms. Rutherford's chemistry class together. She was a cheerleader in the school's spirit squad, smart, and super full of herself. "How did you do on the test today? I killed it."

Asher was about to respond and brush her off so he could get to the kitchen, but then he remembered. He recalled Leah, the paper, the glyphs, the woman's voice in the purple void. It was too much. He crumpled to the ground, knees up to his chest.

"Asher, are you okay? Come on, you're embarrassing me." Tabitha stomped her foot down in a pout and looked around.

*FLICK*

Asher blinked, shook his head, and looked around. "Why am I on the floor?"

Tabitha shrugged.

He stood up. "Oh, the test. Yeah, I did alright. I was a little distracted." He pointed at where his eye wounds should be.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Did something happen before the test?"

That got his full attention. Was she just playing with him? Having some fun at his expense? "You know when I was clawing at my eyes?"

Tabitha stared at him a moment, then said, "you know I've heard some kids get test stressed and they just kind of snap." She stepped forward to place a hand on his arm. "It's never happened to me, of course, but I don't judge — some people just aren't as strong." She tilted her head to the side and puffed up her lips before smiling and giving him a wink.

"I need a drink." He pushed past Tabitha and headed for the kitchen.

"Hi Asher!" said Jessica.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

"Nope, getting a beer."

Asher pushed into the kitchen, flicked a red cup out of a stack, and looked around for the owner of the box of beer cans.

O'Leary was across the kitchen's island, leaning against the fridge, and caught Asher's eye and gave him a nod.

"Thanks, buddy." He pulled out a can, cracked it open, and poured the beer into the cup with shaky hands — in the end he got more head than beer, but he didn't care.

O'Leary headed over, giving the potted cactus a threatening eye as he passed it. "Is she gone?"

"Who? Tabitha?"

"Of course. I saw her heading to you like a heat-seeking missile when you came in. You're a hot commodity."

"If I had known." The hockey team was the school's pride and joy, having won every City high school championship for the last five years. Being the Captain of the team was an honor, and it came with popularity Asher enjoyed most days, but not always.

"I know. I know. You would have been happy keeping a letter off your chest." O'Leary took a tug on his beer. "I guess Klipper or Wheeler could have worn it."

"I don't hate it that much! But you could have worn it."

O'Leary gave him a smile, a nod, and tapped Asher's cup with his can.

"Shots. Shots. Shots." A scorched eyebrow-less Wheeler came into the kitchen with a bottle of tequila. He dropped a stack of plastic shot glasses and started filling them up.

Asher looked for an escape, but his teammates made sure there were none.

Wheeler gave him a big grin, then sat a shot in front of him.

Asher took it with a nod to duty. "Hurricanes," he said.

"Hurricanes!" Everyone who had a shot downed it, then a second, then a third.

Except O'Leary and Wheeler.

They each thought they had a different reason, but Asher knew the truth. They cared and wanted, in their own way, to make sure the night ended well. He had good friends.

Many drinks later, Asher expertly navigated his way towards the bathroom. He felt like a great explorer, but he looked like an uncoordinated toddler as he stumbled through the living room.

People were flickering. One moment they were talking, partying, colorful, and the next they would look at him, but completely drained of color.

"Not doing this," Asher slurred as he pushed past Tabitha, knocking the drink out of her hand, and headed for the bathroom. "Sorry."

The hallway felt like a carnival funhouse. He stopped and leaned against the wall.

"Hey duder," said Wheeler. "You ready for some beer box hockey!"

"Hockey!" The bathroom could wait.

Asher recovered and stumbled toward the living room. He had to hurry, so he could be the one to crush the beer can puck.

Stumbling, he made it to the kitchen, leaning on the island. He needed a brief break.

"Hey man, you okay?" O'Leary came up behind him and placed his hand on Asher's back.

It felt nice.

"I'm wearing a mask, O'Leary. I'm not real, I'm not vibrant, or colorful, I hate it. Plus, I think Klipper ate my soul, I rubbed my eyes out, Aunt Terri's a monster, and no one remembers. Not even me, nope, especially not me."

"Slow down, eh?" O'Leary moved himself between Asher and the kitchen island, though he took a moment to make sure he wouldn't hit the cactus again. He held Asher by both shoulders. "What's going on? Tell me so I can understand."

"They all think this," he pointed at his face, then around the room, "is normal. Oh, and Klipper is a shark! Hah, I don't even know what that is. Do you know what a shark is?"

"Asher, what are you talking about? This is normal, man. A Wheeler party is about as normal as it gets." O'Leary looked Asher up and down. "I should get you home, eh?"

Asher thought about it for a moment. The memory was there, but it didn't feel right. "No O'Leary, it isn't. It was Leah, she broke it, she gave me scrap paper." He pushed away from his friend and turned. "She knows. We have to find her."

"Asher, wait." O'Leary followed right behind, reaching out and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. "Asher, you're not making any sense, buddy."

Asher turned, shrugging off O'Leary's arm, "No! You need to wake up O'Leary, it's not right — Wake up!" He slammed his open hands into O'Leary's chest, shoving him.

Asher's eyes flashed with flecks of purple and O'Leary slammed into the kitchen island, sending empty bottles and cans crashing down. "O'Leary? Shit. O'Leary, I'm sorry, man."

"Whatever, man. I'm done." O'Leary pushed up from the ground, rubbing his left shoulder. "Handle your own shit from now on."

Asher's stomach heaved, and he bent over, sending a splash of party fun all over the kitchen floor. Those in the area scattered fast, dodging the worst of it.

Asher hit the ground on all fours as his body heaved.

"Dammit, he's going to get puke everywhere." Wheeler kneeled beside Asher. "Help me, man."

"What? He pushed me and was talking all crazy. Maybe he's purging demons."

"Some friend, Beast." Wheeler punctuated the moniker with a snarl.

"Whatever," O'Leary left the room.

"It's alright, man. I got ya." He looked around. "Klipper, get your damn tongue out of Tabitha's throat and grab a towel." Wheeler looked down at the forming pool beneath Asher. "Or ten."