Fazbear Frights #3: 1.35 AM

The New Kid

Devon, abandoned by his dad and ignored by his mom, can't understand why love and friendship come so easily to everyone except him.

It's a bright, sunny day, the kind of day that makes you feel like you have to do something. You have to do something fun, or you have to

'be productive.' " Devon used his left index and middle fingers to make air quotes, trusting no one would notice his chewed-on cuticles and bitten-down nails. Then he continued in what he hoped was an ominous tone, "It's the kind of day when your mom makes you mow the lawn. But today isn't a mowing day. Today is a birthday party day."

Devon heard rustling in the classroom. Someone snickered, but he didn't look up from his papers. He kept his head bent, his long hair hanging like a protective shield between him and the class.

Normally, he hated having to stand in front of the class ... for any reason, but today he was on a mission. If he had to read a stupid assignment for English class, he was going to make it work for him.

Devon continued with his story, describing the birthday party scene for a pack of screaming four-year-olds. He read about the balloons and the clowns and the bright-colored bounce house set up in the middle of the green lawn.

"But this isn't any ordinary bounce house," Devon read. "No one knows that yet, but they're going to find out ... now." Devon paused for effect. He didn't hear anything. For all he knew, his teacher, Mrs. Patterson, and his classmates had disappeared. But he wasn't going to look up to see.

Devon went on, "Because now little Halley is crawling into the bounce house. She's the first one in. Her twin sister, Hope, is right behind her."

Was that a gasp Devon heard from the third row of desks? He thought it was. Good. He had her attention. He grinned as he kept reading. "Halley makes it almost all the way into the bounce house, her bright pink dress clashing with the house's puffy red vinyl floor. 'Faster,' Hope urges Halley, pushing Halley's butt. Halley still crawls slowly, until suddenly, she's sucked inside the bounce house. Hope giggles and follows her."

Devon stopped reading again. He was getting to the good part. "But in a second, Hope is going to wish she didn't follow her sister. In just a second,

she's looking down as she crawls inside, but now, she's in. She looks up and she sees her sister's partially eaten body lying still on the red vinyl. No wait! The vinyl isn't red. It's covered in blood." Was that a squeal Devon just heard? He kept reading, "And the house isn't a house. It's a big mouth, and the mouth is chewing, and now it's opening wider, and Hope, now screaming, is sliding into—"

"That's enough!" Mrs. Patterson shouted.

Devon blinked. He still didn't look up. He wasn't finished.

"Devon Blaine Marks." Mrs. Patterson spurted every one of Devon's three names like each was a spitball. Before he could respond, Mrs.

Patterson's large square hand appeared in front of Devon's downward-aimed gaze and snatched the story from his grasp. The pages rattled, and he felt the sting of a paper cut on the web of skin between his thumb and index finger.

The classroom was so silent Devon could hear a bird chirping outside the window. He finally looked up at Mrs. Patterson. "What?"

"What?" Mrs. Patterson shook her head, sending her blonde ponytail into a wild dance.

Mrs. Patterson was an English teacher, but she was also the girls'

basketball coach. She was a huge woman, tall and broad in the shoulders.

She towered over Devon, and Devon was already 5'9''—tall for his age. If only he were coordinated enough to be a basketball player. Maybe then he'd be a part of—