Born Again

Chapter nine

After lunch, Thomas had science. Science was one of the classes he enjoyed but was really bad at.

   When he was homeschooled, Mom never taught science very well. She was always scared he'd blow something up so she made him read books on the subject instead.

   Thomas, still wanting to know more, would go over to Chuck's to do the experiments. They would always have fun, especially when it did blow up. Chuck would always laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world.

   The thought of Chuck suddenly caused a wave of despair to wash over Thomas. He tried to force down the emotions building but it wouldn't leave.

   He blinked back tears, going over the conversation he'd had with Newt earlier. Chuck wouldn't want Thomas to be sad. So he had to stay happy. He had to.

   "Psst," the dark skinned boy, Frypan, whispered, snapping Thomas back to reality. "Can you pass the dropper?"

   Thomas nodded, handing it over. He liked Frypan, though the name confused him. He wondered how the nickname came to be and why he kept it. Either way, Frypan was nice because he was patient, showing Thomas how to do the experiment when he didn't understand. That happened a lot.

   "See, if we just add a drop," Frypan said as he demonstrated. The bowl immediately started foaming. "Ta da!"

   "Wow," Thomas said, fascinated. "How are you so good at this? I suck."

   The boy shrugged. "I don't know. Science isn't all that different from cooking, I guess."

"Are you good at cooking?"

The boy laughed. "I would hope so. I'm the unofficial Keeper of the cooks. You know, because we don't have any cooks. So I'm the Keeper of science instead."

"That's why your name is Frypan," Thomas guessed. "Because you can cook."

He smiled. "Yeah. My best friend, Gally, gave me that nickname."

"Gally?" Thomas asked, a feeling of dread filling his chest. "Oh. I, um, saw him last night. I think he was drunk."

Frypan scoffed. "Yeah. Bad addiction of his. I'm trying to help him break out of it. Did he give you a hard time?"

Thomas ignored the question and moved on, bringing up what had been bothering him about Gally since the incident. "He talked about hearing voices when I saw him," he explained. "So I just thought he was, uh . . ."

   "Crazy?" Frypan finished. He shook his head. "No. He's only like that when he's drunk. That's the only time he talks about the weird voices in his head. It's strange."

   "He never talks about it when he's sober?"

   Frypan thought for a second. "Once, I think. I asked him to go to the park with me. Gally said he didn't want to otherwise he'd get bit by a dog. I waved it off and convinced him to come anyway. But he did end up getting bit so I asked him how he knew. That's when he told me about the voices in his head. I laughed it off and we never talked about it again. Why do you ask?"

   "No reason," Thomas answered. He thought the story sounded similar to when Gally was stung in his dreams. Dogs seemed to be the equivalent of Grievers. And, apparently, Gally knew that too.