Fetch

by Scott Cawthon

  The deep, dark truth was that he’d always wanted his own birthday party at Freddy Fazbear’s, but he’d never made enough friends to justify the expense of a big party. Instead, his parents had always thrown together a haphazard celebration at home and called it a “pool party,” but it was hard to ignore the reality that the only other kids there were all Hazel’s friends she’d been allowed to invite in order to fill out the crowd.

  Hazel shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I dunno.”

  “Liar,” he said. “You’ve had your birthday here for the last four years in a row.”

  It was the perfect double-psych-out. He’d goad her into telling him what was so important about her stupid party this year, and she’d just think he was trying to have a brotherly conversation with her.

  “Why don’t you tell me?” she challenged, catching Alec midstare. He hadn’t realized what he was looking at until Hazel did, then he quickly looked away.

  “Nice try,” she said, tilting her head toward the Yarg Foxy onstage.

  There he was in all his Pirate-y, foxy greatness—this eye-patched, peg-legged, hook-wielding orange fox. In this restaurant, he was positioned as a human-size plush figure propped by the stage, presumably there for taking pictures with. But he played a different role in every Freddy Fazbear’s, sometimes greeting visitors at the door, sometimes playing in the band onstage with the others. Wherever he was, though, Alec saw him. He was without a doubt Alec’s favorite character. It’s possible—possible—that he used to stick his foot in a plastic flower pot and roll a cardboard tube around his hand and pretend to be Yarg Foxy.

  Clearly, it was also possible that Hazel had at some point silently witnessed said roleplay.

  “Whatever,” he said. “Stupid kid stuff. And besides, we’re talking about you, not me.”

  They were standing in the aisle between the arcade and the stage now. Alec eyed the platform where Freddy Fazbear and all his friends performed animatronic routines. He was always a little unsettled by the way their robotic bodies were eerily still after the show, while the rest of the restaurant chimed with the clinks and buzzers of the games.

  He backed away from the stage unconsciously, and was only aware that he’d moved when the back of his heel hit something. He turned to find himself uncomfortably close to a raised platform holding a smaller version of the bear onstage, only this bear had an unlit sign over it that read LONELY FREDDY.

  It was a weird name for a toy, but the weirdest parts of it were harder to define. The bear stood stiff, almost at attention. Its eyes stared straight ahead at the stage, but Alec had the strangest feeling that it was still watching him.

  “Maybe I want this year to be different,” Hazel said, and Alec jumped a little at her voice. He’d gotten so lost in the staring Freddy that he forgot she was standing right there.

  “So what, you want more presents?” he asked. “You know you’re going to get everything you want anyway,” he said, and this time, he let a little of the venom escape. He couldn’t help it. How ungrateful could she be? He was the one who nobody liked, who had to fight for everything, who was constantly misunderstood.

  “There’s some stuff even Mom and Dad can’t do,” she said, and if Alec was starting to crack, Hazel was, too. He could see her getting a little defensive.

  “Trust me, for you, they’ll move mountains.”

  Hazel frowned at him. “They try, you know.”

  “Yeah, they try for you.”

  She set her jaw. “The only reason they do so much stuff for me is because they feel so guilty for worrying so much about you. Do you have any idea how much time Dad spent planning that camping trip?”

  Alec did know, as a matter of fact. He’d listened to them from the top of the stairs as they orchestrated every detail of the trip in order to keep Alec calm. Like he was some sort of bomb they had to keep from going off.

  His eyes drifted again to the bear. Alec got the strangest sensation, like he wanted to move their argument elsewhere.

  Lonely Freddy, Alec thought to himself. More like Nosy Freddy.

  Hazel put her hands on her hips. “I bet you didn’t even know they moved here for you.”

  “What’re you talking about?” Alec said, genuinely confused. His guard was slipping, but this was a turn in events he hadn’t been expecting.

  “The only reason we live here instead of our old house is because this one’s closer to Aunt Gigi, and they think you like her more than you like them because she ‘understands you,’ ” she said, twitching her fingers into air quotes.

  “Well …,” Alec said, unable to argue. He did like his aunt better than his parents.

  “Don’t you think maybe that hurt their feelings a little bit?” she said, “For you to like mom’s sister better?”

  What was going on here? Where was all this anger coming from? Alec was so confused. Hazel was acting like … like … him!

  “If they’re so great and I’m so evil,” Alec said, losing all sight of his Counter-Counterplan, “then why are you helping me and not them?”

  Of all moments to clam up, Hazel did just that. She recovered her facade faster than Alec did, which only worked to infuriate Alec more. She’d somehow managed to gain the upper hand despite his five years of experience on her.

  “Hazel! Hazel, where are you?”

  Hazel’s green eyes stopped boring a hole through Alec long enough to call to their mom.

  “Coming!”

  She turned on her heel and trotted around the corner toward the party room, leaving Alec in the company of the eavesdropping Freddy.

  “What’re you looking at?” he snarled at the bear, and he had to suppress a chill because he swore he’d seen a reflection in the bear’s eyes. Almost like a flash.

  “Creeper,” he said to it before loping down the same path his sister had seconds before.

  The Party Prepper was back with another question, and their mom had reached peak decision burnout.

  “Hazel, sweetie, do you want to have a chance at the Wind Tunnel?”

  She indicated to the large, tubelike enclosure with the words WIND TUNNEL formed into the shape of a tornado above the contraption. Inside, there were scraps of paper and confetti left over from the last party. There were game tickets and free toy coupons and glittery strips of cellophane confetti stuck to the inside of the tube.

  “I don’t care,” she said, but it was such an obvious lie. Alec wasn’t fooled, and neither was their mom.

  “But honey, you could have a chance at winning a Yarg Foxy. Isn’t that what you want?”

  “Wait, what?” Alec said, utterly betrayed. He couldn’t help it. It was the ultimate betrayal.

  Alec had never seen Hazel’s face turn that shade of red. Her entire face and neck looked practically scalded. As though she could feel his stare through the back of her head, she whipped around to confirm that Alec had been witness to the whole exchange.

  Oh, I saw, he thought. The one thing, the one thing you knew I wanted.

  “Okay, I’ll bite,” said Aunt Gigi, interjecting just in time to clue in all of the uninitiated. “What’s a Yarg Foxy?”

  The Party Prepper merely pointed to the top level of the prize shelf, a huge red sign proclaiming its price: 10,000 tickets.

  “It’s that pirate fox,” their mom said dismissively.

  Aunt Gigi walked over to the prize shelf to try to get a closer look. “I don’t get it,” she said.

  The Party Prepper sighed.

  “I don’t either,” their mom said, “but kids go nuts for the thing.”

  Hazel looked down at the ground, her ears scarlet.

  “Does it do anything?” Aunt Gigi said.

  “It swings a hook,” said their mom.

  “Oh. Then what’s the thing that follows kids around?” said Aunt Gigi, directing her question to their mom.

  “Huh?”

  “You know,” Aunt Gigi said, snapping her fingers to try and trigger the memory. “The bear or whatever.”
>
  “Oh, right,” their mom said, turning back to the Party Prepper, whose eyes were slow to leave her phone.

  Then, without answering their mom’s question, the prepper turned a dial on her hip-clipped walkie-talkie and pressed her finger to her headset.

  “Someone get Daryl to do a Lonely Freddy demo.”

  They could hear the response from the headset even as she pressed it to her head. “Daryl’s on break.”

  The prepper released a sigh so long, Alec wondered how she didn’t pass out. Then, without a word, she crossed the restaurant toward a platform holding a familiar-looking, two-foot bear. The rest of them caught on after a minute and followed her like little quail.

  The prepper bent her elbow and stationed her hand palm-up toward the bear that looked identical to the one Alec had stared down between the stage and the arcade. Same stock-straight posture. Same dead stare into the distance.

  “This is a Lonely Freddy,” the Party Prepper began, reading a script from memory in a tone somewhere between apathy and contempt.

  “At Freddy Fazbear’s, we believe that no child should have to experience the wonder and delight of Freddy Fazbear’s Family Pizzeria alone. Using patented technology and a touch of that Freddy Fazbear magic, your child can engage in a getting-to-know-you session with the bear. Freddy will learn all about your child’s favorite things, just like a true friend.”

  Aunt Gigi leaned close to their mom. “Is it just me, or does ‘Lonely Freddy’ sound like the cure for the unwanted kid?”

  “Gigi!”

  “Meg, seriously, it’s a mechanical last resort. As in, no one wants to play with this kid, so here’s a machine that’ll do it instead.”

  The Party Prepper, close enough to hear, lifted an eyebrow but didn’t argue.

  Alec coughed and muttered, “Losers.” But it was such a terrible act. If there was ever a kid who would have been foisted onto a Lonely Freddy at a birthday party, it would have been Alec. He might have known that if he’d ever been invited to one.

  “For the safety of your children, we must ask that you refrain from climbing on, riding, or otherwise mistreating the Lonely Freddys. Parents and/or guardians assume full responsibility for the health and welfare of their children in the presence of this proprietary technology.”

  And with that, the Party Prepper’s script came to a close, and she walked back toward the party room. The rest of them followed, the decision about the Wind Tunnel still left unmade. The Lonely Freddy detour had done nothing to resolve the question at hand, and they were trying the Party Prepper’s last ounce of already depleted patience.

  Aunt Gigi leaned into their mom and muttered, “Can’t you just buy the fox and skip the drama? What if she doesn’t get the winning coupon in that wind contraption?”

  Their mom looked frantic. “It’s not the same as winning it.”

  Hazel overheard their debate, and though Alec could tell she was trying to play it cool, Hazel’s eyes kept darting back to the top shelf of the prize counter, where a brand-new Yarg Foxy sat in his box, ready to be taken home, underneath a bright red sign that said WIN ME IN THE WIND TUNNEL!

  It was obvious she wanted the fox, so why was she pretending not to? Of course, all that mattered was that she wanted it.

  And when you don’t get it, everyone’s going to see you for the spoiled phony you are.

  Finally, Alec’s Counter-Counterplan was coming together.

  “Hazel, you should do the Wind Tunnel,” he said to her in a voice carefully calibrated to just the right volume to be heard by both her and his mom.

  Aunt Gigi cocked her head at Alec, then leaned back into their mom. “Did you switch to the organic milk?”

  Their mother pinched the bridge of her nose like she did whenever she felt a migraine coming on, then turned to the Party Prepper.

  “Just add the Wind Tunnel to the package,” she said.

  Back at home, Alec and Hazel kept up their new routine, with Alec playing the hero and Hazel playing the villain. Their mom pointedly ordered Alec to keep away from the freshly mopped kitchen floor, and Hazel responded by trekking across the tiles with muddy shoes. Their mom asked Alec to sort the recycling, and Hazel instead dumped the bottles and newspapers directly into the household garbage dumpster.

  “Hazel, what on earth has gotten into you?” their mom finally broke, and Aunt Gigi watched in wide-eyed wonder as Hazel responded.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, then scampered upstairs and slammed her bedroom door shut.

  Alec took a seat on his usual step at the top of the stairs.

  “It’s like she’s possessed!” their mom said.

  “It’s like she’s ten,” Aunt Gigi said, and Alec had to laugh because Aunt Gigi had no idea she was helping their little act along. The more their parents thought they were crazy, the more they’d be tempted to finally do away with all the parenting books and remember that Alec wasn’t a problem to be solved. Or in this case, he supposed, Hazel.

  “It’s like they’ve switched places, Gigi. It’s creepy!” their mom said.

  “What’s this?” Aunt Gigi said, but Alec couldn’t see what she was referring to from his place on the stairs.

  “It’s just this book,” their mom said, the exhaustion in her voice making it clear she’d lost her faith in The Plan Planner.

  “Meg, you know I think it’s great how you and Ian are always working to make sure you don’t raise a couple of serial killers.”

  “Thanks, Gigi,” their mom said dryly. “Glad to know our efforts are evident.”

  “I mean it. I think you guys are really good parents,” said Aunt Gigi.

  “I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” their mom said.

  “But, don’t you ever wonder if in all your efforts to make them normal kids—whatever that means—if maybe you’ve …”

  “If we’ve what?” their mom didn’t sound so much defensive as petrified of the answer.

  “Maybe you’ve made them what they are,” Aunt Gigi said, pausing for a moment before adding: “Hazel’s the easy one. Alec is the hard one. It’s like you put them on their own little islands.”

  “Gigi, I love you,” his mom said.

  “I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” Aunt Gigi said.

  “But if one more person tells me how to raise my kids, I’m gonna scream,” his mom said.

  To her credit, Aunt Gigi was silent after that.

  “I just want us to be a family. An actual family,” Alec’s mom said, and he thought she’d never sounded more tired than she did right then.

  “Congratulations,” his aunt Gigi said dryly. “You are one.”

  As Alec stood to sneak off to his room, he heard his mom laugh at Aunt Gigi’s joke, though there was really nothing funny about it.

  Just like Hazel, Alec’s mom had everything she wanted, but she still wanted more. She wanted the perfect kids with the perfect manners in the perfect house. It wasn’t enough for Hazel to have all the friends in the world and the most epic party every single year for her birthday. She had to have a stupid fox, too. Why? Because it’s the one thing she didn’t have in her spoiled life.

  Well, Alec understood now. He saw his sister for the entitled, fake Hazel she really was, and she’d done her level best to make him out to be the spoiled one, all so he wouldn’t ruin her stupid special party day.

  Nice try, Sis, he thought, and he could feel an outer shell harden around his rapidly beating heart. Nice try, but you’re in for quite the surprise on party day.

  His Counter-Counterplan was in full swing.

  Alec’s parents were about to crack. Hazel had only been kidding that night she asked if Alec thought they would break them, but it seems her question was rooted in at least a little reality.

  They were barely holding it together by Thursday. Alec and Hazel had tormented them to within an inch of their lives. Alec had brought home a “pet” wolf spider, and Hazel had set it free in their parents’ bed.
Alec “helpfully” ordered a pizza for dinner, but Hazel secretly added double anchovies under the cheese. A friendly game of charades initiated by Alec ended with their mom practically in tears as the word GOAT came up, and Hazel mimed “What Mom smells like!”

  Friday was more of a blur, with their dad doing all he could to keep the peace the day before Hazel’s party, even though neither of their parents were feeling particularly celebratory toward their Golden Hazel.

  “It has to be hormonal or something,” they could hear their dad say as Alec and Hazel eavesdropped from their perch at the top of the stairs. “She’s probably nervous about making sure all her little friends have fun at the party.”

  “Ian, I woke up last night to a spider the size of my palm crawling through my hair,” their mom said, her voice wavering as she neared tears for the umpteenth time that week.

  “Oh man, I thought they found that yesterday,” Alec whispered, and flinched as a stab of actual guilt hit his gut.

  “They did,” Hazel said. “I, um, re-rescued it.”

  Alec stared at this stranger he thought was his sister. His resolve toward exposing her may have doubled, but he couldn’t deny he was genuinely impressed. He couldn’t have thought up half the mini-disasters she’d set loose in their house over this past week. He found himself lamenting the return to their separate islands once this whole ruse was over. Regardless of the reasons or the double- and triple-crossing at play, he was going to miss her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such a close camaraderie to this little stranger.

  Maybe he couldn’t remember because he’d never actually had one before.

  Saturday morning, their parents did something they hadn’t done in years: They let Alec and Hazel sleep for as long as they wanted. Hazel woke up much earlier than Alec, but she chose to stay in her room, playing quietly until Alec finally got up at nine o’clock.

  As soon as his bedsprings creaked and he rose to sit on the edge of his bed, he heard Hazel’s soft footsteps padding from her bedroom to his. The bathroom door creaked open, and she entered his room with a casualness that would have been unheard of seven days ago.