Page 27 of The Devil Takes

But it festered inside me, this rotting, gnarly thing, curling around my heart as my belly filled with acid.

I shouldn’t have given Brett Tommy’s number.

I could only pray he wouldn’t use it.

But God and I had never had much of a relationship.

Not like the one I had with the Devil, thank god.

I didn’t want to go home, so I didn’t.

So I did what I always did when I started to feel sick of my own shit. I headed to the only place that made me feel whole.

The greenhouse.

I wasn’t working today, and the owners always closed on the weekend, but all the employees had been given a key and were encouraged to check on the plants in their free time. I was the only one that ever did it though. It made Mr. and Mrs. Becker way fonder of me than they probably should have been considering the fact I spent half my shifts with a case of soda beneath the front desk, a lollipop in my mouth—or with donuts stuffed into my cheeks like an overgrown chipmunk.

I spent more time at the greenhouse than was probably healthy, actually. Abused the hell out of my access to the building at all hours. But hell. The plants made good company, great company even. Before the graveyard had become my temporary haunt, this had been my only escape.

I entered the building, more than a little relieved when I confirmed the fact that I was the only one there. The storefront was dark, the break room silent, so I made my way to where the plants were sleeping, my heart lighter already.

My favorite plot was at the back, a rectangle of heaven, surrounded by equipment and foggy plastic. I flopped to the floor beside the baby sprouts and tucked my head in my arms, trying to calm my racing heart.

One of my little buddies had begun to pop out of the dirt, his bright green sprout tipping toward the sky, all hopeful-like. Watching him calmed me the way nothing else did. He was cute. In a baby plant sort of way.

“You’re looking good, bud,” I told him, chuckling at my own joke a half second after I made it unintentionally. “Bud.” I shook my head with a grin, shuffling closer till I could stare at the lone explorer. He needed water, so I resolved myself to take care of that before I left.

When he was all fully grown, he’d be a glorious yellow squash. I’d eat him. And I’d try not to cry. And hopefully he’d forgive me from squash heaven. Unless he went to squash Hell. But even I wasn’t pessimistic enough to believe that would happen.

Realist. See? Fuck you, Tommy.

“I’ve been a bit of a dick lately.” I admitted quietly, because I was pretty sure the squash wouldn’t judge. “But I can’t really help it.” The dirt smelled good. Comforting. Like new beginnings, and I inhaled it greedily as the humid air clung to my skin.

I thought about the grasshopper I buried, absently chewing on my lip as I wondered if he’d ever found his way up to grasshopper heaven. Did grasshoppers and squashes share a heaven? Fuck. Maybe grasshopper heaven was actually squash Hell? Forever cursed to be eaten by little grasshopper hands. I shuddered and shook the thought away because even I knew I was being an idiot.

“I should apologize.” I stared at my lil buddy, frowning as I thought about Tommy. About how he’d respond when he found out what I’d done. He wouldn’t like it, that was for sure. Possibly even the understatement of the century. But maybe he could understand it? Even if he didn’t like it.

I hoped anyway.

He was a good friend, even though I felt like a shitty one.

“Ugh, okay. Fine.”

After I’d calmed down I bid my plants farewell and rose to my feet, brushing the dirt off my knees with a sigh. This wasn’t going to go over well. But hopefully, if I told him before Brett managed to contact him, then it would mitigate some of the damage. Pulling out my phone, I mulled over the best way to approach this, eventually deciding quick and to the point would be the best. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.

Percy

I gave Brett ur number

Tommy

?

I could see the chat bubble appear and disappear like a zillion times as Tommy figured out how best to tear me a new asshole. This sucked. It really did. But I’d done it to myself.

Tommy

What the fuck, Percy. You know how I feel about this shit.