WE WERE IN THE attic, just the two of us. The wind was moaning in the eaves. Wet snow spattered the tiny windows.
"I got a call last night."
"Yeah?" Relly said.
"It was some sicko. He said he saw our show at Waterstreet. I hung up on him."
"Enemies. They're gathering."
"What are you talking about?"
"Soon, soon. When you're ready, you'll know."
I was scared and angry. And I'd had enough of his mystery talk. "This is so stupid!" I yelled at him. "What is it with all these secrets?"
Only then did he look right at me. "After what you saw, you've got to ask me that?"
"I didn't see anything."
"Now who's being stupid?" he asked.
"All right, all right. I saw you burst into flames and a minute later you were perfectly OK. Is that what you want me to say?"
"Well, is it true or isn't it?"
"I don't know!" I shouted.
"Yes, you do," he whispered back.
We were quiet a long time, listening to the wind coil around the house, slow and powerful as a boa constrictor.
It was like we were playing the same stupid game as I had on the phone. Who would talk first? Who would give up and break the dead air between us?
As it turned out, we both won that night. Or maybe we both lost.
Butt came clomping up the steps.
He banged the door open and announced, "I got a great idea. How about a song called 'Message from Uranus'? That would be cool, right? You could write the words." He was looking at me. "Like a science fiction thing only it's about Uranus, get it? Your anus! Get it?"
"Yeah, I get it," I said. "Maybe later."
He climbed behind his set and got both his feet going, whaling the kick drums fast and loud. That was the way he showed he was happy. Laughing, sure. Still, that pounding kick-drum roll was the real sound of Butt's delight.