Rant: The Oral History of Buster Casey

Toni Wiedlin: I remember hearing some silly Nighttimers teens bragging about what they called their "lineage," meaning the original source of their rabies strain. Without exception, every kid swears she or he was infected by Rant Casey or Echo Lawrence. Everyone wants to feel special—attain a special status among their peers—but not too special. Most kids only want to be special the same way their friends are special.

Hudson Baker: Amber's mom and dad had no idea how we were sneaking out every night. We'd wear these dark-black wigs and white makeup. Looking back, we had to look, like, ruthlessly lame and dumb to real Nighttimers. We wore black tights under black dresses we found at thrift stores, and that Mr. and Mrs. Nye didn't even know we had. We'd stand on a corner and wait for a car full of Party Crashers to stop.

It's really hard to talk about this now.

Toni Wiedlin: I remember everybody saying Rant Casey was the father of Party Crashing and he wasn't dead. These same kids will tell you Elvis and Jim Morrison and James Dean just got sick of the spotlight and faked their deaths so they could write poetry in the south of France. When everyone lies about seeing Rant and kissing him, all their lies prop up a win-win reality. The government says Rant's alive because they need a villain. The kids say he's alive because they need a hero.

Hudson Baker: Amber was so in love with Rant, she'd go into the post office and steal his "Most Wanted" posting off the clipboard they keep for the FBI's top-ten fugitives. Every time the FBI replaced it, Amber would steal another. It had his photo from when he immigrated to the nighttime. Amber wanted to wallpaper her room with those FBI posters, but Mr. Nye would've totally, no-kidding freaked.

Toni Wiedlin: To young kids, Rant and Echo became the Adam and Eve of their era—the F. Scott and Zelda, the John and Yoko, Sid and Nancy, Kurt and Courtney. I remember that everyone who traced their rabies lineage back to Rant or Echo's mouth, they called themselves a "Child of Rant" or "Spawn of Echo."

Every high school has its Romeo and Juliet, one tragic couple. So does every generation.

Hudson Baker: Our high school, a separate student body used our same desks and classrooms at night. Nighttimer kids. They had their own different nighttime teachers and janitors and everything. Their own nurse, even. Nighttimer kids sat in our desks while we slept at home, and we sat there while they slept. Some days, you'd find a note chewing-gummed to the bottom side of a desk—a night kid trying to make contact so you'd leave a note in the same place. That's how Amber and me met that guy Gregg Denney.

Gregg Denney (Student): These day bitches come around, not wanting to be virgins no more. I provided myself a bottomless supply of clean pussy. Day bitches only had to hear I was infected and they'd hunt me out. The rest of us, we called them "spittoons," they was after spit so bad.

Shot Dunyun: Every bullshit little Daytimer who says Rant Casey kissed them, they called themselves "purebloods." Talk about pathetic. Like they were racehorses or vampires—it was beyond pathetic.

Hudson Baker: Gregg Denney is a totally, no-kidding predator.

From the Field Notes of Green Taylor Simms: As with the Tooth Fairy, every culture has its own version of the "bogeyman," a mysterious figure who exists, not to reward children, but to punish them. For example, the Dutch figure of Zwarte Piet, who assists St. Nick by whipping children who misbehave. In Spain, El Coco is a shapeless, hairy monster who eats children who refuse to go to bed. In Italy, L'Uomo Nero is a man wearing a black coat who kidnaps those who refuse to finish a meal. Similar to Santa Claus is the Homem do Saco of the Portuguese, the Torbalan of Bulgaria, and the Persian Lulu-Khorkhore, who carries a huge sack, not to bring gifts to good children, but to spirit away unruly ones.

Hudson Baker: Amber and me had a promise: We'd never get in a car without the other. If a Party Crash team only had room for one of us, we'd wave them off and wait for another car. Both or neither, that had always and forever been our true promise.