Jasper Lilla and The Wolves of Banner Elk

by C. S. Thompson

For days after the service, the hot topics of conversation around town were how much Pinkus had broken down and how “strong” my mother was. As for me, I had nothing to offer to either of those conversations. Pinkus cried. Nothing in him broke. He was sad and he showed it. I showed it, too, and I’m not broke. Referring to his crying as breaking down made as much sense to me as saying my mom was strong because she didn’t cry. She is strong. She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met, but her not crying at Linus’s service didn’t make her strong, and it wasn’t because she was strong. She didn’t cry because she was all cried out. I know. I was there.

  Ten

  Tenth Grade

  Something changed between Riley and me once our sophomore year of high school started. We had different classes and different lunch periods. With the names “Lilla” and “Lyons” we were put into the same homeroom for our freshman year, but we got split up in our sophomore year. We drifted. She was in the choir and made the junior varsity cheerleading squad her freshman year. I joined a group of misfits who called themselves “The Adversity Club,” which was supposed to be a clever play on the more prestigious Varsity Club—the club that initiated its new members by having them put a tuxedo T-shirt on theDavid out at Lion Pharmaceuticals.

  I was invited to join the Adversity Club by virtue of having done a variation of the Varsity Club’s initiation ritual. At least that is how I was introduced at their lunch table. It actually felt great to be introduced in a manner other than as Vernalisa’s son or Linus’s brother. The only Adversity club member I knew was Harlan Sagal, and I only mentioned it to her in passing.

  As good as it felt to join something on my own merit, it wasn’t entirely satisfying. As near as I could tell, the primary criteria for being a member of the Adversity Club was to have zero chance of joining the Varsity Club. At least there were no dues, no meetings, and no expectations.

  Riley’s father sent her to spend the summer with her aunt in Italy for the summer before our junior year. Although we both have cell phones we never talked. She occasionally sent me pictures of places she visited, but never called and never wrote anything other than an explanation of whatever the picture was. I didn’t want to be too needy, so I just responded to whatever she sent. In an effort to not come across as desperate I always waited a few hours before responding. It was my sincere desire to make each response demonstrate how clever I was so I alternated between “cool pic” and “lol.” This accurate demonstration of my cleverness made me dread the first homeroom of our junior year, when we were put back together.

  My desire to see her, however, far outweighed my dread. I know this to be true because Riley wasn’t in homeroom that first day of class, which was all I could think about until my cell phone began to vibrate. We weren’t allowed to have our phones while in school, but I had mine on vibrate just in case she tried to get a hold of me. I was sitting at the Adversity table when my phone began to rattle on the table. It was under a napkin, but everyone knew exactly what the sound was.

  I just stared at it until Julie Chrissy picked it up, napkin and all, and handed it to me while she barked, “Get under the table.”

  “Are you at lunch?” It was Riley.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “I flew into Charlotte this morning, and we’re driving back to Boone now. I’ll be in school tomorrow, but can you meet me at the Come Back Shack around 4:30?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “See ya then,” she said as she hung up.

  When I came back up Julie took one look at me and asked, “Did you win the lottery?”

  Eleven

  Alice Dietrich Returns

  “Did you win the lottery?”

  It was Mrs. Dietrich. She was sitting at the kitchen table across from Mom when I walked in the back door. Mom’s back was to me. They were drinking coffee. Her question surprised me.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “That’s okay,” I told her. I wasn’t sure what I looked like to make her ask that, but since it was the second time I had heard it, I had to ask, “What made you think I won the lottery?”

  “It’s just an expression,” she said. “You were grinning like some good fortune had just befallen you.”

  I had figured that much out myself, and I was embarrassed that I was being so obvious. “I was just thinking about a joke,” I told her.

  “Are you sure you weren’t thinking about a young lady?”

  I am that obvious, I thought. I for sure didn’t want to look that way when I met up with Riley.

  Up to that point my mom hadn’t said anything, but she was looking me over pretty close. She could read me even when I wasn’t being obvious. I looked at her to see if I could see what she saw.

  “What are you doing this afternoon?” asked Mom.

  “I’m meeting Riley,” I said.

  Mom’s cheeks clinched downward in an effort to not smile. She turned back to face Mrs. Dietrich and lifted her coffee cup. “Have fun,” she said into her cup.

  Neither she nor Mrs. Dietrich looked at me as I walked by. They just stared at each other over the top edges of coffee cups they weren’t really drinking from.

  “I’ll be home in time for dinner,” I said, exiting the kitchen.

  Once I was out of sight I paused and listened. I heard what I knew I’d hear. Laughter.

  “It’s good to laugh,” I heard Mrs. Dietrich say. “He doesn’t think we’re laughing at him, does he?”

  “I don’t know,” said Mom in a normal voice. Then in a louder voice she called out, “Do you think we’re laughing at you, Jasper?”

  That’s when I tiptoed away.

  * * *

  I had fifteen minutes before I needed to leave. That was plenty of time to brush my teeth, gargle with mouthwash, and apply some deodorant through the neck hole of my T-shirt. That left me another ten minutes to kill. I found myself standing over my ammo chest, and for no particular reason I opened it and retrieved the wolf’s-tooth necklace. I knew it was silly to think that it gave me magic power, but there was no denying that putting it around my neck gave me confidence.

  * * *

  Mom and Mrs. Dietrich were still talking when I approached the kitchen. This time I was sure they didn’t know I was listening because of what they were saying.

  “He just let Art Ward go,” said Mrs. Dietrich.

  “Marlene’s husband?” asked Mom.

  “Yes. He was a vice president of something. Marlene says he was given a big raise three months ago. And then she was diagnosed with skin cancer, and for some unexplained reason Art was let go.”

  “Why would he care about that?” asked Mom. “Doesn’t he have insurance?”

  “He’s too cheap for that,” said Mrs. Dietrich. “Lion Pharmaceuticals is self-insured.”

  “Despicable,” muttered my mother. “Have you had any luck getting Franz’s case reopened?”

  “No,” she answered. “Everything I try is blocked. I thought I had convinced a detective named Todd Abel to take another look at it, but he was told to leave it alone.” She sniffled and blew her nose. “It’s like someone is paying someone off. It just isn’t fair.”

  “Sometimes justice is a long time coming,” said Mom in a voice that wasn’t so much comforting as it was threatening. Her tone stayed with me as I exited the house through the front.

  Twelve

  Riley Returns

  Riley was waiting when I got to the Snack Shack. She was wearing a sundress that showed how tan she was from the summer. Her laptop was open on the table in front of her, so she didn’t see me until I was right next to the table. When she finally noticed me, her face lit up, and she jumped out of her seat to hug me.

  “I missed you,” she told me without letting go.

  It was weird. It was a good weird, but it was weird. We hadn’t been all that close since freshman year, and then over the summer, nothing. Now she was hugging me and telling me she missed me. I was get
ting dizzy from the smell of strawberries.

  Before I could think of anything to say she pushed me back and punched my right shoulder. “Why didn’t you write me, you goofball?”

  I thought of something to say—“Can we go back to the hug?” —but I didn’t say it. What I said was, “Owwww.”

  “Quit whining and sit down. I’ve got something to show you.”

  I sat across from her as she slid her laptop to the side. She left it open.

  “Do you remember telling me about those wolves out at my dad’s place?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “Of course you do. Well, I had a lot of free time this summer,” she paused and scowled at me. “So I did a little research about wolves in North Carolina.”

  “Really?”

  “You’re not wearing the necklace, are you?”

  “No,” I told her. “I haven’t worn it since. . . .” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

  “I figured,” she said.

  “So, do you believe me now?” I asked. The question surprised me. I had never said it out loud, nor was I aware of even thinking it, but it must have been in my head somewhere. There it was, sitting on the table like a gigantic enchilada.

  The question must have surprised her, too, because she looked shocked. Initially the question knocked her head back, but she recovered quickly and leaned across the table toward me. “Is that why you’ve given me the cold shoulder, because you thought I didn’t believe you?”

  I was pretty sure she’d have punched me again if we had still been standing. “Did you believe me?”

  She scowled again. “Did you tell anyone else?”

  “Nope,” I declared. “The Adversity Club knows I put the tee shirt on the David, but I didn’t tell anyone else about the wolves.”

  “Why not?”

  “I didn’t want anyone to think I was crazy.”

  “So you know it’s a hard-to-believe story,” she said. She looked a little angry.

  “I’m not an idiot.”

  “Are you sure?” Her eyebrows went up, and she tilted her head slightly forward in a way only a girl can pull off.

  “Well, did you believe me?” I asked again.

  “You know yourself. You just admitted it. That’s a hard-to-believe story. But I didn’t disbelieve you.”

  I frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I’m your friend. It means when you tell me something that’s unbelievable I don’t immediately dismiss it, even if I don’t swallow it. It means I believe something about it, but I don’t know what because I can’t get my head around it. It means . . . it means . . . it means you’re an idiot.”

  I wasn’t quite sure how it happened so fast, but we went in a nanosecond from me discovering I was mad at her to her being mad at me for being mad at her. I was going to tell her that it was she who gave me the cold shoulder and not the other way around, but I knew opening that door wasn’t going to work, so I said, “I’m sorry if you thought I was giving you the cold shoulder. I didn’t mean to.”

  She nodded.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked.

  “I thought about it a bunch of times, but I guess I hoped you’d make the first move.”

  “I thought about it, too, but you seemed so busy with other stuff.”

  “I was busy with school,” she informed me. “I thought we were past it all when you gave me that journal.”

  Riley had left for Italy the day after school ended, so on the last day in homeroom I gave her a leather journal. It was a pretty cool journal, with unlined blank pages and a soft brown leather cover. Linus had given me that journal when he left for college, but I never used it. I wrapped it up in Grinch wrapping paper left over from Christmas, and when I handed it to her I told her, “For your trip.”

  “I’m sorry.” It was all I could think of to say. I meant it, too. I was sorry. I was sorry we lost a year.

  She smiled. Her teeth were perfect. “Do you want to hear what I found out?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I started by researching wolves. Did you know there are three main species of wolves?”

  “I just know gray wolves and timber wolves. What’s the third?”

  “Timber wolves are a subspecies of gray wolves, and there are a bunch of other subspecies. The three main species are gray, Ethiopian, and red.”

  “I’ve only heard of gray and red wolves.”

  “The Ethiopian wolves are only in East Africa, and the red wolves were almost extinct, so that makes sense. In the 1980s the red wolf was extinct in the wild so they began breeding them. And guess where they were released?”

  “Here,” I guessed.

  “In the Smoky Mountains.”

  “The Smokies,” I repeated. The Smoky Mountains were a section of the Appalachian Mountain range that got their name because when low clouds would formed in the nooks and crannies it looked like smoke. The Smokies were south and west of Boone, but within easy migration distance.

  “Now,” she continued, “you never told me what your wolves looked like, so tell me how big were they? What was their coloring?”

  “They were mostly gray or grayish brown with darker spots, but there was one that was all white.”

  Riley looked pleased. “And the size?”

  “They were huge. Do you think they were those red wolves?” I knew that a gray wolf could be all black, so why couldn’t a red wolf be all white?

  “No,” she answered. “Red wolves are reddish and smaller.”

  She must have noticed how that affected me because she said, “Now don’t get all pissy on me. There’s more.” She turned her laptop around so I could see the screen. She tapped the pad a couple of times because it had gone into sleep mode, but she had lost her Wi-Fi connection.

  After a few attempts to reconnect she closed the lid. “I’ll send you that link later, but I can tell you what it said. It was a newspaper article from the High Country Press. It was an interview of a woman who was abducted. She had stopped because she saw what she thought was a man laying on the side of the road by a truck. Someone grabbed her and drug her into the woods. Here’s the unbelievable part: she says she was saved by a pack of wolves.”

  She sat back and watched me grin. “I thought you’d like that. Want to hear more?”

  I nodded.

  “According to her, the alpha wolf was huge—and it was all white.”

  Thirteen

  Riley’s Request

  It was nice to have my best friend back. Riley had always been there for me, even while I apparently was snubbing her our sophomore year. And then, just a week later, it was my time to be there for her. I had assumed that being there for her meant to be willing to listen as she vented. I had no idea at the time, but being there for her regarding her father was about to turn my life upside down and sideways. What I did know was that my friend’s father, the only parent she had, was becoming the most hated man in Boone.

  * * *

  Riley’s dad, William “King” Lyons, was the owner and CEO of Lion Pharmaceuticals. He was a chemical engineer. Before he got into pharmaceuticals he was in the household cleaning products business. Riley is an only child. She moved to Boone with her dad right after her mother died. He sold his company in California. Then he bought a little pharmaceutical company in Delaware and moved it to what used to be the estate of Harley Makrus, one of the wealthiest real estate tycoons in New York City. In 1949, when Harley died, his family donated the estate to the county.

  From 1949 until 1995 the grounds were kept as an arboretum and the mansion as a museum. As a museum, Makrus Meadows was never any more than a distant second to Asheville’s Biltmore Estates, so in 1995 the county commission decided it was too expensive to maintain. They closed the arboretum and the museum, reduced the staff, and put the estate up for sale. The only profitable part of Makrus Meadows was the banquet hall, which could be rented for weddings, banquets, and high school proms. When Lion Pharmaceuticals bought Makrus Meadows in 2006
, Watauga High School had to find another venue for its prom. The lingering resentment around the high school didn’t help Riley’s popularity any, but that wasn’t her biggest concern.

  Riley had discovered what I already knew: that her father had the reputation of being a tyrant. This was not common knowledge around school, but my house was a gathering place for those who hated him. Ever since my mother made that promise to Mrs. Dietrich, she’d had her eyes set on Riley’s dad. She must have been collecting research for a book, because whenever she was in town some employee or the wife of an employee would come tell her their stories. That’s exactly how, as an author, Mom would fulfill her promise to Dr. Dietrich’s widow.

  The stories I heard all had a similar ring to them. King got richer and richer while the salaries of employees were frozen and their benefits were cut. People were accused of being disloyal for disagreeing, and sometimes they lost their jobs. They all believed he was using the tough job market to take advantage of people.

  * * *

  At lunch one day, Riley told me that she had been sitting in a booth at the Hob Knob Farm Cafe and overheard the woman in the next booth talking about her dad. “That woman said my father took away the retirement benefits from all the workers.”

  “Is it true?” I asked.

  Riley’s head jerked back a bit. I guess she wasn’t too happy with my question. “It might be true that there have been cutbacks,” she explained. “Dad is always talking about how bad the economy is, but that woman said he was doing it because he’s taking advantage of how hard it is to get a job.”

  “They can’t know that,” I assured her.

  “If he did cutbacks it’s because he couldn’t help it,” she said defiantly.

  “Sure,” I told her. “He probably did that to keep from firing some people.”

  “That’s right,” she said. Her voice went up as if she was surprised that I had thought of it. “He told me that a full-time guy just quit, and he’s going to replace him with a part-time guy to save money.”

  “Ya see?” I said. I figured that proved I was right.