Writing on the Wall

by Christopher Cleary

  WRITING

  ON THE

  WALL

  by Christopher Cleary

  Immortality Press

  Alpharetta, GA

  WRITING ON THE WALL

  Published by Immortality Press

  www.immortalitypress.com

  Copyright © 2007 by Christopher Cleary

  All rights reserved.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2007927069

  ISBN 978-0-9795753-5-8

  Book design by www.KareenRoss.com

  Editing by Patti J. Daniels

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  ONE

  Donnie Betts rode his bike nearly everywhere with the exception being school because he was neither in a hurry to get there nor to return home. He preferred the leisurely walk even during the chilly winter months. During the walk, he could be alone without feeling lonely. At home, he could feel lonely even when someone else was there.

  “Hey!”

  Donnie did not bother turning around to see who was calling.

  “Hey, Donnie!” the female’s voice hollered again.

  Since he was now certain that she was calling out to him, Donnie turned around. As he suspected, it was the new girl. He stopped walking and waited for her.

  Donnie had never realized how good a pair of jeans could look until the she sauntered toward him wearing Sevens. With each step of her platform sandals, he admired the contour of her legs and marveled at the elegant physics of a person walking. Freckles were splattered across her cheeks and nose like someone had flicked a paint brush toward her face. And her shoulder-length wavy hair was a perfectly blended spectrum of red and blonde that stood out against her white corset while complementing the turtle-green of its lacy overlay.

  “I’ve been going to school here for a week, you know?” she said.

  “Yeah?” Donnie didn’t understand why she said it like he was in trouble.

  “I live right across the street from you.”

  “I know. I saw you move in.”

  “If you know, why do you walk home ahead of me every day?”

  “Because I leave sooner than you do.”

  “Instead of walking home with me?” she clarified for him. “Why do you walk ahead of me instead of with me?”

  He adjusted his backpack and provided her with a candid response, “It never occurred to me to walk home with you.”

  “Oh?”

  Unlike many teenagers, Donnie didn’t rush to say something just to fill up the empty air. It wasn’t that he was shy, but when he was around strangers, Donnie chose his words carefully. He looked at the tree branch directly above them and reached up with one of his lanky arms. The cuff of his black, long-sleeved T-shirt slid away from his wrist as he stretched. Donnie plucked an autumn leaf from the tree.

  The girl waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, she put her left hand to her forehead and then held it out, palm up. “Now that it has occurred to you,” she said, “would you like to continue to walk ahead before I start following you again or shall we walk together now?”

  Donnie twirled the leaf by the stem. “We can walk together.”

  “K,” the girl said and resumed walking. Donnie did not immediately join her. She didn’t stop but instead turned around and, while walking backwards, said to him, “Walking together, Donnie. Not standing together.”

  He covered ground quickly with his long legs and was by her side after a few quick strides.

  “Do you even know my name?” she asked.

  “Heck, I have trouble remembering my own.”

  She smiled at his remark. Really smiled. It wasn’t the counterfeit one she had been using the entire first week at her new school. “Megan,” she told him. “Megan Priddy.”

  “Want me to carry your books?”

  “Did you just ask me if I wanted you to carry my books?”

  “No. I asked if you wanted to carry my books.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Then why’d you ask what I asked?”

  She genuinely smiled for the second time in under a minute. Her face wasn’t accustomed to it. It wasn’t that she was opposed to smiling, but the opportunities for it were few in number when moving to a new town and a new school where nothing was familiar. She felt like she was continuously on the outside of an inside joke.

  “Why don’t you take the bus?” Megan inquired.

  “Just don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not that far and I kind of like being alone.”

  “But it’s cool if I walk with you?”

  “So far. What about you? Why don’t you take the bus?”

  “They didn’t have buses at my old school.” She shrugged just one shoulder. “Some old habits aren’t worth breaking.”

  The agitated bark of a murderous dog sounded off like an unpredicted, sharp crack of thunder. The fence on Megan’s left creaked and rattled as the dog slammed its weight against it. Her body went rigid and she stumbled into Donnie. The canine’s nails frantically scraped against the rotting wood and its saliva-drenched snarl continued, but Donnie and Megan were safe on the other side.

  She exhaled a sigh of relief. “Every day,” she said. “That dog scares me every day I walk by.”

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  “That thing sounds nasty. What kind of dog is it?”

  The slats of the fence were too close together to make out the breed.

  “I’ve never seen it,” Donnie told her. “Be funny if it was like just a little wiener dog or something like that.”

  “Sounds like a deranged Wookie.”

  When they reached their street, Megan asked, “Why’d you carry that leaf all the way home?”

  “Oh, um…”

  “Are you going to take it inside with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  She meant for her question to be sarcastic, but when he answered with sincerity, she was compelled to ask, “Why?”

  Using the hand not holding the leaf, Donnie Betts scratched the back of his head through his wavy black hair. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s dying. How many things do you know of that become so pretty when they’re dying?”

  Megan didn’t answer because she couldn’t think of any.

  Haviland High wasn’t the first new school for Megan Priddy, but she hoped that it would be her last before college. She began her sophomore year in another state but ended up in Haviland, Georgia, a comfortable town 25 miles north of Atlanta.

  To everyone who attended Haviland High, she had no past. There weren’t any preconceived impressions of her. Her peers would never know that she used to shy away from attention or why.

  Donnie was reluctant to wait for Megan when school let out, but she always caught up with him during his walk and scolded him for not being more considerate. After a few days, Donnie began to hang around at the rear door of the school near the gymnasium for her. He joked that he waited to keep her from complaining about walking alone, but the truth was, he was beginning to enjoy her companionship.

  Their commute became a routine. Megan always made him laugh when she poked fun at the silly sayings on New Hope Church’s marquee. When they were approaching the Richies’s dog with the ferocious bark, Donnie would warn her. And when Megan’s homework load was light, they stopped at Swifts for Polar Slurps.

  They didn’t share any of the same classes and Donnie rarely spoke more than a few senten
ces during school hours. The majority of their conversations were held on the way home and, even then, large chunks of their walk would pass in a comfy silence.

  The fluorescent lights in Haviland High’s cafeteria created an overexposed haze above everyone’s heads and the aroma was only slightly more appetizing than reheated cat food. For the first week or two at her new school, the combination turned Megan’s stomach inside out. Amazingly, she began associating the lighting and the smell with her lunchtime hunger, causing the cafeteria to become an appetizing atmosphere.

  Holding her lunch tray in both hands, Megan approached Donnie’s table.

  “Hey, Donnie.”

  The six boys, including Donnie, simultaneously stopped chewing their food. It was uncommon for a girl to approach their lunch table.

  “I noticed that Swifts has a couple of arcade games,” she said. “I’ve got a bunch of quarters. You wanna stop there on the way home today?”

  Donnie didn’t reply.

  “You know, Swifts?” she prompted. “We stopped there yesterday for Polar Slurps. The convenience store we pass every day? Can we go in again today?”

  Again, no reply from Donnie.

  One of his lunch companions, who sported a thin and cheesy mustache that was struggling to grow like spring grass without enough rain, looked at her tray and said, “Steamed vegetables? Freshman mistake. Friday is Platypus Pizza Pie day, Priddy. You never want to pass up the Platypus Pizza. And no Popsicle? Double boner.”

  Bip, a tough, short kid with glasses, read the wrapper of his Popsicle and said, “According to the wrapper, it’s actually a ‘Delicious Frozen Confection.’”

  Megan tightened the grip on her tray to prevent it from slipping. She felt a thin film of sweat forming on her hands and wanted to leave before the boys noticed.

  “I’m a little rusty on my mental telepathy, Donnie. So if you could just nod or shake your head that would be helpful.”

  Donnie’s tablemate with the cheesy mustache continued, “They have steamed vegetables everyday. And who eats that crap, anyway? You have to seize the opportunity when they offer something good –”

  Donnie’s voice was more defined than Megan had ever heard it. “Lay off, Dale,” he told cheesy mustache boy.

  He turned to face her. The usual tenderness returned to his tone. “I’m in,” he said, “as long as you don’t mind getting your butt kicked.”

  Megan puffed a strand of hair away from her face. “You’re dreaming.”

  TWO

  Donnie and Megan grew bored with Swifts’s two video games before they ran out of quarters, but that didn’t stop them from playing until they were all gone. Reluctantly, Donnie pulled on his backpack and Megan hoisted her satchel over her shoulder. It was Friday and neither was anxious to go home early.

  “What was your deal at lunch today?” Megan asked. “Why were you ignoring me?”

  “I wasn’t ignoring you.”

  The glass door of the convenience store bing-bonged when Donnie pushed it open for them to exit.

  “What then?” Megan wanted to know.

  “I was thinking.”

  “Sheesh. How far in advance do I need to ask you to play video games?”

  “That’s not what I was thinking about.”

  “What then?”

  Donnie was purposely being vague because he didn’t want to talk about it. Megan picked up on this, but ignored his reluctance. Donnie was acting strangely and she wanted to get to the bottom of it.

  “You never really talked to me at school before,” he told her.

  “So?”

  The sole of his high-top sneakers scuffed the pavement while he carefully considered his response. Donnie avoided speaking if what he had to say left him vulnerable to ridicule. In the end, he figured that he should just lay it on her and get it over with.

  He said, “It surprised me. I didn’t think – I only thought that you talked to me on the way home from school because I was the only person there to talk to. I didn’t think that you’d actually come find me at school. And then, it was cool to know that you were planning something for us to do.”

  “Oh. That’s it?” She stopped walking. He did the same. “K, so now I’ve talked to you at school, right?” He nodded. “And I blew all the quarters with the different states on them that my grandma sent me on video games with you. Right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So now you never need to be surprised when I talk to you at school or think that I mean something other than what I’m saying. K?”

  Donnie literally breathed easier. It was a relief. They were free to be themselves. Donnie and Megan never had to put on a show for each other.

  “Yeah, all right.”

  She socked him in the arm and they resumed walking at an even slower pace.

  “When do you turn sixteen?” Megan asked.

  “I am sixteen.”

  “Do you have your license?”

  “Learner’s permit.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yeah.” Donnie’s response sounded indifferent.

  Relying on centrifugal force to keep her books from dropping out, Megan twirled her satchel around one time and set it back on her shoulder. “I can’t wait until I’m sixteen,” she said.

  “What for?”

  “I want to use the drive-thru.”

  “What drive-thru?”

  “Any drive-thru! I want to pull up and order whatever and then be in the driver’s seat to get it.”

  “You got a thing about other people touching your food or something?”

  “It’s a freedom thing, Donnie. You understand. Don’t be a smart ass.”

  Donnie smiled. For some reason, he liked it when Megan used cuss words, which wasn’t often or it wouldn’t have been special. And because he knew that she never meant it in a mean way, he especially liked it when he was the target of the word. “Yeah,” he conceded, “I get it.”

  To battle the onset of dusk, street lights flickered on and stores fired up their marquee lights. The Parkside Storage sign gleamed brighter than Hollywood. Beneath its name, removable black letters advertised a “Renter’s Special.”

  Donnie read it, “‘First month only $9.’ I wonder how much the rest of the months are?”

  Megan got Christmas-morning excited. “We should do it.”

  “Do what?” Even though he had just read the sign out loud, he wasn’t sure what she was talking about.

  “Rent a unit.”

  “I don’t have anything to put in it.”

  Exaggerating exasperation, she explained, “Just like a place to hang out. Somewhere to go other than home.”

  “We can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  The idea of having their own private place to crash intrigued Donnie, but he had a nagging sensation that it wasn’t something that they could get away with. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah! And we’d keep it our secret. Just you and me and no one else. No one.” Megan swung around in front of Donnie and lightly pushed him to a stop with one hand. She stared him down with her pineapple-leaf green eyes. The smattering of light-colored freckles across her nose and cheeks intensified. Her enthusiasm added vibrancy to her body. For the first time, Donnie looked past her mesmerizing hair and realized that Megan was a cutie. Covertly, she asked, “You can keep a secret, can’t you, Donnie?”

  He nodded.

  They weren’t dating or anything like that. The new girl just happened to move to his street and their personalities meshed like that of sit-com buddies. Donnie could think of lots of reasons why he shouldn’t agree to renting a storage unit with her, but he couldn’t think of one really good one.

  “Can you say it for me?” she asked. “Can you promise me?”

  In that moment, Megan Priddy could have asked for anything and Donnie would have agreed. He told her, “I promise I’ll keep it our secret.”

  She laughed and skipped ahead of him before turning around and saying, “Well, come on! W
e’ve got planning to do!”

  Megan wasn’t allowed to have guests inside the house when her parents weren’t home, a rule that she could thank her older sister for; however, a loophole existed. The deck on the back of the house was merely attached to it, not inside it. Donnie walked around the side of the house while Megan went through it.

  When they reunited on the deck, Megan said, “Usually my parents go out on Saturday nights instead of Fridays.” She held up a twenty dollar bill. “They left money for pizza. What toppings do you like?”

  “Pepperoni.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Everyone gets pepperoni. What else?”

  “Cheese.”

  She dropped her head backwards and exhaled as she pulled it forward. “Fine. We’ll get it with pepperoni and cheese, but I get to pick the next one.”

  Megan began punching numbers on the cordless phone before realizing that she was dialing the pizza shop in her old state. “Oh, duh,” she said. “I have to get the phone book.” She went back inside the house, returned with the telephone book, and sat down at the table with Donnie.

  After soliciting his advice on which pizzeria to call, Megan ordered a pepperoni pizza. Then she looked up the phone number to Parkside Storage. “Geez-oh-man,” she said. “Did you know there are three of them?”

  “I know there’s more than one.”

  “What’s the name of that street we walk home on?”

  “Memory Lane.”

  “Really? How quaint.” She pointed to the number in the book, “K, here it is.”

  “What are you going to say?”

  She already had the number dialed. Since Donnie could only hear one side of the phone call, Megan’s conversation with Parkside Storage sounded like a monologue to him. “Hello... I was calling about your special… How much does it cost after the first month?... I don’t know. What sizes do you have?” As the person on the other end was speaking to her, she fumbled through Donnie’s backpack for a pen and paper. She grabbed his spiral bound five-subject notebook and opened it. Donnie snatched it back and ripped out a single sheet of paper before returning the notebook to his backpack.