Grim Reaper 01 - Embrace the Grim Reaper

what the deal is with you and Thomas.”
    “Oh. I have to, do I?”
    A quick glance showed Casey he wasn’t angry. But he suddenly looked tired.
    “Come on,” she said. “I’ll walk you back to your car.”
    “Eric!” Leila came skipping out of the theater. “You said we could go out for a drink, remember?”
    “Not tonight, Leila, okay? Another time.”
    Leila looked at Casey, her feelings evident on her face. “Fine. Another time.”
    With a huff she swung her hair off of her shoulders and stomped to the green VW Bug across the street. Eric didn’t say anything as she snatched her keys from the driver’s seat, revved the engine, and screeched away, her taillights shining brightly in the night.
    “Well…” Casey said.
    “Come on,” Eric said. “Let’s go.”
    He began walking and Casey followed on the opposite side of the bike.
    Eric held up a hand, then dropped it. “Like I said, Thomas’ family and mine go way back. Our fathers went to school together.”
    “Here in Clymer?”
    “No. I wasn’t from here, originally. I moved here when I was eight, when my father got a job. Thomas and his family came shortly after, for the same reason.”
    “Jobs with HomeMaker?”
    “Yes. Anyway, Thomas was just a year ahead of me in school. I know he looks older, but I think it’s the beard. He cultivated that to appear more sophisticated.”
    Casey gave a short laugh, and Eric grinned. “I know. I didn’t say it worked . But he does his best.”
    They walked for a few more paces in silence.
    “Were you friends?” Casey finally asked.
    “No.” It came out as an exclamation. “We never were. I’m not sure why, exactly. Our dads were together all the time, and our moms… But he always seemed to think we were in some competition. Girls, grades, basketball. You name it, we were against each other. I didn’t even like basketball.”
    “Or girls?”
    He laughed. “Oh, I liked them fine. At least, after about seventh grade. But they always seemed to like Thomas better.”
    Casey glanced at him. “Seriously?”
    “Sure. He had that brooding, artistic thing going.”
    “What? And you don’t? You’ve got more artistic sense than he’ll ever have.”
    He smiled. “Well, thanks. But that took a while to come about. I had no interest in theater at all during school. My mother forced me to sing in the choir, but that was as far as my artistic endeavors went. Back then, I was just…all I tried to do was fade into the background.”
    “How come?”
    He shrugged. “Different reasons. The main one being I was probably the shyest kid in town.”
    “No.”
    “Time changes things.”
    “I guess. And was it just time that changed you?”
    He kicked a stone from the sidewalk and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Maybe partly. But it was also Charles Dickens.”
    “ Dickens ?”
    “Well. Sort of.” He gave a chuckle. “The musical version.”
    “You mean Oliver ?”
    “You got it. The high school English teacher, who directed the plays, for some unknown reason decided it was the show to do for the spring musical my junior year.”
    “And you tried out?”
    “No way. I wasn’t about to go anywhere near that thing. The closest I would get would be if my mother bought tickets and forced me to go see it. I left the leading man thing to Thomas. He was much better suited to it, being the handsome extrovert.”
    “So what happened?”
    He made a face. “I wasn’t exactly large in high school.”
    “You mean like now, at your hulking five ten?”
    “Hey, I can act taller.” He stopped, puffing out his chest and raising his shoulders.
    Casey rolled her eyes and continued walking.
    “Anyway,” Eric said, catching up to her, “I was small, blond, and sang in the choir. Good enough for the director. She began a campaign on my mother to get me to do the show.”
    “Not your dad?”
    “No way. My dad would never have agreed to it. It was my mom that had to be convinced. And she was, eventually.”
    “Your dad didn’t stop it?”
    Eric pinched his lips together. “My dad didn’t have anything to say about it by that time.”
    “How come?”
    “Because he and my mom got divorced when I was twelve. He really didn’t have much to do with my day-to-day life after that.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    He kicked another stone. “That’s the way it was. And my mom couldn’t resist the director. She was convinced I secretly longed for the stage, and dragged me to rehearsal. And that was that. I took