The Unearthed: Book One, The Eddie McCloskey Series (2 page)

Bill
y
Rosselli made his way down the street, his backpack hanging off one shoulder. One hand up to his face, feeling around what had to be a bruise by now.

Height-wise, Billy took after his father. In class photos, he was always seated in the front row. He hated it. Girls liked tall guys. Even short girls. The only thing worse than being short was not being athletic.

Everyone expected him to be quick because he was small. He wasn’t. And he didn’t have that killer instinct, that drive to be the toughest, the strongest, the quickest.

He was also pretty sure he was the guy in his grade that hadn’t matured yet. His voice was still high. He’d seen other boys in the locker room. They had hair in places where he was still bald.

He’d tried talking to his dad about these things, but Dad had been insistent: Billy needed to be more aggressive, or he’d be pushed around his whole life. Hearing that Billy didn’t care for competition, Dad had immediately suggested Billy play a team sport in a recreational league so he’d “get over” it. Or that Billy should take up boxing.

Billy slowed as he neared the driveway. He didn’t want to go inside. He didn’t want Dad to see his eye. There was no way to hide the fact Ryan Kenner was still bullying him. His eye probably black by now.

And it hurt like a bitch.

Kenner had cornered him outside the locker room after school. He’d boxed Billy in, forced a confrontation, relished his power over him. Then Kenner had played his favorite game. He’d tricked Billy into looking down so Billy saw Kenner making an O with his thumb and forefinger. For some reason, this gave Kenner the right to punch Billy’s arm.

He’d taken the first shot on the arm as the cost of being the runt of the litter. But Kenner hadn’t stopped there. He gave Billy two more suspect hits—Billy hadn’t even looked down again. Billy had tried to push his way out and then Kenner had “accidentally” swung his fist and struck Billy in the eye.

To his horror, Billy had felt tears well up in his eyes. Just when he had finally decided to take a swing at Kenner, a teacher had appeared in the hallway. Kenner winked at him and left.

At the mouth of the driveway, Billy felt the air shift. His skin tingled. A moment later, the presence emerged.

Billy was in no mood to talk. “Don’t ask.”

Why not?

“Because I don’t want to talk about it.” Billy touched the skin around his left eye. It stung.

What are you going to tell him?

“I don’t know.”

Just tell him a bunch of guys cornered you.

“That’s not what happened.”

So it was just one guy again?

“Kiss my ass.”

I’m serious. Tell him it was a bunch of guys. It sounds better than saying just one dude hit you.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

I’m just trying to help.

Billy ignored the last remark and started down the driveway. He kept quiet. He didn’t want Dad overhearing him talk to “no one” again.

You are my friend.

Right. Until It made fun of him later. At least It couldn’t read his thoughts. He knew because he’d cursed It plenty of times in his head but had gotten no response.

Billy had first heard It a couple days after they’d moved in. At first he feared he was going crazy. He just heard this voice coming from nowhere. It terrified him. He’d heard how insane people did weird things, how they talked to themselves. He’d heard about people having more than one personality. So at first, he didn’t respond.

But It had been persistent. Once It knew Billy could hear him, It kept talking. After a week, Billy finally relented and answered.

It had a male voice, sounding to be about Billy’s own age. It also talked like the kids in school, using teenage slang and cursing. If It were an adult, It wouldn’t curse in front of him. For some reason he couldn’t explain, adults felt it wasn’t right to curse in front of kids, though he knew they cursed in front of each other all the time.

He unslung his backpack and hung it on its peg.

“You’re just making me feel worse,” Billy said. He walked through the garage, sidling around Dad’s car, and opened the door to the laundry room. He stepped inside.

Come on, dude. We’re bros.

“Not now, man.”

The air around him shifted. Billy felt a motion of sorts, a departure.

Billy shut the door behind him and looked up at Dad.

“Oh hey, Dad.”

“Did you say something just now?”

So far, Billy had managed to keep his face turned so that Dad couldn’t see his eye. “No, I didn’t say anything.”

Dad stayed where he was, just looking at him. It was one of Dad’s best tricks: If he stared long enough, he knew Billy would cave and open up.

Billy started for the family room and heard Dad trailing behind him.

“So do you want to talk about it?” Dad asked.

Billy felt his stomach drop. “About what?” He made his way into the kitchen.

“Your eye.”

Shit. “Oh, it was an accident …”

Dad followed him into the kitchen. “Accident?”

“Yeah, this locker was open behind me, I didn’t realize.” Billy opened the fridge.

Dad stood beside him, didn’t go away. “Did someone do that to you, son?”

Billy’s voice had this annoying habit of getting really high when he lied. “N-no.”

“You can tell me about it. I won’t be angry.”

Billy pulled the water jug from the refrigerator, uncapped it, and drank right from the container. He felt the tears forming. He kept them in.

“He was … bigger and older.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at his father. After the words came out of his mouth, he wished he’d gone with Its story.

“Is this the same guy that’s bothered you before?”

Billy nodded. He didn’t want to speak, because he knew his voice would crack.

“Did you tell anyone?”

Billy shook his head. If he tattled, he’d look even more like a pussy. What had he done to deserve this? He’d never made fun of Kenner, had always stayed out of the guy’s way.

Now Billy wanted to kill him. Literally. He’d pictured it on the bus ride home, sneaking up behind Kenner, hitting him over the head ...

“Son, I know you have a lot of things going on right now.” Dad put a hand on his shoulder. “I know you have a lot on your mind…”

Billy knew where this was going. He just wanted a hug, but Dad was giving him fewer and fewer hugs anymore.

“… But, you need to stand up to this guy. If you don’t, he’ll own you forever.”

Billy gulped. He felt a lump in his throat.

“Why do you let him do this to you, son?”

Wasn’t it fucking obvious? Billy thought. Because I’m afraid, Dad. Because I’m afraid if I stand up to him he’ll really beat me up and make me look even worse than I already do. But he couldn’t say those things. Dad would only get angry. He’d tried once before, but Dad hadn’t listened. And if he did admit he was afraid, Dad would ask him more questions, more questions that only had embarrassing answers.

“No son of mine is going to be bullied,” Dad said. “We’re going to work on this downstairs later.”

Billy said nothing. He hated sparring. Dad had a longer reach than him, was stronger than him, and was a naturally good fighter, according to Mom. Every time they sparred, Billy just got frustrated. Worse, Dad took it easy on him. And when they were done, Dad would say something like “See, you can handle yourself with me. So you should have no problem defending yourself against kids.” But the problem was, nobody would go easy on him like Dad did. Billy knew Ryan Kenner wouldn’t fight like Dad. Kenner would be out to humiliate him.

“What’s going on?”

Billy had never been so happy to see Mom. She stood in the entryway between the kitchen and the foyer, hair back in a ponytail like always. She smiled, until she noticed Billy’s eye.

“Oh, my God.” She rushed over to him. “What happened to you?”

Billy put on a brave face. “It was Ryan Ken-ner. He cornered me … and …”

“It’s okay, hon. I’ll call the Principal tomorrow. This has got to stop. Let me get you some ice.” She pulled an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped it in a towel.

Billy put the towel to his face. The coldness stung. “Mom, don’t call the school.”

“Oh, I am. And I’m calling his mother.”

“Mom—”

“This has gone on too long,” Mom said. “Why don’t you go sit down and watch some TV or play your video games? I’ll have dinner ready in an hour or so.”

“Okay.” Billy didn’t want her calling anyone, but he didn’t press further. She couldn’t call the school until tomorrow anyway. And Billy doubted she had the Kenners’ number.

* * * *

“That fucking Kenner kid again,” Talia said once Billy was upstairs and out of earshot.

Jackie pursed his lips.

“What?” she snapped.

“We need to toughen him up. He’ll be in high school next year.”

“He’s just a kid. He’s innocent compared to others his age.”

“He’s not a kid anymore, hon. And the world won’t wait for him to grow up.”

“He’s a good person. If anything, he’s too good.”

“Look, I wanted to hug him when I saw his eye. But—”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Hon—”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Don’t turn this around on me.”

“I’m…sorry.” She looked up at him. He was still so handsome.

Jackie said, “I don’t get it. He holds his own when we spar. I don’t get why his self-esteem is so low.”

“Maybe it’s because we’re too hard on him.” She went to the sink and started filling a pot with water.

“What you’re really saying is that I’m too hard on him?” Jackie asked.

She turned the water off, blew out a big sigh. “Hon, let’s not argue right now.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” he said. “You can’t start an argument and then try to pretend I started it.”

She hated how logical men could be.

“Fine,” she said. “I just think we should give him a little slack.”

“Those boys at the high school won’t cut him any. He needs to be prepared.”

“You keep pushing him and he’ll …”

“He’ll what?”

“I’m worried about him, Jackie.”

“Oh don’t start with that. Every kid goes through this at some point. It’s not like he’s going to take a gun into school.”

“Not a gun, Jackie, but you hear these things about kids these days.”

He put his hands on her shoulders. She loved his smile.

He said, “Everything will be alright. I promise.”

“I know. I’m sorry if I’ve been short. It’s just…”

“It’s okay, hon.”

“I do think we should at least consider having him talk to somebody.”

“Tal—”

“It doesn’t make him any less of a man.”

“I want him to take care of his own problems.”

Talia didn’t want to say this but a big part of the problem was that Billy couldn’t talk to Jackie.

Jackie said, “He’s too old to have an imaginary friend. But he doesn’t need to talk to someone else about it. He should come to me and you about it.”

“He comes to me about it.”

“Oh, I get it. It’s always my fault.”

“I’m not saying that--” Damnit, she hated it when she cried.

The anger drained out of his face and he wrapped her in his arms.

She said, “I’m going out of my mind here, babe.”

He squeezed her tighter. Sometimes all it took was a hug from her man. She buried her head in his chest.

“Do you think these paranormal guys can help us?” she asked.

“They can’t hurt.”

“You sure?”

“They were all right. One knew what he was talking about but was standoffish. The other was extremely unprofessional but pretty friendly. Tossup.”

She put her head back in his chest and closed her eyes. She knew he didn’t really want their help; he was doing it for her. He ran a hand up and down her back, just the way she liked. She looked past his shoulder and saw the calendar on the fridge. It reminded her.

“You know what I figured out the other day?”

“What’s that?”

“In two days, it’ll have been three years to the date.”

“Three years since what?”

She started to answer, but then she heard: “Gross! Are you guys making out?”

Talia pulled away from Jackie and saw Billy standing in the entrance to the kitchen again. He was wearing sweats and a t-shirt, having already changed out of his school outfit.

“Trust me, son. You’re going to like this a whole lot someday.” Jackie leaned in to try and kiss her, but she playfully resisted him. She knew that would only make him more excited for later.

“You guys are gross,” Billy repeated before walking into the family room and plopping down on the sofa.