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The boys stumbled over the last line of shrubs ringing the back patio, breathing hard. Alex flopped onto the concrete and lay still.
“Why,” Luke panted, “is this house so freaking big?”
“Seriously.”
“It would honestly have been way faster to just … go in the front door and try to convince Bobby’s daughter to help us.”
“I mean, probably. You wanna go try?” Alex suggested, lips twitching upward in an exhausted smirk.
Luke gagged dramatically.
“I think I’m gonna die. Again.”
“If you do, can I have your graphics card?” asked Reggie. “I figure s’probably best to clarify now, so we don’t ever have to do this again.” He was hunched over, hands braced on his knees, staggering around the courtyard like he’d fall over if he stood still. With his bright red cheeks, he looked a little like a crab.
“Freaking … go for it, man.”
“Awesome, thanks.”
Alex giggled.
“Whassit? Why’re you laughing?” said Luke.
“Nothing, it just — it hit me again, how goddamn weird this whole … situation is, you know?” He struggled to his feet. “Let’s go — let’s go prank our forty-year-old rockstar BFF from a past life.” He listed to the side, bumping shoulders with Reggie as Luke stomped over to the sliding glass door.
“Think he’s like 42 now.”
“Freaking fantastic, thanks Reg.”
“You’re welcome.”
Luke tugged on the handle. It didn’t budge.
“Here, lemme.”
“I can do it!”
He squinted at the door like a math problem on a chalkboard that’s too far away, then he gave it another good hard yank.
“I think it’s locked.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
“There’s no keyhole, though.”
“Hmm.”
They all glanced around for some sort of explanation. Alex found himself peering underneath a deck chair for some reason, and even though it made no sense, he did it a second time just to be sure. Luke poked a potted plant.
“Oh hey, there’s a keypad on the wall over here,” said Reggie, thankfully putting an end to their investigation. “It needs six numbers.”
“I got this one, boys,” said Luke, ready to redeem himself by getting them into the air-conditioned mansion. Alex privately doubted him, but sure enough, a moment later the door beeped and drifted open.
“I know we’re tech nerds now, but when did Luke become a hacker?” he asked, bewildered.
Luke winked and threw an arm around Reggie’s shoulders, dragging them both into the cool air.
“It was just his locker combo.” Luke whispered in his ear. “Dude had the same one all through school, but he kept forgetting it anyway.”
Reggie huffed a laugh.
“Nice.”
Alex rolled his eyes and followed.
‘That’s a lot of candles,’ he thought.
“That’s a lot of candles,” he said. The other two were already on opposite sides of the room, Reggie bouncing on each of the enormous couches in turn and Luke sifting through Bobby’s record collection.
“Do they smell good, do you think?” Reggie asked, apparently too busy exploring to sniff them himself.
“Oh for sure. Gotta cover up the stink of betrayal.”
Alex wandered over to the altar? Maybe? Bobby was never super religious, but it seemed more likely than his second best guess, which was ‘s’mores station’.
“What’s betrayal smell like?”
He leaned in to get a closer look at the pictures decorating the table, and got punched in the face by a whiff of patchouli. He sneezed.
“Ugh. Whatever it smells like, it’s strong.”
Somewhere in the distance, a door shut. They froze. Someone else was in the house.
Carrie and her friend had been in the house the entire time, too, but when they’d initially peeked through the windows the two had been completely oblivious, curled up on the couch in the den scrolling on their phones. ‘Ugh, kids these days’, Alex had thought, as he often did, but now with a fun new flavor of irony.
Footsteps jogged up the stairs towards where they suddenly realized they were very blatantly not hiding, then paused partway up.
“Hey, Carrie! I’m gonna meditate,” a deep voice called.
“That’s him!” Reggie gasped. He peeked out from behind a couch to where Luke and Alex had squeezed beneath the altar.
“No duh,” Alex mouthed, not even daring to breathe, which was good, because there wasn’t any room.
“Huh? I didn’t catch that,”
“He said ‘no duh’.”
“What?” said Reggie. “Never mind, I’ll come over there.”
“No!”
“I’m in the den!”
“Cool,” said Bobby, and then he was right there.
There was a silent, panicked tussle as Luke tried to pull Reggie under the table with them and Alex shoved him back towards his own spot. Bobby walked right past them without looking up.
Alex gingerly extracted himself from the tangle of limbs. He was uncomfortably aware of his heart thudding in his chest.
“What do we do? Do we, like, talk to him, or …?”
“I dunno.”
“I thought we were gonna short sheet his bed and steal his platinum records.”
“Platinum?!”
“Shut up!” Alex hissed.
They could hear Bobby humming to himself and rustling around in the adjacent room, just like the bleary mornings of a million distant sleepovers. It was reassuring. Familiar.
Too familiar.
“Is that ‘My Name is Luke’?” Luke asked, horrified. “MY name is Luke!”
“That’s it, time for his past to haunt him.”
“Yep.”
“Wait!” Alex yelped, and they skidded to a stop. He didn’t know why he hesitated. He wanted to get back at Bobby, obviously, and they’d already gotten this far. But before he could try to put this into words, or more likely turn it into a bad joke, Luke was dragging Reggie away from the open doorway.
“He’s getting dressed.”
“He might’ve stolen our songs, but if we’re gonna confront him, he needs pants.”
“That’s fair,” said Alex.
“Even if just for my sanity.”
A minute passed as they stood there, awkwardly waiting for Bobby to get decent. ‘Well, get dressed at least’, Alex thought, bitterly. He rocked back and forth on his heels.
“Okay, I’m sick of this,” he said.
“I got an idea,” said Luke, and began fiddling with the music player.
The riff he’d played for Julie earlier blared out, and something in the other room fell to the floor with a muffled thump. Alex tucked himself into the drapery around the altar, peering through the folds to see that Luke and Reggie had also disappeared.
Bobby wandered out, thankfully clad in something that looked like a snake-patterned kimono, which was pretty typical rich guy tacky. Old Bobby — young Bobby? The Bobby they knew from the good old days, that Bobby — he wasn’t particularly fashionable either, but at least his awful Hawaiian shirt was only 50¢ at a rummage sale. This monstrosity probably cost more than Alex’s entire kit.
New Bobby glanced around, eyes sliding right past Alex’s hiding spot, and switched off the music before the vocals came in.
He turned to the couches, settling on the weird backless one in the middle and pulling his feet up. Alex watched in elated horror as Luke crept up behind him, a wicked gleam in his eyes. A string of spit draped elegantly from his mouth to his outstretched finger.
He crammed it into Bobby’s ear, holding him by his stupid ponytail as he drilled it in.
“Eugh!” said Bobby, cringing and twisting to grab the offending digit.
He froze, staring directly at Luke.
Acting on impulse, Alex stuck a hand out and turned the music back on.
Bobby whipped around, and Luke took the opportunity to dart off.
In the distance, the doorbell rang.
Bobby staggered over and unplugged the stereo, and in the sudden quiet Alex became aware of the gentle patter of a running shower. Then, a yelp and a thud followed by the absurdly drawn-out clamor of plastic shampoo bottles bouncing across the floor, occasionally renewed by another thud and the squeak of rubber on wet tile as Reggie, because who else would it be, tried to find his footing and turn off the shower.
Alex considered coming out from his hiding place just to put the poor guy out of his misery, but on the other hand, he didn’t really want to be associated with that whole disaster.
“Carrie?”
On the other, other hand, Bobby was already peering around the bathroom door, and Reggie was trapped, which went against all the rules of this bizarre hide-and-seek prank war his brain had come up with while he wasn't looking, and oh, goddamnit, he’d better get in there.
“Hello, Bobby ,” said Reggie, vicious and slightly muffled by the closed door. Alex would be impressed if he wasn’t so very deeply concerned by what might happen next. They had been riding by the seat of their pants ever since they woke up in Sweden, of all places, and he was just barely keeping it together.
He pushed, feeling a little desperate, but the door wouldn’t budge.
“You gotta pull it,” said Luke, who’d reappeared by the stairs with a pair of mirrored sunglasses and a fur coat. There was a violent THUMP as something collided with the door.
Reggie’s cackles echoed ominously through the mansion, and Alex switched tactics. He held the door closed with all his weight.
Luke lit up like all his dreams had just come true.
“I got it,” Bobby grumbled, and Alex could feel him pulling on the door, groaning and straining. He barely had to do anything.
‘Oh Bobby,’ he thought. ‘I’ve been there.’
That didn’t stop him from laughing.
“Let … me … OUT!” Bobby screamed, and when he finally switched to pushing again, Alex let him fall.
He scrambled to his feet with a gasp, and stared at them, panting. Alex could hardly breathe, he was laughing so hard, and Luke wasn’t much better.
Everything was scary and awful and terrible, but he was alive again and high on adrenaline and Bobby was still such a freaking dweeb just like he used to be, just like they all are.
Bobby wheezed out a little high-pitched “hwee?” pushing back for a few more seconds the creeping dread of what would happen when they all calmed down.
Then Reggie, still soaking wet, snuck up behind Bobby and whispered “Boo!”
The poor guy ran faster than they’d ever seen him do anything, swerving briefly to try to go downstairs but apparently thinking better of it when Luke blocked his way, slamming the door of his bedroom shut behind him.
A moment later, the lock clicked into place.