by T. A. Kunz
Wilson Farm
Absolutely No Trespassing
Connor’s text mentioned the warning on the sign, but to ignore it since it’s only to scare people off. One of the people in his group has family who owns the property. They apparently hang out there all the time.
My bike takes another beating maneuvering along the trail. Rocks and leaves crunch under the tires, and I keep hitting problematic spots of thick muck and dirt formed by the earlier rain. My shoes crust with mud after several course corrects through the sketchier parts. The bottoms of my pants aren’t faring that well either. They’re weighed down with moisture and clumps of dirt, making peddling even trickier.
The path splits again and I’m met with a tall wooden post and a shoddily made wooden plank sign attached to it. A crude yellow painted arrow points to the left with the words “Boat Dock” underneath. The arrow pointing right has “Wilson Family Farm” below it. I bear right, and before long the lane opens up, revealing my final destination.
An oversized wooden barn sits in the distance, nestled amid a thick fortification of trees looking like sentinels defending a stronghold. Its outward appearance mirrors the sign at the entrance to the trail. The wooden slats comprising the structure are worn and weathered, showing its age. Otherwise, it’s a typical-looking barn on the outside … big and boxy. I’m so preoccupied staring at it and trying to ward off a serious case of the wiggins that I have to suddenly swerve in order to avoid crashing into a sizable ditch. Barely missed it.
Cat-like reflexes.
I note Connor’s truck right away, and then notice a few other cars parked nearby. One of the trucks parked amongst the rest has sizable dents and visible patches of rust, making it stand out compared to the rest of the vehicles, especially Connor’s.
I pull out my phone and shoot a text to Connor announcing my arrival. A few moments later, the large barn door swings open enough for him to step out. The smile lighting up his face almost has me forgetting I’m standing in the middle of the most stereotypical of horror settings. Almost.
Still as handsome as ever, I swear.
His mouth forms into a bold grin. He smooths his thick hair back like he’s in one of those sexy shampoo ads. Heat sizzles up from my stomach, sending the butterfly dragons into a flurry that I’m sure he must notice.
“I can’t believe you actually rode your bike all the way here,” he says, breaking me from my daze.
My mouth is dry and I swear it is full of the dirt I just biked through to get here. “Yeah, you weren’t lying about that hill. It’s like biking up Mount Everest.”
He laughs and shakes his head, glancing at my feet. “And your poor shoes,” he adds.
“These old things,” I say, but I’m honestly irked I got my favorite pair of Converse this muddy. “It’s only some dirt. It’ll wash off.”
I hope.
He straddles the bike’s front tire. “All right. Well, this time I insist you put your bike in the back of my truck. I’d much prefer to drive you home than make you bike all that way back. It’s supposed to rain again, so that trail is gonna get nasty. And a little dangerous since it’s all downhill on your way home.” He places a hand on one of the handle bars. His green eyes gleam in the low-hanging sunlight.
“Thanks. I think I’ll actually take you up on that offer this time.”
“Good,” he says with a warm smile as his other hand grips the second handlebar.
I dodge his dreamy gaze when I feel I’ve been staring into his eyes for too long. He backs away toward his truck and lowers the back door leading to the bed. I roll the bike over and he assists hoisting it in before closing it back up.
When he drapes his arm around my shoulder, I lose all sense of anything else. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to show you off,” he says.
It sounds muted because of the clanging between my ears. All I can do is nervous laugh over this simple action of territorial possession. I’ve never had a guy show this kind of open affection toward me before. It’s foreign. It feels fragile, like something I’m scared of breaking or that will flee at any moment. He’s probably used to dishing out this kind of attention. It’s probably as natural for him to include someone in his life this way like a friendly handshake or high five.
Not for me.
I’ve always had better relationships with girls than guys, mainly because I was safe for the girls to be around. Guys tended to think my then-unconfirmed affinity for the same sex was contagious or something. I mean, I had a handful of straight guy friends and acquaintances, but knowing that Connor wasn’t straight had this kind of attention feeling different. Comfortable almost, but in the most unusual and exhilarating way.
He leads me toward the barn door and pulls it open wide enough for us to pass through together. The interior is pretty much what I’d expect the inside of a barn to look like with a few notable exceptions. The center of the space is set up like a makeshift living room, complete with two worn green couches and a coffee table nestled between them on top of a tattered gray area rug. There are also a few wooden chairs strewn about, along with an old looking recliner that’s an interesting faded powder blue color. Most of the seats are occupied by members of Connor’s group.
It seems a lot of the typical farming tools have been removed and all of the loose hay has been relocated to the back. There are still some bundled hay bales stashed along the sides, but this definitely has more of a lived-in feel than the abandoned barn’s exterior gives off at first impression.
The talking ceases the minute we enter the barn. All eyes turn to us. I recognize every one of the other people from their visits to The Pour Over, so it’ll be nice to put names with their faces.
“Donovan, this is everyone. Everyone this is Donovan,” Connor says, motioning to the people sitting on the furniture in the center of the space.
They all wave at me and I do the same. As expected, the mood in the room is not cheerful. All of the smiles and welcoming gestures seem to be a result of trying to be hospitable, but are coming off as forced.
I can’t blame them.
The “jock” speaks up first. “Hey, what’s up, man? I’m Geoff.” He has his fist firmly wrapped around a beer can and takes a drink promptly after addressing me. “So, you’re the guy that has our Connor here gabbing nonstop, huh?”
His smile seems the most sincere so far. He flashes Connor a knowing glance and I immediately become flustered. My eyes want to peek over at Connor, but I’m too embarrassed.
“Okay, who wants a drink?” Connor abruptly asks, clearly attempting to change the subject. I see him give the “I’m watching you” two finger point to Geoff, which Geoff just laughs off. He seems content with himself for making Connor uncomfortable.
Carter, the guy I’d seen with Connor at Mae’s, sends a slight nod my way. He’s back to wearing his usual brooding black and grey. “Name’s Carter, if Connor didn’t mention me already, though he should have since we’re in a band together.” He sends Connor a withering stare before looking back at me. “You were pretty entertaining up on stage Monday night, by the way. Not a big fan of the music choice, but to each their own.”
“Thanks, I guess,” I reply with a hint of a laugh in my exhale.
“Is it true you actually rode your bike up Devil’s Horn?” asks the girl with the short blonde hair sitting on the couch next to Carter.
Queen bee.
“Devil’s Horn?” I repeat with inflection.
“That’s what we call that big-ass twisty hill,” Connor says. His voice sounds so close it gives me a quick jolt. His breath tickles the spot on my neck just below my earlobe.
“Yeah, and we call it that because it’s actually claimed lives,” says Geoff.
“Mainly cyclists,” Carter adds with a devilish smirk. My eyes grow wide as I face Connor. He shakes his head, reassuring me that’s not the case, which causes Carter to chuckle. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. I’m a jerk, I know,” he continues. The blonde girl slaps his ar
m and then turns her attention to me.
“Don’t mind him,” she says. “Carter can’t help himself. It’s his go-to behavior under stress. A practical jokester, this one.”
“And an amazing lead vocalist,” he adds with a quick pat to his chest.
She ignores his comment. “I’m Nancy, by the way.” Both she and the other girl in the group join me on either side, linking their arms with mine. “And this is Tawni,” Nancy says, nodding to the willowy brunette.
“Something tells me we’re going to get along just fine,” Tawni says as they both guide me over to sit on the vacant couch.
Unlike with Connor, this is the kind of attention I’m used to. Girls always seem to act like this around me. I’m gay. I’m safe. I’ve always wondered if it’s a girl’s wish to have their very own GBF … gay best friend. I’ve even wondered if that’s what initially drew Lori to be friends with me. Of course, with Nancy and Tawni, this could just be their way of making me feel welcome since I’m Connor’s guest. Whatever the reason, it’s refreshing to be amongst a group of people that all seem so accepting. I can see myself hanging out with these people. They remind me of the few friends I had back home.
As I scan the group, I realize there’s one person missing from the normal crew. The “geek.”
“You work at The Pour Over, right?” Tawni asks.
“Yep, that’s me.”
“I thought you looked familiar.” She nods to the others with pride over the fact she remembered me. It’s met with a couple eye rolls.
“Hey, Donovan, want anything to drink?” Connor asks, hovering over the portable cooler he has propped open.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Oh, come on. Have at least one,” Geoff urges.
“He doesn’t have to drink if he doesn’t want to,” Connor says, sending me a quick smile before he cracks open a beer for himself.
“But the games will be more fun that way,” Geoff presses.
Connor didn’t mention we’d be playing games tonight.
“Games? What games?” I ask, my eyes darting around the group.
I’ve never been a fan of games requiring group participation. I usually stress the hell out when it’s my turn. Just the thought of having to stand up and do anything in front of these people—who I just officially met, by the way—makes me want to hurl. Now I’m questioning even accepting Connor’s invitation in the first place.
“Nope. Can’t say a thing until Shaun arrives,” Carter says with a snicker.
Carter really likes messing with people, huh?
By process of elimination, I assume Shaun is the “geek.”
“Oh, Carter. Would you stop it? You’re making him nervous again”. Patting my arm, she says, “Honestly, it’s just a few little games we like to play every now and then. They’re kind of nostalgic. No big deal.”
Her tone is gentle as she looks around at the rest of the group for affirmation. They all nod in agreement. It eases my anxiety about the unexpected games a fraction.
Connor approaches me and extends his hand out for mine. “Okay, okay. I think you two have had your fair share of time with my guest,” he says to the girls with a soft chuckle. “Take my hand if you want to survive.”
“You’re such a dork, Connor,” Tawni says, and Nancy nods in agreement.
When I reach out to take Connor’s hand, a sudden concern rushes through my mind. My palms are sweaty at the mere thought of touching his. I’d drop dead on the spot if it grossed him out. But the look on his face when our hands touch puts that fear to rest.
“Aww. How cute,” Geoff says, landing himself on the receiving end of scoffs from the two ladies. “Hey, love is love. I appreciate all kinds.” He toasts his beer up into the air.
“Ignore them,” Connor says with a laugh.
He chucks one of the small pillows on the couch at Geoff, who’s sitting in the recliner. Geoff catches it in mid-air and places it behind his head.
“Just what I needed. You’re so thoughtful, Connor.”
His laugh is infectious and has everyone cracking up. Connor rolls his eyes.
A side door I hadn’t noticed before groans open, pulling everyone’s attention. In steps who I assume is Shaun.
“Sorry, guys,” he says. “Had to run an errand before heading over.”
“Hey, Shaun,” Connor greets him. “This is Donovan.”
“Nice to meet you. Welcome to the Wilson family barn,” he says. He lifts his retro, eighties-style hot pink glasses to sit on top of his shaggy dark hair before reaching out to shake my hand.
“Always so well spoken, Shaun,” Carter slides in.
“That’s what happens when you have an IQ higher than your shoe size,” Shaun quips, making the group laugh.
Carter sends kisses to Shaun and says, “Love you too.”
“Shaun’s family owns this place,” Connor explains.
“Yep,” Shaun says. “For many years now. It’s been abandoned for a while except for our little group’s hangouts here. And I guess the little gang keeps getting smaller.”
The mood in the room changes like the flip of a light switch. It had been feeling progressively warmer the longer I’d been there, but that all left with the uttering of that single sentence. It’s clear the loss of Lori is taking a toll on them. It’s taking a toll on me too, and I only knew her for a short while. I seriously can’t imagine what they all must be going through, including Drea. I want to ask more about Lori, but worry it might sound too intrusive.
“Hey, Donovan, you found her right?” Carter asks.
So much for me asking about Lori being too intrusive.
“Seriously, dude?” Geoff remarks with an attempt to tap Carter. He misses and hits the couch instead.
“Yeah, not cool,” adds Nancy.
Connor looks at me. “You don’t have to talk about this. You know that, right?”
“Come on,” Carter argues. “I’m only calling out the massive elephant in the room. Don’t you guys all act like you aren’t curious too. I don’t mean any disrespect. It’s just, first she killed herself and now they think she was murdered. Please, someone stop me if you don’t want answers here.”
It’s like I’m standing underneath a giant heat lamp. All eyes are staring at me. What was once a fun gathering has now turned into what feels like a trial.
Did I make a mistake coming here?
“Carter, bro, we all want to know what happened to Lori,” Geoff says. “And we all also know you had a thing for her.”
“That has nothing to do with this, bro.” He emphasizes bro in a mocking way. “Of course I really liked Lori, have since elementary school, but she was a friend to all of us, not just me. And the fact that we have no idea what happened to her is complete and utter bullshit.”
I hear the hurt in his voice. For the first time since meeting him, his sarcastic demeanor has completely disappeared.
“I think we all need to just shut the hell up and change topics,” says Shaun, putting an end to the tense conversation.
I, for one, am relieved. I was about to slink out the door and leave if it continued for much longer.
“I’m so sorry about this,” Connor says, looking over at me. “If you want to leave, I’ll completely understand. Maybe this was too soon. I just wanted you to meet my friends.”
“No, he can’t leave,” argues Geoff. “We need an odd number of people to play tonight, dude.”
“We can just play later when everyone’s cooled off,” replies Connor.
It suddenly dawns on me that I’m filling in for Lori with these games tonight. In some weird way, I feel obliged to participate in a kind of homage to her memory. It could prove cathartic.
I put my hand on Connor’s arm and squeeze lightly. “It’s okay. I want to stay.”
A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Are you sure?” he asks.
“Uh-huh. I’m sure.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” whoops Geoff with a victorious
arm pump. “I’m getting the new guy a beer, even if he doesn’t want one.”
“Let’s try and enjoy this for Lori, okay?” Tawni says as she looks around at everyone.
“Agreed,” says Nancy.
A large gust of wind rattles the barn door, making me jump.
“You good?” Connor asks me.
I nod, holding his gaze. The sound of raindrops hitting the roof resonates throughout the space.
“There’s that second wave I mentioned,” Connor says as we both glance up. Then a roll of thunder in the distance adds to the ever-increasing ominous atmosphere.
Am I going to regret this?
Drea
Perfect, just perfect.
It’s raining. Scratch that, it’s bucketing. It’s as if someone slit open a raincloud right down the middle and its insides are gushing down in sheets. It’s the perfect topper to this day.
Between what Trent said, me reaching a dead end on finding information about Carrie Phillips, and being no closer to figuring out who killed Lori, I find myself utterly collapsed. For the umpteenth day in a row, every single class today was a wash, my mind preoccupied with the many conspiracy theories racing through it. Everyone around me seems suspect of something. It’s quite apparent I’m not the only one suspicious of others at school after Lori’s murder announcement. Paranoia has woven its way through the rest of the student body. You can feel it in the air. See it in the way people stare at each other accusingly as they pass by in the halls.
Or maybe I’m just projecting my own feelings out there.
Despite knowing this storm was heading our way, I made the foolish decision to kill some time by helping Addie Monroe and the rest of the Homecoming committee after school to prepare the gym for the dance coming up this Friday. The cheerleading squad helped out as well, which is how I got roped into it even though I’m no longer an active member. I guess the news of me quitting hasn’t made the rounds yet. Besides, the Neon MasqueRave is a huge undertaking. Addie seemed desperate for help.
