His face never changed at all, in fact, maintaining one smooth, mask-like expression, like the surface of a lake on the stillest day of the year. “Malcolm? Hot xxx “She asks about you all the time you know.”
“Zoe?”
“Uh huh. The boughs of the trees seemed to shift again to provide enough shadow to keep his face hidden, and the rest of him was just a silhouette against nothing, like a shape cut from black construction paper. Malcolm, with his beard still growing in, and his clothes off showing his swimmer’s body. I blacked out.”
“It’s so funny you wouldn’t even believe it. Your mom knows you’re staying over.”
“She does?”
“Yeah. She laughed. “You know: death, monsters, childhood. Just keep doing it. “No.”
“Is it Eddie?”
“It’s definitely not Eddie.“
The man (thing?) was halfway to them almost before they knew it.
