The Gatekeeper Trilogy

by Scott Ferrell

  “I suppose.” She looked me over in the growing morning light. “I’ll walk with you. Wait here and I’ll grab my bag.” With that, she headed back into her house, fully expecting me to wait.

  I did.

  She returned a few minutes later with a black bag emblazoned with a giant, pink Superwoman “S” slung over her shoulder. I fell into step beside her as we headed toward school. I was surprised she hadn’t taken the time to change clothes. She had slipped on a different pair of shoes, but still wore the blue jeans and sweatshirt. The shirt was an oversized jumble of fabric with a giant dirt bike company logo on the back. It was something one of her older brothers would have worn, so I suspected one of them was the true owner. She wore plain blue jeans that stretched snuggly around her hips.

  “So how about that earthquake?” I asked into the quiet. “I slept through it, if you can believe that. What about you?”

  “I was already up.”

  “At five thirty? That’s insane. Why?”

  “I don’t sleep much,” she said in a way that indicated an end to that particular part of the conversation.

  I didn’t let it go that easy. “Why not? How much sleep do you get?”

  “Five or six hours.”

  “A night? That’s not bad.”

  “A week.”

  “What?” I stopped short in shock. “You’re kidding.”

  She glanced over her shoulder without stopping. She was definitely not kidding. I caught up with her. My eyes were drawn to hers, noticing deep circles of her own under them for the first time. She must use makeup to hide them. Apparently, I could have used a little cover up as well.

  “What do you do all night?” I asked.

  “Whatever. Stuff,” she replied. “Draw. Write. Play keyboard. You know. Stuff.”

  “Why don’t you sleep?”

  “I just can’t, okay?” She paused for a moment. “Maybe I have bad dreams.”

  That shut me up on that topic. I felt my cheeks take on a hint of heat. I wondered how long I would regret telling her that. I did take some comfort in knowing she wouldn’t spread it all over school like some people. Nope, she’d save it for her own personal ammunition against me.

  I wondered why I never knew she suffered from insomnia. It explained a lot actually. I had always been amazed at how much talent she had. She produced some beautiful, if sometimes strange, pieces of art. Her in-class doodles looked like masterpieces while my stick figures looked like they were drawn by a sleepy monkey.

  I found out about her ability to play piano when she, after extreme urging and prodding by her parents, played in the seventh-grade talent contest. It was awe inspiring. Even the kids making fart noises in the back row removed their hands from their armpits while she played. She pretty much ran away with first place. It wasn’t even close. When Principal Brown announced her name, everybody turned to look for her, but she was nowhere to be found. She hadn’t stuck around to accept the award. She couldn’t have cared less that she had won.

  I had always envied that talent. I played a little drums, but I was mediocre at best.

  To top it all off, she earned straight A’s in school. I was pretty much a B student with a sprinkling of a few Cs here and there. The only thing I considered myself any good at was football. Even that was in doubt after the previous night.

  I found myself envying her talents a little less, though, as I thought about it. It made sense. If she barely slept, what else did she have to do in the middle of the night when everybody else was out cold except practice piano, draw, or study? I decided I would take a full night’s sleep over a few talents and A’s any day.

  ***

  The sky continued to lighten as the sun crawled up the far side of the mountains to the east. It would be another half hour before it managed to peek over the tops. With fall creeping up, it took the sun longer to make its trek every day. Mornings held a little nip of cold with it but gave way to heat by the afternoon. Sweatshirts and jackets were discarded by the time school was out, but for the moment, Aoife walked in silence with arms wrapped around herself. She never did well in cold.

  We stepped onto school grounds and parked ourselves on a bench beside the faculty parking lot. A few minutes later, the school’s custodian, I think his name was Ryan, pulled up in his large, rusting pickup truck. The door screeched open, echoing across the parking lot. The man spilled out of the cab, all boney limbs and awkward gait. He hurried toward the school with his head down, muttering to himself as he fiddled with a large ring full of keys.

  “Dang woman, always on my case,” he said. “I make the money in the house. I should be able to spend it on any-dang-thing I want.”

  Aoife and I caught each other’s eye, trying not to break into laughter.

  “It’s not like I caused the earth to—whoa…” His step stuttered to a stop when he finally noticed us. “What are you dang kids doing there? What trouble have you caused?” He looked around as if he expected the entire school’s red brick walls to be covered in gang graffiti.

  “Big test today.” Aoife’s voice dripped with sweetness. “We were just so excited about it we couldn’t wait to get to school.”

  He looked at us, eyes narrowed with suspicion under bushy eyebrows. “Yeah, right. I’ll have your names anyway.” He pulled a pencil from his shirt pocket and a small notebook from his back pants pocket.

  I pushed myself from the bench and stood beside him, looking down at his notebook. He smelled like the familiar bathroom air freshener used at school. I thought it was odd considering he came from home. I took a half step back. “Is that really necessary? We didn’t do anything.”

  “Course it is!” The pencil tip hovered over the paper.

  I glanced at Aoife. She shrugged and rolled her eyes.

  “Gaige Porter,” I said.

  “Gage? What kinda name is that?” He scribbled Gage Porter in barely legible script.

  “Actually, it’s spelled—”

  “I know how to spell! I ain’t no idiot.”

  “I wasn’t saying you are, it’s just spelled—”

  “What’s your name, young lady?”

  She glanced at me and the corner of her mouth twitched. “Aoife Connolly.”

  His wild brows rose, then dipped. “What?”

  “Aoife Connolly,” she repeated.

  “What in all the…” His voice trailed off as he hesitantly scribbled Eefah .

  I pointed at the paper. “Actually, it’s—”

  “Didn’t I say I could spell?”

  “But it’s not spelled like it sounds.”

  “She clearly said Eefah.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “But nothing.” He flipped the notebook closed. “I have your names now. If I find anything…” His voice trailed off again as he gave us what I thought was supposed to be a warning look. When neither of us said anything, he turned and continued toward the school, his unnaturally watery eyes darting around, trying to spot mischief he was sure we had done.

  Once he disappeared into the school, we burst out laughing, unable to contain it any longer. It lasted for a while, and when we thought we had finally gained control of the giggles, we looked at each other and it started all over again.

  “Dang kids,” I said at some point in a near-perfect imitation of the custodian’s slightly nasal voice. The laughter renewed.

  Five minutes later, the laughing subsided and we lapsed into a comfortable silence. I glanced at Aoife every now and then, but she never looked my way, only stared across the campus. I wondered what went on in her head. Why had she really come out after me when she saw me walking by? Whatever the reason, I was glad for her company. Even though we barely talked, her presence gave me something else to think about besides the fight with Aunt Stacy, my mom’s outburst, and the dream with the purple-haired girl.

  Every now and then, she would shiver a bit, but the thought to do something about it never crossed my mind. What was I supposed to do anyway? If I offered up m
y hoodie, I’d get cold myself. I probably would have ended up with a black eye if I tried to put my arm around her. She was the one who had decided to not put on a coat knowing she didn’t like the cold. She would have to deal with it herself. It wasn’t like it was even all that cold out anyway.

  At some point, I noticed how her slight nose lined up perfectly with her lips and chin.

  She glanced at me. “What?”

  “Nothing,” I said. I adjusted my backpack and leaned my back against the bench. From that position, I could catch a few glances at her in profile through her hair without her noticing. Who knew why I was so mesmerized by her looking so normal?

  Not long after the janitor disappeared into the school, we watched as teachers started to arrive. Most of them barely gave us a glance as they hurried inside like highly caffeinated worker bees returning to the nest. Older students, mostly seniors, showed up next. They drove erratically to student parking, trying to get the best spots. The ones close to the school so they didn’t have far to walk, but also close to the exit so they didn’t have to wait in the long stream of cars trying to escape after school. Finally, the buses pulled in, their brakes squeaking to a stop.

  “Ugh,” Aoife groaned. “I’m not in the mood for him this morning.”

  I followed her gaze to where Brian, unmissable, standing a full head over everybody else, hopped off a bus. He had to duck to avoid hitting his head. Aoife stood and wandered off without another word as Brian spotted us and threw a hand in the air, his thumb, index, and middle finger extended in that odd three-fingered wave of his.

  “There’s everybody’s favorite cool-headed quarterback!” he bellowed across the parking lot. More than a couple heads turned his way.

  I shook my head and sighed. I watched Aoife walk away. She was definitely acting strange, but I didn’t think I could blame her for wanting to avoid Brian. He was intolerable sometimes.

  4

  Dream Girl

  Large knots of hormone-filled teenage humanity of all kinds crowded every square inch of the halls at Gate City High. Brian and I attempted to navigate the noisy mass to first period. As sophomores, we were still pretty low on the totem pole. Even though Brian stood among the top three tallest kids in school and I was tapped to be the next varsity quarterback, we were still just a couple sophomores in the crowd. High school hierarchies were brutal, but we took comfort in the fact we weren’t a couple of wide-eyed freshies who always looked ready to wet themselves at a moment’s notice.

  “I nearly fell out of bed,” Brian yelled over the roar of voices in the hall.

  “It wasn’t that bad. It didn’t even wake me,” I replied.

  The talk of the day, of course, was all about the earthquake. Every story I heard as I passed groups in the halls grew bigger than the last. I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear a story of how a large crack opened up on Earth’s surface, swallowing somebody’s backyard. I kind of felt left out since I’d slept through it, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t the only one. Nobody else seemed willing to admit it, though.

  “As tall as I am? Ha! Come on, I’m already half hanging off the bed to begin with,” he said. True enough. “It only took a few bumps to toss me right out.” He made a hand motion like a plane tumbling out of the sky.

  “I’m glad you survived,” I said dryly.

  “A harrowing adventure.”

  “Or misadventure.”

  “That too,” Brian said.

  “Your life is sad.”

  “This town is sad.” He waved his arms around, indicating pretty much everything.

  “I’m sure everybody is already aware of that,” I replied.

  “Gets sadder by the day.”

  “You just…” Whatever I was going to say fled from my brain as I caught a glimpse of blond hair slipping through the crowded halls. I turned and stood on my toes, wishing I had Brian’s height to see over all the heads, pointedly forgetting the fact I would have to shop at big-and-tall stores if I did.

  “What?” Brian asked.

  I ignored the question for a moment, searching the crowd. I couldn’t be sure I saw what I thought I’d seen. I shook my head, chalking it up to being tired. It hadn’t taken long for the adrenaline of waking up so suddenly, my mom acting weird, and the fight with Aunt Stacy to wear off, leaving me worn out like an old pair of shoes. Staying awake in class was going to be next to impossible. “Nothing. Just thought I saw somebody.”

  “Who?”

  “Nobody.” I shook my head again. My mind was definitely playing tricks on me.

  I contemplated a secret nap in the next class. I was a master at various sleeping-in-class tricks. My personal favorite was holding a pencil over a piece of paper while propping my head up with my other hand, fingers covering my eyes from view. It was an effective classic, until my fingers went so relaxed that I dropped the pencil in the otherwise silent room. It was like dropping a cymbal on the floor. The sound of the tiny pencil seemed to clatter and echo loud enough to get every head in the room to turn my way, including the teacher’s. Usually I woke up fast enough to play it off like nothing had happened. Sometimes I stared dumbly around, not quite sure what had happened and why everybody was looking at me.

  “Come on, let’s get to class.”

  “Ah, yes,” Brian said. “Geometry! Let’s go cram our head with angles. How I love thee, angles. Let me count the ways. Acute. Obtuse. Right…”

  ***

  I poked at the meat-like substance. It wiggled unnaturally. “You’re disgusting, you know that, right?” I asked Brian.

  “What?” he replied around a mouthful of what the school cafeteria listed as meatloaf.

  “How can you eat this?” I stuck a fork in the meat and let go. It stood upright with a slight quiver.

  Brian swallowed the huge chunk and downed it with a third of the water from a bottle. “Was I not supposed to? Kind of would defeat the whole purpose of lunch if I didn’t.”

  “No amount of ketchup could cover up its color.” I wrinkled my nose.

  “But it’s such a lovely shade of gray.” He shoveled another forkful into his mouth.

  “Meatloaf isn’t supposed to be gray, Brian.” I pushed the tray across the table, food untouched.

  “That’s a waste,” he mumbled.

  “It’s not like I have to pay for it or anything.” Bitterness crept unbidden into my voice. Free lunch, a perk of not having much money. My stomach made an odd noise. I couldn’t be sure if it was a gurgle of hunger or disgust.

  “Think of it this way,” Brian began after swallowing another glob. “If you were stranded in the wilds, let’s call it Texas, you would eat whatever you could to survive, right? If you were presented with this lovely gray mass with ketchup, you would do whatever it took to convince yourself to eat it, wouldn’t you? Say, for instance, this gray is very much consistent with the color of a squirrel, so it must be squirreloaf, a meat found in the wilds of Texas. If you were stranded in the wild with squirreloaf and ketchup, you’d eat it.”

  “You have problems. That didn’t even make sense.”

  “Just imagine it with a cute, little, fluffy tail sticking out and you’ll see where I’m coming from.” He flipped his hand up and down, mimicking a tail.

  “Hey, Porter! Brutal game yesterday, right?”

  I craned my neck up at James standing on the other side of our table. I flinched, thinking I saw yellow, slit eyes staring down at me. But in a blink, they were gone. James stood there with perfectly normal, if not beady, black eyes. I glanced down at the large boy’s middle, half expecting to see blood pouring from a gaping wound in his stomach.

  “Uh. Yeah, it was.” I shook the image from my head and looked back up at James. “Hey, sorry about blowing up at you out there.”

  “No worries, man. Coach is going to go volcanic on you, though. What happened to you after the game?”

  I shrugged and redirected the conversation. “We’ll get them next time,” I said with gusto, as my drama teach
er would say. More gusto than I actually felt.

  “Yeah, sure.” James nodded his beefy head. A large grin spread across his jack-o’-lantern face. “Hey, you gonna eat this?” He eyed my untouched tray of food.

  “Nah, man.”

  “Cool.” James picked up the tray, holding one in each hand. His eyes traveled from me to Brian and back. “Okay, Porter. See ya around.” He turned and waddled off.

  “Is he always that sweaty?” Brian asked once he was gone.

  “Pretty much,” I said.

  “And you stick your hands under his butt regularly?”

  “It’s part of the game.”

  “Remind me to never shake your hand. Or to carry around a bottle of hand sanitizer. Or both.” He dug into the green beans. They squeaked as he chewed loud enough for me to hear.

  I watched James push both food trays onto the table occupied by other teammates and wondered if I should start sitting with them. I had eaten lunch with Brian since we were in elementary school, but in a year I would be the varsity quarterback. A leader of the team. Leaders were supposed to spend all their time with the team, right? As I watched, Martin cracked a joke and the table burst into loud laughter. Little bits of food exploded from James’s mouth as he laughed. I shook my head. The idea of sitting with them just earned a mark against it.

  I had played football since peewee when I was seven, but I never really fit in totally with that crowd. I got along well enough with them, and they liked me as far as I could tell. They always encouraged me to hang, but I never felt one hundred percent comfortable when I spent time with them off the field. Instead, I gravitated to those on the outskirts of mainstream, like Brian and Aoife.

  I pulled my eyes away from the feeding frenzy that was James. It was like passing roadkill on the side of the road. Curiosity made me want to look, if for nothing else than to try to figure out what the bloody lump used to be, but I always wanted to look away so I didn’t end up with the image burned into my brain. My eyes moved away from the table to the exit on the far side of the cafeteria. I frowned, leaning over to get a better look out the door.