Page 34 of S.O.S. Perk

Perk looked around and saw several closed doors. He had to assume one of them led to the cellar and Higgins’ lair. He opened the first, tentatively, and saw a small, well-appointed powder room that smelled overwhelmingly like lavender.

Perk coughed and closed that door quickly, opening the one next to it.

Pantry closet.

Third times a charm, he thought to himself as he closed the closet and reached for the last doorknob.

Before he got his hand wrapped around the knob, the door swung open, almost hitting him.

“Dude. Where have you been? We’ve been waiting,” Higgins grunted.

And wasn’t it funny, this new version of Higgins? The gunky-toothed, sloppily dressed kid from the past couple days had disappeared, and in his place was a civilized version of what the kid projected at school.

“Uh, yeah. I got waylaid by your mother. She gave me these.”

He thrust the plate at Higgins who simply shrugged and took it like it was an everyday occurrence, which by the looks of the situation, might be true. There were other confections on the counter under various lids.

Perk was familiar with mothers who baked. His own made sure he always left with containers of goodies after he visited, citing the fact that he was too thin and didn’t eat nearly enough, even though that was clearly not true.

“Come on,” Higgins prompted. “Everybody else is already here.”

Perk wondered who “everybody else” was, but quickly found out as he descended into what could only be described as a teenager’s heaven. There were three male forms stretched out in various awkward positions of repose on an overly-large sofa, and there were…pinball machines, a big screen TV, shelves of video games, and every gaming-station known to man set up on a huge-ass coffee table. Colorful lights were strung everywhere, taking the place of bright overheads. The whole place resembled a club, minus the women and alcohol.

“You already know Thorpe,” Higgins stated, waving his hand at the reclining group. “The other guys are Sanders and Keiff.”

“Perdudan,” Perk responded to each with a chin lift and gave his last name, as it seemed was de rigueur.

“You said to call you Dude,” Higgins corrected.

“Yeah. That’s my nickname. Call me that,” Perk agreed.

It didn’t seem to matter to the others what Perk went by, as they all immediately attacked the plate of brownies Higgins had put on the table in front of them. Perk took a seat in an empty chair and joined them. It looked like there’d be no talk until the food was consumed.

A few, chewing minutes later…

“You wanna play Helldivers 2?” Thorpe asked Perk.

Shit.He totally did not.

Perk hadn’t kept up with his gaming; hadn’t actually played at all since he’d gotten out of the service where he’d kicked ass at Battlefield 1, but the game Thorpe mentioned didn’t ring a bell at all.

“Nah. Not right now,” Perk shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell me some shit about our high school,” he prompted. “I figure you guys must know everything, like which teachers are cool, and which ones to avoid. And maybe even…” he gave what he hoped was a lascivious grin, “…which girls are bitches and which ones are easy.”

That started a round of information that was enough to blow up Perk’s brain. Including names and interesting biographies. He hoped like hell Smalley and Tertia were getting it all recorded so he could review it when he got home, because it was a lot to take in. The good news was, this bunch wasn’t at all reluctant to talk shit about school and the people therein.

Keiff sat up and brushed crumbs off his shirt and onto the floor. “Is Clark still bitching about the guap that disappeared from his bank account?” he asked Higgins with a sneer.

“Yeah,” Higgins laughed. “The fucking crybaby. I’m not sure if he’s for real or not, but he can fucking afford it. All I know is that he owes me for some weed, and he better come up with the dough, or I’ll end up taking some of his drip, whether he likes it or not.”

Drip… Perk searched his brain for any reference to what that might be, and came up blank. Luckily, Sanders clarified it with his next statement.

“Yeah. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind having that gold bracelet he flashes around.”

“Hell, yeah,” Higgins grinned. “That glo up will earn me some cred.”

The Gen Z slang was getting out of hand, so Perk brought the conversation back around to the guap, or large sum of money that had gone missing from the unknown Clark’s bank account.

“Somebody took money from your friend?” Perk asked as innocently as possible.

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