The Slither Sisters

FIFTEEN





The human imagination is strange and unpredictable. In the hours following the student council debate, everyone was discussing how Robert Arthur saved Mr. Loomis from a huge hawk. Or a giant falcon. Or a crazed owl. Hundreds of people had witnessed the attack, but no two people could agree on exactly what they had seen. They could only agree that it was amazing and awesome and spectacular.

Eddie Milano had snapped some pictures with his cell phone but they were too blurry to settle any arguments. The best one showed Robert standing between Mr. Loomis and the creature, gripping the music stand like a baseball bat, determined and ready to strike.

Glenn came running up to Robert after second period. “Check this out!” He’d copied the photograph onto a flyer and transformed it into a campaign poster. VOTE ROBERT ARTHUR, the headline read. HE FIGHTS FOR YOU! “I made two hundred copies of these and I’m already wiped out. People are hanging them in their lockers. You’ve gone viral, man! You’re a superstar!”

Teachers praised his quick thinking and bravery. Kids he’d never met were high-fiving him in the hallways. Someone left a note in his locker, requesting an interview for the school newspaper. And Mr. Loomis ended fourth-period English class by expressing his gratitude.

“Fear plays tricks on the mind,” he explained to the class. “When I saw that bird swooping toward me, I didn’t see a bird. I saw an honest-to-goodness monster. With wild eyes and dripping fangs. I was so scared, I couldn’t move!” He paused to chuckle at his own foolishness. “Anyhow, I’m glad that cooler heads prevailed. Thank you, Robert.”

The class applauded and the lunch bell rang and then it was time for seventh-graders to go to the cafeteria and choose their student council representatives. The school had borrowed real voting booths from the township; they looked like tall gray vending machines with privacy curtains. Robert joined the line of kids waiting to vote, but everyone insisted that he cut ahead, so he ended up having the first turn. When he emerged from the booth, his classmates cheered.

Robert liked the attention more than he expected. Everyone was being so nice to him. At lunch, kids were sharing their desserts, plying him with brownies and Twizzlers. They’d seen the attack firsthand, but they all wanted Robert to tell the story of the giant bird, and he never got tired of repeating it.

Glenn was already predicting a landslide victory. “They’re not announcing the winners until the Halloween dance, but I think you can start celebrating—”

“The dance!” Robert exclaimed. “I forgot all about it. I never bought tickets. I don’t even have a costume.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Glenn said. “I still owe you a few bucks anyway.”

This was one of his favorite jokes. In truth, Glenn owed Robert close to five hundred dollars. For most of the fifth and sixth grade, when Glenn was still the biggest bully in Dunwich, he had forced Robert to pay a daily one-dollar “dweeb tax.” But after Robert saved Glenn from a giant squid-monster, Glenn promised to repay the tax, all five hundred dollars’ worth, in tiny payments every week.

Later that evening, Glenn showed up at Robert’s house with two tickets to the Halloween dance and a canvas duffel bag full of army and navy gear. His father and brothers were all active or ex-military and their house was full of government-issue apparel: camo fatigues, field jackets, flak vests, combat boots. Glenn brought all of it.

“You want to go as soldiers?” Robert asked.

“Warren said we’re at war,” Glenn explained. “I figured we might as well dress like it.”