I said the stupid rhyme three times. It’s what the kids at camp said you were supposed to do, if you were brave enough. It was supposed to be a dare. If you could do it, you were brave.
Then I did the last part.
“Kevin,” I said, because you were supposed to say your own name. So he would know whose skin to steal.
It was stupid, like I said. But I stood there for a long time. I wanted the Skinstealer to come and scare Kevin, I wanted him to be scared by my story and I wanted him to pay just a little bit, maybe cry like I almost did. The idea felt good, like a warm heavy stone in the palm of my hand.
