Amber Eyes

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Amber Eyes Page 11

by Mariana Reuter


  “But, Edward, these boxes weigh a ton! And we all need some rest, like, and we’re all thirsty. Aren’t you guys thirsty?”

  “It’s only 10 more minutes. Don’t fuss. My load is way heavier than yours.”

  Spots of cobblestone surfaced on the ground here and there under my feet. I had a vision of that trail paved with nice, white cobblestones a long time ago. I could only figure that years of rain and mud, and the lack of maintenance, had buried the cobblestones under layers of earth. As I kept walking, I daydreamed how this place might have looked years ago. In my mind, I saw crews of gardeners and landscapers trimming the bushes bordering the trail, and I wondered again in which movie I’d seen this property—they constantly used old, grand states like this one to shoot movies. It must have been an old movie because the bushes had grown into an impenetrable thicket, much like the one around Sleeping Beauty’s castle. I guessed it’d taken the bushes at least 10 years to grow that much and that thick.

  During the hike, we passed by marble ponds and fountains. By that time, I’d gotten used to the flashbacks from this movie whose name I couldn’t recall. Long ago, the sculpted angels had held vases out of which water poured, and multicolor schools of fish swam in their clear waters. Today, either the angels’ heads, or the vases, or both, were broken, with graffiti all over their white marble surfaces. Moreover, stagnant water had turned those ponds and fountains into stinky swamps and swarms of mosquitoes hovered over them.

  “Edward….” It was Brian.

  “We’re not stopping yet, Brian,” Edward warned. This time, he didn’t glance back.

  “No… I’m wondering… uh… if it’s true somebody died here last week.”

  Daniel spat on the ground. “Of course not, dude. That gatekeeper’s gaga! You can’t trust what he says. Edward’s old man is the sheriff. Edward would have known if somebody had been killed, wouldn’t you, dude?”

  “Nobody died here. Daniel’s right,” Edward said. “And the gatekeeper is not gaga, Daniel. He’s just a poor old man. Told you a gazillion times to be respectful, we’re Boy Scouts. My old man says the guy’s been working here since my old man was a kid. He’s way too old for the job now.”

  Brian stopped. “Then… um… why did the gatekeeper said somebody… like… ah… got killed here last week?”

  I walked past Brian, but Jorge did not. Instead, he pushed Brian’s backpack, forcing Brian to keep on. Brian raced a little bit until he took back his place between Abe and me.

  “Because he’s old,” Edward said. “He’s confusing something that actually happened 10 years ago with what’s happening today.”

  “So, is it true somebody died here 10 years ago?” Abe asked, wonderment lingering in his voice. He stopped, but restarted as soon as Brian reached him.

  “Yeah. The whole police department responded to the 911 call. A drunken man jumped out a second-floor window and died on impact. It happened two weeks before the union’s riot, when the workers raided the mansion and almost set it afire.”

  Daniel lifted his upper lip and rolled his eyes. “How pathetic.”

  “People say his ghost still haunts the mansion,” Jorge volunteered from the rear. “That every night, he appears and jumps out of the window again. If you watch him, you can become hypnotized and jump after him.”

  “Cool!” Daniel said. “Let’s go visit tonight.”

  “No, please,” Brian pleaded in his little voice. I was sure I didn’t want to go either, but I didn’t say anything. Let somebody else be the one chickening out.

  Edward turned is head. His hard eyes almost spanked us. “Nobody’s approaching that old mansion. You heard what the gatekeeper said: it’s off limits for all of us. And that’s an order. Understood, Daniel ?”

  Daniel raised his upper lip but couldn’t hold Edward’s eyes, so he dropped his head. “Sure, dude. I’m not crazy enough to kill myself in that place.”

  But I was not sure if Edward trusted him.

  Just then, my cell phone vibrated in my jeans pocket like an electric current was flowing through my leg. I dropped the boxes of supplies and desperately dug in my pocket, struggling to grab the stupid phone that slipped out of my fingers once and again. I finally got hold of it and pulled it out. On the screen, it said ‘Laura’.

  A sea of confusion invaded my mind. Mom. Why the hell was she calling again? It made me feel hopeful and angry at the same time. Hopeful, because I could ask her to come and pick me up, or travel to wherever she was and forgot all about Yago. The police hardly knew my name. If I moved with her to a place as far away as Orlando, they would never implicate me in Yago’s murder—the police didn’t even have my full description. It made me feel angry because she should have been with me and should have never left me alone with Yago in the first place. Angry because she’d played with me earlier, calling me on the cell phone only to hang up. I finally pushed the green button. “Hello.”

  I hated myself because I’d just sounded too eager, and I didn’t want to disclose I was in trouble. I listened, but Mom didn’t answer even though I could hear background noise.

  “Mom? Laura?”

  Jorge stopped right behind me. “Nobody stays behind me. Keep on.”

  “Just a sec, I think it’s my mom.”

  Edward must have heard us because he spun around to check whatever was going on—he started walking backwards. Jorge cocked his head to point at me and pushed me as he had done with Brian. “Chat as you walk. Move on.”

  “Mom? Laura? Talk to me. Please.” I wanted her to talk and rage crept inside me every second she stood silent. Why wasn’t she answering at all? Why call me then? A long list of things I wanted to say to her just flooded my mind, but she needed to talk, otherwise it wouldn’t be a conversation. I checked the screen. All the bars were up, so the signal was strong. I almost yelled, “Mom?”

  “Justin, move on,” Jorge insisted.

  The rest of the party was way ahead of us. I heard Abe’s voice asking, “Shouldn’t we wait for them? They may get lost.”

  “Listen everybody,” Edward said aloud. “We’ll rest for five.”

  Abe cried, “Yeah!” and so did Brian. Both of them dropped everything they carried and collapsed to the ground.

  Daniel turned and smirked at me, raising his upper lip contemptuously. “He’s calling his dear mom. What a loser.”

  Loser. The word echoed inside my mind. Suddenly, I wanted to throw the damned cell phone far from me and forgot about the whole issue. I didn’t need Mom. In five days, I would return to Somerset and go right to Jenny’s place to live with her. I pushed the red button and killed the call.

  Edward was beside me. “Is everything okay? Feel free to call your grandma if you wish.”

  “No… I’m cool.” I wasn’t, but couldn’t tell him why, obviously.

  “Are you sure?” he insisted.

  “Yes… sure.”

  Edward stared at me for some seconds, frowning a bit. Then he walked back to where Abe and Brian lay on the ground like they were sun tanning on a beach. He kicked Abe. “If any of you guys wanna pee, now is the time. Once we start walking again, we won’t stop until we reach the camping site.”

  Edward strode to the edge of the trail and penetrated the thicket. Daniel followed him. I looked around me. Jorge had sat on a boulder tuning his guitar, oblivious to the world around him, and Abe and Brian still lay on the ground. I had this idea that maybe both Edward and Daniel had gone to pee, which meant I had nothing to do with them, but I also wanted to hear what they would talk about. I bet Daniel would start talking crap about me the minute they were alone.

  I pushed into the thicket after them. The trees were quite close to each other, and many small bushes and plants grew between them. I had to push the vegetation to advance, like in those movies where a party is crossing the Amazon rainforest and the guy at the front makes way with a machete. After 100 feet, Brian, Abe, and Jorge were not visible at all, and I felt disoriented. A damp, hot forest surrounded me, and I
wasn’t sure which direction I should take—even to go back. My only clue were muffled guitar notes. The sun leaked through the canopy and, when I looked up, I ended up blinded by its brightness. Mosquitoes buzzed nearby.

  “Where did you pick up that loser, dude?” Daniel’s voice sounded to my right, behind some trees. I froze. I wouldn’t move closer.

  “What do you mean?” Edward snorted. I couldn’t see him either, but his voice came from my left.

  “Just look at him, dude, he’s pathetic. Like, he was chatting with his dear Mommy in the middle of a Scout camping trip. Gimmie a break, dude! He didn’t even bring the proper equipment, only that ridiculously small backpack. Which part of camping for 5 days did he not understand?”

  I could hear a jet hitting the ground and Edward’s voice. “My bad. I met him on the bus and invited him to come along. It’s the first time he has ever gone camping. I didn’t give him enough details.”

  “Why the hell did you invite him to come along, dude?” As Daniel talked, the sound of a second jet hitting the mud reached my ears.

  “I thought he needed some friends. A Scout is friendly. He’s in deep trouble at home and came down here to live with his gram. I brought an extra sleeping bag and I’ll lend him whatever else he needs. Don’t worry about it.”

  Daniel spat. “I don’t care about his stuff, dude. Why is he wearing those dark sunglasses all the time? Is something wrong with his eyes?”

  “Oh I forgot to tell you…” Edward guffawed. “He’s a secret agent.”

  “Very funny, ha, ha, ha,” Daniel sounded pissed. “Since when do you make friends with this kind of loser? I thought you were a cool guy, dude.”

  “What’s wrong with you? I make friends with whomever I want to, and nobody’s gonna tell me who can or cannot be my friend.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me, dude, and I don’t care about your stupid friends.” Daniel’s voice seemed to crack, like he was gonna cry, which made no sense. “And I don’t care about that pathetic loser either!”

  Out of the blue, Daniel passed four or five feet away from me like a cannon ball through the thicket. I didn’t move because Edward appeared five seconds afterwards. He pushed branches and leaves with both hands to get through. “Stop fussing, Daniel! I’m not getting your point. Why so much fuss around Justin?”

  I stuck to a tree. They stood close. If either of them had turned their head and scrutinized the vegetation, they would have spotted me for sure. My heart pounded fast. I lowered myself a bit to camouflage in the thicket.

  Daniel stopped short and turned to face Edward. “I don’t like him, dude. I don’t like pathetic gay losers. Happy?”

  “No,” Edward said. He frowned. His tone was cold. “I’m not happy at all. That’s not a Scout attitude. It’s Justin’s first camping ever and there’s a bunch of stuff we need to teach him. I’m counting on you guys. A Scout is helpful. And about his dark sunglasses: he wears them all the time. I don’t want you to bully him because of them. No stupid practical jokes, and that’s an order , Daniel. Believe me; you don’t want to see his eyes. Don’t ask me why, just trust me. The poor guy’s deeply sunken in crap at home and needs our support. Understood?”

  It took ages for Daniel to answer with barely a whisper. “Understood, dude.”

  Edward strode past Daniel, shoving the branches and vegetation in front of him until he was out of my sight.

  “Poor guy my foot!” Daniel scowled, spitting on the ground. “He looks like a girl. He’s a pathetic sissy.”

  July 2, 11:32 pm

  Camping. Quite an experience. Fun? You bet. Tons of it.

  After setting the camp, we hiked for the rest of the day and climbed a cliff, then contemplated the whole valley at our feet. Awesome. Like standing on the clouds. Abe complained until everybody wanted to kill him, and Daniel suggested we should throw him off the cliff. In the following days, Edward promised we’d build bivouacs on tops of trees and our own rafts and fish in the lake. He said we’d explore a cave within the property, and Jorge recalled a scary legend about it. By the end of the day, I was so very excited that I seriously contemplated suggesting to Jenny that we both join the Girl Scouts.

  Justin. Funny thing to be called Justin instead of Alex all day long. By early in the evening, I’d become used to it. During the day, I failed to answer a coupla times when somebody called me Justin, but no biggie—except for Daniel. Once he had to call my name twice. He asked me if I was deaf, stupid or a loser. He chose ‘all of the above’.

  I decided I would ask Jenny to call me Justin. When we kissed, she could say Justin instead of Alex and I’d feel like a real boy when she did. Then nobody would call us dirty dikes, and I wouldn’t feel like one and dating another girl would feel right.

  Mr. Thomson didn’t join us. He camped kinda far away from us and told us he’d keep an eye on us. Should we need anything or in case of an emergency, we knew where to find him.

  Late in the evening, the guys and I sat on the grass around a campfire for a long while. We chatted, joked and sang—Jorge played the guitar. The night was hot and humid, but the minty aroma oozed by the trees freshened it. Swarms of mosquitoes buzzed endlessly around us but were driven away by the campfire’s smoke, and birds occasionally called one another with cries that scared the hell out of me—and Brian as well. Once, he even asked if it had been somebody screaming.

  After Mom’s second failed call, I’d turned the cell phone off. No more of her phony calls. It also saved the battery, which was important because I couldn’t plug the phone into a tree to recharge it. At that moment, however, I pulled it out my pocket and turned it on. I checked its screen. It was 25 minutes to midnight.

  I yawned. I was exhausted and wondered whether Boy Scouts ever go to bed when they camp. Brian had already crashed in his clothes by the campfire using his own jacket as a pillow, but it seemed nobody cared. About an hour before, we’d grilled steaks on the campfire and devoured it the primitive way, using no cutlery or dishes. I found it somehow weird, but I followed the lead—I wondered if they’d eat soup cupped in their hands. We drank coffee using mugs though and had apples for dessert.

  I got to my feet. “Be back in a few, guys. Need to use the restroom.”

  They all laughed and my face turned a bit hot. Daniel, who sat by my right, glared at me and raised his upper lip. “The restroom … how pathetic! Beware of the coyotes, dude, they’re always attracted by small weenies.”

  All of them laughed again. Now my face boiled. Girls beware. I made this discovery: it seems guys are permanently obsessed with the size of the thing between their legs. No kidding. They always joke about how small the other guys’ “weenies” are, hinting theirs is the biggest. Isn’t that sick? Why should it matter to other guys, anyway? If I were a guy and had one of those things and another guy told me, “Hey pal, mine is bigger than yours,” I’d answer, “God bless you brother, use it to its full potential.” Pathetic! I also learned that if you’re a guy, you need to answer fast. If not, you turn into the laughing stock and the rest start hinting you’re gay and you’d like to have another guy’s weenie inside your… I won’t elaborate further.

  “Don’t worry, Daniel.” I lifted my upper lip just like he’d done. “I won’t ask you to come along. I don’t want you to draw all the coyotes to us.”

  This time, they all burst out laughing louder than before. All of them except Daniel. “Ha, ha, ha. This dude is sooo funny.”

  I abandoned the forest clearing and followed the same wide dirt trail we’d walked earlier. A little away from the campfire, it was as dark as in a cave. I couldn’t see my own palm in front of my eyes so I removed my sunglasses and hung them from the neck of my t-shirt. Now, I could see better and make out silhouettes under the starlight. At the first crossroad, I made a right. It seemed that whoever designed the mansion’s gardens opened several trails so the owners could amble at their leisure. At the next crossroad, I made a left and walked for another while. Then I stopped.
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br />   I leaned against a tree and sighed. I was now far enough from the campsite to be safe. Peeing was the difficult part of pretending to be a guy. Jorge had dug a latrine near the campsite—a hole on the ground, our toilet. He hung a bed sheet from a tree to cover it so the user would enjoy some basic privacy, but I couldn’t run the risk. Earlier, Daniel had opened the curtain when Abe was poohing, sitting on a rudimentary ‘throne’ Jorge had built for the latrine, using some of the broomsticks. Poor Abe had his pants down to his ankles and got super embarrassed. Edward scolded Daniel, but it seemed he didn’t care. Bottom line: every time I needed to pee, I went far away on my own.

  I pulled my pants down, squatted and let it flow. Earlier, I’d also discovered one other thing about guys: they prefer to pee alone. So much for boasting about the size of the things between their legs. When it was time to actually prove who had the biggest, they suddenly turned shy. As I said, pathetic… and disgusting. Yet another reason to date Jenny and not a guy.

  I’d just pulled my pants up when my cell phone rang. It scared the hell out of me, ringing in the middle of the dark and stillness. I actually yelped. It also scared quite a few birds that suddenly flew from the tree tops. It was totally creepy.

  I pulled the cell phone out and stared at the screen. A hole opened up in my stomach. It was Mom—again. I should have turned the cell phone off after I’d checked the hour. All at once, I balled a fist. It was not fair. It was not fair she kept calling me and not talking when I answered the phone. If this was her new idea of a mother-daughter relationship, I was not gonna play her game. All I wanted was to get out of the crap I was in after I killed Yago with the TV. I didn’t want to play any stupid games. At least, not in the middle of the night, and neither in a freakin’ forest with a bunch of guys I’d never seen before with one of them already hating me.

 

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