Chapter Text
There are days when Terry Angel kind of loves his job, and Halloween is one of them. Well, it's not exactly Halloween - it's the Friday just before the Halloween weekend. But for a Primary School it's as good as the real thing - and they've definitely been celebrating like it was.
The school is out, and it's full of rubbish. There are popped balloons and broken Halloween decorations everywhere, bits and pieces of torn costumes with every hall and classroom covered in orange and black confetti and streamers and candy wrappers and whatever the hell that fake spider web stuff is. There are little bats and pumpkins everywhere. The school looks like it'd been TP'd without any actual toilet paper, really.
And as the janitor, it's Terry's job to clean it all up.
Putting on his headphones and grabbing the biggest broom he has, Terry starts sweeping all the spooky debris into a garbage bag, humming as he goes.
Terry actually really likes cleaning - it's why he still works for the school even though the pay is kind of crap and the hours aren't great. It's very satisfying, seeing the results of your handiwork immediately, and it's especially satisfying on days like these, when there's just a lot of it. Each sweep of the broom brings out more weird crap from under the benches - a bunch of pumpkin confetti, a bit of gauze with fake blood, fake nails - blood red and sharp, of course - a sticky eyeball with a piece of paper stuck to it….
Looks like the kids had fun. The teachers did too, judging by their classrooms. They'd all paid Terry a little bit of extra to package everything away for them, too, which means Terry gets to see each decoration up close as he takes them down and puts them all in cardboard boxes. There's three miniature pirates hanging from Mrs. Andrews' classroom doorway, Ms. Jackson has creepy paper fairies decorating the windows in hers and Mr. Kenway's classroom has about two dozen LED candles hanging from his ceiling. It's all pretty great.
He also gets to collect all the leftover candy from the classrooms. There's not a lot of it, the kids probably had taken everything they could, but there's some, and Terry's not one to turn down free sugar.
Terry doesn't really celebrate Halloween himself - as a guy living alone in an apartment, it just doesn't feel worth it, putting up any decorations - but he does enjoy it. He has a lot of good memories from going trick or treating with his younger brothers and later with their kids. He has a feeling they would've loved this school. His own definitely didn't go this far with Halloween - and they definitely weren't as creative. Ms. Jackson's fairies are especially memorable - looks like she's printed pictures of Barbies and painted over them before giving them creepy, hand-like wings. It's pretty creative.
Terry lays the paper dolls in their awaiting box, finishes cleaning the classroom up, and then heads to the next one. Mrs. Lyon's classroom is, as expected, the most impressive. There's a spooky seven foot skeleton sitting behind her desk, wrapped in black hooded robe, with red LED lights in the eye sockets. The whole classroom had been done up like a dungeon, with curtains and fake spider webs and chains hanging off the walls. Pretty fitting, for a woman who runs weekly tabletop games for staff.
Terry sneaks out his phone to take a picture of Teacher Skeleton, and then almost jumps out of his skin as he hears someone speak.
"… Mr. Angel?"
There's a kid in the classroom.
"Lord almighty, what?" Terry asks, tugging his headphones down and whirling to look around. It's a little girl wearing a raggedy green costume, with enormous rubber elf ears listing downwards, sitting in one of the desks in the back. "Kid, the school's been out for hours! What are you still doing here?"
The girl shrugs awkwardly and looks down at the book she's been reading - a comic book. "Dunno," she says. "Missed the bus, I guess."
"You guess?" Terry asks, alarmed. "Do you have a phone? Have you called someone? Your parents gotta be worried sick."
That makes the girl's shoulders slump in a way that makes Terry wince. "I called Grandpa," she says defensively and then looks at her book. "He told me to go trick or treating or whatever, 'cus he can't make it."
"But that's not until tomorrow?" Terry says confusedly and then puts his phone away, leaving his cleaning trolley by the front of the classroom. "Is there no one else you can call?"
The girl shrugs in that mute awkward way kids do when they know there should be but isn't. "It's fine," she mutters and looks down at the book. "He'll pick me up after work, I can wait."
"… And when's that?"
She doesn't answer, which means it's either very late or, worse, she doesn't know. Either way it's not good. It's potentially call the authorities level of not good, though Terry isn't any kind of expert on that. Is there anyone left in the building, someone higher up he could call to take care of this? Probably not, it's a Friday - everyone clears out pretty quick on a Friday. They don't even have any after school activities on Friday.
"So you've been just waiting here, since the school let out?" Terry asks and tries to figure out how long that might've been. At least three hours? Shit. "Have you had anything to eat since lunch? Are you hungry? Thirsty?"
The girl looks up through her bangs shyly. "I drank from the fountain. I'm okay, Mr. Angel."
Yeah, definitely hungry, Terry decides and rummages through his pockets. He has the candy he's been collecting, but that's not good for a kid who hasn't eaten in a while… a-ha! "Here," he hands her the protein bar he'd been saving for later. "That'll tide you over for a bit, yeah? Wait - you're not allergic to nuts or anything, right?" he asks, pulling the bar back. "Because this has loads of nuts."
The little girl makes a face. "No?"
"You sure?" Terry asks worriedly. "If you're allergic to nuts, I can get you something else."
"I'm not allergic to anything," the kid promises, and Terry gauges her expression before handing the bar over. The girl accepts the protein bar slowly, but once she's sure he's not about to take it back she opens it so quickly that she must've been starving. She makes a face at the first bite. "Tastes like chalk," she complains.
"I think they're pretty good. It's got proteins and minerals," Terry says and sits on the desk beside hers. "Some health guy online recommended them."
"You shouldn't believe everything you see online, Mr. Angel," the girl says in a voice of someone repeating after someone else and takes another bite.
"You are so right, you definitely shouldn't," Terry agrees solemnly. "Always read the labels and check for additives."
The girl gives him a strange look but eats the whole bar without further word, just scarfing it down like a little wolf.
Terry folds his arms. "So, what's your name, kid? Since you obviously know my name."
"… it's Mia," the girl says and looks at the silver protein bar wrapper.
"It's nice to meet you, Mia," Terry says and holds out his hand. "Give it here, I'll take care of it." He puts the wrapper into his pocket and then considers the kid and what to do with the situation. He can't just leave her, but calling the authorities might be an overkill. Even though he really kind of wants to. Hmm. "What's that you're reading, Mia?"
"Just something I found," Mia says and closes the book to show him the cover. It has an elaborate circle design in the front with a multilayered pentagram inside it, and it looks like an occult book - probably one of those fancy picture books, like the books about dragons Terry had when he was a kid. "I thought Mrs. Lyon would like it," Mia mutters.
"Did she?" Terry asks.
The girl shrugs, adjusting her drooping rubber elf ears. "I didn't get to show it," she says, like it doesn't matter. "Everyone else brought something too and wanted to show their costumes, and no one cared about dumb old books."
"Aww, that's a shame," Terry says. "You wanna tell me about the book?"
Mia squints at him suspiciously, clearly suspecting he's just humouring her.
"You could read it to me while I'm cleaning," he offers. "I gotta put Mr. Teacher Skeleton away for Mrs. Lyon."
"Do you have to put him away?" Mia asks, disappointed.
"I'm afraid so. Mrs. Lyon has a class to teach on Monday, and I think a big old skeleton might get in the way of that. Even though it's pretty cool," Terry says and stands up. "Come on, it'll make time pass much faster if you read to me while I'm working."
"I'm not a very good reader," Mia warns him, hesitating.
"All the more reason to do it! Practice is good for you," Terry says with what he hopes is an encouraging smile and goes to get the boxes for Mr. Teacher Skeleton. "Start from the beginning."
"Okay, um…" Mia leafs through the book to the beginning. "Introduction to portals and alter-alternate realities, by mag-magier Janus Meilar, AM of Arcane Arts. The art of creating portals is fas-fascinating and in-intri - um, I don't know that word," Mia stops.
"Intricate, maybe?" Terry offers, starting to unwrap the cloak from around the giant plastic skeleton.
"… yeah, intricate," she agrees and clears her throat. "Thanks. Intricate, and not for the impa-impatient magician. Alternate realities on other hand are in-innum - um… in-numera-able?" Mia makes a dubious face at the book.
"Innumerable. It means many - a lot. Means there's a lot of alternate realities," Terry explains with a grin, easing the cloth from around the skeleton's skull head. "Too many to count."
"Oh," Mia says and nods. "Okay. Innumerable and varied, and often mis-be-misbehave when they come in contact with - with reason and logic…"
Terry smiles as the girl reads, her voice rising and falling with the words she's more confident in and the ones she has to sound out first. It's a tricky book for a young reader, full of big words, but Mia presses on, stubborn and in times frustrated, reading the whole explanation about how random wormholes to alternate realities can appear whenever, with no rhyme or reason, but to create a portal intentionally takes great effort and a lot of training. It's pretty interesting, actually.
"Where did you get that book?" Terry asks while Mia is taking a break between paragraphs. "I might want to get a copy."
"I found it in Grandpa's basement," Mia shrugs, turning the page and holding the book at arm's length, examining a picture there. "It looked fun."
"It is fun," Terry agrees and gives the clock on the wall a worried look. It's been a while. "When was it that you called your Grandfather? Maybe you should try again."
"Um… right now?" Mia asks and takes out a smartphone that looks enormous in her hands. "Okay, um… he probably won't answer, though."
"Just please try," Terry says encouragingly, while folding up the skeleton's black sheet-robes. "Tell him I'm waiting here with you so that he knows you're not alone, but he'll need to pick you up as soon as possible, okay?"
Mia nods and then leans back in her chair, tapping at the phone screen for a moment before lifting it to her ear. There's a long, loud silence, and Terry can hear the phone ringing before there is a loud click.
"This is Michael Lovelace, leave a message," says a gruff male voice in a recording. It's gone to the answering machine.
"Grandpa, it's Mia - I'm still at the school," Mia says to the phone and looks at Terry. "Um, I'm waiting with Mr. Angel, but he says you need to pick me up as soon as possible. Um… bye." She hangs up, looking awkward and uncomfortable.
The grandfather and granddaughter don't have the closest, warmest relationship, Terry is sensing. Ouch.
"Okay, that's good," Terry says and sets the robes on Mrs. Lyon's desk. "Hopefully he checks his messages."
"He probably won't," Mia says a bit sullenly and puts the phone away. Her lip quivers a little before she sets it in a stubborn, irritated line. "He almost never answers his phone, and it always takes him so long to listen to voicemail."
Well, Mr. Lovelace is looking better and better, Terry thinks, and wonders if he should call her teacher or a principal after all. "I see. That's… not great," Terry says, and then goes to get a few candies from his cleaning trolley for poor Mia, getting a paper cup and some water for her from the fountain as well. She's been reading out loud for a while, after all. "Well, at least we tried. Here."
"Thank you, Mr. Angel," Mia says, scowling in that way kids do when they're trying not to cry out of sheer embarrassment.
"You're welcome," Terry says, smiling and then returns to the seven foot skeleton, giving her that bit of privacy and letting her gather herself. He'll… wait with her a bit longer, see if Mr. Lovelace would call back - if they'd hear nothing by the time he's done for the day, then he'd call the principal. Or emergency services.
"So, back to the book," Terry says with false cheer. "It would be pretty cool, wouldn't it, if a portal opened up and whisked us to alternate reality with magic - and elves," he adds, nodding to her costume.
"Yeah," Mia agrees and rallies up with a little smile. "And skeletons!"
"Well, there's skeletons in this world too," Terry points out, grinning at the plastic skeleton, now sitting naked on Mrs. Lyon's desk. It's been put together with metal wire, and untangling it would be a task and a half. He's going to need some tools… "Everyone has a skeleton inside them. You've got a skeleton too, Mia."
"Well, yeah, I know that - but there's no living ones - not like… Lychees," Mia says and frowns, toying with one of the candies. "That's what they're called, right, when they're moving around - lychees?"
"I think it's liches, actually, with an i, and I think a lich is more like… a boss skeleton," Terry says thoughtfully while getting pliers from his cleaning trolley. "It's like a skeleton mage. I think they can make other skeletons - raise the undead and so on. Make a whole army of them, maybe."
"Like vampires!" Mia says excitedly, and then her shoulders slump. "I wanted to be a vampire for Halloween, but Grandpa wouldn't let me."
"Aww, that's a shame," Terry says sympathetically. "But you make a pretty good elf, Mia."
"Thank you, Mr. Angel," Mia says, unwrapping a toffee candy and plopping it into her mouth before picking up the book again. "You wanna hear more about spo-spon-tan - um, portals to alternate realities?"
"Absolutely," Terry says with a smile and turns to the plastic skeleton with the pliers in hand. "And that word is probably spontaneous - spontaneous portals to alternate realities."
The girl makes a face at that. "What does that mean?"
"That they happen suddenly and randomly," Terry shrugs, and shaking her head at the new word, Mia starts reading again while Terry turns to the task of taking the skeleton apart, starting with the most important - the head.
And that's the last thing he remembers - easing loose the skeleton's skull while a little girl reads from a funny magic book about alternate realities.