Jason Voorhees, Leather Face, Hannibal Lecture, Pennywise, and even a little blood drooling Cujo, lay in a neat little row on Deacon's living room floor.

As I sat over them, grinning so damn wide that my face felt like it was going to split, I found myself wondering if this was how Oz felt about his stupid stuffed toys. He had always been doing stupid stuff with them, like having tea parties and letting his monkey slide down the bannister, or unable to sleep without cuddling one.

If it was, then I felt a little bad. I had teased him about it, but never enough to upset him, but Blake...