by Bryce Gibson
CHARLEY.
There was no last name. With my eyes, I followed the line across the paper to the email block that was on the far right side.
[email protected]
A chill ran up and down my spine. Goosebumps covered my arms. I dropped the clipboard to the table where it clattered and fell to the floor. I turned to walk away and was stopped dead in my tracks by the harsh sounding screech of metal chair legs on the polished floor. I looked over my shoulder. Where there had been nobody just a second earlier, a man was now standing from the chair.
“Are you interested in going to school with us?”
He was older than any of the other reps. He was bald, chubby, and was wearing a generic cotton polo that had a wrinkled collar.
“I – I don’t know,” I told him. “I’m just checking things out right now.”
“Well, it is a big decision. It’s the rest of your life that we’re talking about. We can send you more info if you wish.” He came around the table, picked up the clipboard from the floor, and held it out toward me. “Charley would love to have you join him.”
I SHOT UP IN THE BED. My heart was hammering in my chest. I reached over to the nightstand and picked up my phone. It was only six-thirty in the evening. For a second I thought I had been out all night. Realizing that I had been in the middle of another bad dream, I flung myself backward onto the bed.
Big. Ass. Mistake.
Beginning at the tender wound on my shoulder, the pain shot through the right side of my body. I needed a dose of pain meds, like, now. No, scratch that. I needed it an hour ago.
I stood from the bed and started to make my way to the bathroom when I caught my reflection in the mirror that hung on the back of my bedroom door. I was still wearing the clothes that I had fallen asleep in. Now my shirt tails were out. My bow-tie was loose and askew.
In the bathroom, I opened the medicine cabinet and took one of the pills from the orange bottle that I kept on the bottom shelf. Not a second after I popped the pill in my mouth, I heard a high-pitched, piercing howl coming from downstairs. It was a sound that made my skin crawl.
A second later, the howl turned into a deep, steady bark. It was Wolf. And right along with her was another bark, this one smaller and higher pitched. Zee.
I stepped quietly down the hall. From the top of the stairs I could see Wolf pacing at the door. Her tail was swishing back and forth. Her ears were perked. Based on the dog’s frantic, quick movements, it was obvious that somebody was outside. In a frenzy, Zee was skittering and sliding about the floor all around the older dog.
I slowly made my way down the steps. My heart was hammering behind my rib cage so fierce I could feel the throbbing of my pulse all the way in my throat. Midway down the staircase I stopped. I was close enough that I could clearly see the deadbolt. It was turned to the left. Unlocked. My stomach went queasy.
Obviously I hadn’t, but I was sure that I had locked the door when I’d come in from the walk with Lisa. And Dad wasn’t supposed to get off work till eight so I knew it wasn’t him that had left it that way.
I would feel better if the door was locked. That way, just in case, whoever Wolf was barking at couldn’t come inside. I hurried down the rest of the steps, taking them two at a time. As soon as I was at the door, I reached my hand to the lock and flipped it to the right. Then, I pushed the curtain back just an inch. It was enough for me to see outside. Nothing was there.
The sky was dark with storm clouds. Wind gusts were causing tree limbs to sway and bend at scary angles. The rain came down in heavy repetitions pounding on the tin roof of the porch.
Had it been the storm that had caused Wolf’s reaction? I had heard that it wasn’t unusual for pets to act that way during inclement weather. My heart rate began to settle, and I let the curtain spring back into place.
Then there was a dull thump from somewhere inside the house. It sounded like something solid against the wood floor. I remembered the dream where my step-dad had stood in front of me and how he had let the axe slip through his hand. That was exactly what I was hearing now sounded like.
Deciding that the noise was probably just a tree limb hitting the outside of the house, I pressed on, walking toward the living room. I needed to check just to make sure. There was another thud. This one identical to the first. I was right. It wasn’t on the outside wall. The sound was lower, on the floor. It was coming from inside the house.
After rounding the corner, standing at the threshold, my eyes scanned the living room. The corners were dark and full of shadow. But even in that darkness, I saw movement on the left side of the room. Someone turned on the lamp, and the corner of the room was lit in a soft, orange glow. I was frozen in place until I realized what I was seeing.
Dad was sitting in the chair. It was obvious to me now that the pair of thuds that I had heard had been the sound of him taking off his heavy work boots and letting each of them fall to the floor. He looked up at me and laughed. “What are you wearing?”
I felt myself turn red with embarrassment. I hadn’t told him about the dance. “The homecoming dance is Saturday,” I muttered.
“Oh,” he continued. “That’s right. This is Spirit Week. Today was Homecoming Preview Day. I’m glad you participated.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. I thought it was funny that he hadn’t even considered the idea of me actually going to the dance, but if that’s what he wanted to think, at least the explanation would be easier on my part. “Yeah,” I said, not wanting to explain anything else. “I thought you wouldn’t be home until later.”
“They let me leave early. And besides, I’m beat.” He sighed and stood from the chair. “I’m going to head upstairs for a quick shower.” He was making his way across the room. “Oh, by the way, I brought that box inside. It had your name on it.” He pointed toward the coffee table in front of the couch where there was a rectangular box sitting on top. I hadn’t even noticed it until now.
“Is that what all the barking was about?” I asked. Wolf must have been worked up over the mail carrier stepping onto the porch.
Dad nodded his head. “Open it,” he said. “Let’s see what’s inside.
I went over to the box and put my phone down on the floor. The movement caused the phone to wake up. Lisa’s picture was still there. I looked up at Dad who was looking down at the phone.
“Is that Mr. Tanner’s daughter?”
I nodded and pressed the button on the side of the phone causing Lisa’s picture to disappear. I was embarrassed.
“She doesn’t go to school with you,” Dad stated matter-of-factly. He looked confused.
Dad reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his pocket knife. He flipped the blade out and handed it to me. The packing tape popped from the pressure of the blade’s tip. I sliced the tape all the way down the length of the box. With both hands, I opened up the top flaps. Wolf and Zee were right beside me, eager to see what was inside.
There was a crumpled mess of brown packing paper that I removed and dropped to the floor. Then, from inside the box, a girl’s deep blue eyes were staring back at me.
chapter ten
IT WAS THE COVER OF a book.
On the illustration, a blonde girl was turning away from a curtained window. She had a terrified look on her face. A dark figure stood on the other side of the glass, looking in. The title of the book was The Watcher. It wasn’t the only book in the box. There was a stack of others that were the same size. I took several of the thin paperbacks from the box and placed them next to me on the floor.
As I worked, I noticed a familiar scent that clung to the box and its contents. It was a sweet, flowery fragrance. I recognized it right away. It was the perfume that Davey’s mother liked to wear. In fact, she had been wearing it the first time I ever saw her.
After Mom’s car crash, I spent a lot of time in Morris’s store. I would go there every day after school. Usually I hung out in the back, but sometimes I helped stock shelves. One day,
in the middle of October, I was on the floor, busy organizing a shelf, when I heard the familiar ding of the front door opening.
I peeked through the shelving unit. Along with a flurry of bright orange leaves, the bottom of a fur coat trailed behind the woman that entered. Her wavy blonde hair brushed her shoulders. She looked like a movie star. There was a boy with her. Like the woman, he had yellow-blonde hair. He was wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a plain black t-shirt.
“Ding ding!” The woman called out, mimicking the sound of the door chime.
“Mom!” The boy that was with her sounded embarrassed.
“Davey, we’ve got to get the attention of the clerk. Ding, ding,” she said again.
I stood up and rounded the corner. “Can I help you?” I asked.
The woman held her hand out to me. I put my hand in hers. “I’m Miss Janice Steep,” she said. “And this is my son, Davey. We’re going to be moving here soon.” She pointed across the width of the space. “Anyway, that pool out by the road. I would like to know about it.”
I went and got Morris from the stockroom. He led the woman outside, leaving me and the boy, Davey, in the store. I went back to work, but every so often I would glance over at Davey who was leaning against the wall.
Now, as I looked through the stack of books, I placed them on the floor on top of one another, building a new stack. There were seven books in all. All of them had similar covers with colorful sketches of terrified teenagers and bright, neon titles.
A letter sized white envelope was tucked into one of the thin volumes closest to the bottom. I slid the envelope from the pages. My first name had been printed on the outside of the envelope in fancy, cursive handwriting. Other than my name, the envelope was blank. The envelope wasn’t sealed. Instead, the flap had been tucked inside. I lifted the flap and slid the contents out. It was a single, folded piece of paper that had the same handwriting as what was on the envelope.
BLAKE,
I hope you are doing better. I truly hate to see you get hurt. As you know, you are like a son to me. Please, let’s get together sometime soon. I miss you so much.
The books that I’m sending you are some of the ones that I had when I was a teenager. I want you to have them. I’m sure Davey would want that too.
Call me anytime. Or write. Or text. You mean the world to me.
Love always,
Janice
I LOWERED THE PAPER. It was the first time I had heard from Miss Steep since Davey’s funeral. I missed her.
After our first meeting in the store, Davey started going to school in Ridge Spring, and we quickly became friends. We spent a lot of time together at his house and mine. It wasn’t just him that I was close to. Miss Steep’s presence had helped fill the void that Mom’s death left behind. She treated me the same as her own son. On my birthday, I was shocked when Davey confessed to me that the money inside my card was the same amount that she had given him.
chapter eleven
IT WAS TUESDAY. STOPLIGHT Day.
The halls of Edgefield County High were full of students that were wearing red, yellow, and green. I had already heard that there was an underlying meaning to the colors: green meant you were single, yellow signified that you were somebody’s friend with benefits, and red told others to stay away because you were taken.
At lunch I went outside to where the picnic table sat empty amid the gray, gloomy day. On TV that morning, the weatherman had predicted that the last of the storm clouds would be out of the area by mid-afternoon. It would be a beautifully clear night full of shining stars and the soon-to-be full moon, he had said.
As I was sitting down, I noticed that all of the old scratches on the tabletop had been written over with black marker. It made the whole thing clear to me for the first time. At the top, someone’s initials were written in capital letters: WHC. Even though I tried, my mind couldn’t immediately connect the initials with anyone that I knew. Below the initials was a horizontal line that separated the rest of what was there into some kind of chart. There were three columns: C, T, and B; each was separated by a vertical line. The C column had five hash marks, the T column three, and B was empty. That wasn’t all: something else looked different about the letter B. I placed the palm of my hand flat on the wood and ran it over the diagram. Everything there, except for the letter B and the fifth hash mark under C, had been cut into the wood and then traced over with the black ink; it had all been there before. But the B and the fifth mark only existed in ink. They hadn’t been carved into the wood. They were new.
Finally, after giving up on trying to make any sense to what I was seeing, I dropped my book bag to the ground and sat down. I reached into my bag and pulled out my lunch. I put the paper bag on the table and ripped it all the way down the side so that it was splayed open like a placemat. The bag covered the whole confusing image that was now underneath. I unwrapped my sandwich from the tinfoil and was about to take a bite when I noticed something else: it was a glaringly white corner of paper that had been shoved into one of the cracks between the boards of the tabletop. I pinched my fingers onto the paper and pulled it free.
It was an index card that had been folded over several times into a thick, cardboard-like square. I unfolded it and saw a crudely drawn picture of a girl. Really, it was barely more than a stick figure, but the hair—two pigtails—made it unmistakable as to who the picture represented. FOR A GOOD TIME CALL LISA TANNER was written below the girl. I closed my hand around the index card and crumpled it into my fist.
I heard someone walk up behind me. I turned to look and was not surprised to see Cade. He was standing with a pair of crutches, one under each arm. His right leg was in a cast. It was the first time that I had seen him since Friday night. Even though I had missed having him with me at lunch on Monday, at that particular moment, because of what I had seen, just the sight of him made me angry. It caused red-hot rage to boil inside my body. He was wearing a yellow polo, a false claim, I thought.
“What the hell is this?” I unfolded the index card and slammed it down on top of the table, face up.
Admittedly, confrontation was something that was way out of character for me, and just the thought of it usually made me nervous. So, needless to say, because of my actions, I could feel my pulse thrumming in my throat.
Cade laughed. “Well, thanks for asking me how I’m feeling, Blake. My leg’s broken by the way, but, other than that, I’m doing fine.”
He hobbled closer to where I was sitting until he was standing right behind me. He had the audacity to grab onto my lunch bag and slide it out of the way. The chart was facing me again. “It’s our club,” he said and placed his hand on my shoulder. “I went ahead and wrote you in. I tried to get you your first score Friday night...”
Part of what I was seeing became clear. The letters at the top of each column...
C – Cade.
T – Tristan.
And, B ‒ Blake.
I felt a pit forming in the bottom of my stomach. I had a sinking, sick feeling about everything that I was hearing. There was more going on than I wanted to be part of, more than what I even wanted to know about.
“What do the marks mean?” I didn’t look up at him as I talked.
“Girls, Blake.” He said it like I was stupid. Naïve. “Those marks represent girls.”
So that was it. It was all a game to see who could score the most. And to make it worse, Cade was exaggerating his “achievements”. He was spreading rumors that he had done things, things with Lisa, that he hadn’t.
“You’re crazy,” I said. “I’m not going to be part of anything like that.”
Not wanting to hear anymore, I began gathering up my stuff. I wadded the lunch bag, tinfoil, and sandwich into one palm-sized mushy ball. I hadn’t even taken one bite of the sandwich. I stood from the table, grabbed my book bag, and pushed past Cade. I threw my uneaten lunch into the trashcan that was next to the school doors.
Before I went inside, I turned to look at
Cade one more time. He had followed me. We were standing just a couple of feet apart. “Leave her alone, Cade. Leave both of us alone.”
“You’ve got it all wrong, Blake. The thing is, after Lisa and I hooked up, I told her that it was just a one time thing, but she won’t stop pestering me about it.”
We stood there staring at each other. My arms hung straight down my sides. I started to clench my right hand into a fist.
“And in case you hadn’t figured it out by now, that newest mark on the table,” Cade said, “that one’s Lisa.”
I’m not an idiot like he thought. I had figured it out, but the thing is, it wasn’t true. What he was saying was nothing but a lie.
A lot of what was going wrong in my life could be blamed on Cade and his father. Anger built up inside of me until I couldn’t take any more. I let my book bag slide off my left shoulder and all the way down my arm to where it hit the ground. I clenched my right hand into a fist, pulled my arm back, and took a powerful swing at Cade’s face. It was the first time that I had ever punched somebody, and admittedly, it felt great. If need be, I would do it again in a heartbeat.
Cade fell to his knees. The crutches clattered to the concrete on each side of him. His hand went to the side of his face where my fist had landed. I noticed a dark, steady stream of blood was pouring from his nose.
Mrs. Reynolds had told me once before that, when I was ready, I would need to commit myself to changing. It was only then that I would begin to achieve my goals, she’d said. Well, here you go, boss lady...by punching Cade, I had cemented myself on where I stood—Lisa was a friend that I was willing to fight for.
And Cade, an enemy.
DAD HAD TO LEAVE WORK early so that he could pick me up.
From the open doorway of the principal’s office, I watched Dad enter the building. I could tell that he was pissed as soon as I saw how he swung open the school door. Once inside, he immediately headed my way, taking long, meaningful strides to get there. White, dusty residue clung to the blue fabric of his work clothes.
