by Maria Herren
Dancing With the Devil
Maria Herren
Copyright © 2017 by Maria Herren
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
I'd like to dedicate this book to my favorite cousin, Sheryl Babin, without whom this book would never have been completed.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
About the Author
One
Charly was running down the street chasing a wildly careening bicycle the first time he saw her. Her long dark hair was streaming out behind her and her arms and legs were pumping furiously as the bike bounced from side to side, finally crashing into the pole in front of Eric. He reached to pick it up and she said, "That's my bike!"
"Really?" he asked, mockingly. "I was wondering whose bike you were chasing down the road!"
"Don't you make fun of me! Give me my bike!" She was such a young girl that the commanding tone of her voice took him by surprise.
"I'm not making fun of you. Honest," he added, gently. "I was just trying to help."
"I don't need any help!" she declared, with her hands on her hips.
Eric glanced down at her bloody knees and scraped elbows. Some of the scrapes were recent. Most of them were not. "Are you just learning how to ride?"
"I know how to ride a bike!" She grabbed the bike from his hands and stalked proudly up the hill. It took a few minutes because her steps were a little unsteady and it was a very steep hill. At the top she stole a glance over her shoulder. Eric was still watching her. In that instant Eric saw her fear of the hill and her determination not to let him know it. Flinging her dark hair over her shoulder she straddled the bike and took off over the top.
He started running as she took off and got to the top in time to see her just after she crashed. There were new scrapes on Charly’s knees and a gash on her forehead.
"Are you okay?"
“No, I am not okay. I'm bleeding," she said quietly. She looked him straight in the eye and grinned. Her eyes seemed to turn from a friendly hazel to a brilliant green, and with an unexpected amount of dignity she extended her hand. "I think I hit a stone. Would you help me up, please?"
Her grin turned into a smile, and Eric noticed the blood on her teeth.
"Are they all still there?" she asked, noticing his stare.
He nodded. “Good.”
“A couple of them are pretty loose," she said, ruefully.
He took her much smaller hand in his and pulled her up. The two of them surveyed her dusty bike. "Would you like me to help you home?" he asked.
Marching silently along together Eric kept glancing down at her. She was one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen, even if she was younger. He wanted to know more about her. "What's your name?"
"Charly. What's yours?"
"Eric. I've never met a girl named Charly before. I like it. It fits you."
"Thank you!" she smiled, and he was rewarded with a flash of green eyes.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"I'm nine, but I'll be 10 shortly," she added.
"Really? I kept track when I was nine, too. How many months to go?"
She didn't answer for such a long time he thought she hadn't heard him. Finally she said, "About eleven and a half." Her green eyes dared him to laugh. "How old are you, Eric?"
"I'm twelve," he declared, proudly.
"You're twelve and you're only that tall? You're going to be a short man!"
It wouldn't be the last time that Charly checked his ego, but it was the first and Eric was stunned. Girls his own age were paying attention to his green eyes and handsome face and were a lot nicer when they talked to him. "What do you know? You're only nine years old!"
Charly was quiet, except for her eyes. Which were insulted. Eric felt much better.
⇼
In his hotel room eighteen years later, Eric put his hands over his eyes to block out the memories. Love at twelve years old. The tears stung his eyes as they dripped one by one to his naked thighs. He couldn't remember ever crying and he marveled that as large as the teardrops were, they made no sound. When the wave of sorrow was completed he felt the aching of the dryness in his eyes. The room was so quiet that the silence demanded noise. He padded quietly on the thick carpet to the shower. Underneath the stinging bullets of hot water, he watched the steam encircle his feet and rise up the glass door with a snake-like rhythm. His mind was absolute blackness. Knowing the little he did he could only backtrack so far. Using the blackness as a shield, the way he'd learned, he fought the emotions.
He couldn't. The anger was too strong.
He threw back his head and embraced the hot shower of artificial tears.
Two
Seven Years Later
Charly slowly surfaced from the fog of the drug. "Alex ... my son ..." she tried to say around a tongue that was thick and dry and didn't feel like it belonged in her body. It came out sounding more like, "elllicssth ..." She could hear the sounds she was making and it made her angry. She tried again and had less success.
It was dark and she couldn't move. Am I paralyzed? she wondered. Was there an accident? She realized she couldn't see. I'm blind. I must have had a stroke. Then she opened her eyes, which worked a lot better. I'm not blind, I'm dumb! she thought and giggled to herself. There was sunshine coming through a window in the next room. I apparently didn't rate the presidential suite, she thought.
Then she found the wires that bound her arms and legs. What the fuck is going on? she wondered. Her heart was racing and she took a moment to concentrate on her breathing. In and out, breathe, slow in, slow out, she focused. The tingling sensation from the tightness of the wires made her painfully aware that this was real. She struggled against the bonds which rewarded her with pain. Frustrated and disoriented she fought harder against the restraints and succeeded in rolling off the edge of the mattress. It was only a few inches to the floor. Charly landed with a heavy thud.
When she opened her eyes she was facing some large boots. Looking up she recognized the thin frame of the tall man and she felt the fright she'd felt in her kitchen. "Yer pretty tall n'I don' like you at all," she mumbled into the toe of his boot.
"Get her up!" he commanded.
Charly felt herself lifted from both ends and the middle. With her face on level with his belly button she said, "Yer s'mean y'can't b'real. Wherz m'boy?"
"Sedate her again."
Charly didn't feel the needle at all this time. The tingling sensation quickly left her arms and legs. She could still hear their voices while she struggled to keep her eyes wide open.
"... really gonna hate to kill her. She's got a Iotta spunk ..."
"... lotta money, too," drifted another voice.
"They own ..."
Their voices became harder and harder to understand as Charly drifted away from them. "Alex," she tried to say again, through stiff lips tha
t refused to move. Please don't hurt Alex, she thought. The drug was a web closing around her brain, dragging the darkness with it. "Carlo! Look for Alex outside! I told him to run outside! Mommy's coming, Alex...." She floated for a while longer in the pain, then she was blessed with remembering.
Three
Charly and Simone met their first year in high school. It was another new school for Simone and she worked hard at staying invisible. Her father was a career man in the military, so she never knew when she was going to be uprooted and exposed to a new environment. Through all of the travel she'd been forced to experience she'd grown to love the diversity of climates, languages, and food.
She always hated the schools. Her flaming red hair was something else she hated. Coupled with her oversized glasses and lanky frame she was continually the object of cruel comments from both the girls and the boys in school. Around the globe she'd found that being the one who looks different means that you will be laughed at. Some of her tormentors had been mean, others had been really ruthless. With some it was enough to laugh and whisper and point at her. Others weren't satisfied until she was reduced to tears. The end result was a very low self-esteem, combined with a little self-loathing.
It was the second week of school and Simone was walking through the hallway with her eyes on the ground, trying not to draw attention to herself. She almost walked right into the dark haired girl standing against the wall. "'S’cuse me," Simone muttered.
The dark haired girl smiled up at her. "My name's Charly. I bet it's tough to be the new kid in school. I wouldn't know I've never been anywhere but here!" Charly laughed and Simone couldn't help herself. She smiled back at her.
Then Simone looked quickly up and down the hallway, wondering what was supposed to happen next. Would it be a group of them, or maybe just another girl for Charly to make fun of her with. Come on. No one's really that nice, Simone thought.
"So where'd you come from?" Charly asked, earnestly, with another big smile.
Here it comes, Simone thought. What does she want me to say? Mars?
Charly waited for an answer, her brilliant green eyes were wide and friendly. The eyes were what did it. She seemed so sincere. "Well, most recently we've been in France," Simone said, shyly.
Charly's eyes widened, "You're kidding! How long were you there?"
"Uhh ... just long enough," Simone said, with a nervous nonchalance.
The warning bell rang and students scurried quickly past them. "I'll look for you at lunch!" Charly yelled over her shoulder.
⇼
Simone approached the cafeteria with wariness. She'd been in similar situations a lot of times before where other kids approached her with seeming interest, then the sly looks would start to pass within the group. Without exception she always ended up feeling like a clumsy and awkward fool. So she was anticipating the worst when Charly stood and waved her over to the group. It was a quick introduction and Simone immediately forgot all of the names. They chattered noisily as she sat down.
"Did you see who's sitting beside me in Biology?"
"No, who got so lucky?"
"Forget Biology, what's up with the new Chemistry teacher?"
"Who knows? I'm repeating Algebra. I'm an embarrassment."
"Man, you're tall!" It was Charly. "What sports do you play?"
Simone had never had enough confidence to try out for any sport, although she was coordinated and quick. "I'm not sure if I'm good at anything. I've never tried out for a team."
"Really? I think you should try volleyball. We've got try-outs tonight. Want to sign up?" Charly prompted.
It was the start of a life-long friendship and a championship volleyball team.
⇼
At first Simone only noticed the differences between them. Her height versus Charly’s more compact stature. The feeling of awkwardness she carried with her versus Charly’s easy confidence. Her own feelings of constant change next to Charly’s solid base of family and friends.
Charly had presented Simone to her friends as if she were someone really wonderful, and they'd responded to her that way. She was smart enough to test into the higher level chemistry class, and athletic enough to survive all of the volleyball cuts and make the team.
They were playing basketball in her driveway when Charly invited herself to dinner. Her mother had opened the back door and the smells from the kitchen drifted down over the grass. "What is that? Whatever it is, it smells a lot better than what my mom's cooking. Would you ask your mom if I could stay?"
Simone never knew what her mom was preparing, but it was never anything normal. Having lived all around the world her mother took spices and recipes for the places they'd been. It made Simone feel awkward when all she wanted was meat and potatoes like everybody else with some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch. She was surprised by Charly's enthusiasm.
"I'll ask her!"
It was an unusual table that Charly sat down to. The main course simmered in the center of the table, surrounded by odd looking vegetables. Simone’s mother noticed her interest. "Those are impossible to find around here so I grow them myself," she smiled.
"No kidding," Charly smiled back. "I noticed them outside but I just thought your garden needed weeding."
"One person’s weed is another person’s vegetable."
"I guess that's true in this case! Would you pass that plate?"
After two heaping plates of food Charly moaned while Simone's mother cleared the plates. "I am soooooo full. I've never had anything like that. That was awesome!" She sat back and then asked, "Is there a little left in there?"
⇼
The next day in school all Charly could talk about was what a great cook Simone's mother was. It was the first time that Charly made her feel special. As that year passed, and then the next, Simone thought less about their surface differences and more about their similarities.
When it was game time for volleyball they were equal in their desire to win. The team knew that Charly would do whatever it took to bring the ball to the net, and Simone was punishing in her ability to slam it over the top.
They were so highly competitive that even the teachers would secretly compare their test scores to see who'd done better.
Then it was their senior year ... and the senior prom. The word was out that Tommy, the football captain, had chosen Charly as his date. Simone was torn between being happy for her friend and feeling jealous. She had a very large crush on Tommy and the thought of him asking anyone else left her envious, the thought of him asking Charly made her sick. What does she have that I don't have? she wondered.
It was Charly who brought up the subject. "Simone, who's on your list to go to the prom with? Start at the bottom."
"I'm not really sure if I want to go at all," Simone answered dishonestly. "I mean it's so much work to get dressed up and act like someone you're not."
"I guess I don't see it that way," Charly said. "I'm thinking it would be fun to dress up like the real princess that I am!"
"Yeah, well, that's you. You're special."
"Watch it. I'll kick your ass."
"Fine!"
"Say you're sorry."
"OKAY! I'm sorry you're a princess, Charly!"
"Hey! Watch it! I wasn't being real! I think this is a lot of fun and games! Are you with me or not?"
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Maybe I took the princess comment wrong."
"I'm really glad to hear you say that because I know something that you don't know!"
"What?"
"I know someone who's dying to ask you but he's afraid of being turned down."
"Really?" Simone said in surprise.
"Yeah."
"Is he short?"
"Everyone's shorter than you!"
"Is he stupid?"
"Duh. He wants to ask you to the prom! How smart can he be?''
"Will I hate him?"
"Do you trust me?" Charly asked.
"With my life, yes, but not with my prom date!"
Simone declared.
"I want to tell you more but he doesn't want you to know who he is unless you say yes. You've just got to believe that I wouldn't steer you wrong."
"That's totally not fair!" Simone said, jumping up. "You've got to give me a clue!"
Charly thought about it for a half second. "Okay. I'll tell you this. He's a good friend of the guy that I'm going with."
"Tommy asked you and you didn't tell me?"
"Tommy?" Charly yelped. "No way! What a loser! A good looking loser, for sure, but I'd never go with him. He'd never understand why I wouldn't laugh at his fart jokes."
Simone started to giggle. "I've always thought they were funny!"
"You need some real work, my gorgeous friend with a primitive sense of humor!" Charly laughed.
"Yeah, whatever," Simone said. Then she started to smile again. "Alright, already! I can't guess! If you're not going with Tommy then who's the lucky guy?"
Charly assumed a studied nonchalance. "You've never met him. I asked Eric."
"Really!" Simone said with surprise.
"Eric Tyler! The guy who went to military school? You're kidding! Good for you! It's about time you admitted you like him!"
"I do not! He's just a real good friend!" Charly responded defensively.
"Yeah, right. And I don't have red hair," Simone said as the bell rang. "Just tell me," she said, gathering her books, "Is this guy taller than me?"
"Is that a prerequisite?"
