The Gray House

THE HOUSE

INTERLUDE

Sepulcher is a House within the House. It’s a place where the world works differently. It’s much younger; when it was created the House was already starting to crumble. It is the subject of the scariest stories of all. It is hated and reviled. Sepulcher has its own rules, and it enforces them without mercy. It is dangerous and unpredictable; it sows discord between friends and pacifies enemies. It unrolls a separate path for each visitor: when you travel it to the end, you’ll be either found or lost. For some it’s their last journey, for others—only the beginning. Time itself slows down there.

Grasshopper looked out the window at the snowdrifts and the black silhouettes on blue. The morning at the hospital wing began with rounds, before dawn. The cars navigating the icebound roads, honking impatiently, the stomping of feet in the hallway, the lit-up windows of the houses—all pointed toward morning. But if the sky were to be believed, it was still night. Classes had been canceled because of the snowfall, and the inhabitants of the House had been celebrating the unexpected vacation for two days straight. The windows of the hospital wing looked out to the yard. Each morning and each night, Grasshopper climbed up on the windowsill and looked at the boys throwing snowballs and building white forts out of the drifts. He could tell them apart by their hats and parkas. The voices did not penetrate the double-paned glass.

It had been two weeks already since he’d been referred here for prosthetic fitting. At first Grasshopper had thought that it would be over in a few hours. He’d be given arms—not real ones, of course, but at least somewhat useful—and then he’d be on his way. Only when he ended up in the hospital wing did he realize how little he knew of these things.

He liked it here at first. The unhurried life, the cleanliness, the silence. The Stuffage boys weren’t picking on him and the nurses were friendly. Sepulcher seemed light, airy, and peaceful, the nicest place on Earth. Elk brought him books and helped with his homework, just like during his earliest days in the House. Grasshopper couldn’t understand why this place was considered bad news. Where did the morbid name “Sepulcher” come from? The word itself used to scare him before he’d come here.

It was fine. Then he started feeling lonely. Especially when the snow came. He missed Blind. And something else too. Grasshopper, now bored, forgot about the books and moved to the windowsill. The nurses would shoo him off, but he climbed right back. He dutifully performed everything he was told to do with the prosthetics, even though he knew that he was unlikely to ever need those skills. They warned him to take care of the prosthetics, and that was when he knew he wasn’t going to wear them. They’d just get broken in the very first fight, either accidentally or on purpose. To spend all this time in the Sepulcher was meaningless. So he was spending it looking out of the window.

“Just like a forest creature on a leash,” the nurse said as she came in. “You’ll soon be back with your friends, don’t you worry. And it’ll be so much more fun playing with them too.”

He was waiting for her to tell him off for sitting on the windowsill again, but she seemed to have tired of that.

“Do you miss them?” she asked with concern.

“No,” he said without turning around.

It was light already, and the nurse turned off the lamp. He could hear the jangle of the cutlery and the groans of nightstands being moved. The yard was empty, as were the streets outside and the ruins of the snow fortresses. The nurse left, the door clicked shut behind her, and all was silent again. Then someone came in and stopped behind him.

“I wonder how cats go around in the snow when the snow is higher than cats?”

The voice was unfamiliar to him, but Grasshopper didn’t turn around.

“They jump,” he said, still looking out to the yard.

“You mean dive in headfirst and jump out again every time? Or are they building tunnels?” The voice smiled. “Like moles?”

Grasshopper turned. There was an unfamiliar boy standing next to him, looking past him out the window. His lips were quaking with laughter, but his eyes remained somber. The most striking thing about him was the clothes. He had on the white top from the hospital pajamas and fraying blue jeans underneath. The sneakers on his feet were black with dirt. Laces undone. His hair was smeared with something white where it fell over his forehead. He didn’t look like a patient. He didn’t look like anyone Grasshopper had known. The sick were supposed to lie in their clean beds, while the healthy and the able were not supposed to sneak around the Sepulcher entering other people’s rooms. But that wasn’t the strangest bit. Where in the spic-and-span Sepulcher could one find that much dirt to soil his feet?

“The snow moles,” the boy said dreamily. “They burrow in the winter and come summer they turn into cats. And in the spring, just after the transformation, they emerge from the ground screaming. The March shrews. With their piercing shrieks.”

Grasshopper jumped off the windowsill.

“Who are you?”

“I am a prisoner of the Sepulcher. I wrenched the iron ring to which I’ve been shackled out of the wall and directed my steps here.”

“Why here?”

“Because I’m a vampire,” the visitor said sincerely. “I came to partake of fresh blood. You wouldn’t deny a sick man, would you, my child?”

“What if I would?”

The boy sighed.

“Then I’ll just die. Before your very eyes. In horrible agony.”

This piqued Grasshopper’s interest even more.

“All right. Partake, then. But not too much. Not so that I’d die. If you can do that, of course.”

“Very noble of you, my child,” the boy said. “But I am sated today, therefore I reject your offering. The bodies of nurses, bitten and drained, are even now marking the way from my dungeon to this door.”

Grasshopper imagined this vividly. A nurse, and another one, and another . . . All lying there, bitten, pale, their eyes rolled back.

“Hilarious,” he said.

“Like you won’t believe,” the visitor agreed. “Listen, could you hide me here? They’re after me. Wooden stakes and all that.”

“Sure,” Grasshopper said eagerly, looking around the room. “Except there isn’t anywhere you could hide. You’re too big to fit inside the nightstand. And if you go under the bed, they’d see you.”

The guest smirked.

“Leave that to me, O kindhearted youth. The old bloodsucker knows his business. Would you mind if your bed were to become a little bit higher?”

Grasshopper shook his head vigorously. The boy walked to the bed and started turning some kind of lever there. The bed did rise. The guest peeked under it, apparently satisfied.

“There are these elastic bands,” he explained. “Very handy. Unless they’re too tight, of course.”

He approached Grasshopper and looked at him intently.

“I like you, young man,” he said earnestly. “And now let us say our good-byes.”

“You’re going,” Grasshopper drawled dejectedly.

The boy winked. His eyes were brown, but of such a vivid hue that they seemed almost orange.

“Only as far as under the bed.”

He waved, got on all fours, and crawled under the mattress. Then he scrambled around there, swearing softly, and disappeared.

Grasshopper ran to the bed and listened intently. It was very quiet. You could only distinguish the guest’s soft breathing if you bent down all the way to the floor. Grasshopper returned to the windowsill. He was deeply intrigued, but he knew that the nurses must find him in his regular position should they check his room. He rested his chin on his knee and peered into the window, watching and not seeing the yard and the boys now teeming there. He was afraid that anyone coming in would see his flushed cheeks and hear his thumping heart.

They came for him at the assigned time and took him to the playroom, where the prosthetics and the tasks to be performed with them were waiting. When he came back, the nurse was already in with lunch, so he couldn’t check if the vampire was still under the bed. And after lunch came Elk.

“How’s my student doing?” he asked, opening the door. He had a stack of books in his hands. The white lab coat made him look even taller.

“Chirping nonstop, like a budgie,” Nurse Agatha complained, wiping Grasshopper’s mouth. “Didn’t eat a thing,” she added as she lifted the tray, inviting Elk to observe the smeared mashed potatoes and the wrecked meat loaf.

Grasshopper had indeed been talking without taking a breath. He dreaded pauses and silence. That’s when the nurse would hear something else and look under the bed. He doubted the visitor was still there but couldn’t risk it if he were.

“Curious,” Elk said, looking Grasshopper in the eye. “He’s not usually the chatty type. He is an indifferent eater, though.”

“Well, he sure is chatty today,” the nurse said, putting the tray on the nightstand and covering it with a napkin. “It’s your turn now. I’m getting a headache with this boy and his stories. Never in my life have I heard so much nonsense at once.”

“I’ll do my best,” Elk said, sitting on the bed and putting the books on the chair.

“He really is a little angel,” the nurse cooed. “I almost thought we were boring him here. But he seems to have shaken it off today. Talking and talking, like he couldn’t stop.”

“I wonder what’s gotten into him,” Elk said with a smile.

Grasshopper looked at him and shrugged.

Elk suddenly grew serious.

“Any news of the runaway?” he asked the nurse.

The nurse frowned and started whispering.

“None. I wouldn’t put it past him to be outside the House by now. The doctor is going crazy. He asked you to make sure and drop in.”

Grasshopper pricked his ears while casually studying the spines of the books Elk had brought.

“Certainly,” Elk assured the nurse. “It is a serious problem.”

“Yes,” the nurse said, getting up. “What could be more serious? You try and feed him. Maybe he won’t talk you to death.”

She walked out, leaving the lunch tray behind.

Elk turned to Grasshopper.

“Listen, kid, have you by any chance met a boy here today, in blue jeans and with the gray bangs? About your height?”

“No, I haven’t. Why?”

“Nothing,” Elk said and smiled at the ceiling. “Just that if you do, could you tell him that he’s getting a lot of people in a lot of trouble? Including me.”

Grasshopper nodded.

“I’ll be sure to tell him that. If I see him,” Grasshopper said. “What did he do?”

Elk lifted the napkin for some reason and studied the contents of the tray.

“Many things. Enough for ten people. Are you going to eat this?”

“No,” Grasshopper said. “Well, maybe later. Not now.”

“All right,” Elk said and stood up. “Come on, let’s get you dressed. We’ll go for a walk. You need some fresh air once in a while.”

Grasshopper reluctantly slid off the bed. Elk dug in his pocket, produced a slip of paper, smoothed it out, and placed it on the pillow.

“A letter for you,” he said. “Read it and let’s go.”

Grasshopper looked at the crumpled scrap with a single word: Miss. He knew Blind well enough to guess that he meant “I miss you.” Blind was missing him!

“Thanks,” he said to Elk. “How is he? Are they picking on him?”

“I don’t know,” said Elk. He seemed very tired. “I know so little about you, really.”

They walked up and down the hospital wing’s deck, protected from the wind by the convex overhang. Elk was relating the news of the Stuffage, Grasshopper just half listening. After the walk, Elk took him for the second session with the prosthetics. Then he watched a television show in the hall, which was allowed every other day. Then dinner with Nurse Maria, plumper and younger than Nurse Agatha. This time Grasshopper ate in silence, completely sure that the visitor was long gone. No one, not even a vampire, would be patient enough to hang under the bed for this long.

“I’ll come at nine to turn the lights off,” the nurse warned. “Don’t sit on the windowsill. It’s dark out, anyway.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, Grasshopper jumped down and peeked under the bed. The vampire was lying on the floor, looking straight back at him.

“Oh,” Grasshopper said. “You’re not hanging anymore? She could have seen you, easily!”

The boy slowly crawled from under the bed, like a tortoise, and sat up wincing with pain.

“You try hanging on those straps for four hours straight,” he snapped. “Naturally, I took breaks, when nobody was in here. But I think,” he said with concern, “Elk is onto me. He came back and checked the tray. And I ate almost all the meat loaf.”

Grasshopper laughed. It was very funny, imagining a vampire secretly devouring his meat loaf. And Elk, checking on the meat loaf. Sniffing at the plate. Why wouldn’t he look under the bed, though? He probably didn’t realize someone could hide there.

“Sure, laugh,” the vampire said. “Make merry. Of course, you can’t imagine how it is when you hold on to the elastic straps feeling the deathly breath of a wooden stake aimed at your heart. All for one measly dried-out piece of meat loaf. What’s so funny now?”

“Stakes can’t breathe,” Grasshopper whispered, now weak from laughter.

The vampire said sternly, “It was a figure of speech, my boy. I turned three hundred last Tuesday, so I’m allowed to mix my metaphors once in a while, don’t you think?”

“You are,” Grasshopper admitted. “And I like the way you mix them.”

“Well, we’ll see how you like this night. I intend to assume my true withered appearance and listen to your pleas for mercy as my teeth prepare to stab into your flesh!”

The vampire broke off and sighed heavily. “Listen, can I lie on your bed for a bit? I’m stiff as a board. Is it OK that I’m dirty like this?”

He slipped off his sneakers and stretched out on the bed. His feet were even dirtier than his shoes. Grasshopper sat next to him. The vampire winced.

“My back really hurts,” he said sadly.

“That could be because you’re so old,” Grasshopper suggested.

“You think so?”

The vampire was looking very pale, and this scared Grasshopper.

“Should I call the nurse?” he asked timidly.

“You mean for dessert?”

“I mean for help.” Grasshopper laughed.

The vampire smiled.

“No. I am in the mood to while away the night talking to you and generally enjoying myself, not receiving the ministrations of a nurse. Let’s not waste any more time. Tell me, how is it going out there, in the House? I miss the life outside the Sepulcher.”

“No,” Grasshopper said, climbing on the bed. “You first. And then I’ll tell you anything you want. I thought about you all day. I can’t stand the mystery anymore.”

“What was it you thought? I bet it was about how cute that vampire was.”

“I thought about . . . ,” mumbled Grasshopper. “What did you do that Elk was speaking of? Why are you a runaway? Why are you hiding?”

The vampire frowned.

“I didn’t do anything. Just ran away. But it’s no use. It’s the fourth time I’ve done it. I even tried setting fire to the place. They just don’t care. I mean, I did get to them. They started locking me up. So this time I ran away because of that. So that they wouldn’t think they outsmarted me. They won’t have a minute’s peace until I’m out of here.”

“How did you manage to get out?” Grasshopper said breathlessly. The guest was quickly acquiring the halo of a heroic martyr in his eyes.

“A friend helped,” the vampire said reluctantly. “A true soul. Don’t even think about asking for the nick, I won’t tell you anyway. So I thought this room was empty, and I came in. When I saw you sitting over there I liked you right away. I knew you wouldn’t go calling them. Even though you looked like you believed all that stuff I was saying.”

“I didn’t,” Grasshopper admitted. “But it would’ve been really cool to have a vampire hiding under my bed.”

“See, just as I said. You’re weird.” The guest propped himself on one elbow and looked at Grasshopper closer. “I like weird ones. What do they call you?”

“Grasshopper.”

“I’m Wolf. Your nick, you know . . . doesn’t fit somehow. I would’ve given you a better one. When did they bring you in?”

“This summer. There wasn’t anyone here. Only Elk. He took me in. But there has been another newbie already after me,” Grasshopper added hastily.

“I bet Sportsman hates you,” Wolf ventured.

Grasshopper frowned.

“Yeah,” he said curtly. “He does.”

“And everyone else is picking on you to try and suck up to him.”

“Used to,” Grasshopper said. “How do you know about me?”

“I don’t. I know nothing about you, but I do know about them. Which people get along with them and which don’t. Also I overheard you talking to Elk when he gave you the letter from your friend. Who they may be picking on while you’re not there. Who is he, by the way?”

Wolf perked up. He clearly enjoyed talking about life outside the Sepulcher.

“Blind,” Grasshopper said. He knew Wolf would be impressed, and Wolf was impressed.

“You’re kidding.”

Grasshopper kept proud silence.

“My hat’s off to you,” Wolf said respectfully. “I never would have thought of Blind as friend material.”

Grasshopper was hurt.

“He is too, just like anyone else!”

“Or of him being picked on,” Wolf continued, ignoring the outburst.

Grasshopper turned away. Wolf patted him on the shoulder.

“Don’t get mad, OK? I can be nasty sometimes. Especially when my back’s acting up. Tell me everything from the very beginning. When they brought you in. And from there on. And then I’ll tell you lots about everyone.”

Grasshopper did. His story was interrupted by the nurse who came in to wash his face and tuck him in. After she left, Wolf got out from under the bed and climbed under the covers next to Grasshopper.

“Please go on,” he said.

Grasshopper spoke for a long time. Then they lay in silence for a while. Grasshopper knew that Wolf wasn’t asleep.

“I wish I could get away from here,” Wolf said miserably. “It’s been six months already. You have no idea . . .”

Grasshopper imagined that Wolf started crying.

“You will. I’m sure you will,” Grasshopper said. “Don’t worry. It just can’t be that someone needs to get out of something and can’t.”

“You’re really nice.” Wolf hugged Grasshopper and pressed his cheek against him. The cheek was wet. “If I manage to get out, I promise to fight for you to the death. You’ll see. Will you remember me if I don’t get out?”

“I swear!” Grasshopper said. “I’ll always remember you.”

In the morning, Nurse Agatha discovered Wolf sleeping in Grasshopper’s bed. Her scream woke up both of them. Wolf head-butted the nurse in the stomach and stormed out into the hallway. Grasshopper ran after him and watched, dumbfounded, as Wolf, navigating between the bawling nurses, knocked over the trays with food and medications. His path was marked with broken glass, cotton balls, and scrambled eggs.

They caught him in the side corridor, where Wolf unfortunately bumped into two men at once and was carried off into a private room, to the accompaniment of angry shouts from the nurses. He was soon followed there by stone-faced Spider Jan. The second doctor and the janitor, the ones who caught Wolf, were busy pouring iodine on the bite marks and pulling up trouser legs to inspect the contusions where he’d kicked them. Half of the nurses gathered around and began rehashing the incident, while the rest started picking up the wreckage.

Grasshopper, stunned and wild eyed from the sudden awakening, was standing mutely by his door.

“I thought you were a good boy,” Nurse Agatha said, walking past him. “And you turned out to be a liar. They are taking all this trouble with you, fitting you with prosthetics, and this is how you repay them for their efforts?”

“You can shove your prosthetics!” Grasshopper said furiously. “And your efforts!”

He turned on his heel without another glance at the nurse, who was rooted to the spot, and went inside.

In the room, now empty, he looked at the unmade bed and at the blanket on the floor. Then he hooked the chair with his foot and hurled it against the wall. The sound of the crash, the cup slipping off the nightstand and breaking to pieces, the sight of the overturned chair—all of that calmed him a bit. Nurse Agatha was clucking concernedly in the hallway.

“There,” Grasshopper said at the ceiling. “Now they’re just going to chain me up next to Wolf. And he won’t be alone anymore.”

But no one chained him up anywhere—not next to Wolf and not by himself. Doctor Jan gave him a scolding in his office. Elk apologized for him and promised to get him out of the hospital wing. Nurse Agatha said that he really was a good boy who just happened to fall under bad influence.

The principal patted him on the head and said, “No harm done. The child was understandably upset.”

“Let Wolf go,” Grasshopper said.

The only one who heard that was Elk.

That evening he was visited by a girl in light-blue pajamas, with flaming hair, like a red poppy. He’d never seen anyone with hair so bright. He never imagined that such a color could exist. Well, maybe on some clowns. The girl came in and approached Grasshopper’s window, proudly clutching a bunch of strange fuzzy flowers. Her head was illuminating the white room like a very small, very concentrated fire.

“Hi,” she said.

Grasshopper said hi too and climbed down from the windowsill.

The girl placed the flowers on the nightstand and said, “I am Ginger.”

She had big ears, the skin around her nose was a bit reddish, and her eyes, unexpectedly, were almost black, framed by red lashes. It took some time for Grasshopper to register all that. It was not easy to look away from her hair. Grasshopper was surprised that she thought he needed to be told something so obvious.

“I can see that,” he said. “Hard not to.”

“No,” said the girl, shaking her head. “This is me introducing myself. Ginger. Get it?”

He did.

“Grasshopper,” he answered.

The girl nodded and looked around the empty room.

“It’s boring here,” she said. “Clean and boring.”

Grasshopper didn’t say anything.

“Want to come with me? That’s an invitation,” she said.

“Is that permitted?”

Grasshopper seriously doubted that he would be allowed as far as his room’s door, after everything that happened.

“It’s not. But no one will say a word. You’ll see. Coming?”

They went out into the shining white corridor of the Sepulcher, which muffled their steps. The frosted-glass doors were opening and closing. Seniors in pajamas lounged in chairs, flipping through colorful magazines. Nurses flew from one room to another like snowballs. Grasshopper was following Ginger, expecting that at any moment someone would shout at him, but no one did. Nobody asked them anything. They walked and, alongside them, their reflections appeared and disappeared in the mirror sides of the cabinets lining the wall, one after the other. Blue pajamas and white ones. And the fire of her hair flaming up and extinguishing itself as they passed.

It’s as if we have vanished, Grasshopper thought, astounded. We’re walking, but we’re not. No one sees us or hears us. This red-haired girl has put a spell on the entire Sepulcher.

Snow still fell outside the windows. They turned down another corridor, where the floor was shiny, and went to the very last door.

“Here we are.”

Ginger pushed the door.

The room was really tiny. Three beds, strewn with clothes. Fully developed piles of magazines, notebooks, paper, brushes, and jars of paint. Drawings adorned the walls, and a green budgie jumped up and down excitedly in its wire cage. The room resembled Stuffage and even smelled like Stuffage. Grasshopper stepped on some orange peel and stopped, a little embarrassed. Ginger jumped onto one of the beds at a run, shook away her slippers, swept off the trash, and introduced her mate.

“This is Death.”

A handsome boy with a mop-top haircut smiled and nodded at him.

“Hi,” he said.

Grasshopper startled when he heard the nick.

“So you must be . . .”

Death nodded again, still smiling.

“Have a seat, will you,” Ginger called, pushing another pile off the bed. “You can stare at him later, we have time.”

Grasshopper sat down next to her. He knew about Ginger’s friend. Death was the boy who never left the Sepulcher. The counselors, when talking among themselves, always said that he wasn’t “long for this world.” Death was a bed case. He never walked. He never even used a wheelchair. He’d lived in the Sepulcher since time immemorial, and Grasshopper always imagined this permanent resident to be greenish-pale, almost like a corpse. There was no other way to imagine someone who hadn’t been long for this world for so many years now. But Death turned out to be a small, tender boy, with eyes occupying a good half of his face, and long dark-red hair that looked varnished. Grasshopper was staring at him while Ginger was picking cards off the blanket.

“Wanna play?” she asked.

She and Grasshopper climbed onto Death’s bed.

For the next hour they became fortune-tellers. They prophesied to each other happy futures and all wishes coming true. Then the cards went flying to the floor and Ginger pulled up her pajama top and showed Grasshopper the tattoo she had on her stomach. The tattoo was made with a ballpoint pen and already a bit smeared, but one could still recognize something vaguely eagle-like, with a human head.

“What’s that?” Grasshopper asked.

“I don’t know,” Ginger said. “Death thinks it’s a harpy. I was shooting for a gryphon, actually. What do you think?”

“Could have been worse,” Grasshopper said politely.

Ginger sighed and wiped the fuzzy parts off with her finger.

“It had been,” she admitted. “The previous couple of times. Honestly? A great artist I’m not.”

They sat in silence for a while. Death was fiddling with an orange. Grasshopper was searching for a topic to discuss.

“Is it true there are ghosts here, in Sepulcher?” he asked.

Ginger rolled her eyes.

“You mean White? He’s never a ghost. He’s just a halfwit. Which is not to say that there aren’t. Except they don’t walk into people’s rooms mumbling nonsense, the way they tell it in your Stuffage.”

“What do they do, then?” Grasshopper said.

Ginger directed a demanding look toward Death.

“What do they do, Death?”

“Nothing much,” he said shyly. “They just walk the corridors sometimes. You’d be lucky to notice them, really. They’re very quiet. And very beautiful. And White is the opposite of that. He ran in once when it was dark, stumbled, made this awful racket, and then started howling like a dog. I almost died I was so scared.”

“White was one of the seniors,” Ginger explained. “He would stick two lit cigarettes in his nose, wrap himself in a sheet, and sneak around scaring kids. They caught him and sent him away somewhere. He was really nuts.”

Grasshopper imagined a really nuts, sinister senior in a sheet and looked at Death with a newfound respect.

“I’d surely die if I saw something like that,” he said. “Or at least wet my pants.”

“I did wet them.” Death smiled. “Doesn’t mean I was going to just admit that.”

Death was growing on Grasshopper by the minute.

“What about those, the real ones?” Grasshopper asked. “Have you seen them?”

“They’re not scary at all. I saw them and I wasn’t afraid. They don’t hurt anybody. They had enough trouble themselves in their time.”

Grasshopper realized that Death wasn’t making this up, and felt butterflies waking up in his stomach. Death was either crazy himself, or really had seen ghosts.

“He’s not making it up,” Ginger confirmed. “He’s a Strider, by the way.”

“He’s a who now?” said Grasshopper, confused.

“Stri-der,” Ginger repeated slowly, looking disappointed. “You mean you don’t know who they are?”

Grasshopper was overwhelmed with a desire to lie that he did. But then he remembered that he had actually heard the word used. Once, Splint the counselor had grabbed him in the hallway. They were walking together, the three of them—Splint, Elk, and Black Ralph—arguing about something. Grasshopper said hello and wanted to go past them, but Splint seized hold of his shirt collar.

“Hold still, child!” he shouted. “Tell me, quickly, do Jumpers and Striders exist in nature?”

“Who are they?” Grasshopper asked politely.

The counselor’s face was now very close to his own. The eyes behind the thick glasses were darting back and forth. He seemed scared of something.

“You really don’t know?”

Grasshopper shook his head.

Splint let him go.

“There,” he exclaimed. “Out of the mouths of babes! He has no clue!”

“That is not a valid argument,” R One said sourly, and the three of them went on walking and arguing.

Grasshopper had forgotten all about this incident. Counselors sometimes acted no less mysteriously than seniors. So much so that sometimes it was hard to understand what they were talking about.

“Are they the same as Jumpers?” he asked Ginger carefully, risking ridicule.

“Of course not!” she said indignantly. “So you do know?”

“Only the words,” Grasshopper admitted.

Ginger looked at Death. He nodded.

“Jumpers and Striders,” she said in a schoolmarm voice. “Those who visit the Underside of the House. Except that Jumpers are kind of thrown there, while Striders can get there by themselves. And also go back whenever they want. Jumpers can’t, they have to wait until they’re thrown back. Clear now?”

“Yeah.”

It wasn’t clear to Grasshopper at all, but he decided he’d rather die than admit it. “What about you? Are you a Strider or a Jumper?”

Ginger’s face darkened.

“I’m neither. Yet. But I will be. One day, you’ll see.”

She started flipping through a magazine she picked up from the pillow, as if she was suddenly bored by the conversation.

Death just smiled.

“How did you like Wolf?” he asked. “He’s something else, isn’t he?”

“You know about Wolf?” Grasshopper said in astonishment.

Ginger put down the magazine.

“We know everything about everybody. Even about those who aren’t here. And those who are, we know more about them than anyone else. You did great to hide him. I filched those flowers for you from one senior girl. She didn’t need them anyway, she has like hundreds more of them. And they would at least make you less lonely, and your room won’t look so empty. Except we forgot to put them in water. They’ll go all wilted before you get back.”

“I thought you invited me just because.”

“There’s no such thing as an invitation just because.” Ginger smiled. She was silent for a while before saying, “And not only because of that either. Also because you’re a bit ginger too, like Death and me. We gingers need to stick together. We’re a gang, get it? We are different, not like everyone else. They always try to blame us for everything, and nobody likes us. Well, most of them don’t—there are exceptions, of course. That’s because we’re descended from Neanderthals. I mean, we’re their children, and those who are not ginger are descended from Cro-Magnons. It’s all there in this one magazine, scientific. I can show it to you if you want, I stole it from the library.”

Grasshopper wasn’t sure about the “gang” business. Or that it was the right word. But he was ready to be descended from anything if it meant so much to Ginger. Her mind and her words were jumping around too fast, the topics changed too abruptly for Grasshopper to catch up, but he did notice that Ginger was admitting to theft a bit too often and that she wasn’t too bothered about it. He tuned out for a moment and stopped listening to her, which turned out to be a mistake since she started talking about Wolf.

“I let him out. And I’ll do it again if need be. I hate it when people are being locked up, especially kids, that’s just cruel, that is . . .”

“So the true soul he was talking about was you?” Grasshopper said, relieved.

“Of course. By the way, if you get locked up someday, you can count on me. I help lots of people in lots of ways. Pass some notes, or even bring in visitors at night. Stuff like that.”

“How come the nurses haven’t killed you yet?” Grasshopper said.

Ginger dismissed this with a wave of her hand.

“They are not allowed to touch me. They’re afraid.”

Death giggled and looked at the girl admiringly. “When they punish her, I get really sick. Right away. And I can’t get sick, or I’ll die. I can’t even risk getting upset. Like at all,” he said.

“Can’t do nothing about me,” Ginger said. “Death is their favoritest patient, they’re always fussing around him like crazy. And I’m his best friend. So they don’t bother me.”

Grasshopper finally understood why this room was such a mess, why Ginger was free to invite anyone she pleased, and why nobody had come in yet to check on what they were doing. The nurses’ proscriptions and rules had no power here. Being not long for this world certainly has its advantages, Grasshopper thought.

He spent the rest of the evening in this room. They dined on oranges. They played every board game they could dig out from under Death’s bed, and when it was time to return to their rooms they staged a pillow fight and upended the budgie’s cage. The feathers from the busted pillow floated in the air and settled down on the floor next to the chips, cards, and Monopoly money.

Grasshopper felt good. He liked both Death and Ginger, even though Ginger was on the bossy side and Death was too timid to ever go against her demands. As soon as Grasshopper reached his own room, dark and empty, he went straight to bed. This was the second happy night in a row that he’d spent inside the Sepulcher. Only one thing preyed on his mind. Wolf was still locked up somewhere, all alone.

The nurse was pointedly aloof the next morning.

“Jumping around all night, like a savage. In someone else’s room, too,” she ranted, pushing spoon after spoon of oatmeal into Grasshopper’s mouth. “Dinner, bedtime—all by the wayside. And the way you left that room! A regular pigsty. What a disgrace!”

Grasshopper swallowed dutifully and thought that no one was feeding Ginger in this fashion, and that Death was surely eating by himself too. Although to him they might be doing something else, something even more disgusting. The nurse kept grumbling and frowning and then suddenly froze, spoon in hand.

“Who, pray tell, showed you to the bathroom? Or didn’t you go at all? Held it in?”

“I did go,” Grasshopper said, surprised. “Ginger helped.”

The spoon dropped. Nurse Agatha upraised her hands and let out a very strange muffled yelp. Grasshopper was watching her with interest.

“You! A big boy! A girl helping you to . . . do it! Shame on you! The horror!”

Elk entered just in time to hear all about horror and shame.

“What happened?” he asked.

This infuriated the nurse even more.

“These children have not an ounce of modesty in them!”

Grasshopper stared sullenly at the oatmeal smeared on the covers.

“Why are you yelling like that? You help me all the time.”

Something went plop in the nurse’s throat.

“I am a woman!” she said. “And a nurse!”

“That’s even worse,” Grasshopper said.

Nurse Agatha stood up.

“All right, that’s enough! I am going to tell the doctor. It’s well past time we put an end to this nonsense. And you! A counselor! You should be ashamed for your charges!”

The door slammed, but Grasshopper was able to catch the beginning of a diatribe concerning good-for-nothing counselors like Elk. The end of it got lost in the distance. Elk used a napkin to scrape off the oatmeal and gave Grasshopper a sad look.

“Kid, I think you have terminally disappointed Nurse Agatha. You’re too forward.”

Grasshopper sighed.

“We turned off the lights so I wouldn’t feel weird. And she didn’t look at all. What’s so bad about it?”

“All right,” Elk said, rubbing his forehead. “The bit about the lights we’re going to keep to ourselves. Deal?”

“Deal. I won’t tell if you won’t,” Grasshopper said and then frowned. “Am I . . . perverted?”

“No,” Elk said irritably. “You’re normal. Are you going to eat this?”

Grasshopper made a face.

“I see,” Elk sighed. “I’m not making you.”

“Do they give Wolf the same thing?”

“They give everyone the same thing. Unless they’re on a special meal plan.”

“Can I go see him?”

“That’s a question for the head of the department, not me.”

“They’re going to tell him I’m perverted. And that I have no shame. They’re going to tell everyone, to make them think I’m disgusting.”

Elk was picking up and replacing the cutlery on the tray.

“Elk, listen,” Grasshopper said, trying to catch his eye. “Is Wolf not long for this world too?”

Elk’s face went red in splotches, and his eyes flashed angrily.

“That’s ridiculous! Who told you that?”

“Why wouldn’t they let him go, then?”

“He’s undergoing treatment.”

“This place is very bad for him,” Grasshopper said. “He can’t stay here any longer.”

Elk was staring out the window. He looked worn out. His face was lined heavily, especially around the mouth. For the first time ever, Grasshopper wondered how old Elk was. He thought that Elk was probably much older than Grasshopper’s mom. And that the gray hairs on his head outnumbered the not-gray ones. And that his face looked even older when he was upset. Grasshopper had never thought about these things before.

“I talked to the department head. Wolf will be discharged soon. They’re not keeping him here for their own amusement, you know. You should be old enough to understand this.”

“I do understand,” Grasshopper said. “So can I see him?”

Elk gave him a strange look.

“You can,” he said. “On one condition.”

Grasshopper squeaked excitedly, but Elk raised his hand.

“Wait. I said on one condition. You’ll be transferred to his room, and you’ll stay together until you’re both discharged, but only if you can make him do everything the doctors say. No running, no pillow fights, no games except those they allow. Are you up to it?”

Grasshopper frowned.

“Maybe,” he said evasively.

“Forget it, then. Not good enough.”

Grasshopper thought about this. Would he be able to make Wolf do something Wolf didn’t want to do? Or not do something? It was hard to imagine. Wolf didn’t listen to anybody, so why would he want to listen to Grasshopper? But then, he’d cried that night, cried because he wanted more than anything to get out of there. He just didn’t believe he could anymore.

“I agree,” Grasshopper said and shifted under the covers. “But you have to give me your word, Elk. Swear that they’re going to let him out.”

“I swear,” Elk said.

“Let’s go, then!” Grasshopper sprang up and started jumping excitedly on the bed. “Quick, before he dies there all alone!”

“Wait,” Elk said and grabbed Grasshopper’s ankle. Grasshopper crashed back down on the pillow. “We’ll have to wait for the doctor and the nurse.”

“Listen, Elk, are they ever going to discharge Death? And Ginger, she’s this girl here, is she long for this world? What about this senior, White, did you know him?”

Grasshopper was getting a sizable escort. Doctor Jan was carrying his things, the nurse had the linens, and Elk took the books. The doctor and Elk talked on the way, but Nurse Agatha was keeping silent, and her pursed lips were informing Grasshopper that she no longer expected much of him, wherever he might be transferred. Grasshopper was trying to slow himself down.

“Well, then,” the doctor said as he stopped and bent down. He was tall, taller even than Elk. “Changed your mind yet?”

Grasshopper shook his head.

“All right.”

The bars on the windows were the first thing he noticed. They were white, and they protruded into the room, checkered boxes encasing the windows that blocked the view. Multicolored Winnie-the-Poohs and Mickeys frolicked on the walls. Wolf was lying on the floor, facing the wall, his pajamas pulled around his head. He did not turn around when he heard the door or their voices, and Grasshopper didn’t want to call to him. The nurse made the bed, shaking her head and muttering under her breath. Doctor and Elk went to the window. Grasshopper’s stuff went on the nightstand, his books on the floor. The nurse busied herself with the bed for far longer than necessary. Wolf hadn’t stirred. Doctor Jan and Elk were talking in whispers about something unrelated.

On his way out, Jan pulled Grasshopper’s ear affectionately and said, “Courage.”

It was as if they were leaving him alone in a cage with a real wolf.

Finally they all left. The lock clicked shut and all was silent.

Grasshopper looked at Wolf. He felt uneasy.

I don’t know him. I really don’t know him at all. He may well not be glad to see me. Maybe I should have stayed in my own room and gone with Ginger to visit Death every night.

He looked at the jumping Mickeys again. Some morbid joker had provided them with sharp fangs.

Grasshopper sat down next to Wolf and said softly, “Hey. Hey, vampire . . .”