Bobby tried to smile, but didn’t quite make it. “Yes, sir.”
“You’re welcome over anytime.”
“Thank you, Brother Peavey,” Mom said. “Now, Bobby, I think you owe someone an apology.”
Brother Peavey held up his hand, smiling. “Not necessary. If I had a dollar for every time I fell asleep when my father was preaching, I’d be a rich man.”
“I’m sorry,” Bobby said. Even though I didn’t do anything wrong.
“It won’t happen again,” his mother said. There was a note of finality in her voice.
Dana skipped up then, the Darth Vader figurine in one hand and her pink Bible in the other. “Can we go to McDonald’s for lunch?”
“We’ll see,” Dad said—which they all knew was parent-speak for no—and shook hands with Brother Peavey. Bobby relaxed a little as they walked to the car. That hadn’t been bad at all.
They didn’t go to McDonald’s for lunch, but Sizzler, and over his chopped steak—a stupid name, because it was obviously just a hamburger served with a piece of Texas toast instead of a bun—Bobby thought about his morning, trying to make sense of it. He had obviously been wrong about Norman being possessed. It seemed like Norman was the one who possessed people, like his mother and Brother Peavey. Was that even possible?
What if Norman was Satan himself?
The thought chilled Bobby. How could he fight that? If Norman was able to possess someone as godly as Brother Peavey with ease, what chance did a kid like him have? Worse, there was no one he could talk to about it, because no one else seemed to see him. Besides, the only grownups he really knew outside of his parents and Brother Peavey were his teachers at school and there was no way he was going to talk to any of them. Being thought crazy was the sort of thing that went on your permanent record, he knew. His mom was out, but maybe his dad? He looked across the table at his father and found he was already looking back, his brow furrowed with worry. Uh oh.
Bobby pushed thoughts of Norman out of his mind and focused on acting normal for the rest of the meal, but to his dismay the look never left his father’s face, and when they got home, as soon as they were through the door Dad said, “Dana, go play in your room.”
“Is Bobby in trouble?”
“Go on, now.” His tone brooked no argument.
She went, not willingly... and not before flashing Bobby a sympathetic look. Goodness knew she’d been the one in the hot seat enough times.
“Wait for me in the den, Bobby,” his dad said.
Bobby went through the doorway connecting the kitchen and den and took a seat on the brick fireplace hearth. If he sat on the couch, his parents would have to stand over him to lecture, or yell, or whatever it was they had planned. Normally that wasn’t a problem; he understood that when you were in trouble you needed to be a little submissive, but today was different.
Today one of them might not be themselves.
The thought of being trapped on the couch while Norman possessed one of them—what if he could take over them both?—filled him with bleak terror. There would be nowhere to go, despite there being four doorways in the room. The instant he made a move Norman would be on him, pinning him on the deep couch to do God only knew what. Even if it was only one of them, the other would blithely sit there and watch Norman attack, perhaps smiling blandly, the way his father had when Norman was racing toward him in the sanctuary. Bobby didn’t think his mind could take that again.
From the hearth, however, the sky was the limit. Even if they stood over him instead of sitting on the empty couch, being so low gave him an advantage. He could dart between them, or around them, or just about any way he wanted. Then he had his choice of ways to escape: the back door next to the fireplace; the doorway to the kitchen and garage beyond; the door to the living room, where the front door was; and the doorway to the hall, which gave him the choice of any bedroom or bathroom and the windows they contained. He liked those chances a lot more. Just the way Starsky and Hutch would think. Good detectives always knew how to get out of a sticky situation, because bad guys were constantly trying to kill them.
A situation which suddenly felt all too personal.
He could hear his parents in the kitchen, talking in low voices. About him, he was sure. They had to present a unified front when they yelled at him for falling asleep in church and embarrassing them. He understood, and at some level he appreciated it, even if he wasn’t so crazy about getting in trouble. He knew they loved him and were worried, and better, weren’t going to hit him with a belt the way Uncle Roger would had Tanner done the same thing.
If Tanner survived the church falling on him when he crossed the threshold, that was.
What if they ground me and I can’t go to the carnival tomorrow? The thought sobered him. That might be even worse than having one of them transform into Norman. Amy would be waiting for him, and if he didn’t show up, he was certain there’d be plenty of other boys willing to ride the Ferris Wheel with her, or win her a stuffed bear. She was beautiful. This was his chance—a scary ride was an awesome place to try holding her hand—and he may have blown it before he even knew he had it. All because of Norman.
All because of Joey Garraty.
And that was really the truth of it, wasn’t it? If Joey hadn’t been such a jerk to him, none of this would have happened. After he went into the house, they should have simply walked back down to Tanner’s and been done with it. Pride. That’s what Joey Garraty’s problem was. One of the worst sins, according to Brother Peavey, because pride made you rely too much on yourself and not enough on God. Someone like Joey Garraty probably didn’t even believe in God. Which, now that he thought about it, was probably just another form of pride.
“We want to talk to you, Bobby,” his father said as he came through the doorway from the kitchen.
Mom was right behind him. “About what happened in church.”
“Yessir,” Bobby said, nodding. “Yes’m.”
They sat at either end of the couch, but just as Bobby was mentally high-fiving himself for being so smart his father patted the cushion between them and said, “Why don’t you come sit over here?”
Shoot.
Bobby stood slowly, wary, trying to keep an eye on both of them. Having to sit between them was even worse than having them standing over him. If one of them started to change, the instant he moved to escape he would feel a steel-trap grip on his arm or leg or neck and that would be the end of him. He’d be caught, completely at the mercy of Norman. What if he ran now, before anything could happen? He’d be free, but there was no way he’d be allowed to go to the carnival with Amy tomorrow if he did. As things stood right now there was still a chance, as long as he didn’t get in too much trouble over the outburst. Praying that he would survive the conversation—not only physically but mentally, because he thought that if Norman put in another appearance he might very well snap and have to be carted off to the Lurleen B. Wallace Center, where they kept the retards and other crazies—he crossed the room and sat on the couch between his parents.
Come if you’re going to, creep, but be ready for a fight.
His father looked at him expectantly. Well? that look said.
“I didn’t sleep well last night,” Bobby said, and shrugged. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep in church—I was trying to pay attention—but it just happened.”
“What did you dream?” Mom asked. She leaned toward him and he braced for (Norman) her to make a move, but she just fixed him with the same considering gaze she had at Penn’s the day before.
Bobby mustered up a weak grin. “It’s kind of stupid. I dreamed Brother Peavey turned into a monster and was coming to get me.”
Not too far from the truth, except for the dream part. Maybe enough to keep him in good graces with the man upstairs. For now.
His father’s eyes narrowed. “Is that all there was to it? You were terrified talking to Brother Peavey after services. Don’t deny it; I saw the way you flinched when he reached out.”
For a minute Bobby almost let go and told them everything. He could see the raw concern on both their faces. Maybe they really would be able to help him—if he could convince them. That was the trouble, though. Would they believe that Norman could possess people? Moreover, what would they say if he told them Norman had already possessed Mom once?
I’ll be coming for you, Bobby.
And if anything would bring Norman out right here and now, it would be Bobby trying to get help to stop him, wouldn’t it? He thought it would. The instant he told them what had happened under the Barlowe house, and in the kitchen, and at church, there would be no reason for Norman to hang back and wait for a more opportune time.
If it’s really Norman and not just all in your head.
Could he have imagined Norman? No way. He remembered the hobo’s touch, the feel of those scabby lips and slick tongue on his neck, the white worms and clots of pus on his pants. But Joey and Tanner hadn’t seen the worms and pus, or seen Norman himself when he came lumbering out of the privet. Dana and Dad hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary when Mom tasted him, and the entire congregation sat mute while Brother Peavey bounded toward him across the pews, transforming into Norman as he came.
“It was a pretty scary dream, Dad,” Bobby said. “He wasn’t Brother Peavey anymore, he was a monster.”
The thought that he had imagined it all was too much. That couldn’t be possible. If anyone in the family had an imagination that active, it would be Dana. She liked the far out books and movies, not him, except for a little spooky stuff. Not like a crazy hobo under a haunted house. No, not like that at all. His idea of spooky was more along the lines of Scooby Doo and Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators books. Fiction. What happened under the house had been real.
He remembered something he saw on TV in an episode of MASH, about a thing they had called post-dramatic stress disorder, where soldiers in battle kept imagining they were still fighting. Not crazy, not exactly, but... disturbed. Not a comforting thought, but maybe not as bad as being ready for the loony bin. Could something like that have happened to him? Norman was as scary as getting shot at, for sure. Scarier, even. If he was imagining Norman coming for him—just like he said he would—maybe the situation was so dramatic that it messed him up. Maybe if he just gave it some time, everything would go back to normal.
And he would still get to go to the carnival.
“Why did Brother Peavey want you to come over to his house today?” his father asked.
“You don’t really have a paper due Tuesday, do you?” Mom asked.
Uh oh. Tag team.
“No, I told a lie to get out of going. I know it was wrong.”
“But why did you lie?” His father glanced at his mother over Bobby’s head.
“I didn’t want to be alone with Brother Peavey.”
“Why? Has he ever touched you?” Dad’s voice seemed suddenly sharper. “Inappropriately?”
“What? No!” But someone else sure did, Dad, and now I don’t know what’s in my head and what’s not. “I asked him if I could come talk to him about something and he invited me over. Then I guess I was just scared from the dream.”
“Bobby,” his mother said, and laid a hand on his leg. He tried not to visibly tense. “You haven’t done anything wrong, and you can always talk to us. We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s bothering you. Were you going to talk to Brother Peavey about something that happened yesterday?”
But I can’t talk to you about it, Mom, because you’re part of what I wanted to talk to him about.
Despite this knowledge, his stomach ached with the need to tell them everything. He didn’t like keeping secrets from them. But all the same, his stomach didn’t ache quite as much as his heart ached at the thought of missing out on a date—a real date—with Amy Carmichael.
Or at the thought of his mother suddenly becoming someone else, pawing at his pants and telling him she wanted to suck his dick, if he’d only give her a dollar.
“Did Tanner do something to scare you?” she prodded, shaking him out of his reverie.
“No,” Bobby said, and took a deep breath. “Not Tanner.”
“Did someone do something?”
Bobby nodded. “Tanner was in a bad mood because he’d gotten in trouble for nig—for ringing doorbells and running away. I thought maybe getting a candy bar would help, and we went to Crossen’s store. On the way he asked his friend Joey to come with us. He’s big and goony and not very nice.”
In his head, he heard Joey’s voice, tight with fury. You go under there and bring me back a souvenir, or I’m going to stomp the shit out of you. His hands, in his lap, tightened into fists.
“What happened,” his father said. It wasn’t a question.
“We got into a fight, sort of. He hit me a couple of times and pushed me down and I twisted my ankle.” Nothing that was technically a lie, as long as you counted chest pokes as hits.
“What did you fight about?”
“He said Starsky and Hutch were fags, and that I was one because I liked them.”
Again, technically true. Lying wasn’t as hard as he thought.
“And then he hit you?” Mom asked, aghast.
Bobby nodded. His eyes burned, not because he was misleading his parents but because it was so easy. No wonder Brother Peavey always preached about how the tongue was so evil.
“What’s his last name?” Dad asked. “I want to call his parents and talk to them.”
“No!” Bobby nearly screamed. “That would just make it worse for me the next time I go over there.”
“He needs to learn he can’t just hit people he disagrees with.”
Dad, I think if you got a look at his father you’d understand where he gets it.
But he didn’t say that.
Instead, he said, “Please don’t. It’s all over and I never have to see him again. I’m not hurt, just embarrassed because I started crying and they laughed at me. Can’t we just forget it happened? Please?”
“Is that what kept you from sleeping last night?” Mom said.
She knows there’s something else.
“Well,” he said, hanging his head and grinning again, guiltily. “There’s one more thing. Tanner told us a scary story about a haunted house, and that’s what made it hard to sleep.”
“Oh, Bobby, don’t fill your head with that kind of nonsense. You know there’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“That’s a lot easier to believe in the daylight than in the middle of the night,” his father said. “Especially when you’re twelve.”
“Almost thirteen,” Bobby said.
His father draped his arm around Bobby’s neck and pulled him into a half-hug. This time, Bobby didn’t flinch or tense up. Maybe the passage of time was making things less dramatic for him. “Still twelve, kiddo. Don’t make me feel any older than I already do.”
Bobby giggled. “Yessir.”
“Maybe I should teach you how to fight back. Put bullies in their place.”
“That’d be great.” He was starting to think Grandma Rose didn’t know what she was talking about. Dad was cool, not a hippie-dippy. A hippie-dippy would have advised him to run away like a baby, he was sure of it. Popping Joey Garraty a good one in the chops would be almost as fine a thing as he could think of. Bobby raised his fists into a fighting position. “He needs to be put in his place.”
“Slow down, Ali,” his father said, laughing. “It’ll take a few lessons.”
“Who’s Ali?”
“You’re killing me here, kid.”
Bobby looked from his father to his mother and back again. “Does this mean I’m not in trouble?”
“In trouble?” his mom asked, genuinely puzzled. “For what?”
“For freaking out at church.”
“We weren’t mad at you, sweetie, we were worried.”
“Sorry,” Bobby said.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about.” She squeezed his
leg and started to get up. “Though in the future it might be best if you didn’t lie to Brother Peavey.”
“Yes’m.” It’s now or never. “There is something I need to talk about.”
She let herself sink back onto the couch. “What?”
“There’s a carnival going on at the Gateway Shopping Center. Amy Carmichael told me about it after church, and invited me if I could meet her there. Can I go?”
Bobby thought his cheeks couldn’t be any hotter if he were standing in the fires of hell itself.
“On a date?” his father asked, beaming.
“Yessir.” Now the heat was creeping around the back of his neck. “I think so.”
“Oh, Bobby,” his mom said, her eyes twinkling. “Amy’s pretty. And such a sweet girl. Of course you can.”
Bobby sagged against the back of the couch, his happy smile transforming into one a little more dopey. The nervous flutters filled his chest again, and once again he found them not so bad. Kind of nice, actually. He didn’t bother correcting his mom, but Amy wasn’t just pretty. She was beautiful. “Awesome.”
“Hooray, Bobby’s got a girlfriend!” Dana cried from somewhere in the hallway. Definitely not as far as her bedroom, that was for sure. Hearing the word from someone else’s mouth, even if it was just from her dorkness, made his heart give a little jump.
His father rolled his eyes and shook his head good-naturedly. “Dana, come in here, please.”
A few seconds later she came around the corner of the hall doorway, a sheepish expression on her face and a Raggedy Ann doll tucked loosely under one arm.
“Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?” Dad asked.
“That was Ann. I was having tea with Luke, Leia, and the droids, and she kept interrupting us with gossip.” Dana sniffed. “I think it’s very rude of her.”
Their mother sighed, but Bobby sensed no anger in it, just amused irritation.
“I guess we’re done here, kiddo,” Dad said, and gave him another quick hug. After Bobby slid off the couch his father patted the cushion where he’d been and said, “Have a seat, Dana.”
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