Page 42 of Tasty Tentacles

“Hmm,” I say, not at all sure that would be true. It’s never happened before. “I’ll think about it.”

A bleary-eyed and considerably happier Bertie wanders in then, looking adorable in his tighty-whities, and drapes himself over Hideo’s back, saying, “That looks good. Did you guys leave some for me?”

17

HIDEO

It’s New Year’s Eve and Bertie has almost talked me into it. There’s a category for goatees in the competition tonight, and he’s been pushing me to do it for years. I’m hedging my bets, so if I get brave enough, I’ll be ready. I’m busy in the bathroom, sculpting the contours, when my phone rings. Orion’s number pops up on the screen.

“Orion! Good morning. This is a nice surprise.” Maybe he’s decided to join us at the Bash tonight after all. Bertie has been working on a costume for him all week, just in case, with a cape and cowl that would give him plenty of cover.

“Morning, Hideo. Are you free? Could you come by the house? Soon?”

He sounds different. Clipped.

“Is everything okay?”

“I need some help. Please?”

“Of course. I’ll be right there.”

Now I’m worried. This doesn’t sound like Orion at all. When I pull up in front of his house, the reason is obvious. The word “FREAK” is spray-painted across his front door in big red letters. Such a miserable way to end the year.

I dash to the door and he must have been waiting inside, because he lets me in without knocking. I open my arms and pull him in, giving him the shoulder he probably needs. He must be devastated.

Surprisingly, he gives me a tight hug, but then releases me.

“I could use some help,” he says, no nonsense. “There are a few things I want to do.”

“Let’s sit for a minute,” I suggest, worried he’s in shock. “Tell me what happened.”

I follow him to the kitchen, and the story emerges with eerie calm.

“Do you know who did this?” I ask.

“Some kids down the street. I’m sure it’s them. I’ve been going out and getting the mail every afternoon this week without my mask. They were across the street yesterday, pointing and laughing at me, and they’ve been riding by the house all morning.”

“Did they say anything?”

“Not directly, but I heard it all when they were laughing. Freak, monster, stuff like that.”

“Do you know where they live? Should we contact their parents?”

“What makes you think they’re any different?”

“Well, teenagers aren’t known for their restraint, but maybe you’re right. Apples and trees, after all.”

“Just so you know, this isn’t the first time,” Orion continues. “I get graffiti once or twice a year, and I’ve gotten used to it. It’s just part of the never-ending chatter about my tentacles…but this time is different. I want it to be different. When I saw it, I remembered your tribe comment, and I think you’re right. I’m always going to be a Cthulhu freak to those kids, and there’s not much I can do about it, but I’m not a freak to you and Bertie, and that’s the important thing. I need a community, one that doesn’t include people like them, and I’m ready to find it. So, first of all, I’d like to give you this.”

He reaches down to the end of the table and picks up a stack of papers, neatly ripped in half, and hands them to me. It’s my treatment plan from the clinic.

I look at him dumbfounded, and he says, “I won’t be needing your services.”

This is huge. He’s finally seeing himself for the wonder he is.

“Orion, I don’t know what to say, but I know I want another hug.”

I gather him up again, but this time with joy.