Dark Soul Experiments

by Bre Hall

  “I don’t buy it.”

  “Stop being paranoid,” Ren said. “We’ll go to Richard’s first thing in the morning. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for everything.”

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday,” Alfie said.

  “So?”

  “Richard’s is closed on Sundays.”

  Ren clenched her fist. “I swear, this stupid town. We’ll go first thing after school on Monday.”

  “Are you going to open the bracelet before then?”

  She shook her head. “I told you not until I know what the hell is going on.”

  “Good,” Alfie said. “I better get home. It’s late and my mom will wonder where I am.”

  His wiry body rose and he padded to the door. He moved slowly, meticulously. Ren’s dad’s old saying, slow is smooth, smooth is fast, popped into her head. He used to tell her that every time they mended a fence on the back forty or wandered through the shelter belt trees on Sunday afternoons by the river.

  “Hey, Alf?” she called as he opened the door with a surgeon’s hand and stepped into the hall. He slid one foot back inside her room. Half in, half out.

  “Yeah?”

  “What if I just discovered time travel?” she asked. “You think they’d give me a Nobel Prize? Pay me enough to leave Wynn for good?”

  “I think you better figure out exactly what’s going on before you start writing your acceptance speech,” Alfie said. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  “Monday,” she echoed as he disappeared into the hallway.

  When the door swung closed, she turned back to the bracelet. She studied the intricate designs on the locket faces with her good eye, made note of every fleck of rust. It’s genius, she thought. A portal to the past kept locked inside a charm. Virtually undetectable. But why did it only affect her? Why not Alfie? She crawled beneath the blankets of her bed and stared at the bracelet as it sat beneath the light from her lamp. She wanted to know everything about the fascinating pebble. Where it came from. Who made it. If Richard didn’t know the whole story, he’d know part of it, at least. That’s all she needed—a lead.

  She flicked off the lamp and rolled over, her mind swimming with thoughts of Charlotte and Billy, of the bracelet and how incredibly terrifying, yet amazing it felt to fall into the past. It was the coolest thing to happen to her. Probably the coolest thing that would ever happen to her. She closed her eyes tight, hoping sleep would snatch her quickly, that the night would come, the stars appearing and fading like a short bout of hiccups, and that the sun would soon rise over a town that didn’t seem quite as dull as it had earlier that afternoon.

  chapter

  4

  WYNN HIGH SCHOOL WAS ITS own ecosystem. What high school wasn’t, though? Athletes and beauty queens and brainiacs and performance freaks all shoved into one building. The whole place was like a pressure cooker. Some sick man’s experiment. If we pair this cat-obsessed overweight girl with a steroid-pumping footballer in science lab, what will the outcome be?

  Take Scary Larry for example. He sat two rows to Ren’s left during homeroom. He always wore a long, black trench coat and a pair of spiked, steam punk goggles on his forehead. His black hair was so greasy it shone blue. If anyone in that school was some kind of experiment, it was Scary Larry. He got his nickname after the vice principal found a few cameras tacked up around the school that belonged to him. He said he liked to keep an eye on everyone. Big Brother. Made everyone avoid him after that. A leper effect.

  On Monday morning, during homeroom, Ren could feel Scary Larry staring at her. He had been for twenty minutes. Maybe longer. She had tried to ignore him. Turned her head and put him in the blind spot created by her bad eye, but she couldn’t take it any longer.

  She whipped her head toward him, her long, brown ponytail swinging whip-like over her shoulder, and asked him, “What is your problem, asshole?”

  “Ren, settle down,” said Ms. White from her desk without looking up. Her bony spine was curved forward, her neck jutted out vulture-like toward her computer screen. She was probably playing one of those virtual farm games on the internet.

  “Stop staring at me,” Ren said to Scary Larry.

  The whole class was looking at her by then. Lilianne Warner rolled her eyes over the top of her nail file. Alice Martin, the closest thing Ren had to a second friend, peered at Ren around the side of her mass of dark, frizzy hair as she pretended to work on her math homework. A faint smile rose on Alice’s cheeks.

  Garret Monahan, a red-headed football player, turned back from his seat at the front of the class. “How do you even know when someone’s looking at you with that bum eye?”

  Half the class laughed. The other half cringed. Ren’s fists curled tightly together. One jab to the nose would do Garret good. Teach him a lesson.

  “Slow down there, sparky.” Garret laughed. “It was just a joke.”

  “The joke was your parents procreating,” Ren said.

  Alice snorted a laugh and Ms. White gasped. Looked up from her computer and said, “Miss Morris, another word out of you and I’ll be seeing you in detention.”

  Ren abruptly changed her concentration. She picked at the already-chipping black nail polish on her thumb and tried to ignore Garret and Scary Larry. She couldn’t get detention. Not that day. Thoughts of the bracelet had been on a constant stream since Saturday night. She felt like she was going to explode if she had to wait any longer.

  “Hey,” Alice whispered. “Ren.”

  Ren met Alice’s burnt butter eyes, drowning under a thick swipe of blue eyeshadow she’d worn every day since sixth grade. “Yeah?”

  “Wanna study for our bio test after school today?” Alice asked. “I’m not working there today, but I can talk Johnny into hooking us up with free coffee at Roast.”

  “I would,” Ren murmured, hoping Ms. White wouldn’t Venus Fly Trap their conversation. “But I’ve already got plans.”

  “Going to the cemetery again?” That was small-town, for you. Everyone knowing everyone else’s routine. Especially a regular haunt like the cemetery was to her and Alfie, same as Richard’s, same as Roast.

  “No, Richard’s,” Ren said.

  “Of course.” Alice gnawed on the end of her number two pencil, an entire inch below the eraser chewed down to the stark, blonde wood. “Mind if I tag along?”

  “It’s more of a personal thing,” Ren said. Alice wouldn’t understand if she tried to explain the effects of the pebble inside of the charm bracelet.

  “What is it?”

  “I just have to talk to Richard about something.” Ren could feel her blood starting to simmer. She took a deep breath and willed herself to cool down. Chill out. Alice was just being Alice. Overly-friendly, reporter curious. “It’s boring, really. An assignment for history class. You wouldn’t enjoy it, honestly.”

  “I get it,” Alice said, putting her pencil back in her mouth, focusing on her open math textbook.

  “I’m not trying to blow you off, Alice, really,” Ren said.

  “It’s not a problem. We’ll meet up another day,” Alice said. “You can come over to my house some weekend before it gets too cold and we can ride horses. Unless you’re too scared to get back in the saddle?”

  Ren pinched her lips at the memory of falling off of Alice’s chestnut Quarter horse. “Hey, that wasn’t my fault.”

  “Sure,” Alice said, fighting a smile. “Lenora, the gentlest creature on the planet, just flung you off her back.”

  “I told you, there was a snake that slithered by and she got spooked,” Ren said.

  “Then, you’ll just have to come over and save face,” Alice said. “Plus, Nutmeg misses you.”

  “There is no way your Shih-tzu misses me,” Ren said. “I don’t even like dogs.”

  “Ren Morris.” Ms. White’s shrill voice rattled Ren’s nerves. “I believe I’ve asked you already to be quiet.”

  “But Miss—”

  “Detention,” Ms. White said. “After school.”


  “That’s not fair,” Ren said. Garret snickered across the room. Alice mouthed a silent apology. Ren sunk down into her chair.

  Ms. White’s detentions were the longest. There was no way she would sit and watch the hands of the clock spin and spin with the charm bracelet’s secrets waiting to revealed. In fact, she wouldn’t wait. The moment the bell rang, she shot out of Ms. White’s classroom, grabbed the bracelet—still tucked in a Ziplock bag—from her locker, put it into her jacket pocket, and met Alfie as he came out of World History.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go to Richard’s.”

  “Right now?”

  “I can’t take it anymore.” She patted the pocket of her jean jacket. “I have to find out about this bracelet.”

  “But it’s lunchtime,” Alfie said. “I’m hungry.”

  “It’s the perfect time to leave. We’ll cycle into town, question Richard, and get back before the start of fifth period. Don’t be a baby.”

  “I’m not a baby,” Alfie said, then followed Ren out the back door of school.

  After pedaling hard on separate bicycles, they were downtown in less than five minutes. As soon as they walked through the front door of Richard’s, Ren pulled out the bracelet.

  “We need you to take a look at something” she said into the great, wide expanse of Richard’s shop, not yet seeing the notorious owner.

  Richard poked his head over the counter. Upon seeing Ren motoring toward him, her combat boots pounding against the dusty floor, his chin sagged into his chest. “Do I ever get a break from you, kid?”

  “Rarely,” said Alfie as he and Ren moved into the clear space near the register.

  Ren shook the bracelet out of the baggie and onto the counter, careful not to touch it. “What can you tell me about this bracelet?”

  Richard slid on his glasses, lifted the bracelet to his narrowed eyes, and studied it as though it was some kind of foreign moon rock. His pencil moustache twitched as he turned the bracelet over slowly a few times before setting it back down.

  “Well,” he said, peeling away his glasses. “It’s dated. From the designs and metals, I’d guess it’s Victorian.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t they teach you anything at that school of yours?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Alfie said. “It’s Wynn.”

  “They barely teach us how to tie our shoes,” Ren said.

  “That’s what I feared.” Richard rubbed the top of his bald head. “The Victorian era coincides with the reign of Victoria, the Queen of England in the 1800s. Most fashion, nuances, and mannerisms that developed in that time are referred to as Victorian.”

  “So, this bracelet came from England, then?” Ren asked.

  “I couldn’t be sure,” Richard said. “The style of the Victorians was mimicked by Americans as well. Mostly in New York and in the Deep South. The wealthy classes.”

  It was like Richard had clicked a new piece of the puzzle into place, the picture slowly looking more whole. Billy’s uniform—what was left, anyway—had been grey. He’d deserted the army, the Cause. The Cause had to be the Civil War.

  Richard tapped the bracelet with his stubby forefinger. “Where did you find this bracelet anyhow?”

  “Here,” she said.

  “In my shop?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Don’t you recognize it?”

  “I’ve never seen this before in my life.” He scooped it up again.

  “Sure, you have,” she said. “A guy bought it for me two days ago.”

  “What guy?”

  “His name’s Peter,” she said. “A little taller than me. Black curls. Dark brown eyes.”

  “Doesn’t jog the memory.” Richard brushed his thumb over the sapphire gem on the moon-engraved locket.

  “Be careful,” she said. She didn’t want the doors of the locket to flip open and the orb to come bouncing toward her. She didn’t want to accidentally fall into Charlotte’s body again. Not in front of the old man.

  “He didn’t get it here,” said Richard.

  Ren’s thoughts fell back to Saturday. She had seen Peter bend out of sight and stand up with the bracelet. “I watched him pick it up off the floor.”

  Richard shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, kid. I didn’t make a sale to any boy, and I sure as hell don’t remember this bracelet.”

  “You’re positive?” Ren asked.

  “Trust me,” Richard said, his voice falling to a raspy whisper. “I wouldn’t forget something like this.”

  Her mind raced. Maybe Peter hadn’t picked the bracelet up off the floor. Was it possible he could have just made it seem like he had? Bent low behind the shelf of antiques that would hide him. Pull the bracelet from his pocket. Hold it up as if it was something new. Something he had spotted just for her. Perhaps that was the real reason he hadn’t let her pay for it. Maybe he carried around unique pieces of jewelry to give to all the girls he wanted to impress. But if it had belonged to Peter in the first place, then he must know what happened when she touched the pebble inside, right? Except it had been rusted shut. Surely if it had been opened recently the locket would have been easier to open. Unless Peter was clueless to the powers of the bracelet and it was all just a wild coincidence.

  Or maybe not.

  She opened the plastic baggie and offered its wide mouth to Richard so he could put the bracelet back inside. Instead, Richard clung to it, popped his glasses back on, and squinted at the lockets over the tops of them. Ren gave the bag an antsy shake, but Richard didn’t budge.

  “Would you be willing to sell this, kid?” Richard asked finally. “Clean it up and it could make a pretty penny.”

  Her stomach tightened at the thought of giving it away. Yes, it terrified her. Yes, it confused her. But she needed to know what was happening. Despite all of the elements of the bracelet that made her cringe, it was still the most interesting thing to ever happen to her. She felt linked to it somehow. Like she and Charlotte were tethered together. She needed to find out why. Then, after the magic was gone, maybe she would bring back the bracelet to Richard’s. Maybe.

  “Some other time, perhaps,” she said to Richard and he dropped the bracelet into the bag. She zipped it closed and she and Alfie turned toward the door, walking so close their shoulders touched.

  She muttered under her breath, “Don’t say it.”

  “What?” Alfie asked. “That I told you so?

  “Exactly.”

  “I knew it was too strange to be a coincidence,” Alfie said. “Peter’s behind this whole thing.”

  Alfie opened the door and Ren stepped outside, nearly plowing into a young woman pushing a stroller. The woman’s eyes narrowed on Ren, probably expecting an apology, but when Ren mirrored her icy-hot stare, the woman ducked her head and tip-tapped quickly up the sidewalk.

  “What if Peter is behind this?” Ren mounted her bike and balanced on her tip-toes. “What do we do next?”

  “We try and find him,” Alfie said. “If he’s still in the area.”

  She twisted her lips as she thought about how to track Peter down. A stake out. But outside of what? A knock on every house in town. An internet search. Police cameras.

  “Uh-oh,” she said as her stomach knotted like the too-sweet pretzels she liked in the Wichita mall food court. “I think I know how to find him.”

  “Oh yeah?” Alfie asked.

  “Yeah, but I’m not too thrilled about it,” she said. She stood up on her pedals and picked up the pace. If they hurried, they would just make it back before lunch was officially over.

  BETWEEN SIXTH AND SEVENTH PERIOD, she stood against the wall opposite the bay of sophomore lockers. Alfie was late getting out of gym class, so she’d have to do it alone. People kept staring at her as they passed. She glared back, like she had with the woman downtown, and they shied away. Sometimes she wondered if she was just a little nicer, smiled more, she’d have a few more friends. Then she’d get frustrated for wondering
such stupid things. She had Alfie. Lanky, icy blue-eyed Alfie. If he’d been born in Kansas, she might not even have him. His family moved from Germany when he was a kid. Everyone else had made fun of his penny loafers and broken English and the faint scent of cooked cabbage that followed him everywhere. If they hadn’t laughed at him, though—Ren shook the thought away. She was glad they had. He was the only other person in the world who understood her. They were welded together by fate. Destined to be best friends. End of story.

  Scary Larry came around the corner then, walked over and knelt down in front of his bottom locker. His trench coat was splayed out like a bride’s train in a wedding photo.

  Ren kicked Larry’s locker open even farther with the toe of her combat boot. It rattled wildly, but Larry didn’t even flinch. He just looked up slowly, his creepy, dry lips pulling into a tight smile.

  “How may I assist you today, miss?” he asked. It gave her the chills, how damn creepy he was, but she knew he could help her. Dammit, why was he the only one who could help her?

  “I need information,” she said.

  Scary Larry steepled his fingers together. His smile widened. “Information of what persuasion?”

  She rolled her eyes. He even spoke like a creep. “I’m looking for someone.”

  “I figured you’d come to me for this eventually,” he said.

  She scrunched her eyebrows. “Why do you think that?”

  “Because I have the answers you’re looking for,” he said. He carefully slid a textbook into his locker and pulled out a different one. He closed the door and rose, his eyes even with Ren’s. “Meet me at my house after school.”

  “No way, just tell me now.”

  Larry shook his head and pulled his steampunk goggles over his bug eyes. “I don’t conduct business in the halls of Hell. After school.”

  “Fine,” Ren said. “Where do you live?”

  “Trailer Park,” he said. “2091. Orange shutters. Can’t miss it.”