Free Falter Kingdom by Michael J Seidlinger Page B

got a mind of its own.
    The two guys in the video seem like great friends. I like this video. I hover over the subscribe button and figure, “Why not?”
    They practice their secret handshake and it soon gets out of control, one of them being punched in the face. The punch goes right through the other, and that’s where I definitely laugh out loud. Almost no one ever actually does that when they type “LOL,” but in this case, I did. I didn’t even need to type out the acronym.
    When the video’s done I try playing it again but it won’t work.
    Then the browser crashes.
    â€œFuck,” I mumble, but thankfully my session is restored. But that tab’s—go figure—missing. It all makes sense even though it also kind of doesn’t. But right about now, I don’t want to be alone with a demon in this house. I know it’s early, not time forthat party yet, but I think I’ll just go to a coffee shop or get food somewhere.
    I suddenly can’t stand being here, alone with it.
    I shiver and am confused by the fact that I can go from being curious to completely afraid just by the way everything feels around me. It’s like... the weight of the air shifts, and at the same time my senses are all out of order. Not like I can feel what I taste, not that sort of thing. Um... it’s more like I can just feel everything more, and my nerves are extra sensitive to anything that happens. My mind is racing too, and that’s really why I want to leave.
    It feels like something’s sorting through my thoughts, rearranging them.
    I want out. And I guess, this is my opportunity to do just that, even though I won’t really know anyone at the party, and they really want to hang around me only so that they can know more about the demon. What do you tell people if you, yourself, don’t even really know what it is?
    Then I get scared again, by the lone thought that lingers like it was handed to me, dropped right in my brain:
    You will.

4
    JON-JON WASN’T JOKING ABOUT BEING FASHIONABLY late. When I walk in, everyone’s already watching. They’re like, “Hunter, holy shit, look at you!” And I’m like, “Yeah, you’re looking right at me, what’s up?” But that’s the extent of most of our exchanges. The place is pretty swank for a high school party. But then Jon-Jon said it’s more than that. A lot of people, yup. There’s no way I’m going to be comfortable here. You know that it’s a bad sign when the first thing you think about when getting to the party is how you desperately want to leave.
    Ha, and I want to even more when Jon-Jon spots me.
    â€œHunter, excellent,” he says, and gestures for me to sit with him at a table.
    What is this place, I mean really? That’s what I want to know. It’s a ballroom but it’s also a club. It’s a club but it’s in someone’s house.
    â€œMoney, isn’t it?” Jon-Jon asks me.
    I’m like, What? But really I say, “Yeah.”
    What else is there to say?
    I’m still thinking about the laptop thing that happened.
    I’m thinking about that video.
    I’m thinking about the way the two guys acted all genuine, cool, like longtime friends, and for some reason I think about it as fiction instead of it being something real. Those two guys are definitely real but I can’t take it as that. They might as well be comic-book characters or something.
    Jon-Jon tells me, “It’s okay. This will be easy money for us. I’ll get people to hang around us, and you just keep them entertained.”
    I snap at him, “What am I, a prostitute?”
    Jon-Jon laughs. “That’s good. Be just like that.”
    He leaves me at this table. I stare at empty plastic cups. I could really go for something to drink right about now.
    I don’t look around the room like I probably should. If I do, I’ll end up making eye