summer, too." He kissed her cheek just as Will opened the bathroom door. Pierson was gripped by a momentary shadow of anger on Will's face, the shadow abruptly replaced by a sneering smile.
"Ahhh, what a touching scene," Will said sarcastically. "It's so cute to see the little boy kissing his auntie. Don't forget to kiss your mommy and daddy, too!"
"Will!" Aunt Maggie looked more embarrassed than angry.
"Leave me alone," he flung back at her. He started toward the ladder.
"That's enough," came Dad's deep voice.
Will looked ready with a comeback but cowered at Dad's presence. He clamped his lips shut and climbed the ladder in silence.
"I think it's time you went to bed, too," said Dad to Pierson, who was wide-eyed at what he had witnessed.
"Now?" Wild horses couldn't make him go up there with that guy.
His father jerked his head toward the ladder. "Now!"
But then again, what were wild horses compared to an edict from Dad? Hoping Will would be facing the wall when he got up there, Pierson climbed the ladder slowly. No such luck. Will was lying on the bed, face up, arms folded under his head. He seemed to be waiting for Pierson.
"Get into bed but don't fall asleep," he whispered, looking intently at Pierson. “When everything is quiet, you and I are going to set a few things straight." It was a command, not a request.
Why do I get the feeling this is not good news? Pierson asked himself. He nodded and readied for bed. I'm sorry, Aunt Maggie, he mentally told her. I know I promised you I'd be kind to Will, but if he decks me, and I'm still alive, I'm going to scream as loudly as I can. Pierson crawled into bed and waited.
* * *
The flame in the oil lamp burned steadily, causing tiny shadows to dance on the ceiling. Dear Uncle Sam hadn't seen fit to electrify the loft. What did he care? thought Pierson miserably. He wasn't planning to sleep up here. Pierson knew exactly how many knotholes there were in the ceiling of the loft because he had counted them. He knew precisely how many planks there were in the walls; he had counted them, too. He watched a hairy spider weave almost an entire web in the corner above his bed. He tried to concentrate on the chirping of the crickets outside the window–anything to keep his mind active so he wouldn't fall asleep. Finally he couldn't take the suspense any longer. "Okay, Will, I haven't heard a sound in ages. I'm tired, and I'm falling asleep. What do you want to talk about?"
"I didn't give you permission to speak," growled Will.
Drunk with fatigue, Pierson grew brave. “Who said I needed your permission?"
Will flew from his bed with amazing speed and stood over Pierson. One hand leaned into the splayed ceiling above them, the other hand was clenched threateningly. His widely set eyes glared with knife-edged coldness. "Listen, you pompous little twerp! I don't like this arrangement any better than you, but as long as I'm stuck with you for a while, you'd better know the rules. You don't speak to me unless I speak to you first. For the sake of appearances you can tag along with me, but when we're out of sight, you beat it. I'll do my thing, and you can do whatever it is that little twerps do. Got it?" When Pierson didn't answer, Will leaned closer and slowly repeated himself. "I said–got it, twerp?"
Pierson was more than a little afraid, but his pride wouldn't let him show that fear to Will. He hiked himself to his elbows. "I've got it, you big ox. But just so you know, it goes double for me," he spat in the bravest voice he could muster.
Still staring, Will stepped back a pace, and his right cheek twitched. Pierson couldn't tell whether it was from surprise or anger. He defiantly returned Will's stare, but he could feel his heart pounding and his breath coming in short spurts.
"Good," Will said with an abrupt nod. "At least we understand each other." He crossed the loft in two of his giant steps and crawled into bed. "Blow out that oil lamp, twerp. The smell of it is making me sick."
Giddy with relief, Pierson turned down the wick. The shadows in the room grew dimmer and when the flame died, the loft was black because Will had closed the shutters, preventing even a glimmer of moonlight.
The loft was really spooky. He wondered if he should ask Will to tell a ghost story. Nah! Will was a ghost story! Chuckling at his joke, Pierson pulled up the covers and dropped off to sleep.
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