The Mortician's Son (BoyxBoy)

C H A P T E R . O 8

T H E  H A Z A R D O U S  A R R I V A L  O F  V A L E N T I N E ' S  D A Y

                                                                                                                                                           February 10

"Alex, these are cookies," Chance said, staring at the treats, which he had brought out from his backpack.

"Brilliant deduction, Chance. You've the makings of a detective," Alex teased as he continued to eat today's lunch, chili.

"No, Alex, you don't understand. My Dad made these cookies," Chance said.

"And?"

"There're no pistachios or flaxseed or strange healthy things at all. This is just a plain, chocolate chip cookie! There's nothing healthy about this cookie at all! Dad never does that!"

"You know what, Chance? I think you're right," Tyler said, looking at the treat incredulously.

Though Chance figured that it might be because his and Nathan's fathers' dates were running remarkably well—more than remarkably well, judging by the state of the cookie—he decided not to share this tidbit with his friends and stuffed the baked good into his mouth.

Nathan smiled almost imperceptibly at the start of the conversation. Meanwhile, Blake, Zexion, Alex, and Dylan were eying the brilliant and flashy Valentine's Day decorations (which had been set up today) with a mixture of hate, annoyance, and fear.

"I'm stocking up on pepperspray," Dylan said in a low voice. "And I've got a taser just in case.

"I thought those were illegal to own, Dyl. But anyway, I'm seriously thinking of carrying one of my father's swords with me this year," Blake said. "Considering what happened to you and Chance last year."

Dylan's eyes went wide as he remembered the horror. Alex winced. "I remember that," the redhead said. "Chance still hates teddy bears."

"I'm not even going to leave my house," Zexion said from his book.

"That won't work, Zex, they'll still find you," Dylan said.

"Maybe we should stick together this year?" Alex suggested.

"Yeah, Al, let's cluster together into a mass, moving target," Blake said. "It'll make us all easier to spot. Awesome."

"There's no need for sarcasm, Blake..."

To begin, Valentine's Day was not a day for beautiful, single, young males, whatever the age-group, especially for Blake, Alex, Dylan, Zexion, and Chance. Not in this day and age. Not in this school. It was a day of terror, far more so than Halloween and much more cleverly disguised.

The hype of Valentine's Day set off a sort of modern-day, warped man-hunt rather than the usual, commercialized sweetness. Girls—and boys—coming at their intended (which included one or more of the aforementioned, sadly single males along with a few other unfortunate souls), bearing sweets and chocolates to mask their dark nature, when in reality these admirers would go to psychotically great lengths just to have them sample their chocolate or talk to them if they could. Yes. Just to have them eat their chocolate or start a bit of chatter. The funny thing was that right after the day, and through the remainder of the year, these admirers behaved so normally, so sane. There must be something about Valentine's Day that flipped some sort of inner psycho switch that makes them do all sorts of scary things.

The events of last year on the dreaded day were as followed: Chance was nearly carried off by a girl who chased him down in a teddy bear suit (a not-so-well thought-out plan to lure the blonde closer to her). Alex was mobbed by girls attempting to shove their treats down his throat, which quickly got out of control and ended in the redhead half-dazed with a little less than half his clothing left. Zexion shut himself in a locker (desperation made one do crazy things) but was eventually found, the locker wrenched open with an axe located next to a nearby fire hose for fire safety and was dragged out. Dylan was doomed from the start, having walked onto campus completely oblivious of what day it was and was swarmed with girls and never seen until after school, where he was found in the girls' bathroom in the fetal position, shirtless, quivering and covered with chocolate ("they took my shirt, they took my shirt" he was muttering over and over again). Blake—who often received the worst of the day—actually got sort of creative and tried to fake his own death by pretending to accidentally bang his head on the edge of a desk until he discovered that even if he was dead they would still try to force him to eat their chocolates (and steal his clothes, and cut off bits of his hair, and take his cell phone and other personal items for memoirs, and fight over who would take his corpse to whose house.)