It would probably be impossible to find something comparable to the level of pathetic that was Teddy Duchamp bawling his eyes out. He was crying about a dirty bastard ranking out an old man who was absolutely out of his mind. Of course, I knew-- as well as the other guys-- that his dad was crazy. But Milo bringing up Mr. Duchamp just to get under Teddy's skin like that-- especially when Teddy was just a kid-- was completely uncalled for. Had we all have been older, I might have thought different.

Gordie had tried telling everyone how the clerk at the market tried cheating us out of our money, but he eventually trailed off and we all fell into silence. We were all a little blue, then, just thinking about how shitty this trip already was. At the time of our planning, we'd reckoned it'd be such a breeze to walk all the way to Harlow to get Brower's body. We'd never

We had continued on in silence, but I kept to myself. I'd always had little spells like that. After someone would upset me, I'd just block the whole world out. It drove Chris up a wall.

I hadn't said anything up until we were almost to the trestle, which was when Teddy had started crying. We were all so dumbfounded by his sudden outburst that we all just kind of stood there like a couple of retards. He was crying so hard, he keeled over into a sad and pathetic heap on the ground, his hands grabbing at his once-were ears. I'd never seen anything like it. I didn't know if I'd ever cried like that before. Quite frankly, it terrified the shit out of me and I wondered if he was actually going to be okay.

We kind of skedaddled a little ways away from him, either to give him space or because none of us knew what to do, I didn't know.

"Hey, man," said Vern and Chris, Gordie and I turned to him expectantly. Except he didn't say anything. He was just as struck-stupid as we were and didn't really know how to finish his thoughts.

Chris was the first of us to leave the group to check on Teddy. Chris was the best person I knew to be able to help out when someone was crying. I didn't know how in hell he was able to keep it together and get someone sidetracked from being upset. He just did.

One time when I was about nine or ten, Chris had found me down in the creek behind my house. I had gotten kicked out for some stupid bullshit and I'd thrown a good fit, falling into the cold water as a result. Chris and I were supposed to meet up, but when I was twenty-five minutes late, he came looking for me. He found me bawling and saying I was worthless and everything. I don't even remember what he'd said to me, honestly, but it took all of five minutes to calm me down and he had two whole dollars, which he used to buy us ice cream with.

"Lissen, Teddy," Chris said. "What do you care what a fat old pile of shit like him said about your father? Huh? I mean, sincerely! That don't change nothing, does it? What a fat old pile of shit like him says? Huh? Huh? Does it?"

Teddy shook his head so hard that I thought he might get whiplash.

"He still stormed the beach at Normandy, right?" He patted one of Teddy's dirty hands.

Teddy nodded, tears still running down his face.

"Do you think that pile of shit was at Normandy?"

"Nuh-No!" said Teddy.

"Do you think that guy knows you?"

"Nuh-No! B-but-"

"Or your father? He one of your father's buddies?"

"NO!" Teddy screamed. He started racking more sobs, angry this time.

"Talk is cheap," said Chris. Teddy nodded. "And whatever is between you and your old man, talk can't change that."

Teddy shook his head again and Chris rocked him like he'd done with me a few times.

"He was rankin' you, man. He was tryin' to rank you over that frigging fence, you know it? No strain, man. No fucking strain. He don't know nothing about your old man. He don't know nothing but stuff he heard from those rumdums down at The Mellow Tiger. He's just dogshit, man. Right, Teddy? Huh? Right?"

Teddy wiped his eyes.

"I'm okay," he said. He drove his forearm across his nose, wiping away snot. "Fucking crybaby, right?"

"No, man," I said, my voice barely breaking a whisper.

"If anyone was ranking out my dad-" Vern began.

"Then you got to kill em!" Teddy said. "Kill their asses, right Chris?"

"Right," said Chris, almost hesitantly.

"Right Gordie?"

"Absolutely," Gordie nodded.

"Right, Rosie?"

I looked up from my shoelaces at him. I gave him a hard stare. "Definitely," I said firmly, although it was a goddamn lie. Chris looked at me from behind Teddy, but he didn't dare say anything. We started walking again, but then Teddy stopped again after a couple hundred yards.

"Hey," he said. "If I spoiled your good time, I'm sorry. I guess that was pretty stupid shit back there at that fence."

"I ain't sure I want it to be no good time," said Vern.

"You saying you wanna go back?" Chris accused.

"No, huh-uh!" Vern said quickly. "But going to see a dead kid--it shouldn't be a party, maybe. I mean, if you can dig it. I mean..." He gave us all a look that kind of asked if we understood what he meant. I understood. "I mean, I can be a little scared. If you get me."

The rest of us remained silent.

"I mean, sometimes I get nightmares. Like...aw, you guys remember the time Danny Naughton left that pile of old funnybooks, the ones with the vampires and people gettin' cut up and all that shit? Jeezum-crow, I'd wake up in the middle of the night dreamin' about some guy hanging in a house with his face all green or something, you know, like that, and it seems like there's something under the bed and if I dangled a hand over the side, that thing might, you know, grab me..."

We all nodded then.

"Yeah, man," I said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"And I don't dare say anything because my frigging brother...well, you know Billy...he'd broadcast it... So I'm ascared to look at that kid cause if he's, you know, he's really bad..."

I turned my gaze down to my navy colored Keds.

"If he's really bad, I'll have nightmares about him and wake up thinking it's him under my bed, all cut up in a pool of blood like he just came out of one of those Saladmaster gadgets they show on TV, just eyeballs and hair, but moving somehow, if you can dig that, moooving somehow, you know and getting ready to grab-"

"Jesus Christ," I said.

"What a fucking bedtime story," Teddy nodded.

"Well I can't help it. But I fell like we hafta see him, even if there are bad dreams. You know? Like we hafta. But...but maybe it shouldn't be no good time."

"Yeah," Chris said. "Maybe it shouldn't." I turned my gaze up to him and he looked back at me for a brief second.

"You won't tell none of the other guys, will you? I don't mean about the nightmares, everybody has those--I mean about the waking up and thinking there might be something under the bed. I'm too fucking old for the boogeyman."

"Cross my strings, man," I said and the other guys promised they wouldn't tell either.

By three-thirty, we reached the GS&WM trestle, which crossed the Castle River.