Chapter 112
There were probably still a couple of porn mags under the mattress, but Andy didn’t dare look.
“Oh, God,” he croaked. Scooter peered over his shoulder, and then pushed past him into the room, grinning delightedly.
“Holy shit, Andy,” Scooter said, eyes drawn to the collection of still in the packaging figures, running one hand over them. “You have FX-7? Mint condition?” He very gingerly picked up one of the boxes—there wasn’t even any dust on them—and turned it in his hands. “And you call me a dork.”
Andy dropped onto the bed and covered his face with his hands. “Kill me now.” He peeked between his fingers, watching Scooter wander around the room, examining every little detail. “I feel like you are not going to use this knowledge for good.”
Scooter flipped through a stack of—why the hell had his mother saved all his goddamn report cards?—papers and awards. “Did you ever get a B in anything, Andy? Really?”