Today's word count: 1,449 words
Running total: 32,244 words
Summary: Kenneth has ANGST.
Also, Brian and Chase make up.
We sit there in silence for a few more minutes, neither of us knowing what to say. Finally, I say, “Brian?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think… I have any sort of chance with Scarlett? I mean—I’m not good-looking, but I could—I don’t know.”
He sighs. “You know? Chase, you’re my friend, so I’m going to be honest. Right now you stand no chance with Scarlett. She’s got all the ideas about you and about what an ideal romance should be. Maybe—start with some skin cream or something, man. That’s the real problem with your face, the acne. And your hair—“
I didn’t expect Brian to be so brutally honest, but I like it. That’s what I need in a good friend. I smile and hold up a hand. “Okay, okay, I get it. I need a makeover.”
He grins back. “Maybe when we get back to civilization, I could take you out with Ashley. She’s fashion-forward, man, and she’s totally into fixing people’s looks. You know that coat I wore in winter?”
“Yeah…” I try to recall it. I’m pretty sure it was a short black double-breasted thing.
“She picked it out for me. Totally not something I’d wear, but it’s actually pretty comfortable.”
Yeah, it didn’t really look like a Brian-y thing to wear such a nice coat. It makes sense. Maybe I’ll take him up on his offer. I’m not quite sure yet.
After a few more minutes in silence, I stand up. “You wanna go back in now?”
“Ah… one more thing.” He stands up with me and takes a deep breath. “The whole reason I came out was to say… look, I was a total douchebag in ninth grade—and, you know, when I think about it, I was sort of a douche in eighth grade, too. I wasn’t listening to you at all and I ended up making a huge fool of myself… and really, I treated you like shit when you were my only friend. So I wanted to say… I’m sorry. And I’m going to try and be a better person from now on, so you don’t have any reason to be mad at me.” He says it all quickly and takes a deep breath when he’s finished and closes his eyes. When he looks at me again, it’s with big, innocent, puppy dog eyes. “Can you forgive me for all of that?”
Wow. I’m flattered. For a while I say and do nothing. A smile slowly spreads across my face, and I punch him in the arm.
“Hey, thanks. Apology accepted. You’ve been on the right track lately, with your reformation and all…”
He beams. “Thanks. All right, we can—“
All of the sudden his expression changes from one of joviality to one of apprehension and panic. He tenses, freezes, as if he’s listening for something.
“Brian, what—“
“Shhhhhh,” he says in a very low tone. “Listen.”
I cock my head. I hear something faint in the distance, but I can’t quite pinpoint the sound. I keep listening and soon enough it repeats itself. It’s a sickening, high-pitched sound, like nails being dragged against a chalkboard. It’s far off in the distance, but it still makes me nervous.
“Metal on stone,” Brian confirms. After another dragging noise, he says, “Grindstone is going to kill again.”
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Scene XII
Finding Jeremiah Tate, the Ghost of Grindstone Lake
Kenneth
Just as we were all getting a little concerned about Brian and Chase (and after I offered to go check on them), the two enter the lodging’s common room.
“He’s active,” Brian says.
It’s an obscure statement, and I don’t quite know what it means.
Chase elaborates, “The sound of metal on a grindstone. Brian and I—we heard it out there.”
“That means Grindstone’s about to kill, right? So he’s active.”
Ashley stands up. “Don’t get too worried just yet… there have been reports of the grindstone noise with no murders before.” She smiles weakly as she says, “And your mind could just be playing tricks on you. Still…”
Mr. Williams says, “It’s getting dark now. I think we’re all too tired to go ghost hunting tonight… why don’t we all get some dinner and start on this tomorrow?”
Most everyone agrees that that sounds like a pretty good idea. I frown a little, but try and put on a smile as I ask, “Um… do you guys mind if I just stay behind? I mean…”
Mr. Williams looks concerned. “Are you sure about that? You don’t have to even eat anything, Kenneth. You won’t be lonely?”
“No, not at all!” I say. “Truth is, there’s a few things I want to sort out here…”
My mother coughs. Mr. Williams turns to her, and they exchange a quick glance before he turns back to me. “All right,” he sighs. “You’re more than welcome to come to the mess hall and visit us, though. You know how to get there? It’s just through these woods—if you stay on the dirt path, you can’t miss it. It’s the blue building.”
“Okay, I got it. I may try and visit you guys later. See you then!”
We all say goodbye and part. My mom stays behind a little after everyone else, giving me a concerned look and kissing me on the cheek. I’m glad she at least has the courtesy to do that when my friends aren’t all looking; that would have been a little bit embarrassing. It feels good to have her here, though. I’m still trying to sort this all out, and I need her support now more than ever.
After they leave, I lie down on the common room couch and stare at my hand—my skin is currently human, normal. No protruding claws or bonelike exoskeleton. I’m not sure how I feel about the whole “two forms” thing yet. I guess out of everything, that’s the part I mind least of this scuro business.
Next-least is the eating thing. So far I’ve only eaten one ghost. And don’t get me wrong, it was the best meal of my life. But before I was an adventurous eater. I liked trying new foods and different foods as much as my mom liked cooking new things. She isn’t quite the bold eater that I am, so she’s been cooking a lot more traditional stuff lately. And she tries not to show it, but that really kills her. She’s bored with cooking. And I’m bored with not eating. I just want to be able to eat something different every day again and not be stuck with this “meal a month” plan. It’s just… boring.
And yet that doesn’t even come close to the worst part of this. You know, I was a bit worried when I first changed. I was afraid I was going to end up some immortal creature. I like a lot of science fiction and fantasy, and the only thing that comes out of immortality is grief. Living forever is not a fate I’d enjoy.
And then, Chase told me that scuro have a very short lifespan—it’s something to do with having your soul partially eaten or something. Ultimately it depends on how much of your soul was eaten, but the average life span is twenty years from turning.
That would make me thirty-five when I die.
I’m lost. I had all these magnificent plans for my life—I was going to be a doctor, I was going to get married when I was thirty and have children. But now, a graduate degree (and a doctorate, at that) would take up most of my life, and I couldn’t marry with just five years left on the clock—I could never live with myself or hurt someone that I loved by dying so soon. Where do I go? What the hell am I going to do with my life?
I’ve been contemplating suicide lately. I first thought of it after that night of my first meal. I was lost, I told myself, and I’d find a solution to my problems soon, and I squashed it there. But then a few weeks later I thought of it again. And the week after that. And the day after that time. Before, I was scared of hurting others. Now, I’m scared of hurting myself. I’m just a walking disaster area, aren’t I? I laugh out loud at that, even though it isn’t funny.
My mind wanders a bit more. I think of the news casting club, my new friends—Chase, Brian, Ashley, and Scarlett. They’ve all been so helpful and supportive. I owe my life to them. I realize that if I can’t live for my own happiness, I can live for them, at least. They’d be crushed if I was gone. And after all they’ve done
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