​     The place stank. ​That's the first thing anyone noticed when they came to Trevor's home. It smelled of dirt and rotting food. It smelled like uncleanliness. Trevor's father sat on a sofa so dilapidated he sank until he squatted every time he sat in it. He wore slacks, black socks without shoes, and an undershirt covered with food stains. He had a three day growth on his chin. He had a beer in his hand, even though it was far from being twelve o'clock noon. He looked at Trevor and Gramps, but he only saw Trevor. 

​     "Good-bye, son," was the first thing he said. "You're going to jail, boy. Why, you're all over the TV. I thought you was in school. They're coming to get you right now." 

​     Trevor couldn't help but look at the TV screen.

     And there he was.  

     His bare back anyway, on his scooter, escaping from the police. And there was the back of his head. And there were those huge, stick-out ears of his. Damn it, some cop had recorded the whole thing! Trevor froze at the sight of himself on TV. 

​     "Oh my..."

     "Get dressed. Quick," Gramps said.   

​     But it wasn't going to be that easy.

     A young man came into the room from the kitchen even as Trevor started up the stairs to where his bedroom was. This was Trevor's younger brother, Cole. Both brothers were athletic, but Cole's muscles seemed more pronounced somehow. Cole was a lot less hairy, that's for sure. He looked healthier than Trevor. Cole almost glowed with health and self-confidence. 

​     "Hold on, there," he said to Trevor. "You stay right where you're at. Don't move a muscle." 

     Trevor stopped climbing the stairs. It was like Trevor was the younger brother and Cole the older. ​

     "No," Gramps said. "Keep moving." 

​     Trevor stammered, "B-But you don't..."

​     "There's no time. Please go quickly," Gramps said. Then, "Move!"

     Cole got a look at this old, old guy who dared to countermand an order he gave to his own brother. What gave him the nerve to...

​     Cole pushed Gramps slightly. He didn't want to hurt the man. He just wanted him out of the way. It was meant to demonstrate to this ninety year old guy that it didn't pay to defy Cole's will.

     Cole was still a good eight months away from turning fifteen. 

     Gramps stood like a rock at the bottom of the stairway, not allowing Cole to pass. Cole couldn't believe how solid this guy was considering how old he looked. And he kept smiling. That's what was truly upsetting for Cole. He went for a second push, and this time he intended to plough right through the guy.

​     It didn't happen. 

     And he still had that stupid grin plastered all over his face, too.

     Trevor was already in his bedroom collecting his things, a T-shirt, which he threw right on, a clean pair of jeans, his back-up pair of tennis shoes, a light summer coat because that's the only one he owned besides the one he'd left back at Gloria's. He got one last look at his bedroom before he threw on his shoes. He'd spent most of his time there, whenever he wasn't at school or playing a sport. He expected never to see his bedroom again in his life. From the bottom of the stairs, he heard, "Hey, old man, you got to..." 

     "Trevor needs to grab a few things. We'll be out of your hair in just a second."

     Cole grabbed Gramps by the shoulder. He was through being Mr. Nice Guy. If this old bastard wasn't going to get out of the way, then he... 

     Gramps twisted from Cole's grasp. As he did, he reached out his own arms to spin Cole around, away from the stairway, using Cole's own momentum. To stop, Cole had to slap his feet hard on the floor. SLAP! The old bastard had actually fended him off! It was like, everything he'd ever known to be true, his entire universe, that turned upside down. What the... 

     Cole didn't even try for the stairs this time. He went right for Gramps. Old man or no, this guy was about to find out what happened to people who fucked with Cole Harper. He came at Gramps with enough force to knock even someone like Trevor off his feet. Gramps shifted slightly so that Cole glanced off of him rather than slammed into him, and as he did he pulled on Cole a little to keep him lurching forward. He kicked Cole's ankles so that Cole tripped and went crashing to the floor. WHAP! Cole leaped back to his feet, red-faced, humiliated. 

     He came at Gramps swinging. 

     "Cole!" Trevor bellowed. By now he was back at the bottom of the stairs, his jacket half on. "He's an old man!"  

​     Trevor's own "old man", his father, said not a word. He sipped his beer while he stared blankly at Gramps and Cole.  

​     Cole never landed a punch. Gramps dodged him easily. And then Cole had a truly wildly crazy thought. Was this guy some sort of super-Satanist or something? Certainly he was the one behind Trevor murdering that poor bastard a couple blocks away who caught Trevor fucking his wife right in front of their infant child. That's something the Trevor he knew wouldn't have done in a zillion years. Trevor had to be bewitched in some way. 

     And this was the bastard who'd bewitched him.  

     Cole clenched his fists. Now he intended to take this old fucker apart.

     Gramps smacked him full in the jaw.

     That jarred Cole. He'd been thinking offensive rather than defensive, and he had his guard completely down. Four seconds, and Gramps had both of Cole's arms pinned behind his back and Cole himself bent over until his face almost touched the floor. No matter how he struggled, Cole could not break free. ​

​     Who was this guy?

​     "Ready?" Gramps asked Trevor.

​     Trevor nodded.

     "Then say 'bye'," he said, and, as Gramps said the word "bye" in that sentence, he disappeared. 

​     "Bye?" Trevor asked/said. He, too, disappeared. Cole felt himself being set free. The front door opened, then closed again, as if by itself, just as the police arrived. 

CONTINUE