Eraser :: 06 :: FIXED

Eraser :: 06 :: FIXED

Courtney had to take the time to remember where she was. She looked at her phone- but it had died overnight. There wasn't any other clock in the room. Gentle violet wallpaper enveloped her and inspired all the objects in the room. Everything was decroatively placed. None of it might have been moved for years, except to be dusted on rare occasion. The room was set to be a sort of modern victorian. Courtney expected that of the colour. It did remind her of velvet everything. She slipped out of the warm, stiff bed and her socks slipped on the rosewood floors. The house was so wealthily styled, but it had lost so much of it's richness over it's lifetime.

There was only one thing in the room that didn't match the deep purple theme. At first it irritated Courtney, but after she took the time to see what it was, she was only happy to have it. It was her own pack. Apparently whoever tucked her in last night brought the bag in too. It was otherwise untouched. At least, nothing was missing. Inside was the homework due that day, which of course she hadn't done. There were her colours from the night before. She would need more of the yellow. For once she was okay on black, but worst came to worst she could borrow some from the guys. She wished she had packed fresh clothes. At least she was wearing warm socks. She roughly made up the bed and took her bag.

The guys weren't in the kitchen. The three mugs sat in the sink, half filled with water to keep them from staining. Courtney walked back into the hall on the tips of her toes. The door to the blue bedroom was closed. She figured that Mr. Tolon was sleeping in there. She came back to the livingroom, where she saw Ricardo on the couch and Dustin in the recliner. Mismatching sheets and quilts twisted around the two of them. The pillows were old, but they looked increadibly soft. She remembered how soft her pillow had been. She fought the urge to jolt them out of their sleep, draw on their faces or put water on their hands. They might mess up the room, and Mr. Tolon had been to nice to the trio for her to do anything that risked his home. She followed the muffled ticks of the clock back to the kitchen.

10:14 AM.

"Aw, shit." She groaned. She ran her fingers through her hair. They were beyond late for class. She couldn't even call anybody. She felt like she had fallen into the dark ages. She sat back on the stool. She couldn't think of anything constructive to do. So she did nothing.

The pitiful fact that no one was worried sank in. Well, her own mother was probably wondering what the hell she had gotten into, but other than that, no one was going to call them. No one was going to check anything to see where they were. As long as they came home before dinner today, they would assume everything was fine. No one was going to call the police. No one was going to take notes for her. They would simply mark her absent and move on with their lives. Maybe some of them would think to themselves, Good riddance.

It reminded her of when she first met up with Ricardo and Dustin. She had been desperate, not that she would ever admit it. It was kind of obvious anyway. that had been a long time ago. Now they were actually good friends. They were her backup when she needed to fall back. Now all three of them were here, on a wierd side of the city, with some guy that didn't eat.

She looked around the kitchen. The yellow somehow made her feel cheery, despite her situation. The clock, which sounded irritated the night before, was now refreshed and welcoming. It crossed her mind that the house was somehow possessed. Considering the man who owned the place, she wasn't going to dismiss the idea all too quickly. They weren't even sure what he was- human or anything else for that matter.

"Good morning." Courtney turned to the hallway to see Mr. Tolon shuffling into the kitchen. His hair stood up every which way. She imagined static leaping thorugh his hair. It made her smile. "I hope you slept well."

"I did, thanks." She kept her hands folded on the table. She wasn't sure where the question had come from, but she decided there was no harm in asking. "are you always this prepared for guests?"

He looked over his shoulder to see her. Mr. Tolon was putting on another kettle. "If I was really prepared, I would have food for all of you. Frosted Flakes, at least. Maybe I should keep some Hot Pockets around or something."

"So you expect guests?" said she.

"Well," He took his seat at the table. "My brother's family has a habit of stopping by without any warning whatsoever. He was lucky enough to be born normal, but I wish he would at least call when he's in the neighborhood. I love my those kids, but they expect the Mc'Donalds menu to magically appear in my fridge somehow."

"You have a brother?" This surprised her. So he did know where he came from.

He nodded. "I have parents just like everyone else. My father was normal, but my mother consumed dance."

"So... you'e human?" She regretted it as soon it was out of her mouth. "I mean, not that-"

He simply laughed and smiled. "I don't know."

Her head tilted to the side in confusion. How does one not know what they are? Sure, finding identity as far as career and person-hood could be difficult, but what you physically are by liniage? Your very species? Surely he could trace himself back, right?

"We haven't known for generations what we are, exactly." He whispered. She expected sorrow in his eyes. Instead was a spark, as if he was speaking about the magic of Christmas instead. "But regardless, we're close enough to people to have families. I don't know know how that works. I mean, I don't even have an esophogus. I don't see how my brother and I are internally alike, even though we look so similar. For all I know we could be aliens who adapted or something. I'm not too worried about it though. If Area 51 shows up at my doorstep, there's not gonna be much I can do at that point anyway."

Courtney didn't mean to laugh at him, but the way he spoke, even on such a grim subject, he was cheerful. He was bubbly and personable, alive and humourus. He was laughing too. She didn't feel so bad. She found herself looking down the hall.

"The pictures on the wall..." she started, "Were those family photos?"

"Sadly, yes." He let out a sigh of disappointment. Courtney imagined it to be disappointment in himself for eating them. "But they're not lost. I can have my parents send new copies if I really wanted. But then I would eat those too, so there's no real point to that."

"You still have your parents?" He was an old man, Courtney saw that. How old were they that they were still around?

He nodded. "They moved to the Netherlands. My cousin had kids, so they're off babying them while they enjoy the vacationing. They travel a lot. I thank them for keeping the family in touch with me, really. I would have almost no contact with any of them otherwise."

-=scx2edsxw

"So, each one of you eats a different type of art?"

"There's some overlap." He nodded. "Eating visual art is actually more common among us. There's four or five of us who do that. Auditory is becoming popular too, as music branches out..."

His eyes fell. His breathing for that one moment became shallow. He closed his eyes. His hair was finally subject to gravity, and it fell with the rest of him. He took a deep breath the balance out the others. Mr. Tolon yawned, as if that was all the trouble was about. Courtney got another glimpse of how weakened he really was, physically and emotionally.

"You should wake Ricardo and Dustin." He said, almost intending to cut off any thought Courtney might have had. "As much as I love company, I don't want you kids to get into trouble. Head on home, let your parents know you're okay."

Courtney was going to press the matter, but she decided against it. She slipped off her stool and strolled into the hall. She turned back. "Oh, pizza."

"What about it?"

"Pizza Hot Pockets. They are like, one of the best ones. Stock up on them." She pranced down the hall to where the boys where so she could yank them out of their dreams.

Mr. Tolon made a note on the fridge to get the Pizza Hot Pockets. He sighed. He hadn't been to the super market ever since he had made the preperations for the funeral. He had promised himself that he wouldn't end up like that. Maybe these kids were the key to keeping him alive. If only he could do it without being their downfall...

There had to be a way to do it. He just had to prove his brother wrong.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Uh, yeah." The worker pointed over to a wall across the way. "Three kids were here about a week ago. They said they were here to see their Uncle or somethin', and then they kinda hid out until they could paint up the place. Some of the overtime guys saw the work they did."

"But you didn't get to see it?" The cheif pressed him. This was the last reported case of the matter, and after reading the file, the only thing he could do from there was to finish the reports. "You personally didn't see the artwork?"

"Naw, officer." The worker shrugged. "It was gone. Good riddance, too. Don't want none of that punk kid shit all over the place, ya know?"

"Yes," the cheif nodded. "I know exactly what you mean. Now you said that someone who worked overtime that night had seen the work. Are they here now? May I speak to them?"

"I dunno." He turned to a building a ways off. It was labled 4T. "Go to the third floor in that buildin' there, look for Boss Yan. You can ask him if the guy is around. He's not the head boss, but he does a lot of the actual work, so you're better off anyway."

"Alright." The chief laughed. "Thank you very much."

"No prob, officer." But he didn't walk away. "But one thing."

"I'll think about it." He said, just so the worker would understand. "So what's this favour that you want done? Tell me it actually relates to the case."

"It's those kids." He shurgged. "It's probably no big deal, but those taggers really piss me the fuck off. If you find a way to pin somethin' to them, I'd be rather grateful."

"We'll see." Cheif gave it that 'don't count on it' tone. Still, it sounded like a good idea. He might have give the impression of no, but he was thinking 'yes'. Pin a few taggers, pin them to a large chain of cases, and watch as graffiti vanishes as the walls cave in on those dumb punks. That would add reward on top of reward if this really worked out.

So far he had three scenes in mind and notes, two to check out, and an entire city to sift. There was some tiny sprout in the sidewalk somewhere in this cement jungle. But though the leaves may be tiny, the roots are huge, and connected to everything worth digging for. It was one chain of treasure after another. The Chief was thrilled. Now he had kids- little inexperienced trouble monsters who didn't know how not to play into his hands.

He loved his job.