{"id":803,"date":"2021-09-01T18:20:39","date_gmt":"2021-09-01T18:20:39","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/?p=803"},"modified":"2021-09-08T16:00:01","modified_gmt":"2021-09-08T16:00:01","slug":"fishbones-book-i-chapter-9-new-years","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/2021\/09\/fishbones-book-i-chapter-9-new-years\/","title":{"rendered":"Fishbones Book I \u2013 Chapter 9: New Years"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

\"\"Illustration by Eyugho<\/span><\/a><\/span><\/p>\n

Autumn had come and gone too quickly. It was already snowing again and Ferris and Demos had found shelter at the Sparrow Diner. In the three years since his first cup of black coffee, Ferris had grown to enjoy it. It had taken the entire three years. There was a mug of it between his hands, the hot ceramic thawing the frozen joints of his fingers.<\/p>\n

Demos had opted for tea. He was gazing out the window as he took a sip, recoiled, then set the cup down. It seemed his journey into the world of cheap diner tea had been a mistake.<\/p>\n

What was he looking at, anyway?<\/p>\n

Across the street, a police car had pulled over a sedan, its lights flashing across the diner window. Cops. The memory of Gino making that phone call and the tremor in the officer\u2019s voice struck Ferris like a foul ball to the temple.<\/p>\n

Ferris looked down into his coffee, then back up at Demos. \u201cSo, Blakely. That\u2019s the police chief\u2019s name, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d Demos said, distant. His eyes were still fixated on the scene outside.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat does Gino have on him, anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n

Finally, Demos\u2019 eyes trailed away from the window, stopping to lock on Ferris. \u201cWhat makes you think I know?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell.\u201d Demos stirred his drink, releasing plumes of steam from the cup. \u201cIt\u2019s not a pretty story.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTell me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos took a moment to scan the nearby tables. Fortunately, there was no one in earshot. Chatter and clinking plates overpowered any muttering the two exchanged. \u201cThere\u2019s this guy who owns a motel\u2014he\u2019s in our territory, pays protection,\u201d Demos said. \u201cHe\u2019s a huge fucking pervert. Keeps cameras in some of the rooms.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris was starting to understand precisely how<\/i> this story wasn\u2019t \u201cpretty<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnyway,\u201d Demos continued. \u201cThe SPD upper brass\u2014they all used that motel. Like it was the one place on earth their wives would never find. The Chief did, too\u2014a lot<\/i>. But this one time\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos paused, breaking eye contact.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe couldn\u2019t have been older than thirteen. The owner got it on tape\u2014traded it to Nonno for a year\u2019s worth of fees. Blakely would\u2014he would literally eat shit to keep that from getting out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the fuck,\u201d Ferris said. \u201cThat\u2019s rape<\/i>\u2014he should be in fucking prison<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA lot of us should be in prison, Fish.\u201d Demos looked back up. \u201cWe have his entire force at our feet. The Marianis, the Irish\u2014all of them get arrested. We don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris fell silent. He took a long drink of coffee, his fingers tight on the mug. Blakely, Gino, Victor\u2014they all belonged in prison. Every single one of them. But Demos\u2014<\/p>\n

His mug hit the table.\u00a0 <\/span>Only a month ago, he\u2019d seen the article in the paper. Two bodies in an auto shop. One on the curb outside. A triple homicide with no leads.<\/p>\n

It was strange, acknowledging your own hypocrisy. He could feel it in his chest, rotting, something that had been there for a long, long time. He was completely, painfully aware of it.<\/p>\n

And once again, he would do nothing.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve got Blakely in a vice,\u201d Demos was saying. \u201cHe\u2019s not going to do anything like that again. Living as a mob puppet is punishment enough.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris\u2019 head dropped. He felt sick. \u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd now\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

A waiter placed their food down. Two slices of pie\u2014one babka, one Hudson Valley apple. Demos nudged the babka across the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow that you know,\u201d Demos smiled, \u201cI\u2019m going to have to kill you.\u201d<\/p>\n

There\u2014his best friend pushing over a slice of pie with a cliched joke and the most tender smile he\u2019d ever seen. The reason for the pain in his chest, for the tearing sensation of a rope pulled in two directions.<\/p>\n

Across the street, car doors slammed shut and the flashing lights stopped. Tires cut through slush as the police car left the scene. Ferris\u2019 eyes fell to the pie.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d Ferris said. \u201cYou probably should.\u201d<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

There were only a few hours left in the year. Ferris, Demos, and Seamus had holed up in Victor\u2019s living room. Victor and Vanni had left to attend an adult gathering<\/i>, giving the boys the run of the house. Initially, it had sounded like a night off\u2014until Demos insisted that Ferris bring his violin. Apparently, Demos\u2019 idea of fun<\/i> was rehearsing a duet of Dvorak\u2019s Romance <\/i>to an audience of one inebriated Briton.<\/p>\n

Demos\u2019 hands were made for the piano\u2014thin, white fingers over thin, white keys. He had never joined the school\u2019s orchestra, because he never played for anyone but himself. By the time midnight had passed, Seamus had joined him on the piano bench.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on, Seamus,\u201d Demos said. \u201cSit up.\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos leaned sideways. Seamus, who had been hanging on him, slipped down on the bench. Every drink Seamus had consumed was evident through his voice, his breath, and his audacious lack of coordination.<\/p>\n

Demos gave Ferris a pleading look. \u201cCan you take him home, please?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure, I have rehearsal in the morning, anyway,\u201d Ferris said.<\/p>\n

One might have expected a week off around the holidays, but the St. Basil\u2019s Symphony Orchestra conductor had too large a pride and too small a heart to offer such charity. Half the orchestra would likely stay home, but Ferris and his flawless attendance record didn\u2019t have that privilege.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d Seamus said. \u201cCarry me. Promised Mum I\u2019d be home.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris sighed, closing the latches on his violin case. \u201cNo one is carrying you anywhere. Get up.\u201d<\/p>\n

He pulled his friend\u2019s arm around his shoulder, easing him into something that resembled standing.<\/p>\n

Demos opened the door. \u201cGood luck. If he gets too heavy, call a cab.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou calling me fat?\u201d was the last thing Seamus said as he was guided down the sidewalk.<\/p>\n

It was a challenge, bearing the weight of his taller, densely-muscled friend in one hand and the violin case in the other. Each step was an ordeal, and what would normally be a twenty-minute walk seemed like it was going to be at least twice as long.<\/p>\n

Seamus\u2019 breath rose in liquor-tainted puffs, dissipating in the cold air. Ferris shouldn\u2019t have let him drink so much. It wasn\u2019t good for him\u2014but then, Seamus was never very concerned with his health.<\/p>\n

They left a peculiar set of footprints, half-dragged and uneven in the snow. At least Seamus was warm. The year 2001 was still a newborn and was already biting his skin with a vengeance. It was quiet. Each step in the unsalted snow released a soft crunch.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou shouldn\u2019t drink this much,\u201d Ferris said. Snow was already settling on their coats.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you<\/i>,\u201d Seamus said. \u201cShould get your migraines checked by a doctor<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n

They had gone over this before.<\/p>\n

\u201cI have aspirin. It\u2019s fine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo one should be taking five aspirin a day,\u201d Seamus said, vinegar in his voice.<\/p>\n

Ferris scoffed. \u201cNo one should be drinking a six-pack a day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not always beer<\/i>,\u201d Seamus said before he could realize the fault in his response. He was slipping. Ferris adjusted his grip, holding to him with a tight, gloved hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cM\u2019fine.\u201d Seamus made an attempt to pull away. \u201cI can walk.\u201d He stood upright, managed a step and a half, and then staggered. His hand caught Ferris\u2019s shoulder, nearly dragging them both to the sidewalk. Somehow, Ferris managed to grasp Seamus\u2019 elbow and pull him flush against his coat. The violin case tottered in his grip.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, you can\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEh.\u201d Seamus seemed to have given up, letting his friend bear his weight for a second time. They only made it another half-block before they were greeted with noise\u2014laughter and the clinks of bottles. There was a group ahead, a silhouette of three in the gray, snowy air. It seemed there were others heading home from parties.<\/p>\n

It was then he heard it\u2014a familiar voice amidst the chatter, one so loud and repulsive that Ferris would recognize it anywhere.<\/p>\n

Rudy Sauber.<\/p>\n

And not just Rudy\u2014all three of them. It had been a little over a year since the \u201ccar accident,<\/i>\u201d and they had left Ferris alone from the moment they\u2019d returned to school. But from the sound of it, they were drunk. Their voices slurred into one another and their frames shambled beneath the glow of a street lamp like the walking dead.<\/p>\n

As the two parties convened, Ferris cast his eyes down. Maybe they wouldn\u2019t recognize him. Maybe they would keep their distance in spite of their few remaining brain cells floating in what smelled like cheap beer. Their voices grew louder.<\/p>\n

The sidewalk was too small.<\/p>\n

Ferris held his breath as the trio passed them, continuing on their way toward the other end of the block. It seemed there wouldn\u2019t be a confrontation. He exhaled.<\/p>\n

Then, he heard it. Rudy\u2019s voice\u2014mumbling just loud enough to make out one word: \u201cCocksuckers<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n

Seamus\u2019 eyes snapped open.<\/p>\n

\u201cSeamus\u2014\u201d Ferris said. \u201cWait, don\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

It was too little and too late. Seamus had shoved himself free from his human crutch, turning in place to shout across the open sidewalk. \u201cSay that to my fucking face!\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris\u2019 blood was freezing in every vein, every artery.<\/p>\n

The three boys stopped in place. Rudy glanced backward. \u201cSorry, did you say something?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSay it again, cunt!\u201d Seamus\u2019 voice was echoing now. \u201cGet over here and say it!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSay what?\u201d Rudy\u2019s lips twisted into a lopsided smile. \u201cCocksuckers?<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\n

A crack<\/i> shattered the stillness as Seamus\u2019 fist met Rudy\u2019s jaw, a runaway steam engine without brakes.<\/p>\n

Oh, no.<\/p>\n

Seamus\u2019 victory was short-lived. As Rudy clutched his face, Zach moved in for a hard shove. Seamus\u2019 back hit the lamp post, rattling steel, shaking loose clumps of snow. He slid down the length of the pole and hit the ground with a low groan. It seemed he had exhausted every last dredge of power in that single punch.<\/p>\n

Ferris\u2019 insides knotted. \u201cSeamus\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

And all three of the boys turned to face Ferris.<\/p>\n

His brain shut down. Running wasn\u2019t an option\u2014he couldn\u2019t leave Seamus behind. He was cold, outnumbered, and clutching the handle of a violin case. This wasn\u2019t supposed to happen. This was supposed to be over.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou<\/i>,\u201d Rudy said, locking eyes. His voice was glazed, the scent of stale beer on his breath. \u201cI was in the hospital for two weeks, you little shit<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n

Rudy\u2019s hands thumped into Ferris\u2019 chest, shoving him backward. Ferris staggered, his grip tightening on the case handle. Another shove sent both Ferris and the violin toppling onto snow. The case hit the sidewalk with a thick crack<\/i>.<\/p>\n

Rudy\u2019s focus snapped to it. He growled, wound back his heel, and kicked. The case rolled three times before the clasps snapped off, spilling the polished wooden instrument onto the pavement.<\/p>\n

Something cold and acidic rose in Ferris\u2019 throat. His face drained, his heart raced, pumping rime from his chest to his fingertips.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d Ferris reached forward, hand shivering. \u201cNo!<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\n

His fingers fell short. Rudy\u2019s black winter boot came down on the bridge of the violin, splintering the dark, glossy maple. The strings snapped, sending a sharp trill through the frozen air.<\/p>\n

Something else snapped, too. It was somewhere in Ferris\u2019 body, spreading like cracks over glass, cinching his hands into tight, snarled fists. His breath clouded, hot, rising from a bed of glowing coals. He locked eyes on the splinters scattered across the icy sidewalk. The strings were curled and strewn, leaving thin impressions in the snow.<\/p>\n

Ferris didn\u2019t think. He was up. Then he and Rudy hit the sidewalk, grappling, tearing at one another. Something cracked\u2014a bone. A joint. Was it his? Glasses clattered and his vision clouded. All he could see was the glare of the street lamp, the hazy shadow of another surging body. Then the world flipped. Then there was an arm against his throat.<\/p>\n

Ferris could feel him\u2014Rudy\u2019s body square against his back, the bones of his wrist channeling across his jugular. Knees scraped pavement as Ferris fought to break free, but Rudy\u2019s grip only tightened. Ferris\u2019 chest wrenched, a frantic attempt to draw in air.<\/p>\n

He couldn\u2019t breathe.<\/p>\n

His hands tore at Rudy\u2019s arm, but the hold was rock-solid. Ferris could feel pain and pressure building in his lungs, burning. Dizziness settled over him, a fog eating away at whatever strength was left in his limbs. His body jerked against Rudy\u2019s chest.<\/p>\n

It was strange, how bright the sky seemed.<\/p>\n

Then the arm left him. There was a snap, the thump of a body, blurred figures scraping over the snow and the sidewalk. Ferris collapsed onto his hands, gasping. Cold air swept into his chest between coughs. The color returned to his face.<\/p>\n

What the fuck had\u2014<\/p>\n

He picked up his head in time to see the hazy outline of what appeared to be Seamus beating the ever living shit out of Rudy Sauber.<\/p>\n

Oh.<\/p>\n

Seamus had found his second wind. Ferris could only stare as the bleary shadows of Paul and Zach rushed in to join the fight, only to get thrown to the ground like children\u2019s toys caught in a tantrum. The sounds were clear in the frigid air\u2014knuckles on bone, a flying tooth, the crunch of a mangled nose.<\/p>\n

Ferris\u2019 hands fumbled through the snow, patting over pavement until he found the crooked arms of his glasses. The moment he slipped them on, the scene became clear. Seamus was hunched and coughing, gagging on his own blood. The other boys were unconscious at his feet at awkward angles.<\/p>\n

Ferris scrambled forward to catch Seamus before he fell, holding him against his chest with what little strength he had. \u201cFer\u2014\u201d Seamus groaned. \u201cThink\u2014think I\u2019m gonna be sick.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris couldn\u2019t help the hitch in his voice. \u201cSeamus, hold on.\u201d<\/p>\n

Seamus\u2019 face was mottled five different colors and his lip was swollen. Blood stained his hair and temple, running down from both his nose and mouth. He was silent for a minute, his pants for air the only sign that he was conscious.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou all right, mate?\u201d Seamus\u2019 voice was hoarse, muffled against Ferris\u2019 coat.<\/p>\n

Ferris took a moment to run his hand over his throat. \u201cYeah,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m fine. We need to call an ambulance\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cS\u2019all good\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

This was the last thing Seamus said before he passed out, leaving Ferris the only conscious person on the Birch Street sidewalk.<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

The new year was three hours old by the time they arrived at the hospital. Its interior was still decorated for Christmas in an attempt to add warmth to the sterile, bleak environment. A nurse pushed a wheelchair past the emergency room doors, unnoticed by the sixteen-year-old waiting in the lobby.<\/p>\n

Ferris was hunched over, leaning his chin on his hands and staring at the off-white tile, flecked with gray and in need of a quick mopping. He\u2019d been waiting for an hour, his hand rubbing unconsciously on the reddened line across his neck. Seamus had been swept in past the double doors sixty-two minutes ago and he hadn\u2019t heard a word since.<\/p>\n

There was a thick crack down one of his glasses lenses, leaving half the waiting area in the dullest mosaic he\u2019d ever seen. Maybe not seeing would be better right now. Stale, cold air and white fluorescent lighting did nothing to flatter the scrapes on his hands. The tissue wedged into his left nostril still smelled like iron.<\/p>\n

His eyelids were heavy. He might have given in and closed them if a woman in a white coat hadn\u2019t stopped directly in front of him.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou brought in Mr. Aston, correct?\u201d The doctor was flipping through a stack of papers on a clipboard.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Ferris said, surprised at how dry his voice was.<\/p>\n

\u201cSix stitches. Looks like he has a mild concussion. We gave him some acetaminophen. He\u2019ll be out in a minute.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris let out the breath that had welled up in his chest, then nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust make sure he gets some rest and keeps ice on his bump for the swelling. He might be a little confused from the hit to his head, so don\u2019t worry if he starts repeating things.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d Ferris said. \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

The doctor paused, flipping to another page on the chart. She frowned. \u201cYour friend had a blood alcohol concentration of .12 percent,\u201d she said. \u201cWe weren\u2019t able to get in touch with his parents.\u201d She waited until she had Ferris\u2019 full attention before continuing. \u201cDon\u2019t let it happen again.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris nodded once more. Seamus\u2019 mother had never been easy to get a hold of, and his father was back in London. Someone had to be responsible for him, didn\u2019t they?<\/p>\n

Didn\u2019t they?<\/p>\n

The next few minutes dragged. Staring at the time on the wall clock certainly didn\u2019t help. Ferris hunched forward, forcing himself to look away from the clock. The wall wasn\u2019t any more interesting.<\/p>\n

Finally, the swinging doors opened.<\/p>\n

A woman in sea-foam scrubs was pushing Seamus\u2019 wheelchair. She slowed when Ferris leapt up and scampered past rows of chairs to meet them. \u201cSeamus\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Seamus was the ugliest Christmas tree in the lobby. His head bore a garland of bandages secured over a fat pad of gauze, his right arm was decked in a sling, and it was all topped off with the shining star of a cocksure grin.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey Fer,\u201d he said. \u201cWhat happened to your nose?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe got in a fight, remember?\u201d Ferris said.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh right.\u201d Seamus narrowed his eyes in supposedly deep thought. \u201cI won, didn\u2019t I?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, you won.\u201d Ferris didn\u2019t bother fighting his own smile. \u201cHow do you feel?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou got my flask on you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? No. That shit is what got you into this mess in the first place.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, you\u2019re no fun.\u201d Seamus raised his eyebrows. \u201cAnd what\u2019s with that chuffed look?\u201d<\/p>\n

This caught Ferris off guard. \u201cLook? Oh, I just\u2014I\u2019m just glad you\u2019re all right. I thought\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Seamus laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d Ferris said with a scowl.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Levinstein, I think you\u2019re fond of me.\u201d Seamus was starting to look a little too pleased with himself. \u201cOh, my darling mate Seamus got into a fight, whatever will I do\u2014I simply can\u2019t live without him.<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris glared. \u201cI\u2019m going to push your wheelchair down a hill.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d love that, but I think I can walk now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLast time you said that you almost fell on your ass,\u201d Ferris said, folding his arms.<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean it. Come on, Fer, help me up.\u201d Seamus reached for him, taking Ferris\u2019 hand in an impossibly tight grip. With very little confidence, Ferris eased him upright.\u00a0 <\/span>To his shock, Seamus managed to stand on his own.<\/p>\n

\u201cTold you,\u201d Seamus said. \u201cI\u2019m all right.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on, let\u2019s go home.\u201d In this instance, \u201chome\u201d was the Levinstein household. The cold, empty apartment that Seamus shared with his mostly-absent mother didn\u2019t feel like the right place to leave him.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey\u2014\u201d Seamus said. \u201cThink the rest of the year\u2019ll be this fun?\u201d<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t off to a good start. Seamus had hit the ground running, drunk before the ball dropped, brawling before the sun rose. Ferris hadn\u2019t even made it one day without nearly dying. Was that what Rudy would have done? If Seamus hadn\u2019t barreled into him like a starved grizzly bear, would Rudy have stopped? Ferris tested his throat\u2014it still hurt to swallow.<\/p>\n

\u201cGod, I hope not.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Illustration by Eyugho Autumn had come and gone too quickly. It was already snowing again and Ferris and Demos had found shelter at the Sparrow Diner. In the three years since his first cup of black coffee, Ferris had grown to enjoy it. It had taken the entire three years. There was a mug of […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-803","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fishbones-book-01"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4oWx8-cX","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/803","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=803"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/803\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":805,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/803\/revisions\/805"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=803"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=803"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=803"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}