The Conch Shell of Doom Read Online Free

anyway.”
    “And say you’re wrong about this.” Marshall swallowed his shot and then held a hand up to his head like a telephone. “You think Earl Southwick won’t throw you in the loony bin for saying you overheard him and your mom talking to some guy with crazy eyes about a sea shell of death?”
    “Conch Shell of Doom,” Bailey said under his breath. He should’ve known they’d piss all over his story.
    “ My bad ,” Marshall spat. “Conch Shell of Doom. That sounds much more rational.”  
    “We have to do something.” Bailey’s defenses couldn’t take much more. He knew what he saw.  
    “You can Tweet about it.” Marshall smirked.
    “Yeah.” Tim used the controller to get to Call of Duty ’s multiplayer. “Or make a Vine video. That’ll show ‘em.”
    “Your parents were there too, Marshall.” Bailey was losing his temper. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
    Marshall’s phone rang. “Speak of the devil.” He showed Bailey the display. It was Marshall’s mother.
    Bailey flew into a panic. “Don’t answer it.”
    “Don’t be a little bitch.” Marshall answered the phone. “Hey. Why yes . Bailey’s right here.”
    Bailey bit the inside of his mouth. It was a mistake coming there. His parents knew he was sleeping over. Bailey needed to go on the lam. Right after he searched the Internet on how to do it.
    “Okay, yeah. No, I get it.” Marshall set the phone down on the coffee table.
    “What did your mom say?” Bailey asked.
    “She said you interrupted their dinner party in the middle of some mystery game they were playing and freaked everyone out.” Marshall hopped up off the couch. “Your parents are coming to get you. They’re worried about you. Freakin’ drama queen.”
    “I’m not going back there.” Bailey started for the stairs. “No way.”
    Despite feeling betrayed, he understood why they didn’t believe him. Though, it would’ve been nice if they didn’t throw him under the bus. It seemed like a dick move.
    “I keep a ninja star in my car if you want it.” Tim was still glued to the game, mashing buttons on the controller as he tried to blow up other players. “For protection.”  
    “Get over it.” Marshall cheered as Tim blew up a tank. “Nice hit.”
    Bailey went up a few stairs.  
    “Hey.” Marshall hopped up off the couch and jogged over to Bailey. “Just stay here. Your parents probably want to give you a Xanax or something, and then they’ll go home and you can get drunk with us. You know this is just your anxiety messing with you, right?”
    Bailey’s temper spilled over like a boiling pot left unattended. He pulled at his hair, fighting the hopeless, sinking feeling in his chest. “Anxiety doesn’t have anything to do with this. It doesn’t make me see things, damn it. I’m not making up the fact that some ugly assed dude teleported right in front of me. Twice!”
    “Don’t yell at me,” Marshall said. “Just tell them your blood sugar is low and you want a milkshake. Milkshakes make everyone feel better.”
    “Whatever.” If Bailey stuck around much longer, he’d say something he couldn’t take back. “All I’m saying is I think our parents are into some really shady stuff, and it would’ve been really nice if my friends believed me.”
    “Yeah, well, I wish the Mets were halfway decent, but wish in one hand,” Marshall said. “Just stay here, we’ll figure out something to tell your parents.”
    Bailey took the keys out of his pocket and squeezed. It helped keep the shaking away. “No, you guys have fun.”
    Tim paused Call of Duty . “Come on. Don’t go rogue on us. Besides, where would you go?”  
    Bailey glanced at his friend. At least Tim showed a little compassion. Not much, but a little. “No idea.”

    Franklin sped down Interstate 40, the engine in his red 1969 Ford Mustang purring like a satisfied kitten as he pushed it to ninety-miles-an-hour. He’d be in the coastal town of Mooresville, North