That's Life -2-

     His mom wouldn’t be home yet, and Adney knew he had a bit of time to kill, so he stopped by the arcade. The glowing lights and bloopy noises drew him like a curious moth to a flame; he’d seen this place while driving down here, and he was finally getting to check it out.

     There were some old shooters, a dancing machine, claw machines, a game of sink the sub along with fighting games and Pacman; Adney wasn’t sure which one he should pick first.

     “Need some help, kid?”

     He didn’t realize it at first when the owner started talking to him.

     “Hey- you alright?”

     Adney must have been spacing out again without realizing it, because when he looked up to the man whose attention he’d snagged, he looked a little concerned. “You just get off school? You new to this part of town?”

     He nodded; yes, he was new.

     “What’s your name?”

     “A-Adney.”

     The man smiled. “What games do you like to play?” He was older, a little heavier set, with dark brown hair sprinkled in grey. The lines on his face suggested he scolded a little too much, probably unruly kids that came into his arcade, though he seemed protective, too. An odd mother hen figure, if the mother hen was a man, and looked more like a bulldog.

     Adney found himself smiling back, a wide, stupid-looking smile that showed his crooked teeth. “I- I like the ones wif zombies. Or- or- the ones wif dinosaurs. Y’know, you’re tryin’ ta get away from ‘em and all? Gotta move your plates reaaal fast, otherwise they’ll get ya. Y’know? But sometimes-”

     “Feet?” The man asked.

     Adney blinked. “What?”

     “Plates- do you mean your feet?” His brows furrowed slightly. He couldn’t tell if the kid was a little odd, or using slang.

     “Oh, uhm- yeah. Your feet.” A momentary pause, and then he launched right back into his old topic of rambling. “I like zombies and dinosaurs but mostly zombies or stuff from horror films liiike there’s so many, Hellraiser and Chuckie and Nightmare on Elm Street and Night of the Living Dead and then the ones from the fifties like the Crawling Eye or- or- all the ones with Vincent Price. Dead good! Or Tim Burton he’s got some real crazy funny stuff too, you seen some of it? And he draws like Roy the Toxic Boy who kinda reminds me of Gir from Invader Zim he does other stuff too, Jhonen, Johnny-”

     The man just stared, a little thrown off by how much he was talking, and the way his mind skipped around. Did the kid even pause for breath? He couldn’t work with someone jabbering away like this… “Hey,” he interrupted, settling his hands on Adney’s shoulders and leading him to one of the zombie shooter games, “This one’s on me.”

     “Ohh… fanks!” He smiled brightly as the man put some change in the slot, and the machine beeped to life on the character select. “Oi- mister- it’s multiplayer, you want to play, too?”

     Adney picked up both plastic guns, offering the red one to the store owner, who laughed, shaking his head. “It’s Norman.”

     He only got a blink in response. “What?”

     “My name, it’s Norman.”

     “Bates?” Adney stared at him with wide eyes.

     Christ, this kid might really have a screw loose, the shopkeep thought, not getting the Psycho reference. “No, not Bates. Just Norman.”

     “Oh. So you don’t have your mum in the-?” He started.

     “What?”

     “Ummm…” Adney trailed off, trying to not look too suspiciously at the man. He grinned widely, offering him the red plastic gun again. “You want ta play wif me?”

     “Nah, sorry. I’ve got some money to get counting, before those punks steal it right out of the cash register again…” Norman paused as Adney’s large eyes got even wider, still looking hopeful that he’d play with him. Like a lanky, pale, black-haired puppy. “Christ,” he muttered, finally caving and taking the gun. “You don’t have any friends yet, do you?”

     The boy shook his head. “No, I- I met some, though. Uhm- people. One’s real nice, the others, they uhh…”

     “Don’t like you so much?”

     Adney shook his head, again. “N-not really.”

     “Well if they come in here, I’ll rip ‘em a new one. How’s that sound?”

     He beamed, though Norman cursed- the game was starting without them. “C’mon, start shooting!”

     Adney turned towards the screen, grinning now as he raised his gun and fired on the zombies that were trying to eat them. “These ain’t the nice ones!” He stated, matter-of-factly, to Norman who immediately was staring at him skeptically. There were such things as nice zombies?

     “C’mon, c’mon, you gotta shoot ‘em, too! Bang bang!” The boy urged, getting more concentrated in the game by the second. Easily excitable despite his slight shyness, he was over-animated as well, nearly clocking Norman right in the chest with his elbow as he shifted to shoot more of the undead.

     “Watch it!” The man laughed , then turned his own attention back to the game.

     They played more than that one round, but eventually, Adney had to go home and Norman had to get back to overseeing his arcade.

     “See ya later, Bates!” The tween waved as he headed off.

     His mother was already home when he unlocked the door of the townhouse and stepped inside; he smelled pasta cooking on the stove, and could hear it simmering away. Spaghetti, something that she always regretted making after the fact, because he made a mess every time he ate it.

     Licking his lips, he approached the stove, lifting the lid of the sauce pot to investigate the contents, and then did the same for the noodles that had already been cooked. They were still steaming, deliciously pale yellow, and Adney reached his hand in to quickly grab a few. His mother, being a mother, knew exactly what he was up to. She was seated on the couch watching television, he could hear it, and she couldn’t see what he was doing… but she could sense it.

     “Adney? Put that back! I know what you’re doing!”

     She was too late, though. He’d already stuffed a small handful of the noodles in his mouth, and not wanting to risk her wrath, he bolted for the stairs before she could even make it off the couch. If there was one thing that he was, he was fast, those long legs perfect for escaping the danger that was his mother.

     “Adney!” She called after him up the stairs.

     He practically squeaked, mouse-like, and slammed the door shut. His mother plopped back down on the couch with a huff, not wanting to go after him, and he escaping her yelling, smiled happily and turned on his own television.