Chapter Text
It takes ten to fourteen days for caterpillars to hatch from their cocoons, and it took twelve for Johnny Adler to become Finney Blake. It was a metamorphosis, the shedding of one identity to another, to peel one's soul from their body and be dwindled into nothing at all. Johnny Adler did not escape the basement of a serial killer, not truly, the boy who made it out was to be called Finney. He spent most of those twelve days in the hospital, the doctors and nurses were told to not mention that the boy was there at all. The news reported the sixth victim, poor Johnny Adler found dead in a basement in Galesburg, Illinois. His killer, known to most as The Galesburg Grabber, was no where to be seen. He had disappeared without a trace, there one day and gone the next.
It took twelve days for the agents to relocate the Adler family to Denver, Colorado. It took twelve days to give them new names, new social security numbers, and a new house. The newly named Terrance Blake was given a job as a cashier at some dingy gas station, and the two Blake children were enrolled at a school district in Denver. Gwendolyn Blake, formerly known as Susannah Adler, had started school as soon as the moving truck left the driveway. Finney Blake began days later with injuries that had just barely healed and trauma that had gone unaddressed.
The agents called it the Witness Protection Program, supposedly it would keep the Blake family safe from the threat of The Galesburg Grabber, who detectives knew would be on the hunt for his escaped victim. To Finney, it was a way to feel even more lost on who he was. He was told he spent five months in that basement, but to him it might as well have been a lifetime. The only sign that time moved forward at all had been the glimpse of light from a small window in the basement, but he'd lost track of the days very early on. He never got to finish the eighth grade, but even so he was set to begin his freshman year of high school.
He spent the first few days in Denver by locking himself in his room, he ignored mealtimes and did nothing but stare at the wall of his new bedroom. The walls were painted a dark blue, which was fine, and he hadn't unpacked anything except his clothes. His sister tried to help him unpack, but he left the door locked and shooed her away. He was a lost cause, after all. He was never supposed to be alive to see the outside world again. He hadn't been prepared for that possibility, and so he spent his time thinking of how he was supposed to be alive again.
Terrance grew tired of Finney's isolation pretty quickly, and all it took to get Finney to go to school were a few empty threats. I'll move us back, I'll leave the program right now, he had said. Finney feared the streets of Galesburg far more than high school, and so he found himself walking towards the run-down building with his sister by his side.
"I'm glad you're trying," Gwen smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. With front-row seats to the slow demise of her brother, she hadn't been sleeping well as of late, and she was far too afraid to let Finney leave her line of sight for more than a moment. "Dad says he'll let you leave early if you really can't handle it yet. Don't stress too much about it, just try and get through the day."
Finney nodded, though he wasn't too sure leaving early would be an option. His father wasn't just going to leave work to pick him up, and Finney sure as hell wasn't going to go walk home by himself. He knew better than to do that, he'd learned that lesson the hard way.
"You should try to make some friends, I think that'll be good for you."
"I think you forget who you're talking to," Finney spoke. His words were soft whispers, he wasn't used to having the ability to speak freely and it felt wrong. Being loud, being naughty, those were things that he'd be punished for. He wasn't all that sure what was right or wrong anymore. "I was never great at the whole 'making friends' thing before, and I definitely won't be now."
Gwen sighed, and she wished to grab her brother's hands, but touch was still off-limits. "I dunno, I have faith in you. Just try your best, okay?"
Finney frowned at that, because why was his little sister the one to treat him like a frail child? Was that who he had become? He wasn't sure who Finney Blake was supposed to be, but surely he wasn't a helpless child that everyone saw as some disgusting victim. Out of everyone, he had thought Gwen would be the one to treat him normally, but she proved him wrong rather quickly.
"Yeah, sure. I'll try."
The two school buildings appeared in the distance, the high school was built right next to the middle school. The siblings went their separate ways, only after Gwen gave words of reassurance that Finney tuned out, and soon Finney found himself standing in the busy halls of the school with a class schedule in his hands. His first period was math, with some teacher named Mr. Johnson. Johnny Adler liked math a little too much, but Finney wasn't sure anymore. Would it still come easily to him, or would his brain be too fucked up to comprehend algebra? So many questions, so few answers. He would have to discover everything himself, and that meant he had to exist in the world. He'd have to participate in life instead of stare at empty walls, which he found would prove harder than it seemed.
He made his way into the classroom in silence, and when he entered he was glad to see that most students hadn't arrived to class yet. Mr. Johnson was writing equations on the whiteboard, and Finney found himself hesitate to redirect his attention. His newfound fear of adult men was one he knew would be troublesome, and he knew he had to get over it fast.
"Excuse me, sir?" His voice was barely above a whisper, and he carefully spoke each syllable to prevent any stuttering that threatened to escape his throat.
Mr. Johnson turned around and smiled when he saw the boy at his desk. "Ah, Mr. Blake I presume?"
"Yeah."
The teacher nodded and grabbed a stack of papers from his desk, then handed them to Finney. "I already placed your textbook on that open seat over there, but this is the packet from the unit we're working on right now. We've only just started this unit a few days ago, so it should be easy to catch up."
"Thank you, sir."
"Of course. If you have any questions, or need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask!" He spoke kindly, as if he truly cared for each and every student that walked into that classroom, but Finney didn't trust him so easily. The kind of people to avoid usually performed some grand act, a facade to conceal their true intentions. Finney wouldn't fall for such a thing ever again.
"Right, thank you." He made his way over to the desk he'd been assigned, and placed his hand against the cold cover of the textbook that sat atop the surface. He opened the book and swept his fingers across the soft pages, many worn from years of use, but it felt familiar. It felt steady, consistent, changed only by the lives of teenagers that came before Finney Blake. The room itself was like that of any other classroom, with single-seated desks arranged in rows. The sides held a backpack hook that Finney gladly took advantage of, and the surface of the desk was smooth and polished. The chair itself was uncomfortable, but not more than that of an old lumpy mattress he used to curl into, so he didn't mind too much.
The rest of the students began to filter into the classroom, new and unrecognizable faces that Finney didn't bother to remember. Some looked over at him in curiosity, but no one bothered him. Instead, they spoke to their friends and dreaded the final bell that indicated the start of class. The bell rang moments later, and only a few teenagers arrived late.
For the duration of class, Finney truly did try to pay attention, but it proved to be of no use when all he could hear was the sound of a leather belt snapping and the sight of gray cement walls staring back at him. He redirected his attention to his worksheet, and math apparently still came easy to him since he completed it without much help from the notes in the textbook. The numbers distracted him, he found himself lost in equations and solutions. Multiplication, division, fractions, decimals, they all swarmed through his thoughts and spoke louder than the memories he hadn't been able to forget. Mr. Johnson was still explaining the first set of questions to the class, but Finney was already pages ahead.
He found himself floating through the rest of the day. Science didn't give him the thrill it used to, instead he focused his attention on the sound of pencils writing on paper, the soft click of the teacher's computer mouse, and the ticking of the clock that had been hung on the wall by the door. Sounds were safe, so very safe as they always had been. The world had so much to say if you took a moment to listen. Back in the basement he spent a lot of his time listening to the sound of footsteps against the creaky staircase, the quiet hum of the lights being powered on, and the distant sound of a barking dog that lived upstairs. Sound prepared those who listened for what was to come, it was always the first warning Finney needed.
Back when his father was lost in grief and overly fond of drinking, Finney had memorized the sound of his footsteps and which direction they were headed. He memorized the sound of the fridge being shut, and the sound each door made when they were pushed closed. He always knew which floorboards spoke the loudest, and which doors squeaked when opened all the way, and he memorized these details in the new house pretty quickly. He didn't need to be afraid of his father's wrath anymore, but he found comfort in the knowledge regardless.
Lunch was what Finney had dreaded through the entire first half of the day, and it arrived sooner than he'd have liked. In Illinois, he spent lunch at an empty table and worked on his homework (if his bullies didn't decide to harass him, that is). In Denver, he wasn't sure what was safe to do. He hadn't brought a lunch, the idea of food made him feel nauseous, so he didn't need to worry about somewhere safe for eating. The library was surely a decent option, and so he found himself in the far corner at an empty table. He watched the doorway for most of his time, but sometimes found himself scrolling through his phone and searching the internet for anything regarding The Galesburg Grabber.
Gwen had told him that he shouldn't read about any of it, but he knew nothing could stop his rampant curiosity. He read through forums and articles, even entertained the most absurd theories created by people who barely read up on the case. He learned that the Grabber's true name was Albert Shaw, a man who was in his fifties and worked as a part-time magician. Finney wasn't sure how he managed to pay the bills with that kind of employment, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. If murdering little boys was deemed okay to him, other crimes were probably on the table as well. Albert hadn't been seen since that day in mid-October that Finney was rescued, but the FBI had become involved and were working towards finding him. Finney wouldn't get his hopes up, he had a feeling they wouldn't find the man.
What disgusted Finney the most were comments from people saying how they found Albert attractive, how they'd be happy if he kidnapped them. He always saw his abductor as an ugly and vile creature, someone that couldn't possibly be human, and he definitely wouldn't be happy with the man after all he'd taken from Finney. He wanted nothing more than to argue with strangers on the internet right then and there, but he had been told to not interact with anything online for his own safety. IP addresses could lead back to his location, and if Albert were to find that information out… Well, then Johnny Adler would truly be murdered. Would he be called Finney when the news covered his death, or would they hear of his true identity? He supposed he would never get to know the answer, he'd be dead and buried by that point.
Some pages held memorials for the six dead boys, Johnny Adler included. Agents had worked to scrub his face clean from the internet, leaving behind only photos from when he was young. They of course couldn't wipe the more recent image that had been used for his missing poster from the internet entirely, but they did their best and the photo didn't get circulated too often. Whenever it made its way online, it'd be mysteriously taken down within the hour. Claiming Johnny Adler as dead was a strategy the agents used to keep Finney safe, but Albert Shaw would surely know that Finney hadn't been killed in that basement before he left for work that day. It wasn't necessarily to stop Albert from looking, but it made him harder to find. If the world thought he died in that basement, they wouldn't question when a kid who looked similar showed up somewhere. Why would they lie about his death? The public wouldn't question it, not when the killer was still on the loose somewhere. There were much more pressing matters to focus on.
Even still, Finney feared that he couldn't keep the secret forever. If he did end up making friends, how would he even begin to explain his odd behavior? His panic attacks and relentless flashbacks? What would he say to explain the scars that littered his body? Maybe Finney had been a decent liar before, but Albert had always known when he even tried to mislead him. He found himself terrified of consequences that he couldn't so much as form a sentence to lie as easily as he used to, and so he knew he couldn't dare grow close to anyone. No one could be trusted, that was what the agents told him before he was released from the hospital. Never tell anyone the truth, no one can be trusted. With his track history, he'd have no problem with that. He hadn't ever been someone people wanted to befriend, kids usually saw him as an easy target to make miserable.
"Hey! I haven't seen you in here before," Someone spoke, they sounded kind. Finney looked up from his phone to see a tall boy standing in front of him. He had dark hair that was parted down the middle, it was shorter in the front but the back reached to the middle of his neck.
Finney stared at him for a moment before realizing he was supposed to respond, "Oh, right. I'm new to the school, today is my first day, so…"
The boy smiled and took a seat across from Finney. "My name is Bruce, it's nice to meet you."
Finney nodded, though he hesitated. Instinctively he wanted to say he was Johnny, but he wasn't anymore, was he? The name was burned away back in that basement, killed with the other boys and buried in the house across the street. "I'm Finney."
"Where'd you move here from?"
"Illinois." He hoped that if he kept his answers short and simple, that maybe Bruce would grow bored of him and escape the situation.
"Oh, really? Were you close to Chicago? I've always wanted to go to Chicago, seems like a cool place." Bruce was proving himself to be a little too friendly, and Finney didn't really trust that.
"Not really, I lived closer to Knoxville." Galesburg isn't all that far from Knoxville, would Bruce know that? Finney wanted to slap himself, or at least do something to stop overthinking. Maybe he should've said he was from somewhere like Oregon or Wyoming, Bruce wouldn't have questioned it. But how many lies could he tell before he lost track of the frabricated life Finney Blake had lived? He hadn't even thought to make up stuff to have on hand, he hadn't expected anyone to approach him so quickly (or at all).
"Oh, that's cool! So, how is your first day going? Are you liking Denver so far?" Bruce asked, and he seemed so comfortable just sitting there loading Finney with every question in the book. What was his deal? Did he want something? Finney couldn't tell, but he needed to figure it out before things got messy.
"It's fine. Haven't really went out to explore town much, so I can't really form an opinion on it yet." Finney picked at his cuticles, which had been abused greatly over the past few months. He was surprised he had any skin left to pick at.
"That's fair. It can be a little intimidating at first, but if you need any recommendations for places to go, I'd be happy to help!" Bruce looked down at his phone, which he had placed on the table, then picked it up and played on it for a moment before handing it to Finney. He had it opened to his contacts, specifically the page to make a new one. "Give me your number and I'll text you so you have mine, that way you can reach me if you need anything."
Finney nodded and entered his number, then handed the phone back to Bruce. Bruce typed something then shut his phone off and set it back down on the table. Finney looked over and saw a text from Bruce appeared on his phone. "Thanks, you're nice."
"I try to be. This school can be… well, not to scare you away, but there's a lot of assholes here." Bruce chuckled at himself at that, which Finney found amusing. Sure, he was still cautious of the boy, but he relaxed a little even so. Bruce didn't seem like a threat from what he could tell, he just seemed to be a happy and extroverted kid.
"Is that why you're in the library, avoiding the assholes?" Finney asked, though he wasn't sure that was the reason Bruce was there. He seemed far too nice, someone like him had to have plenty of friends to eat lunch with.
"I mean, I guess so. I'm on the Baseball team and so they always want me to sit with them, but I can't stand any of them if I'm being honest." Bruce looked down at the table. "I have some other friends, ones that I adore, but two of them are in lunch detention today and every time that happens I usually go in here with my other two friends so no one bothers us."
He had four friends? What the hell, why was he wasting time talking to the random new kid then? Finney blinked and looked at Bruce, "Where are they?"
"I'm not entirely sure, they said they'd be here but… I don't see them." Bruce looked around, then sighed and looked back at Finney with a smile. It reached his eyes, Finney didn't know how someone could be so happy. "Once I realized they weren't here, I saw you and decided to say hi."
Right, because that was a normal thing people did. Can't find one of your four friends? Go make a new friend, choose the scared looking one hiding in the library while you're at it! Yeah, Finney wasn't sure what the hell this kid was on.
"You make friends with strangers often?"
"Nah, not usually. I just had a good feeling about you, is all. You seem nice, and I could use another nice friend. Most of my friends like to get into trouble, two are always picking fights and landing detention, the other two… They just like to bicker with each other, one more than the other." Bruce laughed, he looked as if he were recounting a fond memory. "I think they might be held up in some kind of argument, that's usually the reason they're late to anything."
Finny pursed his lips and nodded. They seemed like an odd bunch, but he didn't really think he was one to talk. He wasn't really that great of a person to keep around, and he wanted to tell Bruce that, but Gwen's words from earlier had reminded him that he should try at the very least. "They sound fun to be around, I think. I dunno though, I'm probably kind of boring compared to your friends."
Talking about himself in a positive way was never his strong suit, so that was truly the best he could do in the moment. Boring wasn't even close to the full picture, anyways. He was yet to find out who Finney Blake was, but so far he wasn't anyone Bruce would want to befriend. Finney was a traumatized and scared little kid that liked to use math and sound to escape his mind, and honestly it was kind of pathetic. Bruce probably had bad judgment or something. He'd realize the error of his ways soon enough, and then Finney would be free from the cruel task of pretending.
"No one is boring, Finney. Trust me, everyone's got something that makes them fun to be around, and now I'm determined to learn all about you."
Finney frowned. Absolutely not, he would not be doing that. He wouldn't like what he found, and he sure as hell wasn't allowed to know the truth. "I don't know-"
"Nonsense. It's too late, you're stuck with me now." Bruce smiled, and yet again it reached his eyes. He was too happy, too unscathed by the world. Didn't someone teach him that people held dark secrets, that they lied and hurt people and-
"Bruce! We're so sorry! Griffin wouldn't shut up about how there weren't any chocolate milk cartons left, and so we were trying to trade with someone but…" Two boys rounded the corner, the one who spoke paused when he noticed Finney. He stared at Finney for a long moment, his brows furrowed and his lips pursed. It felt like the kid could see right through him, like he knew all his secrets. Did he- "What the hell, Bruce? Are you pestering the new kid?"
Oh, right. Finney had been too consumed by his overthinking to remember that normal people would be a bit confused when their friend was hanging around someone they'd never met before. Of course the guy stared at him, he was trying to figure out the situation.
"Oh don't be like that, Billy." Bruce sighed and turned towards them. "This is my new friend, Finney."
"We leave you alone for ten minutes! Ten!" The other boy, Finney assumed he was Griffin, whined. He then turned to look at Billy. "Oh hey! Wait a minute, he's in our science class, right?"
"Yeah, no shit dumbass," Billy rolled his eyes. "Is Bruce bothering you? We'll tell him to go away if you want."
Yes Billy, tell him to run while he still can. "Oh, no he's fine."
"Huh. You aren't replacing us, are you?" Griffin asked Bruce, who just chuckled.
"Of course not, I just need a friend who won't make me want to rip my eardrums out. Also, he's super nice, you'll like him."
Griffin and Billy sat down at the table, they both stared at Finney for a moment. Finney did his best to stay perfectly still, and he might've forgotten to blink until his eyes started to sting.
"Brucey, he looks scared. What'd you do?" Griffin asked as he glared over at his friend.
"I think he's scared of you, Griff." Billy smirked, "Which is completely reasonable."
"Oh shut up, I'm not scary!"
Finney wanted to agree, because in theory Griffin wasn't scary at all. He was short, with a messy mop of blond curly hair that reached just below his ears. He shouldn't have been scary, but he spoke so intensely that Finney couldn't help being intimidated. Hell, the kid looked younger than him. The other kid, Billy, was taller than Finney and had straight brown hair that reached his neck, and he wore an oversized red jacket. He looked nicer than Griffin did, but based on his witty remarks, he was someone Finney didn't want to cross.
"So Finney, I'm sure Bruce already asked but I'm curious. Where'd you move here from?" Billy asked, his face softened when he looked at Finney, a stark contrast to the glare he'd given Griffin. He figured Billy was someone who enjoyed being mean to his friends, but was otherwise a nice person.
"Illinois."
Billy nodded, then frowned and looked at the table. "Out of all places, your parents chose Denver? Insanity is what that is."
Parents. Plural. Yeah, no. He had a father, but he hadn't been the one to choose Denver. Who even decided Denver was a good idea? Out of all the places they could've moved the Blake family to, they chose the capital of Colorado? Maybe they figured a busy city like Denver would be the last place Albert Shaw would check, and if he tried, he'd be caught easily. Finney hoped that was the case, but he wasn't one to be optimistic.
"It seems okay so far," Finney shrugged. "But Bruce did say that this school has a lot of assholes so maybe I'll be proven wrong."
"Likely, but I wouldn't worry too much. If you stick around us, Vance and Robin usually scare everyone away. They're tough as all hell." Griffin grinned, as if passionate about the two he spoke of. "Vance will fight just about anyone who looks at him the wrong way, and Robin picks fights with people who deserve it. If they end up liking you, they'll keep you safe."
Billy rolled his eyes and elbowed Griffin in the side, "I think you're just scaring him even more, asshat." He turned and smiled at Finney, "They won't hurt you, don't worry. I'm sure they'll like you, but if they don't I'll kick their asses."
Griffin howled in a fit of laughter, "You? Kick their asses? Holy shit, stop! I'm crying!"
"Guys can you be normal for five minutes?" Bruce chuckled, "I don't need you two scaring him away already."
Finney just watched in amusement, and he felt a pang of resentment creep in. Seeing kids his age be happy, be so effortlessly joyous… He wanted that, he wanted it more than anything. Why did Finney get cursed to live his life running from his past, forced to lie to everyone he met, and be expected to live on as if nothing had happened to him at all? Why was that his fate when everyone else around him got the privilege to live in blissful ignorance to the horrors of the world? Why couldn't he have died in that basement like the other boys, because surely death would be a better experience than living with the memories.
The school day ended before Finney knew it, and he found himself curled up in his bed and yet again staring at the wall. Still dark blue, still undecorated, and still held no answers to the many questions Finney had. Terrance was still at work, not due to come home until just after six, and Gwen was working on her homework peacefully in her room. She didn't pester Finney too much about his day, which he was thankful for. He was sure that she'd be happy to hear he made some friends, but he was still too nervous to label them such a term.
He couldn't fall asleep, though it wasn't all that late and truthfully he needed to complete his homework, the allure of being absent from the present usually won against all other obligations. Ever since the basement, he found himself asleep more often than not, and usually he'd find himself haunted by nightmares that woke him up covered in sweat. The fear of the nightmares had seemingly taken its toll, as now his body was too racked by dread to even close his eyes for more than a few minutes. He groaned and sat up, then allowed his blankets to fall to his lap and the cold air crept into his skin. He made a habit of sleeping in a t-shirt despite his aversion to the cold, wearing sweatshirts usually made the post-nightmare sweat even worse. This allowed clear view of the scars that stared back at him, the silver and pink lines that reminded him of each beating he took from The Grabber. He had never been too scared of the belt before, his own father wielded it in his drunken rages and never left more than simple bruises. Shaw preferred to use too much force and hit until Finney lost consciousness, and it took a long while and many bloody wounds for that to happen. Terrance had become a better man after the near-loss of his son, but Finney found himself still terrified of the day he crossed the man enough to bring out his wrath. He knew alcoholics were bound to relapse at some point, so he tried to be prepared for such an occasion.
His new life felt like a series of walking on eggshells, he wasn't sure what to do or say, what actions were right or wrong. The doctors hadn't been much help, they offered therapy but Finney couldn't even imagine opening up to a complete stranger, and so he declined. He walked blind among the world, blind to how a normal kid was supposed to act and behave. Was he acting normal in the eyes of his new friends? Or did they see right through him? Had they seen the images of his face that circulated, did they know who he truly was? He couldn't be sure, and he sure as hell couldn't ask without them growing suspicious. The agents had said that if his cover were to be blown, Finney Blake would have to die and he'd be relocated and reborn once again. He didn't think he could handle the whole process a second time, so he had to be sure to watch what he said. He had to choose each word with careful precision, bite his tongue whenever he even so much as stuttered. It sounded easy, but he had begun to realize that he wasn't as up for the task as he'd thought.
He heard the soft patter of footsteps approach his room, then two swift knocks. "Finney?"
He frowned, "Everything okay?"
The door opened, Gwen stood in the doorway with her hair tied into two braids. She'd made it a habit to check on him throughout the day, which he wanted to be appreciative of, but he always found himself annoyed. The person he used to be would hate who he had become. Gwen used to be the only person he cared about, now he cared about nothing. "Everything's fine. Just wanted to see if you were up for dinner or not, I can make some ramen or something."
"Oh, no that's okay. I'm not hungry."
Gwen sighed, "I haven't seen you eat anything in days. What if we go to the Grab'n'go and get some snacks at least? Dad left some money for us anyways."
Snacks were easier to stomach than full meals, and he knew Gwen wouldn't give up until he ate something. Besides, he had a feeling Gwen would go to the store either way and he wasn't going to let her walk alone.
"Fine, let me get changed and we can go."
Snacks lined the shelves in a specific and orderly fashion, candy lined the aisle Finney stood at while he gazed at the colorful packaging. Nothing stood out to him, but if he didn't get something he knew Gwen would choose for him and pester him about it the entire walk home. Sweets held a strong flavor, much stronger than that of the scrambled eggs he ate exclusively for five months. Candy wasn't an unwelcome taste, but one that he could only stomach in small amounts. When Gwen had first visited him in the hospital, she had secretly brought in a bag of gummy bears. He hadn't been able to eat them at first, the nurses had shoved a feeding tube down his nose due to the malnutrition. Once the tube was gone, he ate the entire bag of gummy bears in ten minutes. He had almost thrown up afterwards, so he was told to limit his candy intake. Gwen had also been told to stop sneaking contraband into his room, neither of them were too happy about that.
He placed his hand on the packaging of some gummy worms, the shiny plastic felt cold and crinkled at his touch. The gummy worms didn't look appealing in the slightest, but he figured he'd eat them eventually. He pulled the bag from the hook, then turned to find Gwen.
Gwen had a bag of chocolates in her hand, and she walked down the aisle and towards the drink fridges. "I'm grabbing some drinks too, want some grape soda?"
Finney grimaced, "No soda. I'll just drink water at home."
Gwen shook her head as she grabbed sodas from the fridge, "I'm grabbing you one anyway."
Finney didn't argue, he knew it'd prove pointless. He used to love grape soda, but his scrambled eggs were always served with a bottle of Sprite, and so soda just wasn't as tempting as it used to be. The fizzy carbonation had only further dehydrated him in that basement, and his only way to survive was by drinking water from the back of the toilet. He never dared to mention that fact to anyone. He hadn't even told Gwen about the Sprite and scrambled eggs, either. They didn't have much time to chat over the whole basement experience, especially not when they were relocated so quickly after Finny was discharged from the hospital. By the time the siblings were in Denver, he felt too afraid to say much. She hadn't asked for details, and he knew she would wait for him to bring it up. He was content never talking about any of it for the rest of his life, so she likely would never hear a word about it.
Finney followed Gwen as they headed to the front counter, but she paused when she reached a corner near the front of the store. Finney wasn't sure how to explain what he heard, but it reminded him of an arcade. Various clinks, a squeaky knob was turned every few seconds. Finney looked over to see an old pinball machine. It had an illustrated woman that wore only a few pieces of armor, and a scoreboard sat beside the drawing. The highest score was 94,460. Finney didn't know anything about pinball, he'd only ever seen them a few times at the arcade in Galesburg his mom brought him to. Even still, the score seemed impressive. A guy stood silently as he played, his score was high but not close to beating the high score. He seemed focused, almost too entranced by the game.
The machine seemed ancient, it had probably stood in that corner for decades and was played by generations of teenagers. He wondered who achieved the high score, if it ever was reset. The guy seemed good at it, far too good. He looked like he rarely did anything but play pinball. Finney couldn't judge, at least he had a hobby he enjoyed.
"We should pay and go back home before it gets dark out, Gwen."
Gwen shook her head, "I wanna watch, look at his score!"
"That's great, Gwen, but we really need to head back. The sun is setting as we speak." Finney wouldn't admit it, but the guy scared him. His expression was focused, but he almost looked angry at the same time. He looked to be a bit older, maybe fifteen or sixteen, and he seemed like he could crush Finney's skull like a grape. His knuckles were scarred and bruised, and that told Finney everything he needed to know. Don't mess with pinball guy.
Gwen turned towards him and sighed, "Fine, you're lucky I don't wanna make your mood even worse than it already has been."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know what I mean." She grabbed the bag of gummy worms from Finney and headed towards the counter where she paid for their snacks. She got a Sprite for herself, and Finney focused his gaze on the floor to avoid thinking about his memories of Sprite.
"Agh! Damn it! Stupid fucking hunk of garbage!" A voice yelled, Finney turned to see the pinball boy kicking the machine. The boy turned and glared at Finney, who quickly turned his attention back on Gwen. She had finished paying, and the pair left the store. The feeling of the boy's eyes glaring at Finney remained until they reached the sidewalk. While he couldn't deny he was scared of the guy, he also found himself curious. He wasn't sure why, or what he even wanted to know, but the image of him remained in Finney's mind as he walked home.
He had a feeling it wouldn't be his only run-in with the guy, and usually those gut instincts of his were right.