Burn

CHAPTER 6

In all the excitement of the past few weeks, Carter had completely forgotten about Anthony, so it was a near shock to find him standing by Carter's locker the next morning. It was also the first time Carter had laid eyes on him in weeks.

His hair was dishevelled, his skin pallid and wane. There was a sickly air about him; dark circles marred the skin beneath his eyes, and new lines tugged his mouth into an unhappy, downward curve. He was fidgeting uncomfortably as Carter approached, playing with the hem of his hoodie, tapping his sneakers against the tile in a disjointed rhythm.

When they drew level with each other, Anthony leapt completely from Carter's path and stood anxiously to the side, watching as Carter clicked open his locker door and began rummaging around for his textbooks.

"What?" he asked finally, eyes fixated on the textbooks strewn about his locker. He still remembered Anthony's frightened declaration, hands shaking and bottom lip wobbling in barely constrained fear. Whatever happened, I'll find out. "You need something?"

Anthony jumped as though he'd been slapped. "I...I don't-"

"Move it," someone snapped from behind him, pushing forward to their locker. "You're blocking the hall."

Anthony ducked his head at the admonishment, hair falling into his eyes.

Carter flashed him a startled glance, sudden concern welling within him. Reluctantly, he slammed the door of his locker shut so he could lean against it. "What's wrong with you?"

"Can we talk?" Anthony's eyes had grown so wide Carter could see the whites of them. "In private?"

"Homeroom is starting in five," Carter reminded him disapprovingly.

Anthony's face, if possible, took on an almost desperate quality. "Please."

Carter sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Okay, okay. Come on." Hooking a hand into Anthony's sleeve, he marched him determinedly down several corridors, pausing outside an empty classroom. "We've got about three minutes until Mr. Leylan comes in here, so make it quick."

Anthony's frightened dear-in-the-headlights expression didn't change as they settled against a pair of opposing desks; his gaze dropped to his hands, fingers twisting into the material of his hoodie.

For a moment, he was silent. Then, just as Carter opened his mouth, Anthony exhaled a shaky breath and lifted his head to meet Carter's gaze.

"I'm having dreams."

Carter frowned, utterly perplexed. "Dreams?"

Anthony scowled, the first beginnings of anger flashing across his face. "You know...dreams!" At Carter's continued uncertainty, Anthony raised his hands and gesticulated furiously through the air. "About those...scary-ass things!"

Oh. Oh.

Carter felt his stomach drop. Icy panic surged through his veins, freezing him to the spot. "You're having dreams?"

"Yes!" Anthony burst out, taking a furious step forward. There was something faintly unhinged about him, and it set Carter on edge. "I know you know what I'm talking about! That...m-monster in the bathroom! I know I didn't make it up." He raised a shaking finger and jabbed it into Carter's chest. "I know you were there!"

Carter hesitated, opening and closing his mouth stupidly as he fought for words. "I don.t-I'm not-"

"Don't lie to me!" Anthony shrieked, and suddenly his hands were in Carter's shirt and his eyes were all but bulging from his skull. "Eveyrhwere I look, I see them! In the mirrors, in my dreams...fuck, there was one under my bed last night! I know you did something to me!"