Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Half an hour later, Jeff found himself in front of Aarav’s house. The yard smelled of cut grass, which came as no surprise since Mr. Jain hedged it earlier. But aside from the kept lawn, the house differed vastly from any of those in Jeff’s neighborhood. It stood on its own with unique features—flaws, even. One gutter sank a little too low, and the eaves were weathered from the elements. Jeff appreciated the shortcomings. It adds character.

Though the year was getting late, most of the flowers remained in bloom, providing a sense of vibrancy to the area even in twilight. Thanks to a nearby streetlamp, it was easy for Jeff to make his way toward the house, though what he’d do when he got there, he wasn’t sure.

Why did I come here? He stopped in the yard. The bungalow had two stories and a sizeable patio. The top story had one room with a window looking out, which looked to Jeff to be the master bedroom. A painted porch swing creaked as the breeze picked up.

I wonder where Aarav’s room is. He peered around the house to see if there were any windows with the lights on inside. And what if they are? he thought, knowing he was being foolish. It’s late. Not like you’ll be getting an invitation to come in.

The light in the upstairs room turned off, and that was enough for Jeff. This is ridiculous, he realized. It’s late. Go home.

Before he could leave, the crinkle of dead leaves behind him sent fear trailing up his spine. A hand reached through the darkness and grabbed him.

Jeff screamed and pulled free but tripped over his own feet. His head struck the ground, and as light flashed behind his eyes, he wondered if there was a meteor shower overhead.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” The figure loomed—a Grim Reaper set on collecting his toll.

The streetlamp backlit the figure, and Jeff’s eyes blurred from the recent impact. Too stunned to move, he squinted and remained on his back while dew from the grass seeped through his clothing. The figure leaned down and grabbed him by the shirt, yanking him up. The grip was too strong for Jeff to escape.

“Why are you here?” Anger spewed from the attacker’s lips. Jeff’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he now identified the man as the bald landscaper from earlier today—Aarav’s dad, Mr. Jain. The man pulled him close. “Abomination! That’s what you are!”

“No. No, sir. I’m sorry.” Jeff twisted in his grip. “I was just . . . Aarav goes to my school. We walked home together earlier today, and I waved at you. I live just a few blocks from here!”

“I know what you are. What you want.” Spit sprayed through a gap between the man’s two front teeth. “To corrupt my son, make him like you. Disgusting thing.”

Jeff tried to pry apart the man’s fingers. “No, it’s not what it looks like. I mean, I’m not what I look like.” Struggling was pointless. “I know I look different, but it’s just my face. I’m harmless! Really, I am!”

Jeff hit the ground again, and Mr. Jain dug a heel in his chest. “I see through you. Keep away from my son, you hear me?”

Jeff opened his mouth to yell, but Mr. Jain pressed his foot deeper. His lungs screamed for air. “Please,” he coughed, wrapping his hands around the foot that pinned him. “You’re hurting me.” He coughed and wheezed.

“If I see you with my son again, I’ll exterminate you. Do you understand?”

Jeff’s ears rang. Mr. Jain’s words were coming at him too fast, and his brain struggled to process the information while stuck in panic mode.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” The man added more weight.

There was a crack, and an icy heat infiltrated Jeff’s ribs. Not being able to scream worsened the pain. He mouthed a response he hoped would suffice.

“Good,” said the man, removing his foot. “Come here again, and you’re dead.”

Then he left. The sound of shoes hitting damp grass receded in the distance and was soon followed by the opening and closing of a screen door, then a heavier one.

Air returned to Jeff’s lungs, and the oxygen felt like fire in his expanding ribcage. He held his tongue. A few moments after the door slammed, he slid a hand beneath his shirt and pressed the injured area, choking on the pain.

Hopefully, they’re just cracked, he thought. Not broken. When he tried to stand, a hand tapped him from behind, sending a mixture of fear and agony through him as he jerked.

“Sorry! Sorry.” It was a hushed voice.

Aarav, not his father, stood beside him, a black hoodie pulled over the top of his head.

“Aahh!” It took more effort than Jeff had to stand, and Aarav tried to help. He exhaled and shook his head. “Aarav, what are you doing out here?”

“Jeff, I am so sorry!” His voice was heavy with concern. “I saw what happened. Are you all right?”

Jeff stammered. “Your dad. He—”

“I know, I know. I never wanted you to meet him. My dad is . . . different.”

There’s that word again, Jeff thought. “Different?” he said, wrapping his arm around his ribs for support. “Psychotic is more like it.”

“He’s very stern,” Aarav said, watching the house.

“Is that right?” Even in extreme pain, Jeff couldn’t keep amusement from his voice. “Grounding your kid for a month when he’s out past curfew . . . that’s stern. What your dad just did is assault.”

“Shh,” Aarav held a finger to his lips. “If he knows you’re still here . . . ” He trailed off.

“Thanks for the tip. I was just leaving.” Jeff hobbled a few feet. Recent events had dampened the urge to see his new friend.

“Wait,” Aarav followed. “Let me explain, please.”

“But you just said if he catches us . . . ”

The boy shook his head. “I don’t mean here. And not now. Meet me in front of the school like we planned. Tomorrow at noon.”

Jeff coughed and winced. “He doesn’t want us to see each other, remember?”

“I’ll be discreet.” His sorrow was palpable. “Please, Jeff. I feel a connection with you. I haven’t had a friend in a while, and all I want is a chance to explain.”

Even through the discomfort, Jeff felt a spark of happiness ignited by Aarav’s words. Against his better judgment, he nodded. “Fine. Tomorrow at noon.” He limped toward the street.

“I’m sorry, Jeff.” Aarav called after him.

It hurt too much to respond.