The Reading Buddy

by Bryce Gibson

  I was opening my paper lunch bag when I heard someone call my name. I turned around to look, but nobody was there. I pulled my sandwich out of the bag, and, just as I was about to bite into it, I heard it again.

  This time, when I turned to look, I saw a thin trail of cigarette smoke coming from around the corner of the building. Then a face appeared. I recognized the guy from English class. He was wearing a ratty, black t-shirt, jeans, and a cap.

  He dropped the cigarette butt to the walkway, crushed it underneath his work boot, and began walking toward me.

  “Mind if I sit here?” He asked me.

  I shook my head.

  He straddled the bench so that he was facing me.

  “My name’s Cade,” he said. “It’s your dad that owns the brewery?”

  “Yes,” I told him.

  He smiled and didn’t say anything in return. Instead, he bent over and picked up a small rock.

  I changed the subject. “Do you always come out here by yourself?”

  “Me and my friend, Tristan, used to eat lunch out here everyday, but he graduated last year. He’s going to Tech now. Looks like it might be just me and you this year.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Looks like it.”

  Cade threw the rock and it skipped across the pavement of the sidewalk like it would have done on a pond.

  For the rest of the week I had somebody to eat lunch with. We didn’t talk much, but I liked the company.

  “What are you doing tonight?” Cade asked me on Friday.

  “Nothing.” I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Well, if you want to hang out...”

  Then I had an idea. “I can get the key to the brewery. Just bring your own cups.”

  IT WAS ALMOST MIDNIGHT, and I was standing in my room, facing the wall where the progress chart was hanging. I put a star next to step four.

  A moment later, I stepped out of my room and looked toward the closed door at the end of the hall. It was Dad’s bedroom. Over the sound of the late-night news, I could hear him snoring.

  I was careful to not make much noise as I made my way downstairs. I was holding both of my boots in my right hand.

  Wolf was following me. Her nails clicked on the hardwood of the steps.

  When we got to the front door, I reached into the front pocket of my jeans and pulled out five doggie treats. I knew that once the dog realized that I was leaving she would start to cry. It was a sound that would surely wake Dad. There was only one thing that would keep her quiet. Treats.

  I let her take one of the morsels from my hand, and I tossed the others onto the floor.

  While Wolf was preoccupied with collecting the scattered pieces of kibble, I slipped out the front door. The night air was muggy. I ran to the end of the driveway where I stopped to put on my boots.

  Cade’s pickup truck was parked at the end of the road. As soon as I had both of my boots on, I started to make my way there. I noticed several hunting related decals on the back glass. I swung open the passenger side door.

  “I thought you decided to bail on me.” Cade said and looked at his watch. “I was about to go break in there myself.”

  I didn’t think what he said was funny, but I laughed anyway. I reached into my pocket, pulled out the key to the brewery, and handed it to him.

  Cade took the key and threw it into the console’s cup holder. He put the truck in drive, and we started toward town. “I hope you like country,” he said and turned up the volume on the radio.

  “It’s fine,” I told him. “I’ll listen to whatever.”

  “Why is it that you don’t drive?” Cade asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “I have a license, but no car.” I told him. Half of it was a lie. The truth was that I had a license, but I wasn’t supposed to start driving again until the panic attacks began to settle down. I had a truck that was currently in Dad’s backyard, covered with a blue tarp.

  “So what are you into?” Cade asked. “Do you hunt?”

  I shook my head. “No,” I told him. “I like to read, and I like movies.”

  “What kind of movies do you like?”

  “Werewolf ones, mostly.”

  Neither Cade or I talked for the rest of the drive.

  “Park in the back,” I told him. “That way nobody will see us.”

  Cade followed my instructions and guided the truck around the square. He turned down a narrow alleyway that ran behind the buildings.

  We weren’t alone. A vintage black truck was parked behind the brewery. I could see the shadowy image of a person inside.

  “Crap, there’s somebody here. Don’t stop,” I said.

  “Calm down,” Cade told me and parked next to the other truck. “That’s just Tristan.”

  “I thought it was going to be just me and you.”

  Cade put the gear shift into park and turned to look at me. “Blake,” he laughed and made a face like he just realized something. “You weren’t expecting any kind of funny business were you? Because...”

  “No.” Then I realized what he was implying. “Hell no,” I added. The last thing I needed was for that kind of rumor to get started.

  Cade opened his door and got out of the truck. I sat where I was and watched him and Tristan talk. Like Cade, Tristan was wearing a ball cap, t-shirt, jeans, and boots.

  I was more comfortable being with one close friend instead of a group. I didn’t want to be there anymore.

  Cade was unlocking the door when he turned around to look at me. He motioned for me to get out of the truck, and I did. I mean, what else was I supposed to do?

  “Is there going to be an alarm?” He asked me as soon as I had my door open.

  I told him that there wasn’t, and he pushed the door inward. With Cade in the lead, Tristan next, and me last, the three of us entered into a small hallway that had a door on each side. The tasting room was straight ahead. “I’ll get the lights,” I said.

  Cade and Tristan continued on down the hall while I went through the door on the right. I was standing in the brewing area, the heart of the business. Like the rest of the building, the walls of the room were made of exposed brick. Moonlight came in through two large windows on the back wall and reflected off the stainless steel tanks and brewing equipment.

  The tanks were so tall that there were ladders next to each of them that the brew master would have to climb so that he could stir the mash with a long wooden paddle. The beginnings of the beer, the mash, would then be siphoned out into a fermenting tank where it would sit for several weeks. And then it would go into the kegs that were lined along the back wall. The electrical box was next to a dry-erase board that had the dates and times of the current brew. I opened the door to the box, flipped the switch, and the lights came on. Dad hated the sickly glow of fluorescent bulbs, and, just like every room at his house, all of the light fixtures in the brewery held the amber-colored glow of halogen.

  When I came around the corner into the tasting room, Cade was already behind the bar. He was filling a pint glass with beer from one of the taps that ran along the back wall.

  The tasting room was the most well presented area of the entire place. The bar and the walls of the small room were made of clean, polished wood.

  “I thought you were bringing your own cups,” I said.

  “My bad. I forgot.” Cade placed the full pint in front of Tristan who was sitting across from him. Cade got another glass from underneath the bar. “I’ll clean them before we leave.”

  “Just don’t break any,” I said. “Riley, the guy that works here, knows exactly how many of each style they have.”

  “So he’s OCD?” It was a girl’s voice that came from behind me.

  I spun around. “What?”

  “OCD. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.” It was the girl from the scuppernong field. “People with OCD like to count things,” she said. “They do it all the time.”

  I had no idea that she would be there. She must have come in when I had gone into t
he back to turn on the lights. She was standing in the corner where there were shelves of t-shirts and caps that all had the brewery’s logo printed on them. Like before, the girl had her hair braided in two pig-tails that came down past her shoulders.

  “But it’s okay,” she continued. “Everybody has their issues. I know I do.”

  Cade walked up beside me and handed the girl a full glass.

  She shook her head. “Cade, you know I’d be strung up like a wild hog if my dad smelled that on me.”

  Since the girl turned down the beer, Cade handed the glass to me. It was the first beer that I had ever tasted, but I tried to play it cool like it was something that I did all the time.

  “My name’s Lisa, by the way.”

  “Blake,” I told her.

  Cade spoke up. “Lisa’s homeschooled, but I figured y’all already knew each other. Her old man works for your dad and Mr. Callaway. She’s going to Clemson in the fall.”

  “Where are you going?” Lisa was looking at me.

  “I haven’t decided.” The plan was that I would be going to USC and be rooming with Davey who’d gotten a full scholarship. All of that was thrown out the window.

  “Don’t go to Tech,” Tristan spoke up and downed the rest of his beer. “It sucks.” I knew he was talking about Tech not the beer because he walked over to the taps and began to refill his glass. “We should party here after the homecoming dance,” he said.

  “You have no business at a high school dance,” Lisa told him.

  Tristan returned with a full glass. “Well, it just so happens that I have myself a little high school honey.”

  Cade patted my shoulder. “Lisa, Blake is probably looking for a date.”

  I felt myself turning red.

  “Why don’t we play cards?” Tristan changed the subject, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a full deck.”

  All four of us sat around one of the high-top tables. My mind wasn’t really in the game. I was uncomfortable with everything that was going on around me. My eyes began to wander around the brewery, and I noticed several framed art prints that hung on the wall. There was one in particular that caught my attention—a woman wearing a period dress and holding an axe.

  Her name was Becky Cotton, the Murderess of Edgefield. Legend had it that, back in the 1700s, she killed her husband with an axe. They say she haunts the area surrounding Slade Lake.

  It’s hard to explain, but as I recounted the legend in my mind, it was like I was seeing the murder as it took place. I could see the blood and hear the man screaming.

  But it wasn’t that death that I was visualizing. It was Davey’s.

  Thinking about all of that, in addition to the alcohol, made the room feel like it was spinning, and I was starting to feel dizzy. I was hot. “I’m going to step outside for some fresh air.”

  The night air was cool. It was pleasant. The brewery had an impressive store front that had been constructed to look like an old porch. I leaned on the rail and faced the grassy square. Overhead, the moon was bright. Other than the talk and laughter that was coming from inside the brewery, the town was quiet. I bowed my head and took several deep breaths, and when I looked up again, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.

  I stood up straight to get a better look. Something was moving around the opposite side of the gazebo. Other than the moon and the streetlights, the area was dark, and it took me a second to comprehend what I was seeing.

  There was a person standing in the center of the gazebo. The figure was wearing what looked like a black rain jacket. Underneath the hood, the face was marred by dark shadow. He, or she, or it was staring straight at me.

  I took a step back and tripped over something that was on the floor. As I fell backward, my hands reached and grabbed at the empty air in front of me. When I landed, something cut into my shoulder, and the back of my head thudded against something solid. Everything waivered in and out of consciousness.

  And next, there was darkness.

  chapter five

  CADE, LISA, AND TRISTAN were standing over me.

  “Look at all the blood.” It was Lisa’s voice that I heard. “There’s so much. What if he needs stitches?”

  I tried to sit up, but I was stopped short by the pain.

  Lisa knelt down next to me. “Help me get him to his feet.” She was talking to Cade. She stepped around so that she was behind me.

  Following instructions, Cade moved so that he was facing me, reached out his hand, and I extended my hand to his. From behind, Lisa’s hands were on each side of my waist. “On the count of three,” she said. “One, two, three.” Cade pulled and Lisa lifted. Then, I was standing.

  Lisa let go of my waist, but I immediately wanted her hands back on my body. She lifted the back of my shirt all the way above my shoulders. I could feel the cool air on my bare skin. I heard Lisa gasp. “It’s pretty bad,” she said and dropped my shirt.

  “I’ll get my truck,” Cade said and was already going back through the front door of the brewery.

  “And then what?” Lisa questioned Cade’s motives.

  “County ER is open all night,” he told her.

  Lisa shook her head. “They’ll need proof of insurance. We’ll have to get his dad.” She turned her attention from Cade toward me. “Where is your phone?”

  Shit, I thought to myself. I am going to be in so much trouble. Sneaking out of the house, taking the keys, drinking... I did not want to call my dad.

  I shook my head. “I can’t...”

  “You’ve got to get to the doctor,” Lisa said and reached into the front pocket of my jeans. Her hand came out with the phone. She scrolled through my contacts and dialed Dad’s number.

  There was a long moment of silence. I knew Dad was sleeping. It was nearly two in the morning. I imagined him stumbling from the bed to get his phone. Then he answered.

  “This is Lisa Tanner. Blake had an accident. I think he might need stitches. We’re at the brewery.” Lisa disconnected the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket. “He’s on the way.”

  Dad was there within ten minutes. When he got out of the truck, I was relieved to see that the expression on his face was more of concern than anger.

  “My God, Blake,” Dad said when he saw the blood. “Get in the truck.”

  From the passenger seat, I watched as Dad locked the brewery and sent Cade, Lisa, and Tristan on their way.

  “What happened?” Dad wanted to know after getting behind the wheel.

  “I thought I saw somebody and I... I started to go back inside, but I tripped.” I leaned forward. “I don’t want to get blood on your seat.”

  I knew there were other questions that hung between us. Thankfully, none of that was brought up. But I knew that it was only a matter of time before it would be. Soon I would have to come clean about what I had done.

  There was nobody else in the emergency room that night, and I was able to be seen right away. After a tetanus shot, the nurse gave me pain meds that made me feel loopy, and the doctor stitched the gash with thick black sutures.

  I WOKE TO A BARE ROOM full of moonlight.

  No. I realized a moment later that all of the light wasn’t coming from outside. Across the room, on top of the desk, my laptop was open. I stood from the bed, went to the computer, and saw that The Reading Buddy site was up.

  I placed my finger on the power button and was about to shut the computer down when I heard a thud against the hardwood floor.

  The sound had come from inside the room right behind me. I stood up straight, spun around, and found myself facing someone in a black rain jacket. Because of the hood, the figure’s face was covered in shadow.

  My hands fumbled behind me searching for something that I could fight with, and I bumped into the computer. The whole thing fell backward and landed so that the monitor was at the perfect angle to shed light onto the intruder’s face. It was my stepdad. I had seen dead fish with eyes that looked like his. I could see the purple veins that r
an underneath his skin. I realized that the thud that I had heard had come from the axe that he was holding in his right hand.

  He lifted the axe, swung it over his shoulder, and brought it down toward me.

  I SHOT UP IN THE BED and found myself kicking at the sheets and blanket. Realizing it had all been a dream, my heart rate slowly began to ease back to normal. I looked around my room and it was the usual, junky space I was used to. The walls were not empty like they had been in the dream—all of my posters were there as well as the progress chart that Mrs. Reynolds had given me.

  Eventually, the sound of a tractor caused me to get up. I went to the window that overlooked the hop yard and pushed the curtain aside. What I saw was breathtaking.

  The tractor was making its way down one of the rows. Some sort of equipment was attached to the back that had two extended arms that seemed to be stripping the hops from the vines and dropping them in a waiting trailer.

  The man on the tractor was wearing a red and black plaid button down shirt. A straw hat was on his head. I knew that the man that I was seeing must have been Mr. Tanner, Lisa’s father.

  My attention to the process was broken by a black double-cab truck that pulled up to the edge of the field. A man that I had never seen before got out of the truck and left the door standing open.

  Once the tractor reached the end of the row, Mr. Tanner shut off the equipment and climbed down from the seat. A minute later, Dad appeared from around the corner and went over to the pair of men. After a brief exchange with the man from the truck, Dad placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, but the man shoved Dad’s hand away and shook his head.

  I had no idea what was going on or who the man was, but it was obvious that he was upset with Dad. As the man walked back toward his truck, he stopped and looked up to where I was standing. I felt my heart skip a beat, and I dropped the curtain. A second later, I heard the front door slam shut.

  By the time that I got downstairs, Dad was standing at the bottom of the staircase.