I told Harry about my mom and her drunk, abusive husband. He told me about his older brother who was in prison for breaking and entering. Harry admitted he never liked to talk about that and that he was ashamed of it. I told Harry about my first kiss and that I was still a virgin. He confessed he was not a virgin, but had only been with one girl, who dumped him for one of his friends.
There was so much to talk about, so much that both of us needed to get out. Especially Sebastian, who we spent all of six minutes on. Harry veered off the subject, needing to fill that conversational space with something less depressing.
Only one thing was left in secret and I didn’t want it to be a secret any longer.
“If I tell you something,” I said, sitting up cross-legged on the center of my bed, “do you promise not to think I’m crazy?”
Harry laughed. “I can’t promise you that,” he said, “but I can promise not to tell anyone else why I think you’re crazy, if I do.”
I crinkled my nose at him.
“Okay, I promise I won’t think you’re crazy,” he agreed. “What is it?” He moved toward my bed and sat upon the edge.
I started to back out, but I needed someone to talk to about it. It should’ve been Alex, but that was never going to happen. It couldn’t be Beverlee because although I loved her and could trust her with my life, some things you just can’t tell the adult who’s taking care of you.
I sat there for a moment, absently twisting the corner of my pillowcase in-between my fingers.
“Do you believe in...,” I paused, regretting not rehearsing this beforehand, “...I mean, have you ever wondered if there are really things out there that exist other than humans?”
“What, like aliens?” he said.
He was totally interested.
“Yeah I guess so,” I said, “but what about other things...things like—“
“You mean like vampires, or ghosts?”
He was getting closer, a little too close. I was already backing out. This was crazy. Why was I being so stupid? I finally had a friend close enough I could confide in and gossip with and who wouldn’t two-face me and I was about to ruin it all with insanity.
So I decided to approach the question differently.
“Yeah,” I said, “ghosts, vampires, aliens...werewolves.”
Harry chuckled and lay across my bed; his shoes dangled off the edge. He brought his hands up and cradled them together behind his head.
“Nah,” he said finally. “Not really. Well, aliens maybe because face it, the Universe is just too big for us to be the only ones in it.” He turned his head sideways to see me rather than continue looking up at the sheetrock ceiling. “All that other stuff is just the product of old myths twisted into something fantastical over time.”
I sighed.
“Like that whole thing with Vlad the Impaler,” he went on, looking up at the ceiling again. “Sure, all that brutal stuff he did was pretty heavy, but every bit of it totally believable. People just passed the stories down through time, adding this and that, which eventually created Dracula.”
I crossed my legs Indian-style and rested my hands in the hollow of my lap. Maybe I should take it up a notch, I thought.
“What’s your theory on ghosts then?” I said.
Harry fell into a pensive moment, twisting his bottom lip in his teeth. “Maybe I saw a ghost once,” he revealed and I leaned forward, hopeful. “I was visiting Waverly Hills Sanatorium with my parents for Halloween one year—not sure if it was really a ghost, but I saw something.”
“So you really think it might’ve been a ghost?”
Harry shook his head. “Nah,” he decided, and the hopeful interest drained from me quickly. “When you go to places like that you’re already expecting to see something. I think it’s all in the mind.”
If Harry didn’t even believe in ghosts, I knew there was no way he would believe in something as preposterous as a werewolf.
“Why do you ask?” he looked over at me once more.
“Just curious,” I said. I tossed the pillow from my lap onto the bed and got up. “I’ll be back in a second. Do you want a soda or anything?”
Although disappointed, he didn’t push the issue. I think it was the one thing I didn’t like about him or about guys in general: when a girl says she doesn’t want to talk about it, the truth is that she usually does. I wanted him to pry it out of me. Of course, I would’ve pretended to be a little angry that he didn’t just leave me alone, but eventually I would’ve told him, when I was tired of pretending.
Hey, I never claimed to be completely unlike other girls. Some things just come with the territory.
~~~
I woke up with Harry’s smelly sock practically straight up my nose. Shocked and still half-asleep, I freaked out that there was a guy in my bed and so I shoved him as hard as I could into the floor. Right when I heard the loud thump! I realized what I had done.
“I’m so sorry, Harry!”
He stumbled into a standing position, his hand pressed around his ribs. “It’s alright,” he grumbled.
“I wonder why Uncle Carl didn’t take you home last night,” I said, looking around the room, still in somewhat of a daze.
Beverlee stood in the doorway of my bedroom. I don’t know how long she had been there.
“Because we fell asleep on the couch,” she said, “and I’m terribly sorry, Harry, both of you. I feel like a horrible parent, adult...whatever you want to call me.” Beverlee was clearly beside herself over this. She was practically stuttering. “Carl is going to call Harry’s parents and apologize. I just hope people don’t start talking. Oh God, I’m going to lose my job over this. Sandy and Marla at the store will have a field day with this kind of gossip.” She was getting Harry’s shoes for him.
“Beverlee,” I said, “calm down, no one is going to say anything.”
“Nothing happened, I swear it,” Harry said, taking his shoes from her.
“Honestly, Aunt Bev, Harry and I don’t like each other like that. We’re just friends.”
Beverlee seemed to calm down some. She dropped her hands to her sides. “Oh, I guess you’re right. I mean there’s nothing romantic about his feet being up your nostrils, or you halfway off the bed with drool hanging off your chin.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. The whole situation was comical.
Harry and I talked with Uncle Carl before Beverlee drove us to school and convinced him that calling Harry’s parents was unnecessary. I was just glad he believed us and there weren’t any lingering suspicions.
The night at The Cove changed more than just Alex, or mine and Harry’s friendship. Things at school also changed drastically. In just a week, my group of friends went from Julia, Sebastian, Tori and Harry to just Harry and Zia. Julia was officially a ‘drop out’; Sebastian was officially ‘deceased’, but only by the school gossip. There was no proof of that, thankfully. Tori decided there were people at school better than us and she dropped us like last month’s fashion trends. She was a total witch, even to me when I had never done a thing to deserve it. I admit, this was the one thing I was pleased by.
The way I saw it though, things were now how they were supposed to be, all except for Sebastian. Julia made her own decisions, so I disregarded her as a loss. Sebastian, I thought, should’ve been with us because out of all of them, he actually fit in. But me, Zia and Harry were the perfect trio. We hung out everywhere. School. My house. Harry’s house. The skate park. But never Zia’s house. It seemed intentional and that was frustrating. I wanted to go to the Mayfair’s, not just for Zia, but because I wanted to see Isaac. Zia dodged my suggestion whenever I’d bring it up. After another week and still not one trip up the winding, dark roads, I was fed up with the secrecy and the games.
I was going to go to the Mayfair house on Saturday, uninvited if that’s what it took.
Saturday morning, I agreed to go with Beverlee and help her at the store. Apparently, Sandy and Marla took vacation time togethe
r and Mrs. Finch, the owner, was sick again. Poor Mrs. Finch; she suffered from Diabetes and a host of other illnesses, which kept her sick most of the time. Sandy and Marla were Mrs. Finch’s evil daughters. The whole thing reminded me of a cheap Cinderella story, except Mrs. Finch always treated Beverlee like the daughter she wished Sandy and Marla were. Nathan Mayfair of course also worked there, but he only worked nights as a stocker.
Lucky me, I was nominated to be a fill-in cashier. I had never worked a cash register before, but thankfully, Beverlee was never too far away if I needed her.
I think in a way, Beverlee was preparing me for the working world. I do recall her and Uncle Carl talking one night before Alex left, about driver’s licenses and part-time jobs and such. That didn’t bother me so much though; I actually looked forward to getting a job to pull in some extra spending cash. As cool as Beverlee and Uncle Carl were, I knew they weren’t going to fork out the money to buy me a car. However, my idea of a job had nothing to do with a grocery store. I had been thinking more along the lines of a music or bookstore, or maybe even as a vet assistant.
Fast food and grocery stores were definitely the last resort.
The bell above the front door rang as a customer pushed open the door.
“Good morning, Mrs. Perry,” Beverlee said. She was on the bread aisle at the front of the store, straightening the Little Debbie boxes.
“Mornin’ Beverlee,” said Mrs. Perry. “Ran out of coffee last night, right when I was in the middle of my soaps.”
She was a plump old lady with white-gray hair and she carried a big black handbag pressed gently against her rounded stomach.
“Oh,” she said in a perky, interested sort of way while looking straight at me, “this must be one of your nieces; the good one, I’m sure.”
Beverlee grimaced as she came out of the aisle.
“They’re both good girls,” Beverlee said, hoping I’d believe she never spoke badly of Alex. Really, I wasn’t upset by it.
“Adria, this is Mrs. Perry,” said Beverlee. “She’s been shopping at this store for twenty years.”
Mrs. Perry smiled, causing the lines around her mouth to stretch and deepen. “Twenty-one years next month. Little places like this are the best,” she said. “Those big chains lose sight of people and the people are what matters. Can’t shop at a Driscoll’s and talk to the owner whenever you want. Don’t even know who the owner is. Probably doesn’t even live in the same state.” She added, “How is Mrs. Finch anyway?”
“She’s not well,” said Beverlee. She lowered her voice a bit and added, “I think she’s getting worse.”
“I was afraid you’d tell me that,” said Mrs. Perry. “Well, do give her my well wishes. Tell her I’ll bring her over a Lemon Meringue pie.”
Beverlee had started to say something, but Mrs. Perry put up her wrinkled hand decorated by gaudy rings and said, “Sugar-free, of course.”
Beverlee smiled and nodded.
It was pretty much the same kind of people and the same sort of conversations in the store for the next two hours. I probably met half the town, with the exception of anyone my age. And in a small town like Hallowell when most of the residents come into a small store like Finch’s Grocery, one can safely expect the gossip to be rampant. I thought school was bad. The townspeople, the adults, had us beat in the gossip department. I learned that Marlene Higginbotham was cheating on her husband with some hot construction worker (Beverlee’s words, not mine) who was only here for a few weeks on a job in Augusta. I heard all about Penny Fairweather’s secret night job as a stripper and how Lenny Parsons was gay and had been hitting on Mark Schultz. Then there was ‘Fat-ass Felicia’ (again, Beverlee’s words), who apparently tried to steal my uncle away from Beverlee.
I didn’t know any of these people, and thought I was better off that way.
Just before lunch, Nathan Mayfair walked into the store. My interest perked immediately.
“Hey Adria,” he said as he walked past the penny candy stand near the front door. “Beverlee around?”
“Yeah, she’s in the back,” I said. “You’re here early, aren’t you?”
“I didn’t pick up my check last night,” he said. “How have you been?”
A customer walked in and I greeted her with a smile. She picked up a handheld basket and disappeared down the meat aisle.
“I’ve been alright,” I said, “nothing new, nothing bad. Things have been pretty normal.”
Nathan looked a lot like Isaac, I noticed. I never had much opportunity to compare the resemblance before.
“Beverlee hooked you into working, I see.”
“Nah, I don’t mind so much,” I said, “I get to hear all the juicy town secrets and learn before it’s too late exactly how I don’t want to be when I get old.”
Nathan laughed. “I hear yah,” he said. “I’m lucky that way; working nights keeps my virgin ears from being molested by all that stuff.”
Where have I seen him before? Suddenly, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I had seen Nathan somewhere else other than at the store. I was sure of it....
“Hey,” I said, “is something going on with Isaac lately?”
“Not that I know of. Why?”
I felt foolish and maybe even a little obsessive.
“It’s nothing,” I lied, “I just wondered.”
Beverlee came through the bread aisle, waving an envelope. “I’ve got your check right here,” she said, placing it into Nathan’s hand. “I guess I’ll see you Monday night then.”
“Sure thing,” he answered respectfully.
Nathan said goodbye to me and left with the bell ringing behind him.
“Don’t worry,” said Beverlee, “I’m not going to keep you in here all day. If you want, you can leave around one. I’ve got a few more things to do and I’ll be free to run the register for the rest of night.”
I couldn’t contain the smile as much as I wanted, but Beverlee understood. “Thanks,” I said. “I mean it’s not that I don’t want to help, I just wanted to go to Zia’s later.”
“You’ve been a wonderful help,” Beverlee said. “I can give you a ride there later if you want.”
“That’s okay,” I said, “Harry finally got his transmission fixed and I’ll be catching a ride with him.”
“He’s a nice boy,” said Beverlee. I wasn’t sure if I liked what she was hinting at though. “You two still just good friends?”
My throat suddenly felt dry. “Definitely,” I answered, “best friends actually, so don’t get any ideas.”
She winked and left it alone.
My last hour at the store felt the longest. I was too anxious to get to Zia’s so I made sure to bring what I needed with me to the store so that I could freshen up there. Just before I left, I brushed out my hair, changed my clothes and put on some tinted Chap Stick. I had forgotten to bring my deodorant, so I took some off the shelf in the Health & Beauty aisle and told Beverlee to subtract it from my day’s pay.
“Have you talked to Zia at all?” I said to Harry in the passenger’s side of his car.
“Not since at school yesterday,” he said and then looked over at me. “She doesn’t know we’re coming?”
“No, but that’s alright.”
“What if they’re not home?”
“As many people that live in that house, someone’s sure to be there.”
Not that Harry cared much; he was still trying to win Zia over and any chance to go to her house and blame an unexpected visit on me, he was not going to pass up.
When we pulled up in Zia’s driveway, there were no other cars in it. We sat in the car for a moment, contemplating, neither of us wanting to be the one that got out to knock on the door. In the end, we decided to go together.
No answer.
“Come on, Harry,” I said, stopping him from leaving the porch, “someone has to be here.”
He waited on the second step and I knocked again, louder.
Finally, I heard movement
inside. The door clicked and then opened slowly; a face peeked out between it and the frame.
“What do you want?” said a girl.
I couldn’t tell at first, but then recognized her as Daisy Mayfair, the sister of Isaac who Zia actually liked.
“Is Zia or Isaac home?”
She didn’t answer right away, but she stood there looking at us.
“Ummm, this is a bad time,” she said finally. “I’ll tell Zia—“
The door swung open then and a taller girl pushed Daisy out of the way.
“Adria, right?” She was grinning widely.
I hesitated. “...Yes, I’m Adria and this is Harry; friends of Zia.”
“And Isaac?” Her grin just seemed to get bigger.
“Uhhh, yeah, I guess so.”
Harry came back up the steps to stand next to me. I got the feeling he was as uncomfortable as I was now.
The tall girl stepped aside and waved us in. “Please, come on in and ummm, make yourself at home. I’ll get Zia for you.”
Daisy stood with her back against the wall, looking as though she wanted to speak, but dared not to. Warning lights were flashing like crazy in my mind, but I wanted to see Isaac and so I ignored them. The den was not full of people this time, just the tall girl, who went toward the stairs and now Daisy as she made her way to the couch.
I heard muttering in the stairwell above.
“You should leave,” Daisy whispered. “This is a really bad time.”
“But why, what’s going on?” I whispered back.
Daisy kept looking at the stairs, watching for anyone that might be listening, or coming down from them. The worry on her face set me on edge, but still, I wasn’t convinced I had any real reason to leave just yet.
The Mayfair Moon Page 11
