Archive of Our Own

Paperboy stared up at the slats of Billy’s bed. He’d been laying there for a long time now, since at least ten-thirty.

When he’d first arrived, that was how he thought of it. Not as a resurrection , but an arrival—he’d spent a lot of time under Billy’s bed. Any moment he was alone, he’d crawl underneath and use the bright red blanket to curtain the gap between the floor and the bed frame. He liked it down there. It was peaceful, hidden away. Quiet too, the only sound being Ladybird’s huffed breathing.

It was a bit of a squeeze, the two of them under there, but Paperboy didn’t mind. He liked being able to roll onto his side and bury his face in her fur. He liked the warmth of another living being beside him. 

Only, Billy’s mom had a habit of walking into her son’s bedroom unannounced. Twice she’d caught Paperboy curled up under the bed. She’d laughed both times, shaken her head and called him a ‘silly billy’ which made him want to rip his own teeth out. 

But it had also made her worry. That was the thing about Billy’s parents. They worried so damn much. He’d heard them talking about him when they thought he was asleep. The two of them sat in the lounge on the second floor, the tv a dull drone in the background. 

“You don’t think it’s because of school starting, do you?” Billy’s mother had asked. “It could be his nerves acting up.”

Billy had been nervous apparently, Paperboy noted from his spot, halfway down the stairs. Or at least, he could be nervous. 

Billy’s mother continued, “You remember Annie Miller from church? Well, she says it’s around his age that boys start acting funny. She thinks it’s absolutely nothing to worry about, but I just don’t know.”

Paperboy winced. For a reason he couldn’t quite pin down, the idea of someone he had no memory of knowing all about his and Billy’s life made him uneasy. He didn’t know ‘Annie’, even if Billy had once upon a time, but she sure knew a lot about him. 

Billy’s father had considered this. He’d been silent for so long that Paperboy had started wondering whether it was worth returning to Billy’s room for the night. Then, he’d heard the slight shift of the older man adjusting in his seat. The sharp hiss of a match against the striking surface of its box. 

Paperboy tilted his head back and drew in a deep, long breath. Billy must have liked the smell of his father’s pipe tobacco because it made Paperboy feel weirdly safe. 

Finally, Billy’s father spoke up. “It’s strange,” he admitted. “It’s more than nerves, I’m sure of that. You remember what he was like when he got to play Gabriel? A right bundle of nerves, but it was…” He gave an exhale and the scent of smoke grew stronger. “It wasn’t him being scared, he was excited.” 

“He’s not seven anymore, Harvey.” 

“I know, I know. He’s just…I know these past two years have been hard on him but—” 

Paperboy had left before he heard the rest. He’d scurried right back to Billy’s room. He didn’t want to hear it. 

After that, he’d started waiting for the Showalters to go to sleep before hiding himself away. He always made a point of setting Billy’s alarm to a time before he knew they’d get up. Just in case. The last thing he needed was Billy’s father coming in to say goodbye before work only to find his son’s bed mysteriously empty. 

Paperboy didn’t like being in Billy’s room. He didn’t like being in Billy’s house. He didn’t like making his parents worry and he didn’t like how obvious it was that he wasn’t their son. It was only a matter of time before they put two and two together. 

The girl, Gwen Blake, had said that they had muscle memories. That their bodies knew things even if they themselves did not. He didn’t quite agree with that metaphor. 

There were things he knew: The Grabber, the basement, the belt. The wave of cold that flooded through your body as it drew its final breath. 

And there were things Billy knew: basically everything else. 

Though he couldn’t remember being Billy Showalter, Paperboy’s brain was full of facts and knowledge he’d left behind. Stuff like how his father never missed a Broncos game or the route he had to ride to deliver all his papers on time. The thing was, Paperboy just couldn’t remember exactly how or where Billy had learned them. 

Billy, for example, had known about changelings. They were these things from Irish folklore, children who had been stolen away by the fae and replaced. Was that what he was? A changeling left behind by death?

Once or twice he’d tried to remember, for Billy’s parent’s sake more than his own. He’d closed his eyes and tried to picture himself and Billy as one and the same. He just couldn’t.

Billy had known that when a house was on fire, you needed to touch a door handle with the back of your hand before you opened it. That way if the metal was heated up you wouldn’t burn your palm. Billy’s memories were kind of like that door. Whenever Paperboy tried to remember, it was like he’d stuck his hand directly on molten hot metal. An overwhelming, guttural scream that reverberated throughout his entire body. 

Don’t. You won’t like what you find. 

The shrill ring of Billy’s alarm clock brought him back to reality. He scrambled out from under the bed to switch it off before it could wake either of Billy’s parents. The clock face read four-thirty. Had he even slept? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember a lot of things. The thought made him laugh, the sound was hollow in his chest. 

One thing Paperboy did like was his route. He liked being the only person awake in the whole house. He liked imagining that he was the only human awake in the whole of Galesburg. Like being under Billy’s bed or the scent of Harvey Showalter’s pipe, it made him feel weirdly safe. 

He took his time delivering the papers that morning, trailing from house to house with Ladybird plodding along after him. By the time he got back home, both Billy’s parents were fixing breakfast in the kitchen. 

They made most meals together, that was another thing Paperboy had noticed. They always ate breakfast and dinner as a family. Sometimes, he got the feeling that they expected him to join them and help out with the cooking, but he wasn’t entirely sure. 

“Morning, Billy-bob,” Billy’s father called. He pushed a stack of newspapers, mail and documents to one side, giving him enough room to set a plate of bacon and eggs on the kitchen table. “How was your ride?” 

“It was fine.” Paperboy slid into Billy’s usual seat at the head of the table. On TV, that seat seemed to always be reserved for the father of the house. Not in the Showalter household. He picked a rasher of bacon off his plate and dropped it on the floor for Ladybird. She snapped it up and swallowed it in a single gulp. 

Billy’s mother shook her head as she sat down. “Chew your food or you’ll choke,” she said to the dog. She spoke to her like she was a second child. “Are you all ready for your friend’s birthday?”  

The first bite of his breakfast stuck in Paperboy’s throat. What friend? One of Billy’s he had to assume. He reached for a glass of orange juice. “Oh. Yeah.” 

“Griffin’s mom called me last night,” she added. “She wasn’t too sure if you knew their address. Hang on, I wrote it down somewhere.” She stuck her fork in her mouth and started to search through the mess of bits and bobs that littered the table. “Ah. Here you go,” she said around her mouthful. She held out a scrap of paper, an address written on it in a looping script. 

Paperboy took it, a great sigh of relief washing over him. He didn’t know much, but Griffin Stagg apparently forgetting to tell him that he was invited to his birthday? That made sense. Said relief was short-lived. 

“He’s one of the boys from your study group, isn’t he?” Billy’s father asked. “What did you get him?”

“Oh. Uh.” Paperboy took another huge bite of his eggs. “Nothing special. Just something small.” 

He wanted to slam his head against the table. He wanted to crawl under Billy’s bed and never come out again. 

It didn’t help that Billy’s mother insisted on him ‘dressing up smart’ for the party. 

“I don’t know why you keep insisting on wearing that thing,” she’d said when he came out wearing his red jacket. “It’s good for your route but it’s not exactly party clothes.” 

Paperboy didn’t know how to explain to her that it was the only piece of clothing in Billy’s closet that felt like his . So he didn’t. He just put on the dress shirt and trousers she picked out. At least she let him ride to the Stagg’s house on his own. Well. Not entirely on his own. 

“Ladybird!” Griffin practically screamed her name as he opened the door. In a second, he was on his knees, his arms wrapped around the golden retriever’s neck. 

She woofed in reply. Her tail wagged a mile a minute as she licked up the side of his face.

“Your mom won’t mind, will she?” Paperboy asked as he leaned his bike against the Stagg’s porch. 

Griffin shook his head. “She’s working,” he explained, scratching Ladybird behind her ears. 

Paperboy’s brow furrowed. “It’s Saturday,” He pointed out. And your birthday, he added in his  head.

“Yep.” Griffin popped the p at the end of the word. “She’s got tomorrow off though. That’s when we’re going to celebrate.” He sat back on the balls of his feet and looked up at Paperboy. “I didn’t want her to think I was spending my birthday alone so I said you were coming over.” He laughed as he spoke, but there was a sad edge to his words. “I didn’t think she’d actually call your mom. Sorry about that.” 

Paperboy shrugged. “It’s fine.” He reached into the basket of his bike and pulled out his present. He’d grabbed a shoebox from the bottom of Billy’s closet and wrapped it up in Christmas paper. Griffin’s eyes widened at the sight. 

“Holy shit, is that for me?” He jumped to his feet, hands waving excitedly up and down. 

“Uh. It’s nothing special.” Paperboy looked down at the present. It was hastily wrapped, the corners of the paper already starting to become unstuck, and it was light as air. He held it out awkwardly. 

Griffin grabbed it. If he was disappointed by just how light the box was, he didn’t show it. Instead, he held it up and shook it by his ear, listening to the steady rattle and thump of the contents inside. His eyes caught Paperboy’s and he paused, like he was just noticing him for the first time. “You guys can come in,” he said. He took a step back into his house and Paperboy followed. 

For a kid who seemed to be allergic to everything and anything, Griffin’s bedroom was remarkably dusty. It was a simple room, similar to Billy’s in a few ways. A single, unmade bed pressed against the far wall, dirty laundry hamper overflowing, clean clothes crumpled at the foot of his bed. 

Griffin placed the present on his bed and turned to face Paperboy. It was like he was looking at his own bedroom with fresh eyes.

“Uhhh.” An uneasy smile tugged at the side of Griffin’s mouth. “Sorry, it’s a mess.” He pushed a pile of toys under his bed with his foot. 

“It’s fine,” Paperboy said. He liked it, if he was honest. All the mess, the army soldiers and action figures littering the floor, the empty jars lined up along the windowsill, it all said ‘GRIFFIN’. 

He closed the door behind him. There was a note stuck on the inside with tape:

Happy Birthday Bucky! 

Will be home around 7 

Will bring pizza!!

Call me or Danny if you need anything

Love Mom xx

Griffin’s cheeks flushed and he pushed past Paperboy, ripping down the note. “Ignore that.” He folded it in half again and again until it made a neat little square before stuffing it in his pocket. 

“Is Danny your mom’s boyfriend?” Paperboy asked. 

“Oh! Yeah. He’s really nice actually.” Griffin stuffed his arm into his laundry hamper in an attempt at tempering down some of the clothes that stuck out of it. “I think they’re gonna get married.” 

“Oh.” 

“Which is weird because he didn’t exist two weeks ago, you know?” 

“You didn’t exist two weeks ago,” Paperboy pointed out. 

Griffin laughed. “Neither did you!” He kicked a stuffed, cream-coloured rabbit in a waistcoat at Paperboy. 

Ladybird took that as an invitation to play. She swiped up the toy by its ears, its little paws brushing against the ground. 

“Hey! Give that back.” Griffin dropped his present on his bed and made a mad grab for the rabbit. He held on to its legs and pulled. That only excited her more. Ladybird pulled back, her tail wagging. “Drop it! Drop it!” 

“Ladybird, leave it,” Paperboy ordered. Ladybird immediately obeyed, opening her jaws at the exact moment Griffin gave another tug. He stumbled backwards one, two, three steps. His bare foot stamped down on one of the abandoned army soldiers and he yelped, hopped up on one foot and promptly fell back on his butt with a thud. 

Before Paperboy could even start to ask if he was okay, Ladybird had jumped on Griffin. She licked his cheek, woofing happily. 

Paperboy watched Griffin laugh for a moment before he looked away. He motioned to shove his hands into his pockets but paused when he realized that he wasn’t wearing his jacket. He opened and closed his hands before he let them drop to his side. 

Would Billy have laughed? He wasn’t sure. He was pretty sure he would have, but Paperboy just couldn’t bring himself to. He felt like someone had encased his chest in a glass dome. The potential for emotions was there, it just couldn’t escape.

He searched for something else to occupy his mind. His gaze drifted over to Griffin’s windowsill where five jars stood in a neat row. Each of the jars contained a haphazard assortment of leaves and twigs stuffed into the bottom, most were dried to skeletons by the sun. 

“I used to collect bugs,” Griffin explained. He pushed himself to his feet, rubbing at his tailbone. He pointed to what looked like an old pickle jar. Inside a twig was propped up diagonally. The husk of a cocoon hung limply from it. “That hatched the day I got back,” he said with a puff of pride. “When I woke up, it was just there drying its wings. I wish I had a camera, it was really pretty.” 

“What kind was it?” Paperboy asked. 

“A sleepy orange.” 

Paperboy nodded like those words meant anything to him. He leaned forward and inspected the rest of the jars more closely. Though they were all set up to house a bug, their lids had all been pried off. They rested beside the open jars. 

“Where are they?” he asked. 

Griffin rubbed his nose on the back of his hand. “I let them go. The grasshopper is still around though, I can hear him at night.” He laughed his familiar high-pitched giggle. “Felt mean keeping them locked up.” 

Paperboy nodded again. He didn’t really have anything to say to that. 

Griffin coughed. “So.” He whirled around on his heel to face the abandoned present.  He rubbed his hands together, a massive great grin splitting his cheeks. 

“It’s nothing special,” Paperboy warned again as Griffin tore through the wrapping paper. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous about it. Maybe Billy had been a giving person. Maybe, if Billy was here, he’d have gone out of his way to get the most perfect gift. Something that would fit effortlessly with the confused mess that was Griffin’s room. 

Paperboy had expected Griffin to rip the wrapping paper to shreds. Instead, he picked at the tape with his thumbnail, smoothing the hastily folded creases. He was practically vibrating with excitement as he peeled the paper away from the box in a single, unbroken piece. He placed it to one side and, in a flash, yanked the shoebox lid free.

“Holy shit!” Griffin cried, his left hand flapping manically up and down. “ Holy shit!” He grabbed the box and shook it like a goldpan. The coins and bills inside clinked and jangled loudly against each other. Griffin whirled to Paperboy “Is this seriously all for me?” 

The question was such a sincere mix of awe and excitement that it made Paperboy pause. 

“Yeah.” He said the word like he was testing the water. Billy didn’t have a lot, Paperboy had thrown out most of his toys and posters and books on his first day. So, he’d ended up turning out half of Billy’s piggy bank. It wasn’t like he was going to use it anyway.

Griffin hopped up and down on the balls of his feet. His happiness was infectious. Ladybird tapped from paw to paw, her tail moving so fast that her entire backside wriggled. 

“Thank you!” Griffin said. “Thank you!” 

Paperboy blinked. “You’re welcome,” he said. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like…so I thought you could get something for yourself.”

Griffin pushed his bedcovers to one side, clearing enough space for him to tip out the contents of his gift. His hands moved in a blur, stacking coins and bills. “I’ve got an idea,” he said. His eyes darted over cash, calculating the value in his head. “Hey, Ladybird? Want to go walkies?” 

Ladybird’s head cocked sharply to the side and for a moment she went completely still. Then, she was off like a firework, jumping and barking with the energy of a dog more than half her age. 

Paperboy went to put his hands in his pockets again. He missed his jacket. “Where are we going?” he asked as Griffin scooped up the change.

“Grocery store first,” Griffin said. “And then to Mackenzie’s .” He said the word like Paperboy would be impressed by it, but it just rang hollow in his ears. 

“Oh.” Paperboy pulled his lips into a smile. It was the same smile he did when Billy’s parents called him out into the living room to watch M*A*S*H*. A “ you’re happy, so I guess I should be too” kind of smile. It worked like a charm on the Showalters, not so much on Griffin. 

“You don’t know about Mackenzie’s?!” he asked, like Paperboy had said he didn’t know about chocolate or ice cream. “You’ve got to have muscle memory about that? Really? Nothing?” He leaned forward and rapped his knuckles playfully against Paperboy’s brow. “Anything in there?” 

Paperboy shrank back. He swatted Griffin’s hand away, the movement far faster and stronger than he’d intended. 

Griffin let his hand fall back to his side. “Sorry. I was only joking.” 

“It’s fine.” Paperboy’s shoulders rose up to his ears. “I just don’t remember it.” 

Griffin’s brow creased. He rubbed at his nose again, paused, and wiped his hand on his shorts. “Alright. Well, I’ll show you it. It’s really cool! Best shop in Galesburg.” He darted to his bedroom door. “Come on!” 

---

They ended up taking the long route to Mackenzie’s, winding through the streets of what passed as downtown Galesburg. It was really just a block or so where most of Galesburg’s stores were haphazardly pushed together. Paperboy had been there before, of course, to pick up his papers from the newsagent on the corner, but he’d never really paid much attention to the stores surrounding it. 

There was Black Cat Supplies , though he hadn’t stepped foot in there since Gwen Blake had made him buy her tarot cards. A cafe too, where old ladies and moms sat around tables, and a diner that reeked so strongly of coffee and onions that he could smell it as they passed. 

Griffin stopped them outside the grocery store at the very end of the block. Paperboy had to wait outside with Ladybird as, according to Griffin, the owner had a weird vendetta against anything that walked on four legs. 

So, Paperboy waited, holding up his and Griffin’s bikes with Ladybird sitting patiently at his feet. 

He watched through the storefront window as Griffin moved from shelf to shelf, one finger pressed to his lip. 

Had Billy shopped there before? He must have. Galesburg was a pretty small town, all things considered, and it wasn’t like there was anything better for him to do. Paperboy closed his eyes and tried to picture it. Billy buying groceries with his mother, family trips to the diner, getting his hair cut at the barbers by the Grab n’ Go. He scrunched up his face. He could picture it, he just couldn’t picture himself. He couldn’t picture the person that was both Paperboy and Billy Showalter. 

He thought of the door again, the one with the fire burning brightly on the other side.

You won’t like what you find .

There was a reason he didn’t want to remember, Paperboy knew that with all his heart and soul. But at the same time, he didn’t— couldn’t —remember exactly what that reason was. 

Billy had left him with the memories of The Basement, the memories of beatings and blood and the coldness of death. If those were the memories good enough to be worth keeping, just how bad were the ones that came before it?

He thought about that a lot. Mostly at night under Billy’s bed, when there was nothing to think about but that or The Basement.

He felt that same weird pull. That sharp no reverberated through his entire body. 

You won’t like what you find.

“I got the stuff!” Griffin beamed, interrupting Paperboy’s train of thought. He huddled a bag of groceries to his chest. “Don’t look,” he warned as he placed the groceries into Paperboy’s basket. He tucked over the top of the bag, hiding its contents from view. “It’s a surprise. Come on, I’ll show you Mackenzie’s. It’s not far.” He grabbed his bike and pushed it down the sidewalk, not even bothering to hop on. 

Paperboy stared down at the brown-paper parcel in the basket. It was decently heavy. Part of him wanted to peek inside, but he really didn’t want to ruin Griffin’s fun. Not on his birthday. 

Mackenzie’s, as it turned out, was on the opposite side of the block. It was a small store, filled with thin aisles of shelves packed to the brim. 

The sign above the door read: Mackenzie’s Toy Emporium.  

Paperboy wouldn’t call it an Emporium. He’d call it a glorified closet. 

Griffin tugged open the door. A bell rang high above their heads. 

“Tada!” He gestured inside with a flourish. “Cool right?” 

Paperboy put as much energy into his voice as he could manage. “Yeah. Really cool.” 

He stuck his head inside the store. Black Cat Supplies had been bigger, which surprised him. Surely the people of Galesburg had more need for a toy store than they did weird witchy stuff. 

Ladybird pushed through his legs, strutting into the store as if she owned the place.

“Hey!” Paperboy hurried after her. Call it muscle memory, but he was pretty sure most shop owners didn’t take kindly to animals. Especially ones that shed as much hair as Ladybird. 

Ladybird weaved expertly through the shelves, past baby dolls and board games, action figures and Lite Brites . Paperboy tried to grab at her collar to haul her back outside, but she was having none of it. 

Finally, they came around the final shelf to the store counter. An old man sat behind it. He was probably the oldest person Paperboy had ever seen, with big round glasses, leathery skin and a bald sun-spotted head. He looked up as Paperboy and Ladybird approached. His eyes widened and for a moment Paperboy was sure he was about to get into massive trouble. 

“Why, hello there, Ladybird. It’s been a while.” 

Paperboy froze. Alarm bells blared in his head as Ladybird padded over to the counter. The man behind it stood up, reaching over to pet her head with gnarled fingers.

Griffin rounded the corner. “You know him?” he asked, looking back and forth between Paperboy, Ladybird and the old man. 

Paperboy met Griffin’s eye. He didn’t know how to communicate that he really didn’t know who this guy was. Billy had, that was clear, but he had absolutely no clue. 

“How have you been, stranger?” The old man asked, settling back. Just watching him move made Paperboy’s joints hurt. 

Paperboy nibbled at his bottom lip. “Um. Good. Sir.” 

The old man barked a laugh. “Sir? So you’ve learned some manners while you were away did you? Now. Where have you been, hmm? You disappeared on me for a bit.” 

Paperboy looked at Griffin again. He tried screaming in his head, a mental message: HELP ME.

Griffin seemed to understand. “He’s been really busy with work, Mr. Mackenzie, ” he put heavy emphasis on the man’s name. 

The man, Mr. Mackenzie looked over his glasses at Griffin. He hummed. “You’re Christine Stagg’s boy, aren’t you?” 

Griffin nodded. “Yep.” 

“I see you looking in my window from time to time. I’m glad you finally decided to come in for yourself.” Mr Mackenzie glanced between the two of them.  “I didn’t know you two were friends.” 

“Really? We’ve known each other for ages.” Griffin stepped forward.  

Paperboy was more than happy to let Griffin take the lead in the conversation, but Mr. Mackenzie wasn’t. “Have you come for anything specific, Billy?” 

Billy . It made Paperboy squirm. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like it when adults took an interest in him, especially men. 

“It’s my birthday!” Griffin said with a great grin. 

“Is it now? How old are you turning? Ten?”

“I’m fourteen!” 

Mr. Mackenzie’s eyes widened behind his glasses. “You’re joking!” He leaned forward, making a thing out of looking Griffin up and down. “No, no. You can’t be a day over seven.” 

There wasn’t anything particularly scary or threatening about the way Mr. Mackenzie looked. He had a Santa Claus quality to him, minus the beard, and Griffin seemed to trust him well enough. But, Paperboy knew that not all monsters looked like monsters. In fact, the worst ones were often those who passed by unnoticed. 

“Actually, I wanted to show you something,” Mr. Mackenzie continued and Paperboy realized he was talking to him. “We got a small box of these, and you know the moment I saw them I thought to myself ‘now, this is something Billy Showalter would just die for’.” Mr. Mackenzie reached into his pocket and produced a small pack of gum. He held it out across the counter. One stick was pushed out a little further than the rest, ready to be taken. 

Again, there was nothing inherently sinister about the gesture. He was clearly the owner of this shop. He knew Billy and Ladybird, so perhaps they’d been regular customers. That had to be it. Yes. He was a salesman showing off a product. So, why were Paperboy’s palms so clammy? Why did his heart feel like it was about to burst out of his mouth? 

Paperboy knew why. 

Because the last adult to offer Billy something like this—a warm smile and a kind gift—had been the one to put him in a shallow grave. 

“Can I see?” Griffin asked, a little too loudly. Maybe he’d sensed Paperboy’s discomfort.

Mr. Mackenzie blinked, a little startled for a moment. Then, his expression became something childish. He smiled and it reached all the way to his eyes, crinkling their edges. “Of course.” He shifted to face Griffin, holding out the packet. “Take one.” As he spoke, Mr. Mackenzie looked past Griffin, to Paperboy. He winked. 

Panic shot through Paperboy like an electric current. It rooted him to the spot. His mouth filled with the stinging, phantom taste of something bitter and chemical. 

A rough hand on his shoulder, an arm around his middle yanking him backwards. Ladybird’s friendly eyes mere feet away, her tail wagging as he choked and gasped on wasp killer—

Snap!

Griffin yelped as a mousetrap closed on his thumb. Mr. Mackenzie let go of the gum so it dangled at the end of Griffin’s hand. 

The old man laughed. “I’m sorry, lad. It’s a little prank. Didn’t hurt you did it?”

Griffin stared down at the mousetrap, blinked and then started to laugh as well. He pulled it off his thumb and peered down at it, turning it this way and that. “That’s a nifty trick!” He pushed the fake stick of gum back into the packet, resetting the mechanism inside with a click. “Hey, Paperboy, look at this…” Griffin turned to look back at Paperboy, his words trailing off. 

Paperboy knew he was shaking. He had bent forward, one hand pressed to his chest. He could feel his heart hammering beneath his ribs, stopping and starting at manic intervals. Maybe he was having a heart attack? He wasn’t sure. There was a disconnect between his body and his mind like it was Billy feeling this and not himself. Paperboy knew he should be panicking, maybe he was? He didn’t know. 

“Billy?” Mr. Mackenzie lifted the countertop and ducked underneath it. He moved with short, jabbing movements. Like his mind wanted to move faster than his body would allow. His lips were pinched into a look of genuine concern. Maybe that would have comforted Billy, but it just made Paperboy feel sick. “Billy? What’s the matter?” 

Billy, Billy, Billy. Each time Paperboy heard it felt like another stab to his chest. Like someone was holding his palm against the burning door in his mind. 

I’m not Billy! He wanted to scream it. The words pressed against his throat, practically begging to be spoken aloud. But for some reason, Paperboy couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

Ladybird pressed her nose against the back of his free hand. The steady huffs of her breath tickled his fingers. Paperboy tried to focus on that, the coldness of her nose, the sharp scratch of the gray hairs on her chin. She was real and physical, a thing that belonged in this world, even if he didn’t. 

He swallowed hard. “Nothing,” he managed to say. “I’ve got a stomach ache. I think I’m gonna get some fresh air.” It was a lame excuse. Paperboy knew it, and he was pretty sure Mr. Mackenzie did as well. But, somehow, it worked.

Mr. Mackenzie clapped a hand on Paperboy’s back (Why was he touching him?) and offered what was probably a reassuring smile. “You do that. But don’t be a stranger! I’ve missed having you and Miss Lady around.” He patted Ladybird on the head as he spoke. 

Paperboy was barely listening. The moment the old man’s hand was off his shoulder he made a mad dash for the door, mumbling that he’d wait for Griffin outside. Was this what his life was now? He wondered, leaning against his bike. Waiting alone outside while someone else got the job done? 

As though hearing her owner’s thoughts, Ladybird woofed. 

Okay, perhaps not completely alone. Paperboy bent down to scratch her behind her ears. 

By the time Griffin came out to join him on the sidewalk, Paperboy’s heartbeat had slowed enough for him to be sure that, yes, he wasn’t having a heart attack. Griffin had a small paper bag clutched in one hand, the prank gum in the other. 

“He let me have it for free,” he explained as he placed both in the basket of his bike. He dug around the groceries and managed to pry a bottle of ginger beer from the bag without revealing any of the other contents. He twisted off the cap and held the bottle out to Paperboy. “It helps stomach aches. I was gonna wait until we got to the park but…” he shook the glass bottle, tiny drops of orange soda splattered his hand.

“Thanks.” Paperboy took a swig of the soda. It was sweet, but also left a weird spice clinging to the back of his throat. It wasn’t bad, gave him something to think about that wasn’t Him. Paperboy drank half the bottle in a single breath. “You said we were going to the park?” 

That was one thing Galesburg put a lot of effort into; its park. 

It was a great big field that took up at least an entire block. At one end, there was a playground where kids and parents were enjoying the Saturday afternoon. At the other end was the town baseball diamond, largely abandoned now that the morning game was over. If Paperboy squinted, he could work out two figures still standing at the pitcher’s mound. They were kids, by the looks of things, but Paperboy couldn’t make out much else. 

Griffin lead Paperboy and Ladybird to the middle of the large grassy field that separated the diamond and the playground. He took out the grocery bag and ripped it along the creases, unfolding the brown paper so that it lay flat on the grass. He arranged the contents out like the paper was a makeshift picnic blanket: packets of chips, bottles of ginger beer and a chocolate cake that had to be the size of Paperboy’s head. 

Griffin gestured to the feast with open hands. “Tada!” 

“I thought I was supposed to get you something,” Paperboy said. He had to hold Ladybird’s collar to stop her from demolishing the cake herself. 

“You did. You paid for it.” Griffin squeezed one of the chip packets until it exploded open with a bang. He grabbed a handful and stuffed them in his mouth. “Come on, you’ve gotta be hungry.” 

Paperboy didn’t know how to explain that he didn’t really get hungry these days. So, he just sat down on the grass and did as Griffin said. He kept one hand on Ladybird’s collar as he picked at salt and vinegar chips. 

Griffin tucked in with gusto. They didn’t have any knives or forks, but he didn’t care. He tore chunks off the birthday cake, his palms and cheeks stained with icing. As he did, he emptied the bag from Mackenzie’s onto the grass. Inside was a small, flat collection of wooden pieces. Paperboy watched as Griffin alternated between stuffing his face and sliding the pieces together. 

There was something relaxing about the scene. Eventually, Ladybird calmed down enough that Paperboy could let go of her collar. Though he didn’t end up ripping into the cake like Griffin, he picked at the icing. 

“Since you don’t remember anything,” Griffin said, turning one of the pieces over in his hand. “Does this mean that this is your first time eating chocolate cake?”

Paperboy scooped up a blob of icing and put it on his tongue. If he ground his teeth together he could hear the tiny cracks of sugar crystals between his molars. “Technically.” Billy had probably had it at some point. 

Griffin leaned forward. “And? What do you think?” 

Paperboy stared down at the cake. It was half-demolished now, but it had been a pretty nice-looking cake. One with swirls of chocolate icing so neat that they had to be done with a machine. 

It tasted fine. Not amazing, not bad, just fine. 

“Oh…uh…” why did that seem like a disappointing answer? “What did you get?” Paperboy asked, avoiding the question. He peered at what Griffin was building. 

Griffin wiped icing on his bandana and held up the half-built toy. “Plane,” he said simply, spraying cake crumbs. “I’ve wanted one for ages.” He slid the wings into place and held it up. “You can throw it and it actually flies!” He bobbed up and down in his seat. 

Paperboy smiled, and funnily enough, it felt genuine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Hang on, I’ll show you.” Griffin jumped to his feet, making sure that all the pieces of the plane fit together nicely. He stuck one finger in his mouth and held it up, turning in the direction of the wind. Paperboy had expected the little plane to fall to the ground immediately after it left Griffin’s hand, but instead the tiny wings caught the breeze. It flew upwards in a steady climb, higher and higher. As the wind shifted, the plane did too, gliding effortlessly around. 

Paperboy had to look back at Griffin, just to check that he wasn’t hiding some kind of remote. 

As the wind died down, the plane drifted closer and closer to the ground before sliding to a stop in the grass. Griffin bolted out to collect it. 

“See? Isn’t it cool?” He asked as he ran back to Paperboy, a little out of breath. “Oh! Oh! I have an idea!” He pointed to Paperboy’s bike. “I throw it, you try and catch it. You’re good on your bike, right?” 

Paperboy had absolutely no idea if he was ‘good on his bike’. “I guess.” 

“It’ll be fun! I’ll hold onto Ladybird. Come on.” 

The next thing Paperboy knew, he was sitting on his bike, waiting for Griffin to throw the plane. 

“Ready? Three, two, one--go!” Griffin wound back his arm like he was preparing to throw the winning pitch of the game and let the plane fly. 

Paperboy pushed off after it. He wasn’t really used to riding on grass and it took him a moment to get his bearings. By the time he was comfortable enough to lift his head and search for the plane, it had already started its descent towards the ground. 

“Get it, Paperboy!” Griffin called from their picnic spot. 

Paperboy wasn’t sure why, maybe Griffin’s excitement was as infectious as his smile, maybe it was because he actually had something to focus on, but the other boy’s words tapped at the dome around his heart. He gripped the handlebars of his bike and stood up, pedalling hard. The ground beneath him was uneven, jostling him this way and that. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the plane, trying to catch up in time to snatch it before it fell too low. 

Distantly, he could hear Griffin and Ladybird yelling, their voices merging together into an intelligible roar.

Just as he was sure he was going to catch up to it, Paperboy felt a tug on his left foot. He glanced down just long enough to see that his shoelaces had gummed up the chainrings of his bike. With each pedal, his lace was pulled tighter and tighter into the gear’s gnashing teeth.

I’m going to fall, Paperboy thought, not with panic but with a degree of acceptance. There wasn’t a single way for him to get off this bike that didn’t involve face-planting. 

So, he kept pedalling. He tried to shift his foot and get some slack against the gears, but all that did was tangle him up further. He let go of the handlebar with his right hand and raised it above his head, trying to catch the plane. 

The front wheel wobbled dangerously. For a moment he teetered to the side and Paperboy was convinced he was about to tumble over. With his left hand, he grabbed the middle of the handlebars and forced it straight.

The plane was so close. The light wood brushed against his fingertips. He could feel the warm sun’s kiss against his cheeks, the jumble of the uneven ground beneath the wheels of his bike.

Paperboy blinked and it was like he’d woken up after a particularly vivid dream. The blue of the sky above him shone bright, the clouds like pearls against the sea. Beyond them, mountains sliced through the skyline, coloured deep purple by their distance. 

Billy reached up and plucked the plane from the air. 

The front wheel swung sideways and Paperboy tried to kick out his leg to catch himself. His laces pulled taut, knocking him off balance and sending him sprawling to the ground. He landed heavily on his shoulder, his legs tangled up in his bike.

“Holy shit!” 

Paperboy heard the hurried sound of footsteps approaching him. A cold nose pressed against his cheek as Ladybird jumped onto his chest, woofing and sniffing at his face. 

Griffin hurried behind her. “Holy shit!” He said again, trying to catch his breath. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Paperboy rubbed his eye on the heel of his palm. It was like the fall had knocked all the color from the world and encased his heart once again. He propped himself up on one elbow. “Here.” He held out the plane, which was somehow left undamaged by the fall. 

A bang sounded through the air, making both boys flinch. Paperboy looked up, half expecting to see a bomb or firework. 

Instead, a model rocket parachuted lazily through the air. It bobbed back and forth, floating down towards the baseball diamond.