The Dead Boys Read Online Free

cool?” she asked.
    â€œYeah. He seemed like a nice guy.”
    â€œThat’s great! Are you going to see him around?” she persisted.
    â€œI don’t know.” It was an honest answer.
    â€œWell, if he’s nice, I sure hope so,” she said. “It’s important to pick good friends.”
    That night Teddy sat on his bed in shorts. It was an old sleigh-style bed, and the frame sat high off the ground, leaving a cavernous space underneath. A bulky gray comforter he’d had for years sat on top like a layer of protective armor. He hoped that after a decent night’s sleep, he’d wake up with a reasonable explanation for the impossible events of the day.
    His open window looked out at the old house next door and its massive sycamore tree. The tree’s leaves were as big as dinner plates, with pointed tips that splayed out from the center.
    Like hundreds of hands , Teddy thought, reaching in all directions .
    A desert wind was rising, and swirling dust devils flung sand through the window into his second-floor room. One of the groping branches leaned in too, pushing the white curtain aside. But when Teddy rose to close the window, the branch retreated on a sudden gust.
    The sun’s glow lingered late on the summer horizon, and it was almost ten o’clock when it faded completely. Teddy was exhausted, so he shut off his light with a loud click , climbed into bed, and pulled the comforter to his chin, settling in for his first night’s sleep in his new home after a very uncomfortable first day.
    Hours later, Teddy awoke to the rapping sound of tree branches clawing at the house. He blinked in the darkness and looked around, bleary-eyed. He almost reached out from under the covers for the bedside lamp, but then he noticed the open window. He could have sworn he’d closed it.
    Could the wind have somehow blown it open? he wondered. But even half asleep in the middle of the night he knew that didn’t make any sense.
    He glanced at the clock—which read 2:30 A.M.—then back at the window. A small branch had twisted over the sill and disappeared down behind his bedside table. He peeked over the edge of the bed, and the rotten smell of wet, decaying leaves wafted over him.
    It was then that he heard the scratching sound, like something with claws dragging itself across the new brown carpet. Teddy sucked in a breath—it was coming from under his bed.
    The branch quivered behind the nightstand, making Teddy’s heart pound as he imagined a rattlesnake curled around the end that was beneath his bed, shaking with its eagerness to strike. Or maybe a swarm of scorpions or black widow spiders pouring in on the branch from outside to scatter across his floor, creep up the walls, and crawl over his mattress.
    Or could it be something even worse?
    That was enough for Teddy. He dove off the bed wearing his comforter for protection and ran for the door. To his horror, the dust ruffle swished aside behind him, and something scratched over the carpet after him.
    In the dark, he found the doorknob and desperately yanked at it, still shrouded in the comforter. The knob was new to Teddy, and he rattled it back and forth, horrified by the thought of some desert terror racing across the floor to leap on his back.
    Just then, there was a sharp tug on his comforter. He didn’t dare turn to look. To face the thing seemed more terrible than to simply curl up in the bedspread and pray that it went away.
    But suddenly the knob turned, and he was in the hallway.
    Teddy slammed the door behind him as hard as he could. Down the hall, his mom stumbled around the corner, eyes puffy, blindly groping toward the commotion.
    â€œWhat the heck is going on?” she growled.
    She snapped on the hall light to reveal Teddy wrapped up like a mummy in his comforter, holding the door closed.
    â€œTeddy, why are you up?” she asked.
    â€œCouldn’t sleep?” he said lamely,