Against the Grain

by Phil M. Williams

  They stop walking. She lifts his chin and presses her lips to his. “You’re way too hard on yourself. It’s too much to deal with, for anyone.”

  They continue to the end of the trail. Emily gasps at the construction site. Moonlight reflects off the vinyl siding and concrete curbing. Matt points to the wood line.

  “I burned the bees.” He shakes his head. “I put gasoline on the hives and torched every one of them. I did that.”

  “They would’ve done the same thing.”

  “Maybe, I don’t know. At least I could’ve made it difficult for someone, make someone else carry this. I didn’t have to do their dirty work for them.”

  “At the time you thought you had to do it.”

  Matt frowns. They walk past pallets of particle board and skeleton homes built with two-by-fours, awaiting their skin. They stop in the middle of the not-yet-paved gravel road.

  “Do you know where we’re standing?” he asks.

  She looks beyond the half-built homes at what’s left of the woods, trying to orient herself. A tear slides down her cheek. She wipes it with the back of her hand.

  “Our pond,” she says.

  He nods.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He looks down. “Don’t be.”

  “We need to talk about my parents.”

  He looks at Emily. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “You’ll talk about anything, but you avoid this topic. Why?”

  Matt shrugs.

  “And you have an answer for everything except this.”

  “I lost you before, because I talked about your parents. I’m not doing it again.”

  “We can’t avoid them forever. I hate lying to see you.”

  “I won’t make the same mistake twice,” he says.

  Matt removes a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. He hands it to Emily.

  “What’s this?” she asks.

  “Read it.”

  She unfolds the paper, her eyes scroll back and forth, as she digests the coroner’s report. She looks up, her eyes red.

  “Jesus,” Emily says. “Where’d you get this?”

  “John Jacobs, the developer. I met with him earlier today. … Well, I guess technically yesterday.”

  Emily crosses her arms over her chest. “Why would he give this to you?”

  “He said he felt bad about what happened with the farm and Uncle.”

  “Just like that, out of the blue?”

  Matt looks down.

  Emily narrows her eyes. “What did you do?”

  Matt spends the next fifteen minutes explaining how he had followed John Jacobs with Tariq and how they took illicit pictures of him with another woman at the Days Inn and blackmailed him with the photos. He left out the other woman’s identity.

  Emily frowns with her arms crossed. “Jesus Christ, Matt, this isn’t a Hardy Boys novel. This is really dangerous. Please don’t ever do anything like that again.”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  She smirks and shakes her head. “Try, huh?”

  He nods.

  “What now? Do you take this to the police?”

  Matt frowns. “I’m not sure it makes sense to take it to the same people who made a false coroner’s report. We are talking about murder here. I doubt Chief Campbell would have an issue murdering again to stay out of jail. I could find myself at the bottom of a river with concrete shoes. I just wanted you to know. Please don’t tell anyone about this.”

  Emily nods. “This is really scary. Do you think he knows that you know?”

  “I was there, remember? But it doesn’t matter what I know, if nobody believes me.”

  +++

  Matt shuffles, bleary-eyed, to his locker, as kids rush to their buses. He shoves a textbook inside and slams shut his locker. He catches a glimpse of Emily down the hall, her straight blond hair a little messier than usual, but her face is bright and radiant, as if she didn’t skimp on beauty sleep. She sends a smile his way through the crowd. His pulse quickens. He waits, leaning against his locker, feeling like he could hibernate. She saunters over, her hips moving side to side.

  “You look like you’re about to die,” Emily says with a grin. “Did you sleep at all?”

  “Maybe an hour or two,” he says.

  “You should take a nap. Do you still wanna meet up later?”

  “Of course. What time?”

  “My parents are usually asleep by ten, so how about eleven at the mulch trail?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “I should get going. I have physics club.” Emily glances around and gives Matt a quick peck on the lips. “Get some sleep.”

  “See you tonight,” he says.

  Matt staggers to the media room, his head sagging, and his eyes bloodshot. Madison, Tariq, and Jared stop talking, as he enters the room. They sit at the round wooden table.

  “I can’t stay today,” Matt says. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

  Madison glares through heavy black eyeliner. “We need to talk,” she says.

  Matt slumps into the empty seat at the table.

  “We’ve been talking.” Madison looks around at Jared and Tariq. “And, we think you’re letting Emily affect your judgment, and not in a good way.”

  Matt rubs his temples and sits up. “I’m gonna tell you guys this once. I’ve known Emily for a long time. She’s my best friend. I’ve been racking my brain for a way to do this without hurting her. I’d rather not do it, if it’s going to.”

  Madison frowns. “We don’t even know what it is yet. All we have is a bunch of hypotheticals, and Tariq told us that you let Jacobs off the hook.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve given you guys tons of information. George and I hacked about every computer in this school. We have enough dirt to get a third of the staff and administrators fired. And I didn’t let Jacobs off the hook. He and his wife have an open marriage. She already knows.”

  Madison purses her lips. “But we don’t have enough to get rid of Dr. Hansen. Not without using the tape.”

  “She’s right,” Tariq says.

  “I agree,” Jared says.

  “I don’t think we need to use it,” Matt says. “Once the media gets ahold of how corrupt and poorly run this place is, she’ll get fired. She’s ultimately responsible.”

  Madison rolls her eyes. “See? This is what we’re talking about.”

  “You can do it without me and without the tape then.”

  “Hold on,” Tariq says. “Matt did risk his ass to get that tape, so he should decide.”

  Madison glares at Tariq.

  “If we do what we talked about last time, he’ll be the one who takes the heat anyway.”

  “Tariq’s got a point,” Jared says.

  “Whatever,” Madison says.

  “Are you in?” Tariq asks Matt.

  “As long as Emily doesn’t get hurt.”

  “She’s gonna get hurt either way,” Madison says. “If her mom gets fired, then her perfect little suburban existence will be turned upside down.”

  “That’s enough,” Matt says. “If you want me here, I won’t listen to you bad-mouth her. You don’t know anything about her. If her mother gets fired for doing a poor job, that Emily can handle. If that tape gets out, I’m not so sure. How would you like to see your parents like that?”

  Madison glares at Matt. “I don’t have parents.”

  Matt exhales. “Neither do I. It’s called empathy.”

  “Relax, Madison,” Tariq says. “Why don’t we continue planning and making preparations, and, if we can’t come to an agreement, we’ll abort.”

  “I agree,” Jared says.

  “Me too,” Matt says.

  “Fine,” Madison says.

  [ 17 ]

  The Calm before the Swarm

  “Later, dude,” George says.

  Matt shuts the door on the black Mustang. The car kicks up gravel, the back end fishtailing as George drives away.

&nbs
p; Ms. Pierce’s blond ponytail bounces as she strides toward Matt in her jeans and hiking boots. Her face is riddled with concern. “I’m not sure we can work today. I need to call an exterminator. You’re not allergic to bees, are you?”

  “No.”

  Ms. Pierce walks around the house to the backyard.

  There’s a strong hum of buzzing. A stone shed sits under an old honey locust tree. She points halfway up the tree at a football-size cluster of honeybees, hanging off a branch. Matt smiles wide and walks toward the bees.

  Ms. Pierce grabs his arm. “Not too close,” she says.

  “They’re honeybees. They’re swarming. They’re just getting together, waiting for a scout to find a new home. They usually only sting when they’re protecting their hive. Since they don’t have a hive yet, they’re really docile. We could make a hive for them. They’re great for pollination, plus you can stop buying those twenty-dollar jars of honey.”

  “Will I have bees swarming everywhere? I don’t want to be afraid to go outside.”

  “They won’t bother you, I guarantee it. Bees are really nice. I can take care of the hive. We’ll split the honey like the produce. These bees will make a great colony. They’ve already adapted to the local environment.”

  “How do you catch a swarm?”

  “It’s simple. First we need to build the hive. Do you have any wood?”

  “Derrick kept some stuff in the shed. There might be some odds and ends in there.”

  Matt marches to the shed, underneath the swarm. Ms. Pierce keeps her distance. He undoes the latch and opens the wooden door. The smell of mold and dirt wafts through the air. Rusted shovels, rakes, and a wooden stepladder hang from the east wall. A workbench, with hand tools hanging from a Peg-Board, sits along the north wall. Two-by-fours and a few sheets of plywood lean against the west wall. Matt inspects the hanging tools. A cabinet with tiny drawers sits on the workbench. He opens a drawer filled with nails, another with screws, and another with smaller nails.

  Matt emerges from the shed, grinning. Bees buzz in and out of the swarm over his head.

  “We have almost everything we need,” Matt says, as he strides toward Ms. Pierce. “I do need to hurry, if I’m gonna catch ’em. They could leave at any time. Do you know anyone who would lend us some power tools?”

  “Mr. Clemens, our old shop teacher, he lives up the road. I see him working on his farm all the time, now that he’s retired. I’m sure he’d lend us whatever we need.”

  +++

  Mr. Clemens stares at the wooden box sitting on a four-post wooden stand. His face is worn, with a white beard absent hair on his upper lip. He wears black trousers, a short-sleeved button-down shirt, and suspenders.

  “That’s a mighty fine box, Matthew,” Mr. Clemens says.

  Matt nods his head. “Thank you. There’s no way I could’ve done this without your help.”

  “Thank you, Elam,” Ms. Pierce says.

  “It was my pleasure. It’s the most fun I’ve had in quite some time. Now I wanna see you catch those bees.” The old man grins and strokes his beard.

  Matt sets up the ten-foot-tall wooden stepladder next to the swarm. He steps up to the top rung of the ladder, holding a handsaw. He saws off the end of the limb to make it lighter. The buzzing of the swarm intensifies as the branch end drops twelve feet to the ground. He repositions the ladder and saws the branch between the swarm and the trunk of the tree. He saws with one hand and braces the branch with the other. Bees circle Matt’s head, buzzing his ears.

  The branch cracks. Matt holds tight and keeps sawing. The branch comes free. He sets the saw on top of the ladder and steps down, holding on to the branch of swarming bees. Mr. Clemens watches with a grin. Ms. Pierce winces, waiting for Matt to get stung. Matt treads to the open wooden box. He places the swarm inside the hive, still holding on to the branch. He lifts up and slams the branch end down on the bottom of the box. The swarm falls off the branch into their new hive. Matt removes the bee-less branch. Mr. Clemens sets the roof on top of the hive. A few stragglers linger on the branch. Matt sets it near the hive entrance.

  “As long as we got the queen in there, the others will follow,” Matt says.

  “Do you think they’ll stay?” Ms. Pierce asks.

  “It’s a good home. They’ll stay.”

  “Fine work, young man. … I’m gonna head on back awhile,” Mr. Clemens says. “I gotta couple chores to finish. You let me know if you need anything, Olivia. Matthew, it was mighty fine to meet you.”

  Ms. Pierce and Matt wave as Mr. Clemens drives away in his old diesel pickup truck.

  “Wow, where did the day go?” Ms. Pierce says. “It’s a bit late for lunch. How about an early dinner?”

  “I’m sorry. I have plans. It’s Emily’s birthday. She’s gonna pick me up soon. Her parents bought her a car.”

  Ms. Pierce smiles. “She must be excited.”

  “They gave it to her last week, so the shock has worn off, but she’s pretty happy.”

  Ms. Pierce frowns. “Are you gonna go like that?”

  Matt looks down at his dirt-stained tan pants and holey T-shirt, and shrugs. “I guess so.”

  She shakes her head. “Not a great idea.”

  “Emily doesn’t care. I’m actually pretty clean. I didn’t sweat much. We were working in the shade.”

  “Emily’s a nice girl, so she might not say anything, but she’s still a girl. She’ll want you to be clean and somewhat presentable. It is her birthday. You can shower here. Derrick left his clothes, so you can borrow whatever you want. You’re about his size.”

  Ms. Pierce leads Matt to the guest bedroom and shows him Derrick’s clothes. She gives him a fresh towel and a washcloth, and leaves him to clean up.

  +++

  Matt strolls to the kitchen in jeans and a black T-shirt with a red A on the front, his hair still damp.

  Ms. Pierce smiles. “You shine up like a new penny.”

  “I do feel better.”

  “Do you have time to eat a little something?”

  Matt glances at the clock on the stove. “I think so.”

  “How about a glass of milk and a homemade granola bar?”

  “That sounds good.”

  “Are you supposed to eat with Emily?”

  “We were gonna have a picnic.”

  “Will this spoil your dinner?”

  “I can eat twice. I haven’t eaten much today.”

  Ms. Pierce grabs the granola bars from the pantry and milk from the fridge.

  She glances at Matt. “Sit down,” she says.

  Matt sits at the kitchen table. Ms. Pierce sets a glass of milk in front of him and a plate with two homemade granola bars.

  “I have leftover salad too, if you want some?” she says.

  “That sounds good.”

  She fills two bowls with a salad of feta cheese, walnuts, and baby arugula.

  “By the way, this arugula is the best I’ve ever had,” she says. “I can’t believe how fast it came in. It’ll be nice when our tomatoes are ready.”

  “It’ll probably be another six weeks or so for tomatoes. We can start harvesting lettuce and spinach soon. In a few weeks, we should get wax beans and peas.”

  “Plus we have bees now. When do you think we might be able to harvest honey?”

  “Next spring, I don’t like to take any honey the first year or before the winter. Most beekeepers take all the honey and feed their bees sugar water. But bees are supposed to eat honey, not sugar. I’ll only take honey if they have a surplus going into the heavy nectar flow of the spring.”

  Ms. Pierce sets down her salad fork. “So you and Emily, how’s that going?”

  Matt blushes.

  “That well, huh?” Ms. Pierce grins. “How long have you two been dating?”

  “About a month, I guess, if you don’t count a long time ago.”

  Ms. Pierce raises her eyebrows.

  “We were … are best friends. We’ve known each other since we wer
e twelve.”

  “I thought you two had history.”

  “What about you, Ms. Pierce? Do you have a boyfriend?”

  She frowns. “I seem to be quite the magnet for jerks.”

  “What about Derrick? Was he a jerk?”

  Ms. Pierce exhales and purses her lips.

  “Too personal?”

  “No. … Derrick was the only really nice guy I ever went out with. He’s just, I don’t know, … not that it matters anyway.”

  “I’d like to meet him.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” She glances at the red A on his chest. “You two would be like peas in a pod. Let’s talk about something happier, like where you and Emily are going?”

  “I wanna take her to this pond. Well, I guess she’d be taking me.”

  “So what’s this pond like?”

  “They have these benches at the edge. I thought we could have dinner there. The weather’s been really warm. She likes ducks. They have some pretty mallards there. It sounded better in my mind. Do you think that sounds dumb?”

  She shakes her head. “It sounds sweet. Did you get her a birthday present?”

  “I was gonna buy the food for the picnic on the way.”

  “You probably want to have her present prepared ahead of time. You know what would impress me?”

  Matt shrugs.

  “If the guy made the dinner himself and packed it. It wouldn’t have to be fancy or even that good. It’s the thought and the effort that counts. How much time do you have?”

  “About twenty minutes.”

  “Let’s get to work then.”

  Matt adds baby arugula to the turkey sandwiches. Ms. Pierce cuts apple wedges and carrot sticks.

  “You know I actually have a really cute picnic basket. It’s made from real woven willow.” Ms. Pierce rummages in the pantry. “Here it is,” she says.

  Matt and Ms. Pierce pack the food and silverware in the basket, with some tea and water in recycled glass bottles.