Page 18 of The Wicker King

The Whittakers were the wealthiest family in their town. Technically, they didn’t have to live among “small-town folk,” but the twins’ father had decided to stay in his hometown for sentimental reasons. So he built a giant mansion on the hill. He and his wife flew into the city for work at the beginning of the week and flew back for the weekend. It was kind of a big deal, and everyone in the town knew because they flew their private helicopter from their private landing pad. It was something you couldn’t really ignore.

But it was a Thursday, so the house was probably empty. Roger grinned at him as he slipped through the gates.

“I have to meet up with someone for a group project in a couple of hours, so let’s do this quickly,” August said, dropping his backpack by the door and slipping off his shoes.

“Agreed. Will you direct August to the study? I have to get something.” Peter disappeared into the depths of the house.

“Does he always tell you what to do?” August said, crinkling his nose.

Roger just shrugged and gestured for August to follow him.

BOOKS

“I’m going to say right off the bat that we don’t know exactly what’s wrong with Jack. We are teenagers, not medical professionals,” Peter said, dropping a copy of the DSM-IV on the hardwood table.

“However, we can give you some information that might be helpful,” Roger finished. He placed a thin book right next to the DSM-IV.

“One of our aunts had a hallucinatory disorder and it was kind of really terrible. All of these types of things are degenerative. If Jack has had whatever he has for a long time, it’s undoubtedly getting worse,” Peter stated, placing a hand on the large manual. “This book is primarily used to help diagnose psychological disorders. It’s our mom’s, so we’d like it returned as soon as possible.”

August nodded, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

Roger gazed at him for a moment with his head tilted to the side. “Has Jack told anyone about this? His parents or maybe a doctor or something?”

“No. I don’t think so. So far the only people who know about any of this are me and him and you guys,” August admitted sheepishly.

Roger glanced at Peter. “You asked me not to tell anyone … and we’ve been talking about it and have decided to respect your wishes. But only on one condition.”

“And what is that?” August asked.

“We can’t have people getting hurt. If anyone gets hurt, we’ll tell. Even if the only people hurt are you and Jack … Though I would hope the situation wouldn’t get that messy before you drop this secretive crap and go to someone who could actually help,” Peter said dryly.

August nodded. He could work with that. He gathered the books the twins had lent him and let himself out of their house.

THE CASUALTIES

Gordie pinned him to the ground. “Well, this position is familiar.” She laughed, squeezing his hips between her thighs.

August let his head fall back onto the grass and groaned. “So help me God, Gordie, if you don’t get off.”

“Oh, I intend to do just that.”

August blushed helplessly, then thrashed around, trying to escape with renewed vigor.

“GO TO THE SHOW WITH ME!” she shouted in his face.

“I have plans. And you’ve got ten seconds before I start screaming ‘security.’”

“You pansy bitch.”

“I should wash your mouth out with soap,” August retorted while valiantly trying to twist his wrists out of her grasp. Goddamn it, he needed to work out more.

Gordie grinned. “Okay fine, fine. Go hang out with your boyfriend,” she teased. “You owe me a kiss to offset the cost of tickets.”

“If I do it now, will you get off of me? You’re beginning to crush my pelvis.”

Gordie bit him instead.

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