Fangboy. Part 24

Nathan nodded. "I understand."

"We cannot be together, not when I'm eighteen and you're seven. It would be sick and wrong. But when I'm twenty-nine and you're eighteen, the morally repugnant element will disappear. So I promise you, Nathan Pepper, if you return for me in eleven years, I will divorce whoever I have married and we shall be husband and wife."

"And I will return for you," said Nathan.

Beverly gave him a soft kiss on the forehead. "Best of luck. I hope you find them."

"Thank you."

"For what it's worth," said Jamison, "I'd be happy to take on the role of the placeholder husband."

"I appreciate and decline the offer."

"I'll accompany Nathan, then."

And so they walked out of town.

"I'm glad you're here with me," said Nathan. "I've spent so much of my life alone. Granted, more than half of it was spent encased in a block of ice and I wasn't truly aware of my loneliness, but still, it's good of you to be my friend."

"And it's good of you to be mine, Nathan. Don't worry. We'll find them. I know we will."

As they peered ahead into the great land that stretched before them, the way seemed long. But the sky was bright, and they somehow felt that they were headed in the right direction.

The End

TWENTY-FOUR.

The tale of Fangboy has been told many times by many different people in many different languages, and one of the most controversial aspects of certain versions is how they simply end, resolving nothing. If a formal study of such matters were ever conducted, it is estimated that nearly one out of every twenty homes contains at least one wall that has been dented by a copy of Fangboy (or, in this modern age, the electronic device upon which it was read) being flung at great force. However, no study of that sort has ever been conducted.

It is rumored that the original teller of the tale, Wilbur Tank, believed that he had scorpions wriggling around inside of his legs, and he feared that they might burst out at any moment. His paranoia became greater and greater with each pa.s.sing day, and he began to fear that he might not see his book published before the flood of scorpions emerged. So he decided that an arbitrary, unsatisfactory ending was in order.

Before he could finish typing it, the scorpions did indeed burst out of his legs. They were small ones, but no less fierce than their full-sized counterparts, and Wilbur Tank's demise was most messy indeed. The tale was published with only twenty-three chapters, much to the fury of readers.

Since the tale of Fangboy is entirely factual, however, it wasn't long before another journalist, R.K. Clovis, compiled the rest of the saga using public records and interviews that he conducted with the partic.i.p.ants.

And so the tale continues...

"Considering that our h.e.l.lish encounter with Mortus Ranklin is forever burned into my psyche, I do wish we'd gotten better directions from him than 'Go south,'" said Jamison, as they continued walking south.

"I agree with you," said Nathan. "But when life hands you lemons, make lemonade."

"Is that how the saying goes? I'd always heard it as 'When life hands you lemons, squeeze lemon juice into somebody's eyes and giggle, giggle, giggle.'"

"Despite your not dying, the years have not been kind to you, have they?"

"Not at all," said Jamison. "There's so much I wanted to accomplish in life. I thought I'd have a career. A family of my own."

"At eighteen?"

"I'm ambitious, yes, but I don't necessarily see that as a negative thing. And I would have been satisfied with merely acquiring a social life. I have nothing, Nathan. Without being the Friend of the Fang-Toothed Boy, I became so unmemorable that I might as well not have existed at all."

Nathan spat a tooth out onto his palm.

"Is that the last of them?" Jamison asked.

"Not yet. But I'm down to two. The soreness of my gums is almost unbearable."

"Perhaps we should rest for the night."

They built a campfire, piled some small rocks to use as pillows, and lay out under the stars.

"Do you know any of the constellations?" Nathan asked, adding his new tooth to the necklace.

"I know most of them." Jamison pointed to the sky. "That one is Frankenstein. That one over there is The Great Bat. Right underneath it is the Man With No Eyes."

"I'm not sure those are accurate," Nathan observed.

"See that one? It's the Panda Pinata. And there we have the Vortex. That one is called the Line of Stars."

"You're making these up."

"No, no, they're all true." Jamison laughed. "That one is called Fangboy. See how the stars look like fangs?"

"They do, actually."

"You have to be a pretty great person for the stars to s.h.i.+ft around to form a constellation that resembles your face. They won't do that for me, I can tell you."

They laughed until tears ran down their face. Finally Nathan pulled the blanket of leaves over himself. "Would you like the last piece of cheese?" he offered. The cheese was stolen, but the dairy farmer had been so rude about their act of theft that they didn't feel guilty.

"No, it's yours. I know you've been saving it."

"But I've seen you eyeing it for the past couple of days, and I want you to have it, for being my friend."

"Thank you." Jamison gobbled down the small piece of cheese and smiled. "We'll steal more cheese tomorrow. Perhaps some cheddar or that white kind. And we'll get grapes to go with it. Nothing goes better with cheese than grapes, except for crackers. Though crackers might be difficult for you to eat with so few remaining teeth. We'll stick with the cheese and grapes."

"Goodnight, Jamison."

"Goodnight, Nathan."

As the sun rose over the hillside, Nathan opened his eyes, yawned, and decided that today was the day he would finally be reunited with Penny and Mary.

"Come on," he said, brus.h.i.+ng the leaves off of Jamison. "It's too beautiful of a day to waste by sleeping all..."

Jamison was not asleep.

"No," Nathan whispered. "It can't be."

He gently shook his friend. Jamison's face had taken on a greenish tint, and he looked exactly the way Nathan might expect somebody to look if they'd eaten bad cheese.

"Please, no."

Nathan's entire body shook as he wept. He sobbed so violently that his last two teeth fell out. He didn't pick these up. Let them decay on the ground! n.o.body would ever want them!

In fact, he tore off his necklace, snapping the string. He took the individual teeth and flung them away, one by one, throwing them as far as he possibly could. Why keep mementos of his existence? He brought nothing but misery to those who were kind to him.

He threw away the last tooth and wept some more.

He should have eaten that cheese himself!

"Oh, Jamison, I'm so, so very sorry. I wish you'd stayed behind and married Beverly. Then you wouldn't be dead. I'm so sorry."

Nathan knew what he had to do. He searched for a few minutes for one of the teeth he'd thrown away, and then sc.r.a.ped it across the ground. He would bury Jamison in a grave that he dug with his own accursed tooth. That was the only way to show his best friend the proper respect.

Digging a grave with a tooth, however sharp, is a very time consuming process, but Nathan didn't care. If it took him the rest of his life, he would dig this grave!

When the vultures arrived, he decided to cheat a bit.

"I'll miss you, dear friend," he said, as he set the last stone upon the grave. A marker read Jamison. A friend to all, but especially to me.

And then he resumed his journey, alone.

His gums were particularly sore one day and even bleeding a bit, and he realized that his new teeth were finally coming in. In fact, as he poked at the spot with his tongue, one of them had started to emerge.

He hurried to a pond and gazed closely at his reflection.

Normal!

His new tooth had a flat top!

It was a normal tooth!

If all of his new teeth followed this pattern, soon he'd look like everybody else!

He clapped his hands together with delight, and then he frowned.

He'd no longer be special!

He'd be just like everybody else!

He flicked himself on the side of the head to clear out that train of thought. The normal teeth were good.

He invented three new dances, right there on the spot, and then continued on his way.

Each day it seemed a new tooth emerged from his gums, and they were all normal. His mouth was so sore that even drinking through a straw caused pain, but it didn't take away from his happiness.

In every town, village, and city, he asked if anybody knew where Penny and Mary might live. He was sorrowful each time they said "No, sorry, I'm afraid we can't help you, best of luck in your search" but n.o.body screamed when they saw him. n.o.body recoiled. n.o.body even gasped.

Soon all of his teeth had grown in completely. He smiled all the time, even when he wasn't particularly happy.

And one day, he pa.s.sed by a small brown house with a white picket fence that felt somehow right to him. Familiar. Like he'd been there before even though he'd never seen it.

Home.

He ran his hand through his hair, tried to wipe most of the dirt off his face, and then walked up onto the porch and rang the doorbell.

Penny did not answer.

Nor did Mary.

"May I help you?" asked the woman. "I won't be buying any newspapers or raffle tickets, if that's why you're here."

"No, it's nothing like that. Do you by any chance know a pair of sisters named Penny and Mary?"

"Nuns?"

"No, sisters as in blood relatives."

"I've never heard of them." The woman narrowed her eyes. "You look oddly familiar, even though I don't remember you from anywhere. Are you famous?"

"I was frozen for a while. It might have been on the news."

"That can't be it. I don't follow news of science. What's your name?"

"Nathan Pepper."

The woman put her hand to her mouth in shock. "Nathan Pepper?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Smile for me. As wide as you can."