Page 67 of Rat

Ollie shrugged, and Rory tapped his temple. “It hasn’t fixed anything going on in his head, only put a block on it, or a veil or whatever.”

“End result’s the same, though. He’s sleeping now when he wasn’t before.”

“But he’s not himself.”

“But what is the ‘self’ exactly?”

Rory groaned and clutched his brow. “Don’t start this again. Why the hell did you take that philosophy class?”

“I took all the classes, even drama. Apparently, they do a big show at the end of the year. They haven’t said what yet, but hopefully I’ll get to be something good.”

“Not a tree…”

Ollie narrowed his eyes. “Not a tree, a speaking part.”

“Could be a speaking tree.”

“Whatever. You’d better watch, you’d better be moved to tears.”

“Jesus, what’s going to happen to this tree? Will it be cut down? Burned as firewood?”

Ollie kicked him under the table, and he yelped.

“That hurt.”

“You deserved it.”

Rory snorted. “What class is today?”

“Creative writing, Teddy goes to it too.”

“Does he write about maggots by any chance?”

“Do you want me to kick you again?”

“Is that a serious question?”

They both laughed, then Ollie shook his head.

“He doesn’t write anything. He just watches me the whole time.” Ollie took a deep breath. “I was wrong about the maggots.”

Rory shot him a gentle smile. “You didn’t know they were so important to him.”

“No, I didn’t mean that. They weren’t maggots.”

Rory frowned at the table. “What were they then?”

“Caterpillars. He showed me a book in the library, pointed them out.”

“How the hell did he get caterpillars? And how did you mistake them for maggots?”

Ollie shrugged. “No idea and no idea.”

“What are you doing in creative writing?”

“Poetry.”

“No shit?”

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