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l of cloth and mothballs and closed…up dark closet air begins to give way to another smell…a hot； fiery smell。 Richard begins to blunder forward； screaming his father's name； he thinking there must be a fire back here and his father may be burning in it； because it smells like a fire 。 。 。 and suddenly he realizes that the boards are gone under his feet； and he is standing in black dirt。 Weird black insects with clustered eyes on the ends of long stalks are hopping all around his fuzzy slippers。 Daddy！ he screams。 The coats and suits are gone； the floor is gone； but it isn't crisp white snow underfoot； it's stinking black dirt which is apparently the birthing ground for these unpleasant black jumping insects； this place is by no stretch of the imagination Narnia。 Other screams answer Richard's scream…screams and mad； demented laughter。 Smoke drifts around him on a dark idiot wind and Richard turns； stumbling back the way he came； hands outstretched like the hands of a blind man； feeling frantically for the coats； smelling for the faint； acrid reek of mothballs…
And suddenly a hand slithers around his wrist。
Daddy？ he asks； but when he looks down he sees not a human hand but a scaly green thing covered with writhing suckers； a green thing attached to a long； rubbery arm which stretches off into the darkness and toward a pair of yellow； upslanted eyes that stare at him with flat hunger。
Screeching； he tears free and flings himself blindly into the black 。 。 。 and just as his groping fingers find his father's sport coats and suits again； as he hears the blessed； rational sound of jangling coathangers； that green； sucker…lined hand waltzes dryly across the back of his neck again 。 。 。 and is gone。
He waits； trembling； as pallid as day…old ashes in a cold stove； for three hours outside that damned closet； afraid to go back in； afraid of the green hand and the yellow eyes； more and more sure that his father must be dead。 And when his father es back into the room near the end of the fourth hour； not from the closet but from the door which municates between the bedroom and the upstairs hall…the door BEHIND Richard…when that happens； Richard rejects fantasy for good and all； Richard negates fantasy； Richard refuses to deal with fantasy； or treat with it； or promise with it。 He has； quite simply； Had Enough； Forever。 He jumps up； runs to his father； to the beloved Morgan Sloat； and hugs him so tightly that his arms will be sore all that week。 Morgan lifts him up； laughs； and asks him why he looks so pale。 Richard smiles； and tells him that it was probably something he ate for breakfast； but he feels better now； and he kisses his father's cheek； and smells the beloved smell of mingled sweat and Raj cologne。 And later that day； he takes all of his storybooks…the Little Golden Books； the pop…up books； the I…Can…Read books； the Dr。 Seuss books； the Green Fairy Book for Young Folks； and he puts them in a carton； and he puts the carton down in the basement； and he thinks： 'I would not care if an earthquake came now and opened a crack in the floor and swallowed up every one of those books。 In fact； it would be a relief。 In fact； it would be such a relief that I would probably laugh all day and most of the weekend。' This does not happen； but Richard feels a great relief when the books are shut in double darkness…the darkness of the carton and the darkness of the cellar。 He never looks at them again； just as he never goes in his father's closet with the folding door again； and although he sometimes dreams that there is something under his bed or in his closet； something with flat yellow eyes； he never thinks about that green； sucker…covered hand again until the strange time es to Thayer School and he bursts into unaccustomed tears in his friend Jack Sawyer's arms。
He has Had Enough； Forever。
4
Jack had hoped that with the telling of his story and the passing of his tears； Richard would return…more or less…to his normal； sharply rational self。 Jack didn't really care if Richard bought the whole nine yards or not； if Richard could just reconcile himself to accepting the leading edge of this craziness； he could turn his formidable mind to helping Jack find a way out 。 。 。 a way off the Thayer campus； anyway； and out of Richard's life before Richard went totally bananas。
But it didn't work that way。 When Jack tried to talk to him…to tell Richard about the time his own father； Phil； had gone into the garage and hadn't e out…Richard refused to listen。 The old secret of what had happened that day in the closet was out （sort of； Richard still clung stubbornly to the idea that it had been a hallucination）； but Richard had still Had Enough； Forever。
The next morning； Jack went downstairs。 He got all of his own things and those things he thought Richard might want…toothbrush； textbooks； notebooks； a fresh change of clothes。 They would spend that day in Albert the Blob's room； he decided。 They could keep an eye on the quad and the gate from up there。 When night fell again； maybe they could get away。
5
Jack hunted through Albert's desk and found a bottle of baby aspirin。 He looked at this for a moment； thinking that these little orange pills said almost as much about the departed Albert's Loving Mom as the carton of licorice whips on the closet shelf。 Jack shook out half a dozen pills。 He gave them to Richard and Richard took them absently。 'e on over here and lie down；' Jack said。
'No；' Richard answered…his tone was cross and restless and terribly unhappy。 He returned to the window。 'I ought to keep a watch。 So a full report can be made to 。 。 。 to 。 。 。 to the trustees。 Later。'
Jack touched Richard's brow lightly。 And although it was cool…almost chilly…he said： 'Your fever's worse； Richard。 Better lie down until that aspirin goes to work。'
'Worse？' Richard looked at him with pathetic gratitude。 'Is it？'
'It is；' Jack said gravely。 'e on and lie down。'
Richard was asleep five minutes after he lay down。 Jack sat in Albert the Blob's easy chair； its seat nearly as sprung as the middle of Albert's mattress。 Richard's pale face glowed waxily in the growing daylight。
6
Somehow the day passed； and around four o'clock； Jack fell asleep。 He awoke to darkness； not knowing how long he had been out。 He only knew there had been no dreams； and for that he was grateful。 Richard was stirring uneasily and Jack guessed he would be up soon。 He stood and stretched； wincing at the stiffness in his back。 He went to the window； looked out； and stood motionless； eyes wide。 His first thought was I don't want Richard to see this。 Not if I can help it。
O God； we've got to get out of here； and just as soon as we can； Jack thought； frightened。 Even if； for whatever reasons； they're afraid to e straight at us。
But was he really going to take Richard out of here？ They didn't think he would do it； he knew that…they were counting on his refusing to expose his friend to any more of this craziness。
Flip； Jack…O。 You've got to flip over； and you know it。 And you've got to take Richard with you because this place is going to hell。
I can't。 Flipping into the