far too young to die ✰ m.w.

CHAPTER THREE

The morning after Halloween was already chaotic. While Emily hurriedly got ready for school after sleeping in a bit too late, Jonathan, Will, and Bob were helping Joyce with trying to find her keys.

"Have you seen them?" Joyce asked, searching under couch cushions as Emily walked out of her room, slipping on her backpack.

"We're looking, Mom," Jonathan said, checking Joyce's jacket pockets.

"What are we looking for again?" Emily asked, joining her brothers in the kitchen.

"Mom's keys," Will told her.

Before Emily could join the search effort, Bob walked out of Joyce's bedroom and said, "Aha! Found 'em. Hiding under some jeans, sneaky little buggers."

"Thank you. Thank you. You're a life saver," Joyce said appreciatively, taking her keys from him and kissing his cheek. She then grabbed her jacket from the back of one of the dining chairs and turned to Jonathan. "Can you take these two to school today? I cannot be late again."

"He's staying over now?" Jonathan said to her in a low voice, referring to Bob.

"Can you just take them, please?"

"I can take them," Bob offered.

"Will you make sure they get in okay?"

"Yeah, of course. What do you say, kids? Wanna go for a ride in the Bobmobile?"

Will and Emily exchanged a look.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"Was that one of you I heard milling around last night, or was that a ghost?" Bob asked the two a few minutes after they had left the Byers' home.

"Me, probably," Will answered.

Bob nodded. "Another nightmare?"

"Um... no."

There was a pause before Bob continued on. "Did I ever tell you about Mr. Baldo?"

"Mr. Baldo?"

"Yeah."

"Was he bald?" Emily asked.

Bob chuckled. "No, actually, I'm not sure why he was called that. I was a little younger than you two, standing in line for the Ferris wheel at the Roane County fair."

"Mhm," Will said, he and Emily both now interested to hear the rest of the story.

"And suddenly, I feel this fat white glove tap me on the shoulder. I spin around, and there he is. Mr. Baldo. 'Hey, kiddo, would you like a balloon?'"

"That's creepy as shit," Emily muttered.

"Hey, language."

"Oh - sorry."

Bob chuckled and waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "It's okay." He continued on telling the story. "I couldn't get him out of my head. Every night, he would come to me in my dreams. And every night when he came to me... I ran. It got so bad that I made my mom stay in the room with me until I could fall asleep every night."