Chapter Text
September 1998
Herrington, Ohio
In his waking dreams, Casey is on the cover of Time. He's the hero of the story, and he gets the girl. His friends all have their own happy endings, and the future is glaringly bright. In his waking dreams, people listen to Casey's story, and believe.
But only in his dreams.
_____
Aliens took over our school, then the whole town, but we stopped them by killing their queen.
"Is it drugs?" his parents asked.
"We found the gun," the police said.
"Let's talk about Miss Drake," the FBI said.
A group of teenagers and a trashed drug lab. A gun with fingerprints all over it. A wrecked car in the parking lot. One missing girl and four missing faculty members. A fight over a boy. A wild story about aliens from the school outcast, who just the day before had called 911 with another wild story about a dead body in the faculty lounge.
Casey would never know if the citizens of Herrington really did not remember what had happened, or if they had all entered into a pact of denial. Before long, he wasn't certain himself of what had happened.
_____
There had to be evidence, Stokely thought, and she tried to steer them toward it. But there was no Miss Drake in the gym. There was no Marybeth-creature in the bleachers. There was no parasite in Zeke's trashed garage. There was no Mr. Furlong, no Miss Burke, no Mrs. Brummel, and when they went to the address listed on Marybeth's registration card, there was a vacant lot.
"So, Marybeth is a new friend of yours?" they asked. "And where did she go? What did she hook you up with? New products? New drugs to try out?"
It was on the tip of Stokely's tongue to say, No, you idiots, she hooked us up with a whole new form of life, but then she realized what it would sound like and she stopped talking.
_____
"We're not making this up," Stan said over and over, frantically.
"Delilah and Stokely had a fight about you, isn't that right?" they asked. "You quit the football team this week, Stan. Why is that? Too many new things to do with your new friends? Tell us about the drugs, Stan. Tell us about the gun. Tell us about the plan. You're a good kid, we know you're a good kid. Let us help you."
It was the look of agonized worry on his mother's face that did him in. "We can get you help," she pleaded. "Please, Stan, we'll get the best program. But you have to let us help you."
He didn't know anything about the faculty members, he said in the end. Or Marybeth. She was some new girl at school. She'd been at the garage, and come to the game with them. That was all he knew. They'd all gotten high. They'd fooled around with the gun. Del and Stokely had fought. And then they'd come to the game and hung out in the gym. That was all.
Yes, he'd go to rehab. Yes, he'd do the program. Yes, he wanted to get clean.
The cops decided they had nothing to charge him with. The FBI agent threw a card on the table and told him to call if his memory improved concerning the missing faculty members.
Stan locked it all up in a safe in his mind, and then did everything he could to avoid even walking by the corner he had shoved it into.
_____
Delilah walked into the interview room, looked at the impassive faces, and totaled up the score.
Zeke, she said. They all went over to Zeke's and got high on his homemade scat. They messed around with Zeke's gun. She and Stokely had a fight about Stan, and she left angry. That was all. She'd gone to the football game after that.
Zeke, she said again. Zeke with the gun. Casey and Stokely talking about aliens, some wild tale about aliens taking over the faculty. They're weird like that, she said. Stokely, into her sci-fi and conspiracy theories. Casey, never the center of attention.
She was upset about breaking up with Stan, she said. He'd quit the football team. He was hanging out with a new crowd. She'd thought that maybe if she hung out with them too, she and Stan could work things out.
It was just the one time, she told her mother. She'd never tried drugs before, and never would again. She was scared. She'd learned her lesson.
When she didn't want to go back to Herrington High, her mother sent her off to private boarding school. The student newspaper had a full staff, but she was named editor of the yearbook by the end of her first month.
_____
They started with Zeke while he was still in the emergency room, getting his head stitched up.
"Your friends tell us that aliens took over your high school, Zeke," they said. "But let's not talk about that just yet. Let's talk about what you put in this," and they held up an empty pen.
Zeke looked from the pen to the men's faces and said, "I want my lawyer."
They never could pin murder on him. No bodies. But the drug lab, the illegal gun, they had him there.
No one in Herrington was really surprised that Zeke Tyler ended up in prison. Really, what else did you expect from a kid like Zeke?
_____
Casey finally wised up, but not soon enough. He'd told the story too earnestly, too many times, too insistently.
His parents took him to see a psychiatrist, and he answered her questions carefully. He thought if he did drugs, the other kids would like him more. They'd made up the story about the aliens because it seemed exciting and important. He'd wanted to be important. He'd wanted to be cool. But it wasn't real. He knew that.
Sure, he'd go to therapy. He didn't want to get into any more trouble. He didn't want to upset his parents any more. He'd be the good kid again, really.
The woman had nodded and smiled encouragingly and said things like, "That's very good, Casey," and "I'm glad you're ready to work on your problems." Then she asked him to wait in the outer room while she talked to his parents in her office.
Casey tried to run when the EMTs with the hypo of sedative came in, but there was nowhere to go.
"This is for the best, son," his father said. "You need to get well. It's a good facility. You work hard, and you'll be home soon."
Casey, strapped into the gurney, glazed from the drugs, said faintly, "Why are you lying to me, Dad? I've always told you the truth."
But the doors to the ambulance were already shutting.