Marcus

He puts a ward on the locker once the kid’s in there, and they walk away laughing.  It could be days until the door unsticks, but Marcus figures the janitor will come by.  Maybe he’ll tell someone, if Kyle doesn’t show up by Friday.

“Where to?” asks Raymond, in his sousaphone voice.

“No way I’m going to Graffitomancy.  You wanna throw stuff at the carpets?”

They slip into the Flight Shed through a window.  The carpets are a twisting mass, like wide snakes, agitated.

It takes Marcus a full three seconds to see why, and by then it’s too late.

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