He floated away from the casino empty handed and without a backward glance. Having his fortune told and swinging a bat around had been... fun... to varying degrees... he supposed, but now that there was nothing to hold his attention besides the rapidly fading music behind him, the boil began to notice an unpleasant twitch in his gut. It wasn't enough to make him stop completely, but it did spark his curiosity. He had felt this way before, he was sure of it. He didn't know when or why, but—

"Hey."

Someone was speaking to him. A large someone with bright green skin and no less than a billion tattoos.

"Kid. You lost?"

The monster's cigarette twitched as he spoke. Whatever had been nibbling at the boil's stomach was itself consumed by a sickly wave of apprehension.

Cigarette Guy chuckled. "You just got real pale all of a sudden. Ain't never seen a ghost get lighter." Inhale. Exhale. "You don't gotta wet yourself or nothin'. I don't beat kids up unless they're trying to get in there without ID." He jerked a thumb at a matte black door behind him. The neon sign above it read DUCK'S.

The ghost expelled the contents of his lungs in a jittery, slightly stale sigh. It seemed he hadn't taken a breath in quite some time.

"Sorry." He forced a smile, the very act making him feel more like himself, whoever that was.

"So, you wanna tell me where you're headed and I'll steer you in the right direction?"

"That would be... a very good question." He smiled again, this one warmer. "I woke up, went to a party, and now I'm... well... don't know where I am or where I'm going."

"How 'bout your name? Got one of those?"

The ghost felt dirty hair brush his cheeks as his head shook on its own. He couldn't...

He went mostly still as he slowly met the ground, settling almost gracefully in comparison to the wild limb-flailing he had engaged in so far. He remembered...

...shaking hands...

...one-armed hugs and claps on the back...

...grinning...

...smirking...

...smiling...

HELLO

MY NAME IS
"Lyle Rigby." He held out his hand and was surprised to find it clasped in the monster's immediately. Was this creature very fast? Was he not? It was as if relearning his own name had opened a distracting floodgate of knowledge just out of his reach, taunting him as he fought to pay attention. He was missing time.

"Lester Barnes. Pleased to meet you."

Lyle nodded and shook, his world a nauseating, slow motion parody of reality. When it sped up again, Lester was looking at him with a mix of sympathy and amusement.

"Don't think I've ever met anyone as new as you before." He cast a sidelong glance at the door. "Here. Follow me for a minute. You can come in without ID just this once."

Something inside warned him that it was foolish to follow a grown man into a darkened bar, but the warning was too deep and weak for him to pay it much heed. And wasn't he a grown man? He felt like one, kind of, at least until Lester had consulted the phone he had left behind the bar and written a name and address on the back of a DUCK'S business card. He held it out so Lyle could read it.

"Amityville Academy?" He had to shout. The music thrummed through his chest and limbs, numbing them.

"Yeah. It's a school nearby. They help kids like you, I think. And if they can't, they'll point you in the right direction. Maybe get you some clothes that aren't... those."

Lyle looked down. He liked his mail. Though he could reluctantly agree that all the blood might make it a little off-putting to others. He nodded.

"All right. Which way?"

- - -

It was still dark when he reached the school's gates. The twitch inside became a proper itch the closer he got, but it was manageable, especially since this place seemed liable to scratch it. As far as figures of authority went, there were none to be found, but it was a school. Lyle knew schools. He wasn't sure how he knew them, only that he did. There would be plenty of people around to help him in the daylight, he simply needed to find something to do with himself until then.

He continued on, noticing the creepateria as he passed and finding the word itself mildly amusing until he thought back and realized that he'd never called it anything else. He floated past demon dorms, undead dorms, monster dorms, all of them evoking a cascade of imagery in his head that kept the boil more than occupied. When he found the auditorium as the first sliver of sunrise lit the horizon, however, the rest no longer mattered.

It wasn't locked, which was invitation enough for him to enter, and as soon as he did, Lyle knew he was home.