Love Conquers All _The Sequel_

Chapter Four - Casket

Mary's POV:

Tex and I are currently preoccupied with the task of planning Michael's funeral. I, of course, demanded that it be open casket, and always remain open casket, just in case. We can't necessarily invite anyone other than Julia, because no one knows Michael was ever not dead, and One Direction was, um... Killed.

Tex had wanted Michael to be cremated, since ET was burned to death, and he thought it was ironically humorous. I punched him for poking fun when we are in our current situation, this is no laughing matter.

So, Tex is also mad at me, for God knows what, and he is taking a break and working off his anger at the gym. He says he wants to build himself up in case I ever try to screw with him again.

We've set the date of the funeral for Wednesday night, two days from now, in the theatre where Michael was going to perform for us. Dress is formal... I'm gonna wear the dress I wore to the concert, and Tex is going to wear a tuxedo with twenty foot tails.

I find myself momentarily envious of Tex, because he gets to converse with Michael in his dreams. I wish I had some sign that my suspicions were true, but I've received nothing at all, and I'm a bit bored with this. It'd be nice of things could just move along and Michael would come back and we would continue our Neverland adventures.

Tex walks into the room, returning from the gym, clearly flexing as hard as he can and making his muscles bulge to intimidate me. As he walks by he spits at the floor like a baseball player with chewing tobacco.

"Don't forget the way I took that punching bag straight off its chain," I warn.

"Quit sweatin' it toots. I'm on bag number thirty four," Tex says as he swaggers toward the stairs, headed for our room. His confidence sets me off, and I have the urge to run after him and trip him and punch him again and kick him and then spit on him and then maybe throw in another punch or two.

But, coolly, I resist.

Things are going slowly around here. Nothing much is happening, and with each thought of the service on Wednesday, my anxiety grows. Maybe that's when Michael will reveal that he's actually been alive this whole time.

I decide to pay him a visit, and get up to walk towards the room where he is laid. I open the door, and a wall of horrid stink slaps me in the face. It is the smell of rotting flesh, and this worries me because, how can he still be alive if his skin is decomposing? I look at him; his appearance is still intact but the smell is phenomenal.

I retrieve my perfume from the bathroom and spray it on him. Instead of relieving some of the stench, the scents mix and create an awkward bittersweet smell which tingles inside my nose.

I cringe as I walk over to his side, thinking of ways to preserve his body. I can't stuff him in the freezer, that's impossible.

But...

I glance over at the thermostat and grin. I quickly jog over and switch the room's temperature and switch it from seventy degrees to sixteen degrees. I make sure it's on a setting where the temperature change will only affect this room. It's like a makeshift freezer.

I leave Michael, already feeling goosebumps rising on my arms as the room chills. Closing the door behind me, I feel slightly more confident.

As I'm walking back to the living room, the doorbell rings.

Incredibly intrigued, I run to the door and open it. Standing there is a tall, lanky boy with short curly hair wearing a striped tee shirt. He stands awkwardly, smiling a crooked smile with wide eyes. He pulls out a beanie from his back pocket and puts it on his head, then crosses him arms, and then waits, as if he expecting a reaction from me.

"Who are you?" I ask, already so freaking pissed off I could vomit.

"The name's Teddy," he says, looking behind me.

Tex zooms around the corner and then smiles at the sight of Teddy. They both throw up some sort of hand sign at one another and then bro hug.

So confused and honestly angry, I stand there, watching them. They start to chant the word "yo" over and over, their voices getting deeper with each count. Then they stand still, and Teddy looks back over at me.

"I'm in the same gang as Tex," he says, and then laughs to himself.