by Amy Cross
“I dunno,” Mom replies airily. “Maybe she can learn or something.”
She lets out a snort, which is really all I need to know. She thinks my plans are ludicrous, and telling Dad is her way of cutting me down.
“Milly,” Dad says, as I hear him wandering over across the leaves that litter the yard, “girl, you need to get your perspective in order. There's no school round here that's gonna hire someone like you. You've just about got enough education to be hired in a cafe or a bar, and even that's a long shot. When they hire people to work in schools, they hire people who are smart.”
I glance at him. If looks could kill, he'd be taking a few steps back right now.
“You need a dose of reality,” he continues. “What's your plan for today, anyway? Sit around dreaming of things you're never gonna be?”
“I want to be a teacher,” I reply, “that's -”
“And I wanna be an astronaut, but it's not gonna happen,” he says firmly, cutting me off. “You gonna come out with me today to a job I'm doing on Nelson Riley's land. You're gonna watch what it's like to do some real work, and then we'll hear all about your grand plans.”
“I've got things to do today.”
“Like what?”
“Like...” I try to think of something, but I'm not quick enough. I look over at the far end of the yard again, and I already know that I've lost this discussion.
“You're gonna come with me,” Dad says again.
“And do what? Watch you shovel shit?”
I turn to him, and in that instant he grabs me by the collar and hauls me off the wall. I stumble slightly and almost fall as he pushes me toward the gate.
“I'm doing an important job today,” he says firmly, and it's clear that I've pissed him off, “a job that pays enough to put food on our table each night. So you're gonna come and watch, and you're gonna get a dose of the real world, and you're gonna learn some respect. Is that clear?”
I turn to Mom, but she just rolls her eyes and looks away, pretending that she's got nothing to do with this whole situation.
“That's not a request, Milly,” Dad continues. “It's what you're doing. Now go get your jacket, 'cause it might get cold out there and I don't want you bitching the whole time.”
I try to think of a way out of this, but deep down I already know that I'm screwed. I should never have told Mom about what I was planning, I should have just kept it all buried deep down and worked on it in secret. Then again, maybe it was better to drag my ideas kicking and screaming into the cold light of day, so they could get torn apart before I got any more deluded. Maybe Mom and Dad are right and I have no hope of ever being a teacher. Maybe I'm just doomed to spend the rest of my life in this crappy little town, like everyone else I know.
“I'll get my jacket,” I mutter, as I head inside to the hallway.
Stopping next to the coat hooks, I take a moment to get my shit together. I might have just lost that conversation, I might have looked like a fool in front of Mom and Dad, but at least I didn't let them see the tears in my eyes. Frankly, right now I'll take any small victory I can get.
Chapter Three
Milly
Tonight...
Man, it's cold out here.
“Man, it's cold out here,” I say as I step out the front door exactly five minutes later and find Richard waiting for me in the driveway. “I did not dress right for this party.”
“What about your friends?” he asks.
I turn and look up at the balcony. I can hear lots of drunk, drugged-up people up there, and it sounds like they're having fun. Sometimes I envy Geri and Lucy and Vicky for the way they can just cut loose and enjoy themselves, but I've never quite been able to do the same thing. Right now, for example, I can't help looking at the posts that hold the balcony up, and my mind is racing as I wonder whether there's a limit for how many people should be up there at one time.
Sometimes I think I'm a little weird.
“They'll be fine,” I say, just as I hear Vicky's distinctive laugh ringing out from somewhere high above us. “Tonight, I mean.” I turn to Richard. “In the morning, they're gonna be hungover as all hell, but I guess they're fine with that. It's just the deal they've decided to make with the universe.”
I wait for him to reply, but once again he seems so awkward. I guess I thought that getting him out of the party would maybe get him talking, but I think he might be even more of a challenge than I'd realized. And then, a moment later, I hear the sound of someone sobbing nearby.
Turning, I see that someone's sitting over on the far wall. She has her head in her hands, and I realize after a moment that it's my friend Debbie.
“Hey!” I call out. “Debs! Are you okay?”
She looks up at me, and I immediately see that mascara is running down her face in long, black streaks.
“Obviously not, then,” I mutter under my breath.
“That asshole Luke kissed another girl!” she wails. “Right in front of me!”
“Friend drama,” I whisper to Richard. “Give me one moment.”
“He knew I was there!” Debbie whimpers as I wander over to her. “He looked at me right before he did it! Can you believe that? It's like he did it deliberately, to hurt me!”
“He's always been a loser,” I tell her. “We've had this conversation a million times, Debs. Why do you run around after guys like that?”
“I thought he was different.”
“You always think they're different.”
“But I thought he really was!”
“So what are you going to do now?” I ask, hoping that she'll give me the right answer.
“I'm not going home, just because some lousy guy thinks he can get away with stuff like that!” she snaps. “I'm going to get drunk, I'm going to dance, and I'm going to have a good time!”
“Maybe hold back just a little, though,” I tell her. “You don't seem to be in a particularly good state of mind right now. Are you here alone, or do you have someone to keep an eye on you?”
“Charley's inside,” she says through gritted teeth.
“I'm not sure she's the best chaperone.”
“I'm going to get wasted,” she replies, as she stands and wipes some of the mascara from her cheeks. “I'm out for a good time, and I'm not going to let anything get in my way.”
“Debs -”
“See you in there,” she adds, before turning and storming back into the house.
“Don't do anything I wouldn't do,” I reply, but I know she can't hear me.
Sighing, I briefly consider going after her, although I quickly remind myself that there'd be no point. I'd basically be condemning myself to an evening of boredom and misery, and I'd be missing out on an opportunity to hang out with this Richard guy. Maybe I'm being a little selfish, but over the years I've spent countless evenings listening to Debs rambling drunkenly about guys. I'm sure there have been several Lukes. Finally, even though there's a lingering sense of guilt in the back of my mind, I turn away.
I'll catch up to Debs another time.
“So,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets as I head back over to join Richard, “where do you live?”
“What?”
“It's a simple question.” I nudge him with my arm and then I start walking toward the end of the driveway. Fortunately, I hear him walking after me. “Do you live over in Eden Hills too?”
“Uh, kind of on the way, yeah,” he replies.
“That's cool, so we were both already heading the same way. How come I've never bumped into you before?”
“We just moved here.”
“We?”
I start making my way along the sidewalk.
“My parents moved us here about two months ago,” Richard explains as he shuffles after me. For some reason, he's hanging a couple of paces behind. “Dad got a new job, so we moved from Omaha. I'm still sort of getting used to the place.”
“How old are you?”
Damn, that might have been a li
ttle too direct.
“I'm twenty-one.”
“Snap,” I reply, turning and smiling to him. I slow down, so that he has no choice but to catch up. “So what do you do with yourself, Richard? Do you work? Study?”
“I work,” he says.
I wait for him to tell me where.
“At the gas station,” he continues, seemingly finally understanding the cue. “You know the one out near the cemetery? I do night shifts there.”
“You work nights at the gas station opposite the cemetery?” I reply, turning to him with a smile. “Seriously? How is that not the coolest job in the whole world?”
“It's pretty boring,” he explains. “Not many people use it. I wouldn't be surprised if it gets closed down at some point.”
“The cemetery?”
“No, the gas station.”
“I was joking.”
“Oh. Sure. Sorry.”
“Have you ever seen or heard anything creepy out there?” I ask, keen to keep the conversation going as we make our way along the dark street. There are so few lights out in this part of town, a girl could easily get mugged.
“Like what?”
“I don't know,” I reply, “but I imagine that's a pretty sketchy neighborhood. Do you ever see or hear anything weird going on in the cemetery?”
“No. I don't think so.”
“That's a shame,” I tell him. “I'd like to think that there might be spooky shit happening out there. If not ghosts, then at least some people with imaginations, you know? Then again, if I worked there, it'd be different. I wouldn't want to be, like, sitting there and listening to screams and stuff coming from the cemetery.”
“No,” he replies, “I wouldn't like that either.”
“You know there are some stories about that place, right?” I continue.
“What kind of stories?”
“What kind do you think? Creepy stories.” I wait, watching the expression on his face, hoping for some sign that I've freaked him out. He's taking another sip from can he brought along, but so far he doesn't seem too scared. “I mean, most cemeteries have tales that kids get off on. Gray ladies, spooky silhouettes, screams in the night, that sort of thing. But Sobolton's cemetery has a few extra little touches. For starters, I assume you're well aware that there's a friggin' -”
He starts coughing and splutters, as if some of his drink went the wrong way. I start patting him on the back, and it takes him a moment to recover.
“Thanks!” he gasps.
“So what were you doing at the party tonight?” I ask. “Did someone drag you here against your better judgment?”
“Oh, no,” he replies, “it was my friend -”
“Hey, look at that!” I say, stopping and turning to look across the street. “Have you ever walked through that forest?”
For a moment, the two of us stand side by side and stare at the dark, forbidding trees that rise up and tower high above us. There's a thin fence running along the forest's edge, but the fence is terribly unsuited to its purpose and several gaps have appeared over the years and have never been patched. In theory, there's nothing out there in the forest other than mile after mile of empty, abandoned land, although occasionally there are stories about drunks and hobos and serial killers and teens who go out there. I mean, everyone in town has at least one story about the forest, whether that's from a time they ventured into its heart or just a story that someone told them. A lot of the time, those stories are... contradictory, to say the least.
Tonight, the forest looks blacker than night, like a void on the outskirts of town.
“Um, no,” Richard says after a moment.
I turn to him.
“Seriously?”
“I haven't been here that long,” he points out, not unreasonably. “Why? What's out there?”
“Nothing, that's the whole point,” I tell him. “Or at least, there's not supposed to be anything. That doesn't stop the stories, of course.”
“What stories?”
“Oh, there are stories,” I continue. “There are stories about pretty much anything you can imagine. The forest stretches out for miles and miles. Do you honestly think people haven't found ways to do fucked up things in there? Come on, you know what people are like. Especially round here.”
“Um, not really,” he replies, somewhat lamely.
“Huh.” I pause for a moment, before allowing myself another very faint smile. “Then I guess I have no choice but to show you.”
“What do -”
“Come on!”
Without giving him time to react, I head out across the street and make my way toward one of the gaps in the fence. With each step, I become more and more aware of the trees rising high above me, until I stop on the opposite sidewalk and look up. The treetops are almost completely obscuring the night sky, although I notice after a moment that there seem to be more stars visible than usual. I vaguely remember reading something about unusual meteorological conditions coming in this week, so I guess that somehow the light pollution from town is being negated.
It's all kinda beautiful.
“Hey!” Richard calls out. “Uh, Milly? Should we keep walking?”
I turn to him.
He looks so small and sweet standing over there alone, and a little helpless.
“Come on,” I say, smiling and waving at him, “it's fine. What are you afraid of?”
He looks both ways, as if he's worried that some kind of traffic is going to rush past on this empty, desolate stretch of road. Once he's sure that he's safe, he starts gingerly making his way over, although his body language betrays his utter lack of enthusiasm. Even as he reaches me, I can see that he's staring fearfully into the forest as if he's convinced that something terrible's about to happen. Maybe I'm weird, but I figure there's something kind of cute about his nervousness.
“Are you scared?” I ask.
He turns to me.
“Me?” he stammers. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Are you really sure?”
There's a pause.
“Don't you think we should get going?” he asks after a moment. “It's pretty late and cold, and I think maybe it's going to rain soon.”
“It's not going to rain soon.”
“But if -”
“Come on.” Reaching down, I grab his hand and lead him through the gap in the fence. I have to pull quite hard, because he resists at first, but a moment later I feel the forest floor crunching beneath my feet. “Everything's going to be alright.”
Chapter Four
Milly
Five years ago...
“The sky looks strange today,” I mutter as the truck bumps along a dirt road.
“What was that?” Dad asks.
“I said the sky looks strange today.”
“The sky looks like the sky, Milly. It's not strange, it's just the sky.”
Peering out the side window, I look up at the sky and see the unusual wash of orange and pink. Given that it's supposed to be 11am right now, I think the sky looks pretty damn strange, but I guess that's not something Dad would ever care about. He's proud of being a very down-to-earth kind of guy, and anything even vaguely esoteric tends to provoke howls of ridicule. So, sure, the sky looks strange today, even if Dad won't admit it. It just does.
“So today we're gonna be clearing junk from Nelson Riley's land,” he explains. “It's a big job and there's going to be a lot of wood, which is why I asked Nelson to leave his chipper up there for me to use. Now that's some proper equipment, Milly, so you're going to have to stand well back. I don't want you touching anything, you're there to learn and observe, that's all. You're there to see what real work looks like.”
“I know what real work looks like,” I reply, turning to him.
“Well, I don't think you do.”
I want to argue with him, but what would be the point? He looks so smug right now and he has – or he thinks he has – an answer to a
nything I might say. The hardest thing about arguing with Dad is that he gets more adamant and more shouty, the more wrong he is about something. Even when he knows he's wrong, he just refuses to back down, as if he thinks it's some kind of weakness. Which I guess it is, in a way. Wait, am I right to think that, or have I just been indoctrinated by my crappy parents? I swear, the longer I live with them, the greater the risk that I become them.
That's why I want to apply to that job at the high school. I know I don't strictly have the qualifications that they're after, but I figure I can fake all of that pretty easily. I mean, who checks that kind of thing, anyway? And once I've got my foot in the door, I'll be able to pick it all up real fast, and before the first month's out I'll be the best damn assistant they've ever seen. I'll wipe the floor with everyone else there, and pretty soon I'll get promoted to some big job with a big salary, and then I'll be able to get my own place and I'll really be on my way. I just have to nail that first interview. I can do it. I know I can.
And I'm right about one other thing, too. The sky is strange today. Looking out the window again, I swear there must be something crazy going on in the atmosphere, because the sky looks kinda blurry and weird, as if the energy's different somehow. Sure enough, when I reach a hand out through the open window, I can almost feel the difference in the air. Some crazy shit's going on out there today.
Chapter Five
Milly
Tonight...
“This doesn't look like a good place to be,” Richard says cautiously as we stomp through the pitch black forest. “You have no idea what kind of people could be out here this late at night.”
“And what kind of people do you think we might find?”
“I don't know. Murderers? Psychos?”
“Well, we're out here,” I point out, turning to him again. “Are we murderers and psychos?”
I wait. His face is shrouded in darkness, but I can just about make out the silhouette of his head against the other side of the street.
“No,” he says finally, “but that doesn't mean there aren't people like that out there.”
