Fiction: Your Own Joy

By Toni Kochensparger 

 

Danny met Worm the first week of sophomore year.

“It’s what my brothers call me,” she’d told him. “It’s what everybody calls me.”

That was the year the sounds in Danny’s house changed noticeably, like when your bedroom is suddenly flooded with cloud shade. His mother’s syncopated shouts became a silent stone cage for his father to shuffle around in. It was like he woke up one day and forgot how to yell at her, back.

Danny’s little brother, Calvin, hid in his room even more than he used to, when they still screamed. The boys both agreed the silence was somehow louder, although they never actually spoke about the change. It isn’t intimate to talk about the weather, and Worm never asked.

Danny knew that she knew, though. He’d seen it on her face, the first time he snuck out to walk around with her, back before the change. His feet hit the ground from the porch roof, where he jumped and, when he looked up, he could tell she had heard them yelling, inside. He could tell that she knew what that was.

“I think we should start on California Avenue,” Worm said. This was after the change. “And then, I think, we make our way to Whitlock.”

Danny lit one of his mom’s cigarettes and passed one to Worm. “That’s far,” he said.

“Why? Do you have some place that you’ve gotta be?”

They’d made a routine out of these nights, evenings that always began with eager stones, touching Danny’s window. Worm had learned early, in a short conversation with Danny’s mother, that it was a bad idea to call.

“Also, I’ve got a surprise tonight,” said Worm. She flipped her back pack around so that it was a front pack and started fishing, inside.

“A surprise?” Danny asked.

“I traded that guy Greg—you know? The one with the rat tail?”

“I’m familiar.”

“I traded that guy Greg my copy of Ghost World for twelve dollars. And then my dad drove me to Valley Thrift on the way home from school and I found this,” she said, producing a pair of binoculars with great fanfare. “So, now we can really see what people are doing.

“And,” she added, “I’ve still got eleven dollars left.”

They’d first discovered the game two weeks into their midnight walks. A large man on Linden Avenue was lifting very small weights in his living room with the curtains open. They could hear Madonna, playing on a boombox, from all the way across the street.

They’d named the man Sponge. That was the game: they found people, then they made up who they were, and then they named them.

“I figure we start with Godzilla Martha Stewart first,” said Worm, turning her front pack into a back pack again, the binoculars hanging from her neck. Godzilla Martha Stewart was a woman who, as far as they could tell, was an actual Japanese monster, wearing a disguise made of human skin, who was constantly ironing.

“How many clothes can one person own?” Worm asked, peering through the binoculars from the bushes, across the street.

“I think they must be for other people,” said Danny. “Unless she’s just re-ironing.”

“Who re-irons their clothes?”

“Maybe Godzilla doesn’t need any sleep,” said Danny. “Maybe she’s just trying to kill time, until it’s morning, again.”

Worm handed the binoculars to Danny. “Or maybe she knows that we’re watching,” she said. “Maybe she knows and she’s worried we’ll call the cops, or something, and bust her.”

The kids made their way down Indian Ripple Road and further into Kettering.

“Your problem is: you’re too much like your dad. You know: he’s short,” said Worm. “You’re kind of short.”

“I’m not short,” said Danny. “I’m, like…average height.”

“That’s code for short,” said Worm. “You need to be tall, like Jesse Ferguson. “Otherwise, people will never respect you.”

“I’m literally still growing,” said Danny. He paused. A puzzled look crossed his face. “People respect me.”

“Not adults,” said Worm. “Not Mrs. Cavanaugh.”

“Mrs. Cavanaugh doesn’t respect anyone,” said Danny. “She hates, like…all her students.”

“She likes me,” said Worm.

“That’s because you’re good at Spanish,” said Danny. “Everyone else sucks at it. Which is technically her fault.”

“Maybe she hates herself,” said Worm, eyes wide. “Anyway, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re short.”

“I’m at least six inches taller than you,” said Danny. “I’m easily six inches taller.”

“Except I’m a girl,” said Worm. “Girls are supposed to be short. People like that.”

“What are you talking about?” Danny asked. “Who likes that?”

“Everyone,” said Worm. “It means you’re petite, which everyone knows is a good thing.”

“It just means you can’t reach high shelves and cupboards,” Danny said. “So you have to rely on other people, all the time. You’re a liability.”

“Fuck you. I don’t rely on anybody.”

“You made me hang your Green Day poster for you like last week,” said Danny.

“You did that out of the kindness of your heart,” said Worm.

“And because you literally couldn’t reach.”

“Okay, fine. But that poster’s, like…six inches lower than it’s supposed to be,” said Worm.

Whitlock Place contained a string of cookie cutter houses, part of a neighborhood planted behind an old Elder-Beerman parking lot, a parking lot Worm insisted was haunted. They rarely made their way this far, although it was always exciting when they did, as Whitlock was home to their favorite mystery person, Ronald Reagan in a Robe.

“I think he’s got two or three penises,” said Worm, as they made their way toward Ronald Reagan’s house. “I think that’s why his robe’s always open. I think it’s because all his penises scrunch together when it’s closed.”

“If you have three penises, do you think you can masturbate three times?” asked Danny. “Like one, after the other? Or, do you think when he masturbates one of them, the rest deflate?”

Worm thought about this for a second. “If I had three penises,” she said, “I’d invent a special device that held all three, at once.” That way I could masturbate all of them, at the same time.”

“He’s like a triceratops,” said Danny.

They crossed the street.

“The lights are on!” said Worm, excited. “Quick: hand me the binoculars.”

The kids positioned themselves in the bushes across from the open-robed Reagan home. Danny retrieved two more of his mom’s cigarettes and tied his shoe, while they waited.

“Do you think your parents will ever get divorced?” Worm asked, whispering, in stealth mode.

“Why? Do you think they will?”

“No, I just…I don’t know. Like: wouldn’t they be happier?”

Danny thought for a second. “I think my dad would be,” he said, finally. “My dad’s got, like…like interests and hobbies. Mom isn’t really interested in anything.”

“She isn’t?”

“Not really,” said Danny. “All she does is smoke cigarettes and watch TV and yell at my dad.”

Ronald Reagan’s living room was still empty, across the street.

Danny went on: “Dad at least knows what he’s into. And he still, like…does things. He just has to do them when my mom’s not around. When she’s home she’s just, like…starting fights or giving him chores.”

“My mom gives my dad chores,” said Worm.

“I mean, I think that part’s normal,” Danny said. “But he’s the only one who has chores to do. Like she, like, basically doesn’t help.”

“She just watches TV.”

“Right. And not even TV-TV. She watches, like…old episodes of shows she’s already seen like a million times.”

“Do you think she’s depressed?” Worm asked.

“I mean…they’re both depressed,” said Danny. “But dad’s the only one who fights it. Dad’s always, like…reading books or painting his model cars in the garage.”

“So he’d, like. Like if you’re mom wasn’t around, he’d have more time for those things.”

“Right. Like he wouldn’t have to sneak in the time. Where Mom…I mean, the last time Mom had a hobby was like ten years ago. Like before Calvin was born.”

“Do you think she’d still just watch TV and stuff?” asked Worm.

“I mean: I don’t know,” said Danny. “It seems like it. Or maybe she’d finally get bored. And take up knitting, or something.”

“She could knit while she watches TV.”

“Right, maybe. But, like, her whole routine would get fucked up. She’d have to, like, cook and do the laundry and stuff.”

“Your dad cooks all your meals?”

“He does all the shopping, too,” said Danny. “And I think he does all their bills.”

“She just sits around?”

“And tells him what to do, yeah. Like she’s always adding more things to the list.”

“Jesus,” said Worm. “That’s, like, really unfair.”

“Yeah, well. I mean: that’s how it’s always been, as far as I can remember,” said Danny. “Definitely since she had Calvin.”

“Does she give you guys a bunch of chores, too?” asked Worm.

“Wait,” said Danny, placing a hand on the front of Worm’s shoulder, eyes fixated on Ronald Reagan’s house. “There are people.”

Worm shook Danny’s hand off her shoulder slowly as she grabbed her binoculars.

“Holy shit,” she said. “There are different people.”

“Maybe Ronald Reagan’s family?” Danny asked.

“I don’t see Ronald Reagan anywhere,” said Worm. “Or his robe.”

Danny took the binoculars from Worm. “It looks like a family,” he said. “I think I see moving boxes.”

“What the fuck?” Worm asked. “So he just skipped town without even telling us?”

Danny handed the binoculars back. “Maybe he left because of us,” he said. “Maybe he knew we knew about his penises.”

“Maybe,” said Worm, peering at the house. “I see a mom and a dad.”

“Older or younger?”

“Medium-aged,” said Worm. “And there’s a boy.”

“Right. Okay, a son,” said Danny.

“Maybe they’re aliens,” said Worm. “Like: who lets their kids stay up this late?”

“It looks like they’re unpacking,” said Danny, his turn with the binoculars. “Like maybe they just moved in today.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re not aliens,” said Worm, as Danny handed them back to her.

“True.”

“Do you think they’re here to put stuff up our butts?” Worm asked.

“Why would they want to stick stuff up our butts?”

“That’s, like, what aliens do,” said Worm. “Like for tests and stuff.”

“Yeah, but why would they be testing our butts?”

“Have you seriously seen, like, no movies?” Worm asked, handing back the binoculars. “That’s where they get all their information.”

“What information?” asked Danny. “Literally what information’s in our butts?”

“I don’t know,” said Worm. “But I’m positive that’s how they do it.”

Danny watched as the dad across the street broke down a cardboard box. “Okay, so: if they are aliens excited about all our butts, what do you think that they’re called?”

“I don’t know,” said Worm. “Whatever the alien word is for scientist.”

“No, I mean…” Danny trailed off. A young girl who looked to be about Danny and Worm’s age appeared in the living room.

“Like, they’re not, like, proctologists,” Worm said. “Proctologists would only care about alien butts. These aliens are some kind of researchers.”

The girl across the street undid one of the cardboard boxes and pushed her hair behind her ears.

Danny spoke in a lower register without meaning to. “No, I mean: what’s their name…like the…what’s their race called?”

“They’re more than likely Xenomorphs,” said Worm. “Or, at least: that’s the most common alien who might come here.”

“Where the fuck did you hear about Xenomorphs?” asked Danny. The girl across the street collected what looked like posters, from the box.

“It’s, like. Common knowledge.”

“How is that common…” Danny stopped, mid-sentence. The girl across the street was looking out the window.

“It’s in, like, every book about aliens, ever,” said Worm.

Danny adjusted the focus of the binoculars to try and get a clearer picture of the girl’s face.

“Anyway, they’d still all have different names,” continued Worm. “So: what are their names?”

It almost seemed as if the girl was looking directly at them.

“Danny?”

Danny focused the binoculars, again.

“Danny.”

The girl shifted the armful of posters so that one arm was free.

“Earth to Danny,” said Worm, snapping her fingers next to his ear.

The girl waved.

“Dude: what?” asked Worm. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a girl.”

*

“I’m just saying: I don’t think they’d have normal names,” said Worm. The pair were making their way back toward Danny’s house. “They’d be names like X357Y or something.”

“Right,” Danny said. “No, I get that: I meant what are their people names?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Worm asked. “Why would they have people names?”

“Okay: think about it,” said Danny. “You’re an alien. You came all the way here from…from probably another galaxy, or something, and you’re here to do research on people. You’re wearing a disguise so you look like a person. Why wouldn’t you have, like, made-up people names?”

“You don’t need people names to abduct human beings and look in their butts,” said Worm.

“What if their butts aren’t the only things they’re doing here?” Danny asked. “What if they have to, like, infiltrate our society and learn all our customs?”

“You mean like Third Rock from the Sun?”

“Exactly,” said Danny.

“Okay, fair point…” said Worm. “Okay. People names…people names…”

The two of them thought for a moment.

“Well, they’d probably want to blend in,” said Worm. “I mean, like: obviously. So they’d probably stick to stuff that was super-duper basic. Like stuff like Steve.”

“Right. Or Alex.”

“Stuff like Jason.”

“Or Brittany.”

“Or Frank.”

The two of them thought, again. Worm spoke first; “Or maybe that’s too-obvious, like the names are so basic, they don’t even sound real, you know? Like Jack Smith. Like maybe the names—”

“Why did you ask me that, earlier?” asked Danny.

“What?”

“Why did you ask me about my parents getting divorced?”

“Oh,” said Worm. For a few seconds, she was just quiet.

“I mean, I know they fight and stuff. Like: obviously they fight,” said Danny.

The previous week, Danny had fallen asleep before Worm got to his house and didn’t wake up to the rocks on his window. It was late, like 2AM.”

“But everybody’s parents fight,” he continued.

Every light in the whole house was off. Worm threw stone after stone.

“It doesn’t mean they’re, like…splitting up,” he said.

Finally, Worm had given up on him and turned to leave, when she heard a noise.

“I mean it’s, like…normal, in a long relationship,” Danny said.

Worm had turned, her whole figure swallowed by the shadow of a tree in Danny’s yard. She saw the front door of Danny’s house open slowly.

“It doesn’t mean they’re going to end things.”

Worm had watched as Danny’s mom slipped out of the house and got into her car and drove away.

She hadn’t told Danny about it, in the week, since.

“I mean…I don’t know,” said Danny, looking down. “I just mean: why did you think to ask that?”

Worm was quiet for a few more seconds.

Then she opened her mouth to speak.

Then she still didn’t tell him what she saw.

*

“Okay, according to the book from the library, they mostly only walk around at night,” said Worm. They were sitting in the back row, in social studies. “Which explains why they were wide-awake when we spotted them.”

“Didn’t we decide they were awake because they were unpacking?” asked Danny.

“Don’t ruin this for me,” said Worm. She turned to the next page in the book, which was full of illustrations. “It says that the Xenomorphs are shape-shifters.”

“So it’s not a Godzilla Martha Stewart deal.”

“Right.”

“Can they shapeshift into other things?” Danny asked.

“Obviously,” said Worm. “What do you think shapeshifter means?”

“Maybe they turn into cheetahs to get around.”

“Probably. Or birds,” said Worm.

“Daniel. Chelsea,” said Mr. Menahan.

“Sorry!” shouted Worm. She waited for him to turn back to the board before moving on to the next page.

*

“Metamorphosis is the product of an insect’s cell growth,” said Danny’s science teacher, later that afternoon. Danny sat alone, once again in the back row. Worm was better at science than he was, and therefore in the advanced class, in the morning. She pointed out this fact, almost daily.

Danny scribbled in his notebook and then returned to his drawing, on the opposite page.

“There are, of course, obvious and familiar examples,” said Mrs. Reese, turning to the next slide.

In Danny’s drawing, four aliens lived in a house.

“A caterpillar cocoons and turns into a butterfly.”

Below the house, Danny drew several figures, walking in a line.

“The cellular structure changes.”

The figures began with an ape, who slowly turned into a human being.

“And so, does the species.”

The human being kept walking. Slowly, his features elongated. His face flattened out. He became an alien.

“Your assignment, tonight, is to—”

“Excuse me.”

Danny looked up from the page, where he was mid-way through a drawing of the alien becoming a human, again. The girl from the Reagan house stood in the doorway.

“Ah, Miss Meyers,” said Danny’s teacher. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“I went to the wrong class,” said the girl.

“Did you accidentally go to Mr. Willis?” asked Mrs. Reese.

“I think so. He didn’t say anything until, like…five minutes ago,” said the girl. “I don’t think he saw me, at first.”

“Then it was definitely Mr. Willis,” said Mrs. Reese. She turned to the rest of the students. “Class, this is Kylie. She’ll be joining us for the rest of the semester. Her family just moved here from…?”

“Youngstown,” said Kylie.

“That’s right,” said Mrs. Reese. She addressed the students: “Treat her kindly. Show her around. You know the drill.” She turned back to Kylie. “Feel free to take any of the open desks. We’re just wrapping up, here.”

Danny quickly returned to his drawing. He, like the rest of the class, had been staring.

Mrs. Reese continued speaking and there was a noise to his left. Danny looked up to see Kylie, settling into the desk next to his.

“Hi,” she whispered.

Danny froze. Then he whispered, “hey.”

“I’m Kylie,” she whispered, looking at his notebook.

“Danny.”

“Are you drawing Xenomorphs?”

*

After school, Danny and Worm made their usual trip to Taco Bell.

“You’re going to get, like…a disproportionate amount of diarrhea,” Danny said, looking down at the mountain of fast food on Worm’s tray. Worm had spent almost the entirety of the money she had, leftover from trading her copy of Ghost World, on burritos.

“I’m training,” Worm said, with a mouthful of beans.

“When is this thing, again?” Danny asked.

“Next week,” said Worm. Worm had entered a burrito-eating contest, put on by their student council. The winner got fifty dollars and their picture put up in the hallway, outside the cafeteria.

“I understand the part about the money,” Danny said. “But why, in God’s name, would you want your picture in the hall?”

“So everybody in our class will know that I’m invincible,” said Worm. “I’ll be a champion. An unstoppable, indestructible figure.”

“I think it’ll just make you look like a girl who gets diarrhea,” said Danny.

“Boys like that,” said Worm. “It means you can hang with the guys. And girls are really intimidated by girls like that.” She took another enormous bite of burrito. “Emily Wagner’s gonna think twice before she tries to fuck with me, again.”

“Didn’t that happen in, like…third grade?”

“Correct,” said Worm. “And she’s been plotting her next move, ever since. According to my calculations, it’s likely to happen this year. And, when it does, I’m going to demolish her.”

“I’m not even sure that she knows you exist, anymore,” said Danny.

“Oh, she knows,” said Worm. “She knows and she’s evil.”

Danny finished the second of the two dollar-burritos he had ordered. “So, are we going out, tonight?”

“Of course,” said Worm. “I was thinking we start with Godzilla, but then I want to move really quickly to the aliens. I want to see if there’s a connection between their behavior.”

Danny bit his lip. “Why don’t we try somewhere new?” he asked.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” asked Worm. “They just moved in. We have to learn everything we can about them.”

Danny bunched up his two burrito wrappers.

“They’re aliens. Here to study us,” Worm said, her chin a repository for taco sauce. “We have to study them, first.”

“Well, what if they see us, just like Ronald Reagan?” Danny asked. “Like: maybe we’ll scare them away.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Worm. “Besides, I doubt Ronald Reagan ever saw us. We were in stealth mode.”

“Okay, but sometimes, when we’re in stealth mode, you talk at full-volume,” said Danny.

“I do not.”

“Sometimes even louder than full-volume,” Danny said. “I’m amazed that we haven’t gotten caught.”

“Would you have some fucking faith in me?” Worm asked. “You know I’m, like…smarter than you are.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“I can’t do this if I don’t have the support of my partner,” said Worm. “And then what’s going to happen? This time, next month, we’ll both be knee-deep in butt probes. I’m talking nightly.”

*

Worm quickly got bored with Godzilla Martha Stewart, in anticipation of the aliens at Whitlock.

“You got some of your mom’s cigarettes, right?” she asked Danny. “I need something to steady my nerves.”

“Why are you nervous?” Danny asked, retrieving two cigarettes he’d stored in an empty pack he’d found in the kitchen trash.

“Well, for one,” said Worm, lighting hers, “my partner is unsupportive.”

“Come on.”

“And, for two: this is a major discovery. We’ll probably have to contact the CIA.”

“The CIA doesn’t deal with extraterrestrials,” said Danny.

“Okay: this is exactly what I’m talking about,” said Worm. “If I’m gonna score a job on the CIA alien beat, I’m gonna need a better Scully.”

“I thought you were Scully.”

“I’m easily the Mulder of the two of us,” said Worm. “Mulder believes.”

“Mulder wants to believe,” said Danny. “It’s on the poster.”

“Okay, well: his poster’s at the correct height,” said Worm. “Mine would be, too, if my partner would support me.”

They settled into the bushes across from the aliens, whose house was, once again, full of switched-on lights.

“Be on the lookout for medical supplies,” Worm said, at full-volume.

Danny peered through the binoculars. “All I see, so far, is a bunch of books.”

“Great. That’s great,” said Worm. “They’re probably all anthropology. They need to know the history of the people, here.”

“What are they even looking for?” Danny asked. “I mean: what’s the big takeaway?”

“They’re probably looking to invade,” said Worm. “It’s much easier to invade a place if you understand how its inhabitants operate.”

“And they can tell that from the contents of our buttholes?”

“They need to understand our biology,” said Worm, taking the binoculars from him. “That way, they know what kind of laser guns to use.”

“They’re in for a hell of a surprise when they look in yours,” said Danny.

“That’s the other reason I’m downing burritos,” said Worm. “I’m setting a trap.”

The two friends were quiet for a while. They watched from the bushes as the mom and dad in the Reagan house shuffled in and out of the living room, retrieving more books with every trip.

“I don’t see either of the kids,” said Worm, binocular-eyed.

“Maybe that means they’re regular human beings,” said Danny. “Like: maybe they’re sleeping.”

“Scully,” Worm said, letting out a fart like a nuclear bomb. “More than likely, they’re out, doing probe work.”

“Jesus, that smells.”

“Focus,” said Worm. She handed the binoculars to Danny.

“They’re not doing probe work,” he said. “I see the son.”

“Hand me those,” said Worm. She quickly pulled the binoculars to her face. “See, I’m telling you: Xenomorphs operate at night.”

“Where did the person who wrote that book even get all this information?” Danny asked.

“I’m going to choose to ignore that,” said Worm. She responded to his comment with another fart. “Oh shit, I see the girl.”

She passed him the binoculars.

“Where?” he asked. There was no sign of Kylie, in the living room.

“Second floor,” said Worm. “The window on the right.”

Danny turned the binoculars toward the bedroom window. There, standing in front of a pink wall, was Kylie. She placed a folded towel on top of her dresser and let down her hair.

“What’s she doing?” Worm asked.

Danny swallowed. Piece by piece, Kylie removed her clothes.

“Danny.”

Danny watched as Kylie undid her bra. He lowered the binoculars before anything precious was revealed.

“Hand them here,” said Worm. “I need to see.”

Danny held onto the binoculars. “We should have another cigarette,” he said.

“Oh. Yes. Yes,” said Worm. “Finally. You’re finally getting excited about this.”

Worm exhaled a big cloud of smoke as Danny struggled to light his cigarette, his pants still tense, in reaction to the window.

“It’s a shame that we don’t have a camera,” Worm said. She stopped chewing on her lip and took another drag. “The CIA’s going to want evidence.”

Danny blushed. “I’m not sure we should be, like…taking pictures.”

“What? Of course we should,” said Worm. “How else are we going to get proof of what’s going on?”

“I just mean…it seems like an invasion of privacy.”

“We’re literally spying on people,” Worm said, peering through the binoculars, again. She lowered them and looked at Danny. “We literally spy on people. Like every night.”

“Yeah, but pictures seem different, somehow,” Danny said, taking the binoculars and looking at the bedroom window. “I mean: what if someone found them?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? No one’s going to find them,” said Worm. “The only people who are ever going to see them are you, me, and the pimply kid at CVS who develops disposable cameras.”

“What if he, like…reports us?” Danny asked.

“He’s not gonna report us,” said Worm. She farted again. “It’s like doctor-patient confidentiality. Plus CVS doesn’t pay their employees enough money to report people. He probably doesn’t give a shit what’s in any of the photos.”

Kylie returned to her bedroom, wrapped in a towel. Danny quickly turned his gaze back toward her parents. “Do you even have a disposable camera?” he asked.

“I’m gonna get one,” said Worm. “After I win the burrito contest, I’ll be able to buy all the disposable cameras I want.”

The binoculars in Danny’s hand tilted, seemingly on their own, back up to Kylie’s bedroom. She brushed her hair and then began to remove her towel.

Danny closed his eyes.

*

The burrito-eating contest was scheduled to take place at the end of Heyday, an annual school-wide event, during which each of the student clubs set up different activities, around the building, and classes were momentarily put on pause. The point was to entice the students to join in extracurricular activities.

“I read online that the best way to prepare for a food contest is to spend the whole day moving around a lot,” Worm told Danny, as they studied the map of all the different clubs in the school. “So I’m thinking I’ll go dance, basketball, aerobics, Frisbee, and track.”

“You’re terrible at sports,” Danny told her. “You got a C minus in gym.”

“Support, Scully.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Support.”

“Okay, well, I’m gonna check out the chess club,” Danny said. “And then maybe drama? I don’t know. I might just walk around.”

“So I’m smarter than you and I’m stronger.”

“I’m not trying to pass out before lunch,” said Danny.

The two of them split up to try their different activities. Danny meandered around the fair, occasionally stopping to observe a club’s shtick but rarely joining in on the fun. He briefly tried his hand at one of the board games set up by the Society of Gaming Students, but quickly got bored and found himself roaming, again.

He was making his way toward the chess club when he heard his name.

Danny turned his head to see Kylie, standing next to the Mathletes’ table. She smiled.

“Hey,” he said.

“Where are you off to?” Kylie asked, walking up to him. “I can’t find anything fun.”

A flash of Kylie’s towel fluttered through Danny’s vision. For a moment, he could see her wrapped up in it, instead of what she was actually wearing, a t-shirt and jeans.

“I was thinking of checking out chess club,” he said, shaking the image from his mind.

“I love chess,” Kylie said. “I’ll join you.” A rock made of guilt settled into Danny’s chest and weighed his whole body down.

The pair made their way toward the corner of the cafeteria where the chess boards were. All of them were occupied. They waited at the edge of the group.

“How’s it…how’s the transition so far?” Danny asked. He didn’t mean to say transition, but it was all he could think of.

“It’s fine,” said Kylie. “I’m used to it, by now—to switching schools. My dad’s in the air force, so we move around a lot.”

Danny saw an opportunity and took it. “Do you live by Wright Patt?”

“No, we’re in Kettering,” said Kylie. “It’s nice. It’s like…a quiet little street.”

Danny blushed. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“Just a younger brother. He’s thirteen. Turning into a real dick.”

“Right. I mean: thirteen.”

“Exactly. Like, I was a dick when I was his age, too.”

“Same,” said Danny.

“How about now?”

“Now?”

“Yeah, now. Like: are you an asshole?”

Danny could feel the phantom limb of the bushes, across from Kylie’s house.

“I…I mean, I don’t think so,” he said. “But that was only a couple of years ago. So, like: probably. You?”

“Oh, I’m definitely a dick,” said Kylie. “I pretend I’m a goody two-shoes to my folks, but I sneak out a lot at night and, like, walk around.”

“Me, too,” said Danny, without thinking.

“Oh yeah? Where do you go? I’m not sure where to wander, yet. Like, we’re still unpacking. I haven’t had time to explore.”

“Um,” said Danny. “I guess to the park, and stuff. Or old buildings.”

Kylie chewed her lip. “Have you ever been to the old Elder-Beerman?”

Danny’s heart stopped. “What?”

“The old Elder-Beerman, in Kettering. It’s right by my house.”

“No. I mean…no,” Danny said.

“You wanna go with me?” she asked.

“I—”

“I wanna see if we can break in. I wanna look at all the mannequins. I don’t think they even have security, anymore.”

“Like, at night?” Danny asked.

“Obviously.”

“Um. Right. Or…” Danny hesitated.

“What?”

“I mean…that sounds like fun,” he said, at last.

“Great,” said Kylie. “My stuff is all out of the living room, so my parents will just assume I’m putting it away, upstairs. Plus, I think they’re pretty burnt-out, from the move. They’ll probably go to bed early.”

“Right. Tonight,” said Danny. “Behind the…I mean: what street?”

“Whitlock Place. The blue house in the middle. You can’t miss it.” She smiled. “Easy-to-find. Right behind the…I mean: you know.”

*

Watching Worm eat twelve burritos in-a-row was like watching a lion, ravaging a gazelle.

“I mean, it was disgusting, but also impressive,” Danny told her afterward, as she counted the money she’d won.

“This is great for us,” said Worm. “I’ll get my dad to stop at CVS on the way home, for cameras.” Her eyes grew wide. “Then we feast.”

Danny looked away. “Haven’t you already, like…feasted?”

“I’m serious: tonight we get the proof the whole world’s been waiting for.”

Danny turned back to look at her. “What are you going to do with the photographs when you get them back?”

“Scully, I told you. I’m taking them to the CIA.

“Worm, I mean, like…really: what are you going to do with them?”

Worm’s smile faded just a little. “I don’t know…hang them up?”

“Won’t your parents get suspicious when they see a wall full of pictures of strangers?”

“I don’t know. I’ll tell them I found them at the thrift store. Like, in an old photo album.”

“Okay, but your dad’s literally taking you to go get the cameras.”

Worm tilted her head up and groaned. “Don’t. Ruin this. For me.”

“Okay, okay,” said Danny. “Sorry.”

Worm smiled, again. “Anyway, I’ll see you tonight. Like, around eleven,” she said.

“I can’t, tonight.”

“You can’t?”

“Let’s…what about tomorrow?” he asked.

“It has to be tonight,” said Worm. “The Xenomorphs are almost done unpacking. We have to catch them in the act.”

“I’m pretty sure the CIA is just going to think it’s people moving. People move all the time.”

“Scully.”

“Okay,” said Danny.

“Why can’t you go tonight, anyway?” asked Worm.

Danny had spent his afternoon preparing a lie. He looked straight-ahead, not at Worm. “Science test,” he said. “Gotta…I have to study.”

“All night?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” he said.

“You never study.”

“That’s why I have to, tonight,” said Danny. “I don’t wanna, like…fail the whole class.”

“What if I come over and help you? I’m way better than you, at this. We can knock out the studying in, like…two hours. And then we can go out!”

“You know my folks won’t go for that,” Danny said. “And, besides, you know: open-door policy. They’ll see us leave.”

“Right,” said Worm. She let out a sigh. “Okay. Okay, then. Tomorrow.”

“Absolutely tomorrow,” said Danny. And the weight of this part of the conversation fell of his shoulders, like a jacket.

*

“Come on. Over here,” said Kylie.

Danny could hardly see, in the dark. Up ahead, the beam from Kylie’s flashlight surfed across countertops and mannequins.

“I’m pretty sure this place is probably haunted,” said Danny.

“All the better reason to check it out,” Kylie said, leading the way through a sea of empty clothing racks and old signage.

Danny tripped, bumping into one of the clothing racks, and quickly made his way back to his feet, quietly praying that she didn’t notice.

“I’m pretty sure my mom used to take us here when I was little,” he said. “Like: stroller-age. The whole place smells like nostalgia.”

“Moms fucking love Elder-Beerman,” said Kylie. “It’s like catnip, or something. I have no idea why.”

“I’m pretty sure she just liked the free perfume,” said Danny. “And all that shit from Land’s End.”

“Do you still go shopping with her?”

Danny’s jeans briefly got caught on some shelving. “My mom doesn’t really take us anywhere,” he said.

“What about your dad?”

“He takes us, like…grocery shopping,” said Danny, pulling denim from metal. “Sometimes to the hobby store. But, in that case, we usually just wait in the car.”

“My mom likes to take me window-shopping,” said Kylie. Her flashlight exposed an old sign that showed stylish children in different-colored cargo shorts. “It’s, like, a Saturday tradition. Like just the two of us. My dad and my brother stay home, mostly. Or he takes my brother to soccer games, like when we’ve been in some town long-enough for him to play.”

“What’s the longest you’ve stayed in one place?” Danny asked.

“I don’t know. Probably California?” Kylie’s voice echoed in the empty kitchenware department. “We were there for two years.”

“Did you like it?”

“I mean…kind of? I didn’t like the school all that much.” She paused. Her flashlight stopped on some shelves that used to hold plates. “I liked the house, though. It was kind-of up in the mountains. Good view.”

Danny blushed. The pair made their way through the first floor. It felt like spelunking—the forgotten signs glyphs, left by prehistoric people. When they’d seen all there was to see, Kylie led them toward the escalators, which were now frozen stairs.

“I get kind-of sick walking up one of these when they’re stopped,” Danny said, as they made their way to the second floor.

“It’s probably all the lines,” said Kylie. “Or maybe your brain just thinks they should be moving and, like, can’t comprehend that they aren’t. Like because it’s, like, wrong, you think you’re probably going to fall.”

“Right,” said Danny. “Right. You’ll get sucked-up into the floor.”

“Exactly.”

Except for the pictures on the old signs, the second floor was exactly like the first.

“Are your parents, like…in love?” Danny asked. They were sitting now, cross-legged on the check-out counter.

“I’m not sure,” said Kylie. “I don’t know, really. Maybe.” She paused and flashed the light on some shelves, a few of which were still occupied with dusty children’s khakis. “Are yours?”

“Oh, God no,” said Danny. He watched as the light touched images of young families, smiling. “Honestly, I’m not sure that they ever were.”

“Does it make you sad?”

Danny thought for a moment. “I think it makes me sad for, like…them. But, like…I’ve never even seen them act really happy toward each other. So, I guess I don’t really know anything else.”

“It’s hard to feel sad when you’ve got nothing to compare it to.”

“I mean. Like, I’d see my friends’ parents. Like, at birthday parties and stuff. Which is how—I guess—I figured it out, in the first place.”

“You’d see other families.”

Danny chewed on his lip. “Um…yeah,” he said.

“Love seems…I don’t know…really tricky,” Kylie said. “Or, maybe not tricky: just complicated.”

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe.”

Kylie looked out at the shelves. “It’s not what it’s made out to be, you know? Like, it’s not like in music.”

“I don’t think so,” said Danny.

“It’s too bad,” said Kylie. “It sounds nice when they talk about it in songs. It sounds easy.”

“Right. Simple.”

“Exactly,” said Kylie. She paused and the whole place was quiet, for a bit. “What would you want it to feel like? You know: like, if one of the songs on the radio really got it right?”

Danny thought for a second. Then he said, “maybe like the Beach Boys.”

“The Beach Boys make it sound so, so simple,” said Kylie.

“You?”

Kylie looked down and smiled. “Van Morrison.”

Danny smiled. “Like Brown-Eyed Girl?”

“No,” she said. “No…no, like…like, I would want it to be like Sweet Thing.”

“I don’t know that one.”

“Oh, it’s great,” said Kylie. “My dad used to play it for me when I was little. Like: back when I wanted to marry my dad.”

Danny smiled. “Did he ever sing it to you? Sometimes my dad used to sing stuff to me. Like a long time ago, I mean,” he said.

“No,” said Kylie. “He wasn’t really like that. He wasn’t like that kind of dad.” She smiled. “But I still knew it was our song.”

“Would you sing it to me?”

Kylie looked up at him. Then she turned away and blushed.

“I’m not a very good singer,” she said.

“Please?”

“No, I really mean it. Like, I’m tone-deaf.”

“I don’t care,” said Danny. “I just want to know how it goes.”

Kylie looked down, again. The room was completely silent.

Danny was about to open his mouth to speak, again, when Kylie’s voice interrupted him and he realized she was singing—quiet, at first, but progressively louder, as her head slowly tilted upright. Danny could see that her eyes were closed. She was not the kind of person who could not sing.

The sound filled the whole floor of the department store. The flashlight lingered on an empty sign frame, as Kylie’s voice reverberated, occupying every square inch of Danny’s chest.

When she had finished singing, the silence in the Elder-Beerman was different. The kids looked at each other.

“That was beautiful,” said Danny.

Kylie blushed. “That’s my song,” she said. “That’s what I want falling in love to feel like.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. And then they leaned in and kissed.

The phantom limb of Kylie’s bathrobe was only a t-shirt, now. The darkness around them was a pale, pink light.

Kylie pulled away, at the peak of their kissing. She was a little out-of-breath and there was a look on her face Danny didn’t recognize. A new look.

“Do you think they still have mattresses here?” she asked.

*

The weekend was spent cleaning gutters, the garage, and half the basement. Danny’s mom remained in his parents’ bedroom the entire time, presumably on the strength of whatever quiet argument he heard his parents having Saturday morning, as he made his way downstairs and to breakfast.

“Calvin, I want you to go through all of the boxes labeled Christmas and get rid of any broken ornaments,” said Danny’s dad. “Danny: I need you to carry all of the ones marked Goodwill to the garage. Next to the cars. Make sure there’s a path to get out.”

By the time each day was finished, Danny’s muscles felt like gel. He fell asleep early, both nights, still in his sweat-riddled clothes.

“Where were you this weekend?” Worm asked, on Monday.

“We spent the whole time doing chores,” Danny said. “I don’t even understand, like…why it had to be like that. Like none of this stuff needs to be done right now.”

“Maybe your mom’s trying to get a jump on spring cleaning.”

“My mom’s not getting any kind of jump on anything,” said Danny. “She spent the whole time watching TV.”

“Jesus,” said Worm. “Your poor dad.”

“The whole thing was her idea,” said Danny. “Like, she announced it on Friday, like it was some kind of important event. She just suddenly declared it and basically said it was all of our jobs.” He pulled his textbook out of his bag. “Like, she kept saying you’re all going to do this, this, and this. I don’t think she ever planned on helping, at all.”

“Why does your dad even stay with her?” Worm asked.

“I think he’s, like…old-fashioned? Like, I don’t think he’s the kind of person who thinks it’s okay to get a divorce.”

“What about her?”

“I don’t know. Her husband does all the work so she doesn’t have to, is my guess,” said Danny.

“It really sounds like true love.”

“Yeah,” said Danny. “Yeah: if love is Hell and/or Purgatory.”

Danny’s mind drifted to Kylie’s quiet, staccato breaths and the mattress, after mattress, all around them.

“Well, I had an excellent weekend,” said Worm. “I mean, while you were in Hell.”

Danny’s mind drifted to the song, to Kylie’s stomach, articulated in what little light shone through the store, as he laid on his back.

“Which, I should mention,” said Worm, rooting around for something in her back pack, “is the only acceptable excuse for missing out on Xenomorphs.”

After, they talked about childhood. After, they laid in a loose knot of limbs. After, they kissed between sentences and Danny realized, for the first time, that Kylie’s eyes weren’t brown—they were green.

“Anyway: while you were too busy to hang out with me, dusting the dust buster, or whatever, I was acquiring…”

After, they held each other close until Danny fell asleep. Kylie let him rest while she counted his freckles, eventually waking him, gently, so he could walk her home.

“…these,” Worm said, triumphantly. She pulled a CVS envelope of photographs from her bag.

Danny blinked several times and turned to look.

“What are those?” he asked.

“I’ll give you literally zero guesses,” said Worm, removing a small stack of pictures from the envelope.

She scooted her desk closer to Danny’s. “I’m gonna give you the entire presentation,” she said. “Like: in order of awesome things that you missed.”

Danny looked down at the photograph on top of the pile. In the middle of the picture, surrounded by nighttime, Godzilla Martha Stewart was ironing clothes in her living room.

“Wait. You didn’t,” he whispered.

“Oh, I did,” said Worm, proudly moving the first photo to the bottom of the stack. “I took most of them on Saturday. I didn’t think I’d get them before the end of the weekend, but: voila.” 

Danny watched as Worm’s hands performed a slideshow of Godzilla’s domestic work.

“Worm,” he whispered.

“They’re great, right?”

“I really don’t think we’re supposed to have—”

“Wait, wait: check out these,” Worm said, turning to a series of photos of the man they called Hot Regis Philbin, watching TV.”

“Worm, I—”

“Shut up. We’re almost to the best ones,” said Worm.

Danny felt his stomach drop. Worm held a photograph of Kylie, standing in her bedroom, wearing the robe.

“Chelsea!”

The pair looked up. Mr. Menahan had a look on his face like a bull about to charge.

“Sorry!” said Worm.

“Are you going to put whatever it is you’re fooling around with back in your book bag, or do I have to take it?”

“I’m putting it away!” said Worm. Mr. Menahan returned to the chalkboard.

“Here,” Worm whispered, shoving the pile of photographs into Danny’s hands. “You can look at them later.”

As Danny shoved the photos into the front pocket of his bag, his eyes lingered on Kylie, and he thought about her song.

*

“You know, I really liked creeping around with you,” said Kylie, in science.

Danny blushed.

“It felt, like…it felt like being kind of bad,” she said. She organized the items on her desk so her notebook was parallel to her pen.

“I had fun, too,” said Danny, unable to help a smile.

“Do you wanna do it again?” Kylie asked.

“Like: sneak out?”

“I mean…among other things,” said Kylie.

Danny’s face looked like a fire engine.

“Um…I mean: yes. Very definitely,” he said.

“Good,” said Kylie.

“What we’re going to do is we’re going to go around the room,” said Mrs. Reese. “As you each turn in your papers, I want everyone to share one sentence from what you wrote.”

Danny froze. He realized, all-of-a-sudden, that he hadn’t completed his homework. He had been too-busy, carrying boxes from the basement to the garage.

“We’ll start in the back,” said Mrs. Reese.

Two desks away from where Danny and Kylie sat, a boy named Bobby Mcharon stood up and read a sentence from his paper. Danny felt a bead of sweat cascade down his face.

Then he reached into his bag. His plan was to look for the paper that didn’t exist, which seemed more fool-proof than just pretending that he’d forgotten it at home. He wanted it to look as if the paper was missing, in real-time.

Bobby handed his homework to Mrs. Reese and returned to his seat.

“I wanna suck your dick,” Kylie whispered, as Jenny Dale read her chosen sentence to the class. Danny’s body stiffened.

“I want to run my tongue along your whole cock.”

Danny tried to focus. He resumed his task, rummaging around for something that didn’t exist.

Kylie leaned down and pinched his leg as Jenny returned to her seat and then stood up to read her sentence.

Danny’s eyes drifted from the contents of his book bag to her smooth, soft legs.

“Danny?”

Danny looked up. He somehow hadn’t notice Kylie’s legs completely disappear from his line of sight as she turned in her paper and returned to her seat.

“Danny: it’s your turn to read your sentence.”

“I’m gonna fuck your brains out,” Kylie whispered, with a grin. Danny looked up at her.

“Danny.”

Danny turned to Mrs. Reese. “I…I can’t, um…find it. For some reason,” he said.

“You can’t find it? Or you didn’t do it?” his teacher asked.

“I did it,” said Danny. “I really did it. I just can’t—”

“I’m gonna get on top of you. And I’m gonna fuck you until you scream,” Kylie whispered.

Danny glanced at her.

“Somehow, I’m having trouble believing you,” said Mrs. Reese. “I don’t know. Call it intuition.”

Danny’s hand suddenly landed on the envelope of photos.

“Do you need assistance looking around in your bag?” Mrs. Reese asked. A few of Danny’s classmates giggled.

Danny felt what seemed like a heat lamp on his shoulders. 

“See me after class,” said Mrs. Reese. She turned to his classmate, sitting next to him. “Travis: you’re up.”

Danny’s hand stayed frozen, in his book bag. Kylie leaned down again and pinched him on the arm.

*

The housework from the weekend swallowed Monday evening, as well. After dinner, Danny’s mom made Danny and his brother and his dad sort through all of the lawn tools and boxes and sports equipment in the garage, claiming that her car was parked in the driveway because of all the shit that was blocking her path. She sat on her bed while the three of them worked, talking on the telephone.

That night, Danny couldn’t sleep. He laid in his bed, counting the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, which had been there when his family moved in. 

He still hadn’t looked at the photos. An hour of tossing, turning, and counting went by, and then two.

Then Danny heard a rock, on his window.

He leaned out, into the night, and saw Worm, holding two disposable cameras.

“I got, like, seven of them,” she said, when Danny reached where she was, in the yard.

“I can’t go out,” he said, ignoring her.

“You’re already out.”

“I just wanted to say hi,” he said.

“Okay, well: hi,” said Worm. “Now, let’s go.”

“Worm.”

“What?” Worm asked. “And don’t say science.”

“No, I’m just—”

“Mrs. Reese wouldn’t give you two tests in two days.”

“I’m just tired, is all,” Danny said. “We had to, like…clean the whole garage.”

“Your garage isn’t even that big,” said Worm. “Come on. We’re losing moonlight.”

“Worm.”

Worm let out a groan. “Are you going to help me get into the CIA or not?” she asked.

“I’m just tired,” said Danny. “Tomorrow. I swear.”

Worm thought for a moment. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, fine.” She paused. “Well, at least tell me what you thought of the photos.”

Danny tried to hide the expression on his face. “Um…yeah. They were great,” he said.

“Aren’t they so good?” asked Worm. “Which one was your favorite?”

Danny blinked. “Um. I really liked the Martha Stewarts,” he said.

Worm paused. She studied him.

“What else?” she asked. “What about the other ones?”

“They were all great,” Danny said. “I liked all of them.”

“Did you like the ones of Pale Pat Sajak?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Danny. “Those were my other favorite ones.”

Worm didn’t say anything. She chewed on her lip.

“What?” asked Danny.

“Nothing,” said Worm. “It’s nothing.”

“No: what?”

“I’m probably gonna go home now,” said Worm.

“What’s wrong?”

“I said: nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re upset.”

“I’m fine.”

“Worm.”

“You didn’t look at the photos,” she said.

There was a pause. A dog barked, a few blocks away.

“Yes I did,” said Danny.

“I didn’t take any Pat Sajak photos,” Worm said. “I didn’t even go to his house.”

Danny swallowed his spit, which seemed to evolve into a bowling ball, as it landed in his stomach.

“Worm.”

“I’m gonna go home now,” said Worm. She turned and started to walk away.

“Worm, wait.”

She stopped. Silence, for an eternal second.

“Some Scully you are,” she said, finally, without looking at him.

Danny watched as the image of her was swallowed by the trees and the dark. Her footsteps seemed to echo in his ears.

*

Kylie explained that she wanted to go while it was still daylight.

“Like: right after school. Like: we go straight there, as soon as we hear the bell.” She had told him she wanted to see—like really see—his body.

Danny thought about the trouble he would get in later, when he got home, as they walked to the old Elder-Beerman, holding hands for the entirety of the trip.

“Keep a lookout, okay?” Kylie said, when they got to the store. “We don’t want anyone to see us, sneaking in.”

Danny watched the small expanse of Kettering, in front of him, flutter about its regular business. He could practically hear his mother’s lecture, already, as he waited for a lone, red Toyota, to pass the ghost town parking lot.

“Okay, now,” he said.

The department store looked different in the daytime—less like it was abandoned and more like it was simply closed, following some kind of blowout sale/American stampede. They fucked on a different bed than last time.

“Maybe your dad really fucked up, or something,” Kylie said, as the two of them laid on the expired mattress.

“Like what?” Danny asked.

“I mean, you’re always saying how mad she is at him. Maybe he did something.”

“It would have to be something really fucking bad,” said Danny. “Like, everything that’s happening has been happening for a while.”

“You know I saw you?” Kylie asked.

“What?”

“I saw you. That night—watching, across the street.”

Danny felt the heat lamp, again—only this time, it seemed to be genuinely burning his skin.

“Oh. Oh, fuck. No, I—”

“I liked it,” said Kylie.

“What?”

Kylie grinned and stretched out on the mattress. Her skin turned gold, in the light. “I liked it,” she said. “I liked…I don’t know: it felt good, for some reason. Funny. Being watched.”

“That’s…I mean…no, it’s just a—”

“I said I liked it.”

Danny paused. “Really?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I felt sexy. Or, like: I liked that somebody wanted to watch me. And then I recognized you in class. Like: right away.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Danny asked.

“I don’t know,” said Kylie. “I mean…I didn’t know why you were doing it, in the first place.”

“But you still hung out with me.”

Kylie paused and thought for a second. “Why do you do it?”

Danny tried to hide his reddened face in the shadows. “It’s just kind of…it’s like a game,” he said.

“A game.”

“I mean: kind of. I guess.”

“What’s the game?” asked Kylie.

“It’s really stupid.”

“Well, what is it? Can I play?”

Danny studied her face. It felt like everything she was saying was somehow real.

“It’s just this thing of, like…like: you go around and look for houses that still have their lights on. And you make up stories about the people, inside,” he said.

“You make up stories?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, what kind of story did you make up about me?” she asked.

Danny felt himself accidentally grin. “That you’re an alien,” he said.

“An alien?”

“Like a Xenomorph,” said Danny. “Like: your whole family.”

“Well, we’re definitely not Xenomorphs,” she said.

“No, no: it’s not, like…a bad thing. It’s more like—”

“But we are aliens,” she said. “Although, now that I know there’s surveillance, we might have to move, again.”

Danny paused for a second. A strange thought entered his mind. “You’re not really moving, are you?” he asked.

“Are you kidding? We’ve been spotted. Who knows who you’re working for?”

“No, but like—”

“Who is it, anyway? The FBI? CIA?”

“You’re not really moving, though.”

Kylie became quiet. She looked down at her feet.

“You just got here,” said Danny.

“It’s a whole, like…my dad—it’s a whole thing. I honestly don’t get it.”

“You’re leaving?”

Kylie continued to look at her feet. Slowly, she turned to meet his gaze.

“If it helps at all, I’ll, like…actually miss you,” she said to him.

“No, but like—no, this is crazy. I mean: where—”

“Colorado,” said Kylie.

Danny’s heart felt like a building, scheduled for demolish.

“But you just got here,” he said, turning away from her.

“You can write me letters,” she said. “If you want, I mean.”

Danny was quiet. Then he let out a half-hearted, “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t be said,” said Kylie. “Please?”

“I just…I don’t know...I mean: I really like you.”

“I really like you, too,” Kylie said. “But this is just…I don’t know. This is just happening.”

Danny fought back what felt like hot tears. He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t look at anything in the world.

*

“I’ve decided to forgive you, but only because it’s not as fun looking at houses without your mom’s cigarettes,” Worm told Danny, the next day, at school.

“Right,” said Danny. “Um. Yeah, thanks.”

He stared at the faux-wood grain that papered his desk.

“Even though you didn’t apologize, I’ll forgive you,” said Worm.

Danny said nothing, then blinked his eyes and let out a low, “Sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Worm said, smiling. “Officially.”

“Okay,” said Danny. “I mean: thanks.”

“I should tell you, though: my forgiveness is conditional,” said Worm. “I don’t care if your mom makes you re-carpet your whole entire house: tonight, you’re going out with me.”

“What?” asked Danny.

“Tonight. You have to.”

Danny winced. He had agreed to sneak into the department store with Kylie, again. “While we’ve still got time,” she’d told him.

“Can we do tomorrow?” he asked.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” asked Worm. “This is a one-time offer.”

“I just—”

“I’m serious,” she said. “Either you go out with me, or I’ll be mad, again.”

“Why can’t it be tomorrow?” he asked.

“Because.”

“Yeah, but what’s so important? Like: that we have to—”

“Danny, what the fuck is going on?”

“What?”

“You’ve been acting weird literally all week. And now you’re acting even weirder. What the fuck is happening?”

Danny stared at his desk.

“What? Is it, like, mom stuff?” asked Worm.

The faux wood grain produced no pareidolia. It didn’t look like anything but wood.

“Because we can…I mean, we talk about mom stuff like all the time. That’s normal for us,” said Worm.

Danny closed his eyes.

Worm continued: “I mean: what could she possibly have done that’s so fucked-up that—”

“Kylie’s moving,” said Danny. He opened his eyes, but didn’t turn to look at her.

Worm sat back in her chair. She blinked several times and then turned, again, to look at him and then asked, “Who is Kylie?”

*

“So it’s not just you, sneaking around?” Kylie asked. The department store was dark, like the first time.

“We do it together,” said Danny.

The two of them sat up, on the mattress, smoking Danny’s mom’s cigarettes, indoors.

“So she saw me, too?” Kylie asked.

“…yeah,” Danny said, looking down.

“Hot,” said Kylie. She giggled.

“I’ll never understand that,” said Danny.

“I feel like I’ve explained it pretty well.”

“You really aren’t mad?” he asked.

“No! I think it’s, like…I mean, you’re a total creep, but it’s…I kind of like that about you,” said Kylie.

“That just seems crazy to me.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “We move around so much. Half the time, I don’t feel like I’m even in any place long-enough to make any friends. And, when I do, it’s like I’m not even there long-enough to really stick out in anyone’s memory. It’s like I’m probably like a ghost, or something. I just kind of float through people’s lives. I might as well never have been there at all.” She looked at him. “At least, here, I know that somebody saw me.”

Danny turned to face her. “I like that,” he said.

“Yeah, me too,” said Kylie. She smiled and leaned in to kiss him.

“I should show you the photos,” Danny said, before their lips could touch.

Kylie pulled away from him, slowly. “What?”

“Worm took them. They’re really…I don’t know. You look, like…really beautiful.”

“You took photos?”

“That way, you’ll have proof that someone saw you, you know? That you weren’t just a ghost, here.”

“You took photos?”

That was the last night that he ever saw her. The night she faded from the photographs. The night she truly turned into a ghost.

*

“You told her?” Worm asked, the next day, in class.

“I thought she would like it,” said Danny. “I don’t know. It was stupid. Stupid thing to do.”

“Did you tell her I took the photos?”

Danny didn’t say anything.

“Danny. You know I can get in, like…I could go to jail,” said Worm.

“You’re not going to go to jail.”

“Yes I can,” said Worm. “If she reports me, yes I can. I looked it up.”

“I don’t think she’s going to report you,” said Danny.

“Well, where are they, now?”

“Where are what?”

“The photos, you dick. What did you do with them?” asked Worm.

“I burned them.”

“You what?”

“She made me. We, like…like, after we left Elder-Beerman, she made us go back to my house and go up and get them and show her. Then she made me burn them.”

“You burned my photos?”

“Just the ones of her,” said Danny. “She let me keep the rest.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Danny asked. “If I kept them, she probably would have called the cops.”

“I worked really hard to get those,” said Worm. “I ate twelve burritos.”

“Yeah, well,” Danny said. “She’s gone, now, anyway.”

Worm looked down at her desk. She looked up at him. Danny’s eyes glistened, with sadness. His collarbones stuck out. She looked at his arms, then his hands. Then she looked at her desk, again.

“I guess it’s fine,” she muttered.

“Look: I’m sorry,” said Danny.

“I said: it’s fine.”

The pair were silent for a minute. The rest of their class slowly shuffled into the room and took their seats.

“Well…I mean…are you doing anything tonight?” she asked him, eyes on everything in the world, except his body.

*

They decided to go down some blocks they’d never gone down, before. Danny wasn’t sure when Kylie’s family was vacating the Reagan house, officially, and Worm had gotten bored with Martha Stewart.

“So you, like…really liked her?” Worm asked Danny, as they crossed Indian Ripple Road.

“I guess,” said Danny. “I mean, I’m actually not even sure what that means.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know what that means?” Worm asked. “Everyone knows what that means. You literally either like someone, or you don’t.”

“I don’t know,” said Danny. “Sometimes, I think I’m, like…incapable of really feeling it.”

“But you guys fucked,” Worm said. “You bumped uglies.”

“Bumped uglies?”

“It means fucked.”

“Okay, well: maybe that’s all that it was,” said Danny. “Maybe we were just, like…being teenagers.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” asked Worm.

“What? Do people who fuck all, like, like each other?”

“I’m pretty sure they do,” said Worm.

“My parents fuck,” said Danny. “I mean: I think they do. And they…I mean…”

“That’s probably different,” said Worm. “Like: they’re married.”

“I guess you’re right,” said Danny. He reached into his book bag for cigarettes. “You know Devin Schultz, right?”

“Yeah. He’s an asshole.”

“I used to sleep over at his house, sometimes.”

“Gross.”

“Like, two years ago, I mean,” Danny said. “He’s got an older sister who’s, like…five years older than him, named Gemma.”

“Also gross. Her name, I mean.”

“Anyway, one time, when I was over there, she was on the computer with her friend in, like, the same room as us, and they were talking while we were playing video games about how, like…sometimes, I guess, people—like adults—will date a couple who’s been together for a long time. Like a husband and wife. And her friend said something about how, like…the point wasn’t just to have sex: the point was to see another shape of a relationship—like, one that was different than their parents’.”

“People really do that?”

“That’s what her friend said.”

Worm thought for a moment. “Let’s head over there,” she said, pointing. “There’s a light, I think.”

They made their way toward a green house with a front yard, full of trees.

“I don’t think I could date a whole couple,” said Worm. “I feel like it would be really hard.”

“Maybe,” said Danny. They settled into the bushes, across the street from the house. “Who would you date?”

Worm watched as the clouds unrolled from the moon and lit up the contours of Danny’s face. “I don’t know,” she said, turning toward the house and pulling the binoculars from her bag.

“You don’t like anybody?” Danny asked.

“I don’t like anybody even in a non-romantic way,” said Worm. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to, like…like-like someone.”

“You’ve got to like somebody.”

“I literally don’t,” said Worm.

“You said it, yourself. You said everybody does.”

“No, I said everybody knows what it means.”

“How can you know what it means if you’ve never even felt it?” Danny asked.

“I don’t know. Whatever,” said Worm.

For a moment, they turned to look at each other. For a moment, that was all that they did.

Worm turned away, again, and pulled the binoculars to her face.

“No one, yet,” she said.

Danny let out a breath. “Do you see anything?”

“Just a bunch of tacky, like…sports posters,” said Worm.

“What? Does a thirteen year-old live here?”

“Whoever it is, they’re clearly an idiot,” said Worm.

“What kind of adult has sports posters in their living room?”

“Wait,” said Worm. “Wait, I see something. People.”

For the first time since they’d met, Danny noticed the outline of Worm’s jaw. For the first time, since they’d met, he noticed her neck. He noticed her cheek bones, rounding down underneath the binoculars. He noticed her fingers. He noticed—

“They’re kissing,” said Worm.

Danny didn’t look at the window. For the first time, he noticed how excited the game really made her. For the first time, he noticed how playful she was—not just in the game, but in life.

“Wait…”

For the first time, Danny noticed everything.

“Wait, Danny…”

He opened his mouth to speak. The words felt like rain, about to fall. And then, just as the clouds were about to give in to the weight they’d been carrying, all this time, Worm lowered the binoculars and turned and said, “Danny, it’s your mom.”

 

 

 

 

 

Toni Kochensparger was born in Kettering, Ohio and now lives in Ridgewood, New York, where they write jokes on trash that they find on the street. Their short stories can be found in Kelp Journal, miniMAG, Caveat Lector, Bulb Culture Collective, Free Spirit, Alien Buddha, Two Two One, and Scribble.