• 14 Dec, 2025 *

The News, Stockroom. Early October 1995. Sunday Morning.

Jerk was at the stockroom’s desk when Kid returned, headphones blasting and double-checking his work. The overhead lights were off, the only light from the banker’s lamp on the desk and the windows on the door.

Kid leaned against the boxes next to the desk, their face in shadow.

Jerk turned to face them and pulled off his headphones but kept them playing. Faith No More’s cover of War Pigs had just begun. Seven and a half minutes, half of it devoted to Mike Patton and Jim Martin dueling for the future of the band they didn’t found, while Puffy’s drumming dominates them both.

“Sorry, I forgot how long Monroe can hog a bathroom,” Kid said, grinning. “She said you were a prince, I think that’s her highest compliment for a guy.”

Jerk nodded, tapping the eraser of his pencil against his leg. “You could have told me if you wanted to go by another name.”

“Why are you hung up on this? I like it.” Kid made a face. “I even told Monroe to use it.”

“Clark had done something really nice and then pushed the Buddy thing because Late was always using it.” Jerk’s eyes went up as he spoke, scanning the darkness of the ceiling instead of looking at Kid’s face. “I was overwhelmed when it happened. Worried I did the same thing to you.”

Jerk could hear the bell ring, and the heavy smack of newsprint hitting the floor tiles. The Sunday paper, hours late.

“I liked it the first time you said it,” Kid, playing with the zipper pull of their hoodie. “Less complicated than Sam.”

Jerk looked at them. “Why’s Sam complicated?”

The bell rang again. He could hear Chad yawn.

“My dad was Samuel. He decided I was a ‘tomboy’ and started calling me ‘Sam Junior’ because that was supposed to be my name if I’d been a boy, but I’m not exactly one of those either.” Kid kept their eyes on the zipper pull as they spoke. “When I got kicked out, I used it because he had, and it was better than a girl’s name.”

“Sounds like he tried to understand,” Jerk was tapping the eraser in time with Mike Bordin’s drums.

“Maybe,” Kid sighed. “Parents divorced when I was 10. Mom remarried in six months.” Kid made a face at the thought. “Found Jesus too.”

“I hear he hides from a lot of people,” Jerk said with a flat voice.

Kid burst out laughing.

“It’s true.” Jerk almost smiled. “Where’s your dad now?”

“I don’t know. Moved to Buffalo for a job when I was 11. My mom wouldn’t let him talk to me when he called after that.” Kid’s voice got quiet. “When my stepdad kicked me out four years ago, I couldn’t find him.”

“If you want, I can get some research done.” Jerk switched the pencil to his right hand and twirled it in his fingers.

“Really? What do you need?” Kid leaned forward.

“Name, date of birth.” Jerk began drumming against his leg again. “His parents names and birthdays if you have them too.”

Kid rubbed their chin. “Won’t you find my information too, when you look him up?”

“If I wanted to?” Jerk said, tilting his head. “I don’t.”

He leaned back, old wooden chair creaking under him. “Brings up a question, though.”

“What’s that?” Kid crossed their arms, they looked suddenly tense.

“If we travel, you need ID,” Jerk said. “Tiny’s reach only goes so far.”

“What does that mean?” Kid looked confused as well as tense.

“You got a birth certificate? Social sec–”

“Didn’t you just say–” Kid’s eyes flashed. Fear and anger.

“Whoa, whoa,” Jerk said as he held up his hands. “Fakes are getting harder to get away with, and we have a lawyer who can help you with a name change for them, if you wanted.”

“You do the public notice in one of the local advertisers. Only grandmas and the homebound are bored enough to read them, and they won’t end up on microfiche.” Jerk kept picking at his thumb.

“What’s that?”

“Shrunken down newspaper pages. Basically negatives, used for archiving.” Jerk explained. “Only real papers go through the trouble. Your old name will be landfilled in no time, and I’ll never see a thing.”

“I don’t know what name to use.” Kid relaxed. “Sorry I got defensive.”

Jerk nodded. “I don’t go snooping unless I have to.” Jerk made a tired face and sighed. “Knowledge can be its own burden.”

“‘It’s just money’,” Kid quoted him.

“Something like that,” Jerk said, turning to the order sheets. “This went fast, easy when the staples are cleaned out.”

“You’ve been working since you woke up. Sorting tapes, taking stock, worrying about next year’s trip,” Kid listed off. “I noticed you cleaned the bathroom too.”

Jerk shrugged. “Things to do.”

“What happens when you run out of things to do?” Kid’s voice sounded concerned.

“There’s always something to do,” Jerk almost laughed. “That’s how this trap I’ve built for myself works.”

“You’re finding things to do,” Kid said. They gestured at the papers on the desk. “You’re doing tomorrow’s work. What are you going to do tomorrow?”

“Clean something,” Jerk said. “Something always needs cleaning.”

“Anything to avoid thinking about Norma?” Kid came over and leaned against the desk next to him.

“Yeah, is that okay?” Jerk turned his head and snapped. He looked back at the papers. “Sorry, I’m touchy.”

Kid gave a guilty frown. “Doyle and Paulie told me a little bit,” Kid said. “She sounds difficult.”

Jerk turned his chair and pushed away from Kid a foot. “She’s a stubborn control freak.” He made a face at the floor and looked off to the side for a moment. “And yeah, we’re too much alike.”

“Glad you said it,” Kid said. “It’s okay if you hate your mom, I understand.”

“I don’t like her very much, but I don’t want her to die.” Jerk looked up. The corner of his eyes were wet.

“I won’t push again,” Kid said. “I guess this is how you’re dealing with it.”

“It’s how I deal with everything,” Jerk put his elbows on his knees and held his head.

“You’ve been different. Twitchier.” Kid came over and began rubbing his back. “Funnier, too.”

“I’m tired,” Jerk didn’t raise his head. “But I can’t rest.”

“You sound burned out,” Kid said. They knelt down next to him. “It’s three hours until we need someone down here old enough to sell beer. Will you please come upstairs with me and lay down?”

Jerk straightened himself up, nodding. “Yeah, all the talking has tired me out,” he said. He looked over at Kid. “I need to fax these, and then I’ll be up.”

He waited until the bell rang as Kid left before he put on his headphones and faxed the orders.

#arc-eight