his face made Cory gag, and it didn't help that they'd planned to shove his face into the toilet bowl; that didn't make it any less horrible.
“Get him!” Rocko snarled. “Get him and fucking kill him!"
“To hell with you!” Angel said. “Did you see what that motherfucker did ? I'm not messing with him!"
Curly nodded his assent, and the two of them went stumbling out of the bathroom.
“How did you do that?” Rocko said softly, still kneeling on the floor. “You little bastard, that wasn't kung-fu, that was fucking impossible."
“Just leave me alone,” Cory said, his voice hoarse. He felt horribly on edge, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep from crying. He backed away. “Just stay away from me, I don't want anything to do with you, leave me alone!"
He ran from the bathroom, stumbling toward the office. He slowed down and took deep breaths. Rocko wouldn't be coming after him, not right away—he had to clean his face off first. What had happened back there? How had he done ... whatever he'd done?
Turnaround , he thought. The thought came in a woman's husky voice, but that didn't make any sense, either.
“Cory?” Heather said. “Are you okay?"
She came hurrying down the hallway, hockey stick in hand.
Cory shook his head. “I ... Rocko and his friends tried to mess with me again, in the bathroom."
She scowled. “Are you okay?"
“Yeah. I got away.” He didn't want to go into details, not least of all because he couldn't remember the details. “I'm okay."
She put her hand on his shoulder, and Cory realized he was shaking. “Take it easy. It'll be okay. Let's catch the bus."
“Yeah. Okay. It just..."
“It's adrenaline,” she said. “You're still all jazzed-up from it. You'll feel better soon. Come on."
“You sure fucked that up, didn't you?"
Rocko jerked his head up from the sink, where he'd been washing his face for the tenth time. He looked in the mirror, but didn't see anyone behind him. He turned around, and there was the woman, the witch from yesterday. Standing—with her bicycle —by one of the toilet stalls.
Rocko wondered for a moment if he was going insane. Witches and their malevolent bicycles didn't usually hang out in high school bathrooms. What would his psychiatrist say if Rocko told him about this ?
“That piece of shit had some kind of trick,” Rocko said through clenched teeth.
“Looks like you're the piece of shit, now."
He took a step toward her threateningly, then stopped, remembering the pithed feeling from yesterday.
“It's not too late, though,” she said. “You tried humiliation, and it failed ... turned around on you, in fact— you were humiliated instead."
“So what do you suggest?” he asked, trying to stay cool. “Your last advice didn't help me much."
“As I said, the will to kill is a wonderful thing. You shouldn't do it here at school, though ... we wouldn't want you to get expelled."
“So where?"
She shrugged. “An opportunity will present itself, Rocko. Opportunities always do."
“And what should I kill him with ?"
“This,” she said, and took the bag from the basket on her bike. She opened it so he could look inside.
“That's a pretty weird suggestion,” he said after a moment.
“Not the sort of weapon a ninth grader would be expected to use, though, my little Rival. And you don't own one, and it's not something you can pick up in the hardware store, so it's unlikely to be traced back to you. As long as you keep it clean of fingerprints and ditch it after you're done."
“What do you care? What's in this for you?"
“I'm the good witch, and I'm a big believer in the power of true love. I think you and that Girl could be beautiful together, if we get the Boy out of the way."
Rocko didn't believe her for a moment, but it didn't matter. He hadn't wanted to kill Cory before, not really, but now, after what he'd done to him in the bathroom today ... “Can you make me like I was yesterday? So that when I ... when I do it
“Get him!” Rocko snarled. “Get him and fucking kill him!"
“To hell with you!” Angel said. “Did you see what that motherfucker did ? I'm not messing with him!"
Curly nodded his assent, and the two of them went stumbling out of the bathroom.
“How did you do that?” Rocko said softly, still kneeling on the floor. “You little bastard, that wasn't kung-fu, that was fucking impossible."
“Just leave me alone,” Cory said, his voice hoarse. He felt horribly on edge, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep from crying. He backed away. “Just stay away from me, I don't want anything to do with you, leave me alone!"
He ran from the bathroom, stumbling toward the office. He slowed down and took deep breaths. Rocko wouldn't be coming after him, not right away—he had to clean his face off first. What had happened back there? How had he done ... whatever he'd done?
Turnaround , he thought. The thought came in a woman's husky voice, but that didn't make any sense, either.
“Cory?” Heather said. “Are you okay?"
She came hurrying down the hallway, hockey stick in hand.
Cory shook his head. “I ... Rocko and his friends tried to mess with me again, in the bathroom."
She scowled. “Are you okay?"
“Yeah. I got away.” He didn't want to go into details, not least of all because he couldn't remember the details. “I'm okay."
She put her hand on his shoulder, and Cory realized he was shaking. “Take it easy. It'll be okay. Let's catch the bus."
“Yeah. Okay. It just..."
“It's adrenaline,” she said. “You're still all jazzed-up from it. You'll feel better soon. Come on."
“You sure fucked that up, didn't you?"
Rocko jerked his head up from the sink, where he'd been washing his face for the tenth time. He looked in the mirror, but didn't see anyone behind him. He turned around, and there was the woman, the witch from yesterday. Standing—with her bicycle —by one of the toilet stalls.
Rocko wondered for a moment if he was going insane. Witches and their malevolent bicycles didn't usually hang out in high school bathrooms. What would his psychiatrist say if Rocko told him about this ?
“That piece of shit had some kind of trick,” Rocko said through clenched teeth.
“Looks like you're the piece of shit, now."
He took a step toward her threateningly, then stopped, remembering the pithed feeling from yesterday.
“It's not too late, though,” she said. “You tried humiliation, and it failed ... turned around on you, in fact— you were humiliated instead."
“So what do you suggest?” he asked, trying to stay cool. “Your last advice didn't help me much."
“As I said, the will to kill is a wonderful thing. You shouldn't do it here at school, though ... we wouldn't want you to get expelled."
“So where?"
She shrugged. “An opportunity will present itself, Rocko. Opportunities always do."
“And what should I kill him with ?"
“This,” she said, and took the bag from the basket on her bike. She opened it so he could look inside.
“That's a pretty weird suggestion,” he said after a moment.
“Not the sort of weapon a ninth grader would be expected to use, though, my little Rival. And you don't own one, and it's not something you can pick up in the hardware store, so it's unlikely to be traced back to you. As long as you keep it clean of fingerprints and ditch it after you're done."
“What do you care? What's in this for you?"
“I'm the good witch, and I'm a big believer in the power of true love. I think you and that Girl could be beautiful together, if we get the Boy out of the way."
Rocko didn't believe her for a moment, but it didn't matter. He hadn't wanted to kill Cory before, not really, but now, after what he'd done to him in the bathroom today ... “Can you make me like I was yesterday? So that when I ... when I do it
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