The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels

by Travis Luedke

  “I know. It’s okay. Really, I don’t mind.” She was more convincing this time.

  I did the window thing with Nadia, and then headed back to the kitchen and cooked up grill cheese sandwiches. With Nadia’s money my diet had begun to improve. I made enough for me and Richard, and one extra for Nadia.

  While I cooked, my father gave me his usual update. “RSC already hired someone. I was too late with my application.”

  “Oh shit.” I had sort of forgotten that mess. Or tried to.

  Instant relief put a smile on my face. I didn’t want Dad anywhere near RSC. “Well, I’m sure something else will come up.” I wasn’t sure at all. He’d been fumbling around about a job for months.

  But I was sure happy he hadn’t caught that particular job.

  “There ain’t no decent jobs out there, Mike! When a good one comes along it’s a free-for-all. People are scrambling. Guys with college degrees are taking jobs at McDonalds for chrissake! The economy’s a mess. Genie hasn’t rehired the layoffs!”

  Richard slammed his hand down on the kitchen table. He was already buzzed, drinking from a tall can of Steel Reserve 211, ‘High Gravity’, the alcoholic’s beer of choice. Steel Reserve held double the alcohol of the average beer.

  Dad wasn’t entirely honest. Genie had rehired a bunch of the layoffs from a couple years ago, but they obviously didn’t intend to call Richard Evans back. Maybe it had something to do with the beer can molded to his hand? Probably had a lot to do with that.

  “I’m beat, I’m going to bed.” I had no further stomach for listening to my father.

  I found Nadia twirling around in circles with my iPod in the center of my room. It was the first time I’d ever seen her behave like a little girl. She was usually freakishly mature, like someone far older and more experienced. I stood there watching her, entranced by the fairy spreading pixie dust magic all over my room. I just knew she would be a gorgeous woman in a couple years.

  She spotted me and halted in mid-spin with her tongue stuck out. Removing my ear-buds, she plopped down onto my bed and patted the mattress next to her. I sat down and she laid in my lap and looked up at me with a warm smile.

  “So, what’s new?”

  It was so simple to tell her anything and everything, and so I did. I told her about my Dad, the unemployment checks that were about to run out any day now, the job he’d missed at RSC because someone else beat him to it. I rambled on about the foreclosure and how I hated living out in bumfuck Egypt in this white-trash trailer park. Whined about my slashed tire some more. All my problems flowed out in a stream, one complaint leading to another and another and another. After a time I realized I sounded like a whiny puke.

  “Here, I made you a grilled cheese sandwich.”

  She looked at the cold, greasy coagulated-cheesy thing on the plate like it was a cockroach skittering towards her. She shuddered in revulsion. “No thanks, I already ate.”

  “You sure?” I pushed the plate at her and she snatched it up and turned on me.

  “Positive! Here – you eat it, you’re a growing boy. You need it.”

  She tore off pieces to feed me. I’d never been pampered by a girl. The effect was intoxicating. I ate it even though I wasn’t hungry.

  Nadia noticed a three-by-five framed picture on my dresser of a woman in her early twenties. The woman sat on the grass, lake in the background, legs crossed, in a white tank top and red shorts. Her hands rested casually on her tanned legs. The resemblance was unmistakable, the thick, wavy dark hair, the same dark eyes. The woman had a sweet loving smile. It was a great picture. She’s beautiful, not a glamorous runway model, but a simple, girl-next-door kind of appeal, a small town girl. It was my only picture of her, my favorite picture. I’d never shown it to anyone but Rachelle, back when we were neighbors.

  “She’s your mother.” Nadia had a strange look on her face, like she recognized the photo.

  “Yeah, that picture was taken right after she found out she was pregnant with me.”

  “She looks happy. Your father took the picture?”

  “Yeah.”

  I had always wondered how my mother could be so happy, knowing what she knew. Richard never talked about her, so I figured I’d probably never know the answer.

  Nadia wiped my mouth with a napkin and stroked the side of my face with the palm of her hand. “Well, I’m here now. I’ll fix everything. You can trust me. Go to sleep.”

  I rolled my eyes at her as she reached up to shut off the bedroom light. “Ooookay. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.” She rarely made sense, and I was too tired to care. I was so burnt, I didn’t even shower. I crashed with all my clothes on. Nadia lay down cuddled up beside me.

  And same as before, I had the strange Nadia dreams. When I woke in the middle of the night, Nadia was on top of me, staring at me. She had one of those barely-there tank-tops. I could feel her slim torso against my belly, and her pointy chin rested on my chest. She had me in a bear hug, arms and legs wrapped around me. It was kinda kinky. But I couldn’t get past the feeling she was family, a kid sister. A kid sister who couldn’t keep her hands off me.

  She kissed me on the chin. “Go back to sleep, Misha. I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.” I’d have to figure out who was taking care of who later. Too tired to think about it just now.

  I passed out. Woke up to the same scene in the morning. Nadia had disappeared and there were two $100 dollar bills on my dresser. Whatever she was paying me for, I couldn’t say, but I hoped it was good for her. The money sure was good for me.

  * * * *

  Chapter 8

  Monday, October 4th

  “Dude, your locker smells like a skaggy whore. How much did you pay for that date to the prom?” Andrew Kunkle, one of Tommy’s wrestling buddies, snickered at me.

  The stink of Beautiful radiated from my locker and wafted down the hall. I could literally taste its flowery smell and the stench began to close my sinuses. All my stuff was saturated in that perfume.

  I almost gagged.

  “He’s gonna hurl.” Andrew laughed as he walked off with his wrestler buddies. Those guys travel in packs, never alone.

  This shit still was not over. God, I wished I’d never posted that stupid video.

  Anita caught up with me on my way to first period English. “If I was a Lesbian I’d be all over you. You smell like a Vegas cathouse.”

  “Thanks. Too bad I’m not getting any. The virgin whore.”

  “Of course you’re not getting any. You’re not even going to homecoming.”

  “Sure, rub salt in the wound. Like it isn’t bad enough I smell like teen spirit.”

  Anita just watched me with that funny look.

  The specter of the homecoming dance loomed on the horizon, an ominous event sitting hunched on my shoulders, an ever-present weight at the back of my mind. I didn’t really want to go, but I couldn’t readily dismiss the vision of Rachelle in that dress, looking so damn good, yet flaming mad. I needed to do something about homecoming, but what? With the money Nadia had been leaving me, I could actually afford a tux rental.

  But who to ask?

  Rachelle wasn’t giving me so much as a glance since our confrontation the other day. I didn’t really have any kind of connection to any other girls except Anita. And Anita – I just didn’t want to go there. She’d been getting weird lately.

  At lunch break, I changed into my spare T-shirt to get rid of the perfume stench, and took off downtown to the Safeway deli. Normally Anita went with me, but she said she wasn’t feeling good. Probably a girl thing.

  That’s when it happened, the most unlikely of unlikely events. I swear the divine hand of God reached down to create a one-in-a-million opportunity. As I entered the Safeway deli, I observed Tommy Schroeder stomping out to the parking lot. Rachelle was there yelling at his back as he kept on walking, “Just go you pig! I don’t need you anyway!”

  The classic scene played out in front of me. Tommy yelled over his shoulder a
t Rachelle, “Good, you can walk your ass back to school! I’m done with you!”

  This was it. God felt sorry for me. Finally.

  Like air rushing in to fill the vacuum, I sauntered up to Rachelle. You’d have thought I wore an invisibility cloak. She looked everywhere but at me. I moved in closer until she couldn’t ignore me, and oh so casually made my move, “Soooo … you need a ride?”

  Rachelle looked about and tried her best to pretend she hadn’t just been dumped by her boyfriend. She snapped, “No, I’m fine. I’m waiting on a friend.” She couldn’t look me in the eye as she lied.

  I had run out of smooth lines, so I shuffled off into the deli in defeat, mumbling, “Oh, okay.”

  I ordered my burrito and scarfed it down while watching through the window as Rachelle stood alone on the sidewalk awaiting her imaginary friend. To her credit, she was texting like mad on her cell phone, probably trying to get someone to come pick her up.

  I plotted all the cool, witty things I would say to her on my way out the door. I imagined how she’d laugh and accept my gracious offer for a ride, how this would be my chance to make it happen, the one event that changed everything. I inhaled my burrito so fast I burned the roof of my mouth. After quenching the fire with soda, I worked up the courage to go back out there and take another whack at it.

  Rachelle’s furious texting hadn’t stopped, which was encouraging. She probably didn’t have a ride yet. In the end, all my carefully prepared lines deserted me as I stood before the glorious blonde siren of my dreams.

  “Are you sure you don’t need a ride?” Just in case this dope line didn’t do the trick, I exploited Rachelle’s phobia of being late to school. “Lunch ends in ten minutes. If we leave now we’ll make it on time.”

  She bit her lower lip, obviously debating whether or not she’d be stranded if she didn’t accept my offer. She looked around as if she might spot someone, anyone that could offer another alternative.

  I made it plain for her. “It’s me, or a four mile walk back to the high school.”

  She’d probably miss fourth period, if not half of fifth period as well. In the agonizing choice between being late, walking four miles, and a five minute ride with me, I won the tossup.

  “Ahh … okay, thanks.” She smiled weakly.

  Then I remembered I was driving the uncoolmobile, my white ‘89 Geo Tracker with a very 80’s red stripe down the side. My ride was nothing like Tommy’s Jeep Wrangler with a four inch lift and a bumpin’ stereo. I sent out a silent prayer to the god of shitty 80’s vehicles that just this once I’d have a trouble free run back to school.

  Fortune was with me this day. The Geo started right up, the sun shone brightly, and a good song came on the radio as we buckled in for the ride. Rachelle had a look on her face like maybe this isn’t so bad after all. Of course, I had the added bonus that someone would probably see her riding with me, and the rumors would surely drive Tommy batshit jealous. I smiled in appreciation of the damage I might do to Rachelle and Tommy’s relationship with this one simple act.

  Everything was fabulous. I shifted through the gears without missing a single one. The little Geo hummed right along. Then I had to open my big, stupid mouth. “Hey Rach, I’ve been meaning to ask, would you go to homecoming with me?” Like a train screeching on its brakes, my perfect opportunity ground to a halt as Rachelle’s face scrunched up in disgust.

  “Well, um, I’m going with someone already. Sorry.”

  The bright, shining future I’d imagined with Rachelle died a horribly painful death and shriveled into dust on my dashboard, swirling in the weak breeze of air conditioning. The stench of awkwardness filled the car, so thick it was stifling. Rachelle grunted as she manually turned the lever to roll down the window for a shot of fresh air.

  My cloak of invisibility wasn’t working at the moment. I felt all too exposed to Rachelle. I mumbled, “Oh. I see. Okay.”

  I remained silent the rest of the way, fumbling out the word, “Later”, as we went our separate ways in the parking lot of the school. Rachelle couldn’t get out of there fast enough. She was nearly jogging to get away from me. Fortune had smiled upon me and then pissed on my head all within a span of fifteen minutes.

  * * * *

  I caught up with Anita after school let out. We headed to the amphitheater on the lakefront, at McCosh Park, directly behind the aquatic center. McCosh had it all: tennis courts, picnic areas, barbecue pits, playgrounds, the amphitheater, the aquatic center, and right there across the street, our little skatepark.

  Moses Lake cops wished we were all confined to the skatepark. But like Richard was fond of saying, “You can wish in one hand and shit in the other. See which one fills up faster.” On this day the usual suspects assembled at the amphitheater for practice runs on our video shoot. In preparation for the video, a shaggy blond-haired freshman named Gibbs rubbed down the edge of the concrete amphitheater stage with candle wax, creating a slippery smooth surface for the grind action to come.

  Seeing the crowd assembled for the video, I itched to get in on the action. I was most comfortable on my board. My world aligned as my feet touched down on the grip tape. Everything drained away in those moments. I was simply Mike, a skater on a board. Nothing else mattered.

  But truthfully, I wasn’t all that on a board. Anita’s brother, Raphael Gomez, rips. He was fucking awesome.

  Rafe resembled his sister in coloring, the golden skin and sable hair with dark-brown-almost-black eyes, but that’s as far as the likeness went. Unlike Anita, Rafe was tall, slim, with high cheek bones and a proud beak of a nose. He was all sharp angles, no soft curves like his sister.

  That’s how I met Anita, through Rafe at the skatepark. Though a senior, Rafe wasn’t too proud to hang with the lowly freshmen, sophomores, and even a few kids from Junior high. A hardcore skater, Rafe had skate or die stickers on his Kawasaki Ninja crotch rocket.

  He bought the bike after I bought the Geo from Papa Gomez. The Geo had been Rafe’s luv macheen, his first car. Somehow the little SUV had always seemed a whole lot cooler with Rafe behind the wheel. When I drove the Geo I felt like trailer trash in a piece-of-shit car.

  Rafe was practicing his moves. He executed a sweet board slide down the steel rail off the side of the stage. Rafe’s moves always looked sharp. He hopped up in the air to catch the top of the rail and slid-ground all the way down. He landed with a slight skid, gracefully dipping into the impact. I thought he had a real shot at going pro, at least catch a sponsor, free boards and stuff. But Papa Gomez insisted Rafe attend college. Probably a good idea.

  It was a flagrant violation of city regulations to skate here, but we were careful not to get caught. We had a kid atop the arched entryway to the amphitheater, keeping watch for the bike cops that patrolled through McCosh Park. We played a never-ending game of cat and mouse with police. Like animals in the wild, civilization and its expanding regulations was constantly stealing the skater’s natural habitat of urban sprawl. It seemed like every week a new place posted a sign No skating on premises. It was a daily ordeal, regulating errant skaters. We fled like roaches slipping into the cracks and crevices of the city.

  I stepped up to take my turn at the rail, doing my best to emulate Rafe’s graceful landings. Occasionally I hit it just right, but mostly I ended up on my ass. After biting it hard in a tumble, I decided to give it a break. Let someone else bust their ass for a while.

  As I watched another skater go at it, I admitted to Anita, “Rafe maxed out that rail. Anything we try has already been done.” She snickered as the kid bit it on his way down, proving the rail had become the exclusive rights property of her brother.

  Sitting on the grass slope of the amphitheater while Anita dabbed at the blood on my elbows, something occurred to me. Someone was missing from the usual suspects. “Hey, I haven’t seen Justin. I thought he was planning to be here.”

  Anita snickered, “He’s got a new crew now. Too busy dumping perfume in your locker. Too cool to skate wit
h looosers.”

  “I guess. And you’re right, I know that asshole did it, or Tommy, or both of them. I just never thought I’d see Justin miss a video shoot. Remember he was always talking about getting rich off Google ads and YouTube?”

  “Yeah, well, people gotta face reality someday. We can’t all be internet millionaires.” Anita sighed.

  “You sure know how to dash a man’s dreams.”

  She nodded absently while watching the next guy splatter to the ground on a botched rail slide.

  Sitting there, musing about dashed dreams, I was reminded of my idiocy with Rachelle. “So, you catch a date to homecoming yet?”

  Anita looked at me strangely, shaking her head no. She asked quietly, “And you?”

  “Well, how about this for a dream that will never come true: Would you believe I asked Rachelle? How stupid?” I didn’t want to face Anita. I already knew she was gonna blast me. But she didn’t say a word.

  Anita stared hard, boring into me with her accusing eyes. Avoiding her gaze, I finally turned to her when she had remained silent for too long. I saw the look in her eyes and immediately tried to explain. “Her and Tommy broke up. They had a fight and he left her behind. I thought maybe I had a chance.” I caught Anita’s wicked, burning stare and kept on explaining. “I’m not a total idiot, I didn’t just do it out of the blue. It seemed like the right time, but I was way wrong. Shot down in flames. It was a massacre. Look, I’m still bleeding.” I pointed to my skinned elbow, the one Anita hadn’t gotten to yet.

  After another moment of loaded silence she finally blew, the pressure all the greater for the time it built up. “Are you retarded or something?” she screeched.

  “Um, I guess, I said it was stupid didn’t I? Does it feel good to shove it in my face?”

  “Yeah I’m gonna rub it in! I should kick your retarded ass! I can’t believe you. Oh god, I can’t believe you’re really that dumb.” She was in my face, furious.