The Phantom of Scranton Hill

28

Justine strutted down the hallway, hugging her books to her chest as a wide smile displayed her perfectly straight teeth--thanks to three years of braces--and slightly chubby cheeks. She'd been smiling since the end of second period, unable to wipe it off of her face, not that she wanted to.

Ever since he found her, Dax had been hiding out behind the school. He couldn't come into any of her classes with her because it would raise suspicions, and technically, he wasn't alive nor enrolled in the school. Too many questions to leave unanswered. He couldn't leave either because there was no method of transportation until school let out.

As she approached her locker for the last time during the day, she saw him waiting patiently, arms crossed over his chest and left knee bent, foot resting flat against the gray metal.

"Hey," he smirked, greeting her as she came into view. "Can we stop by my house? I want to pick up a few things," he told her, watching as she ordered the books in her bag from largest and heaviest in the back to smallest and lightest in the front. She nodded curtly, continuing to organize her belongings.

"So how are you planning on making your grand return?" Justine asked him as they walked down the sidewalk together and toward his house. They never removed his stuff; his father never got around to it and his brother hated doing anything productive.

"Well, I can't go back as Dax because people had already attended my funeral. That'd be way too confusing and I don't want to have to explain it a million times," he decided, kicking away rocks with his feet as he walked forward, his hand firmly in Justine's.

She agreed, "Makes sense."

After a brief period of silence and thought, Dax opened his mouth to speak again. "How about a new name?"

"What about your face?" she asked, but he came back with a response.

"A twin. I could pose as his twin recently back from boarding school," his face let go of all worry and he held his chin high, feeling successful at his suggestion as if screaming 'Yay, I'm useful!'

"Hm," she thought, not completely on board with the idea.

"It's one hundred percent believable because there's no way to disprove it. It would be too much work to go into birth files and stuff. And who would care that much?" he persuaded.

"I don't know. I still don't think it would work," she mildly criticized.

"Well, do you have any better ideas?" Dax questioned, sass seeping into his tone.

"No, but-"

"Great," he grinned cheekily. "Then it's settled."

Justine slumped her shoulders in defeat and huffed in annoyance, but refrained from saying anything. If he thought it was foolproof, then she would support him.

As they turned the corner one last time, Justine grew increasingly antsy, not wanting to see Everett, Dax's older brother, because of how she treated him at the funeral. Dax, however, was oblivious to her feelings.

Once they reached the red door, Daxius dug into his pockets, leaving each of them inside out as he came up empty. He searched frantically for the key but not before realizing that he had been gone for six months.

He sat down on the doorsteps, trying to think of where a spare key might be. He began to stroke his hairless chin. "So, if I were a brainless drug addict who still lives with my parents at thirty, where would I hide a key?"

"Under the mat?" Justine suggested.

"No," Dax shook his head. "Too easy for a short person. No one who lives here is under six feet tall." He turned around and scanned the scene, his eyes widening as he looked up. "Bingo." He reached for the top of the door frame, his shirt slightly lifting above his belly button, but still high enough to reveal a sculpted abdomen. His pants hung a little low, but Justine couldn't get a long enough peek. He smirked, holding the hidden key in his hand as he began to unlock the top brass lock.