A Town Bewitched

by Suzanne de Montigny

  We tumble out and rush to where the anxious crowd waits, mumbling with excitement.

  “What happened?” Sandra asks.

  A stout, grey-haired woman moves forward, her eyes flashing with anger. “The church was desecrated,” she says in a strong Scottish accent.

  “Desecrated?” I frown.

  “It means they vandalized it, dear,” the woman says.

  I give Charlotte an I-told-you-so look and push forward, being careful not to cross the yellow tape. Peering around an old couple, I gasp.

  Bright orange letters scrawl an ominous message across the altar.

  GOD IS DEAD

  Surrounding the sacred area reserved for priests and altar boys, roses, lilies, and carnations lay in puddles of water where the large vases have been shoved to the ground. Amid the tangle of flowers and water, pieces of the tall broken candles lie like giant crayons, snapped against the marble floor. Worst of all, is the bloody makeshift nest in the center of the altar that cradles a dead hawk.

  “Oh, my gosh!” I exclaim.

  Charlotte stands speechless, her eyes wide with horror.

  I lean close to her ear. “It’s her. I know it.”

  “It can’t be.” Charlotte shakes her head.

  “It has to be. You know what we saw last night. She’s not normal.”

  “Maybe we only thought we saw that stuff.”

  I let out a loud huff. “No, it really happened.”

  “Yeah, but there’s no way.” Charlotte shakes her head again.

  “Yes there is. And I’m going to find out even if it kills me.”

  The Fisheries and Wildlife van rolls up. The crowd steps aside to let them pass. As they’re photographing the hawk, the side door of the church opens, and Father Justin appears, dressed in his cassock and carrying a Bible. Two Knights of Columbus follow him, hauling a fold-up banquet table. Behind them, their faces sober, a couple carries the bread and wine.

  Standing before the congregation with raised arms, Father Justin announces, “Folks, what you’ve seen today is the product of a sick mind. And you know what? Jesus loves sick minds too. That’s right. And you know what else? It’s not going to stop us from celebrating mass. Evil like this can’t stop the true love of God. It’s a beautiful November morning. Let’s have mass outside today and offer up prayers for whoever did this.”

  The people mumble their approval and follow Father Justin to the churchyard. The makeshift altar is set up, and a woman lays a soft, blue, baby blanket over it. Father Justin’s voice rises with passion as he recites the prayers. The congregation sings louder and responds more fiercely than normal as we shiver in the cold, frosty air, our breath steaming. I want to shout out that I know who did it, but remember Constable Douglas’ warning about falsely accusing someone.

  After mass, Herb invites us all for Sunday brunch at the Golden Sun Restaurant. It’s been a while since we’ve eaten Chinese food, so we all jump at the invitation.

  Entering the warm shelter of the restaurant, we stamp our feet and rub our hands.

  Mrs. Lee, the aging owner of the restaurant greets us personally. Smiling at Charlotte, she asks, “And how is our honourary daughter?”

  “Fine,” says Charlotte in a little girl’s voice.

  “Good.” Mrs. Lee gives an approving nod.

  They’ve always called her their honourary daughter since the day Herb and Sandra brought their baby home from China and held a banquet in her honour at the Golden Sun.

  Mrs. Lee shows us to a large, round table and hands us red and gold menus. We order beef tenderloin with black pepper sauce, sautéed shrimp, and diced chicken with cashew nuts. When our meal arrives, we dig into the delicious food and sip on hot tea.

  “That was a pretty meaningful mass today,” Mom says.

  “It was.” Sandra nods. “I feel sorry for the person who’s doing this, but on the other hand, I’m starting to get a little nervous too.”

  “There’s definitely a pattern to it,” Herb says. “Always a dead bird.”

  “And bright orange spray-paint,” says Mom, looking perplexed. “I can’t help but wonder if it’s the same person who vandalized Paul’s grave.”

  “Probably not,” says Herb. “There was no dead bird at the scene.”

  “That we saw,” I say, laying down my chopsticks.

  The adults exchange looks.

  “Maybe we should have reported it,” Mom says.

  “It’s too late now.” Herb shakes his head.

  “Actually, I already did,” I say, locking my fingers together.

  Mom tips her blue china cup to her lips and stops. “You did?”

  “Yeah, when the Medical Dental Building was vandalized the day after Halloween, I told them all about it.”

  Again the adults share a look.

  “Funny, they never came and talked to us about it.” Mom lays her cup down.

  “Maybe they didn’t take her seriously because she’s a teenager,” says Sandra.

  “Actually, they wrote it all down,” I say, feeling rather important.

  We’ve nearly scraped the dishes clean when Mrs. Lee returns. “Any dessert?” she asks.

  Dylan bolts up in his seat. “Mango pudding!”

  Everyone laughs.

  “Bring us six,” Herb says.

  A few minutes later, we spoon the delicious dessert into our mouths.

  “Oh, this is so good,” I say, rolling it around on my tongue.

  “Mm-hm,” Charlotte says like she’s in Heaven.

  When Herb asks for the bill, Mr. Lee himself delivers it into his hand. “No charge.”

  “For our honourary daughter and her friends,” says Mrs. Lee, her eyes on Charlotte. “We heard what happened to you at school. It was disgraceful what they did at that dance.”

  Charlotte’s expression falls.

  “You be proud of your Chinese heritage,” Mrs. Lee says. “The Chinese helped make this country what it is. It’s because of us, the railroads were built.”

  “I know,” says Charlotte, a faint smile touching her lips. “I am proud.”

  “We went through hard times too,” says Mr. Lee. “It wasn’t easy, but eventually we were accepted in this town.”

  It’s true. I remember seeing photos of the Lees surrounded by four small boys from thirty years earlier. They were dressed in traditional Chinese clothes and wore humble expressions. Very different from the proud, well-dressed couple that stands before us now. Mrs. Lee, despite her age, is still beautiful, with her styled hair and her smooth, golden complexion. And Mr. Lee, in his suit and tie, is a man I can’t help but respect.

  “Thanks,” says Charlotte.

  “But what I’d like to know is where did they get the Chinese clothes they wore at the dance?” I ask.

  The Lees share a look for a moment.

  “I left a box at the Salvation Army a few weeks ago,” Mrs. Lee says. “It was all really old clothes we used to wear back in China. We found it in the attic. They must have gotten it from there.”

  “Ohhhh,” Charlotte says.

  Herb shakes his head.

  Mom and Sandra give each other a nod, then rise and hug Mrs. Lee.

  “Thank you for the fine lunch,” Mom says. “And you must come to our house for a meal.”

  “Yeah,” says Dylan. “Uncle Jack cooks some really mean tacos.”

  The elderly couple breaks into laughter again and pats Dylan on the head.

  “For certain.” Mr. Lee nods.

  We wave our good-byes and make our way to the vans.

  Before we climb in, Mom asks, “Who’s for going to the cemetery?”

  “Totally,” I say. “It’s time we found out the truth.”

  “Then let’s go.” Mom hits the remote that unlocks the door of our van. Dylan and I climb in, and we drive to the cemetery followed by Charlotte and her parents.

  When we arrive, we walk with purpose.

  Dylan runs ahead. “There it is!” he shouts, hurrying to the grave. As
he comes up behind the tombstone, his face falls.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  Dylan points to the ground behind the stone, his bottom lip trembling.

  My heart nearly stops. I bend over closer to examine what’s there.

  Charlotte comes up behind me. “What?”

  I look up at her, barely able to speak. “It’s a bird skeleton.”

  “Oh, dear,” says Sandra. “It looks like it was a wren.”

  “Or some other tiny bird,” says Herb.

  “But why Paul?” Mom asks, wiping the corner of her eye. “What did he ever do?” She’s blinking really fast.

  “Nothing,” Herb says, crossing his arms. “Nothing at all, Pierrette. He was a fine human being, but I’m a bit worried you may be right in the middle of this mad man’s rampage.”

  “Or mad woman,” I whisper in Charlotte’s ear.

  Chapter 27

  The Date

  The next day, everyone at school is abuzz about the desecration, even the IGs, but they don’t talk to us about it. They still act as though we don’t exist, but there’s something wrong with Travis. His angry eyes stare out into nothing, ignoring the world around him.

  “I heard the police questioned him about all those weird things that have been going on,” Charlotte whispers to me in French.

  “Seriously?” I feel my eyes grow. “How do you know?”

  “The IGs were talking about it in the washroom at break.”

  “No way.” I shoot back.

  “Yeah, it’s…” Charlotte stops in mid-sentence.

  Peter walks by the alcove where we’re eating. My heart flutters. Smiling, he waves, and we return the gesture.

  After he passes, we let out a secret giggle.

  Then Charlotte looks at me with a mischievous grin. “You know, I think it’s time you asked him out.”

  “What?” I exclaim. “You mean on a date?”

  “Yeah. I mean you guys keep flirting and all, so why not?”

  “No way!” I give my head a vigorous shake. “What if he says no? And besides, Mom would kill me.”

  “Hey, you’re going on fifteen, and it’s not like you’re moving in with him. It’s just a date.”

  “Me? A date?” The idea seems funny. “Well, I don’t know.” I lean back against the wall.

  “Aw, come on,” Charlotte insists. “It’s easy. All you have to do is ask him.”

  “Oh, is that all? Just like that.” I shrug, my palms facing up.

  “Yeah. Don’t think about it. Just do it.”

  Staring at the ceiling, I ponder her idea for a bit. “Okay … but when … and how?”

  Charlotte moves closer. “On Friday, after band, he goes to his locker, and then walks home, right?”

  “Yeah …”

  “We time it so we’re leaving at exactly the same moment, and we just happen to catch up to him. Then I bow out for a few minutes, and you ask him if he wants to go to a movie out in Chilliwack.”

  “Ummm, that sounds really risky.” I take a huge gulp of air, thinking it out, and then finally nod. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  “Yes.” Charlotte rubs her fists together, her smile so broad all her teeth show.

  Friday comes sooner than I think. My stomach flutters every time I think of what I have to do, and I find myself avoiding Peter in the halls, but at the end of the day, Charlotte follows through with the plan, pushing me along. When Peter leaves the school right on schedule, we’re right behind him.

  “Hi Peter,” I say, sounding totally unlike myself. “Wanna walk home with us?”

  Peter breaks into a timid smile. “Sure.”

  We’ve only gone a few paces when Charlotte throws her hand to her mouth and cries, “Oops, I forgot my science homework. Why don’t you two go on without me? I’ll catch up.” And then she’s gone, leaving me stranded.

  My heart races, and I can’t think of a word to say. The silence between us is as solid as a brick wall. I glance back to see where Charlotte is. She’s slipping into the school.

  After a minute, Peter finally breaks the ice. “I hear there’s going to be some good food after Mr. Bachinsky’s concert on Sunday. Are you and Charlotte still coming?”

  “Pretty much,” I say, my heart pounding.

  Just blurt it out, stupid. Quick before Charlotte comes back.

  “Great. My mom’s making chocolate chip cookies,” he says.

  Do it! It’s now or never.

  “Mmmm! I love chocolate chip cookies,” I say. Then, gathering up my courage, I dive in. “So what are you doing tonight?” My voice sounds confident despite the terror that seizes me.

  “Ah … nothing. Why?”

  Peter’s gesture is small and quick – a raising of his brows followed by a slight intake of breath, but it’s enough to throw me off. I look around for Charlotte again. She’s coming back out the front door of the school.

  Here goes.

  Problem is, what I say next doesn’t come out quite right.

  “Charlotte and I are going to see a movie in the Wack tonight. Wanna come with us?”

  Idiot! You just asked him out on a date with you and Charlotte.

  A huge grin spreads across his face, and it’s obvious he’s really pleased. “Okay. I’ll see if my mom can drive.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. “Great.”

  Charlotte catches up to us, her face flushed from running.

  “Got it,” she says.

  “Good.” I flash her a desperate look, but manage to keep acting totally normal. “Hey, guess what?”

  “What?” Charlotte plays innocent.

  “Peter’s coming to the movie with us tonight.”

  “Oh?” She looks a little taken aback.

  “That’s okay, isn’t it?” asks Peter, his face turning pale.

  “Uh, yeah.” She looks at me, her eyebrows forming a V.

  I shrug. What else can I do?

  Later that night, when I tell Mom, her eyes brighten, and she breaks into a knowing smile. “He’s a nice boy.”

  “Aw, Mom. He’s just a friend,” I say, hoping it’s not true.

  “Well I better give you some money just in case.” She digs into her purse.

  “Where are you going?” Dylan asks from the family room.

  “None of your business,” I retort. The last thing I need is my little brother poking around in my affairs.

  “She’s going to a movie,” Mom says handing me twenty dollars.

  “Which one?”

  “Don’t know yet.” I stuff the cash in my pocket.

  “Can I come too?”

  “No,” I say, treating him like a really little kid.

  “Aw, come on. Mom? Kira won’t let me go with her and Charlotte.”

  Mom smiles. “It’s not for ten-year-olds.”

  “Ew, you’re going to see a restricted movie? Mom!”

  “No we’re not,” I snap back.

  The sound of a car engine rumbles in the driveway. I race to get my coat before Dylan can snoop anymore. My plan is to get out to the car before Peter has the chance to come up the stairs, but I’m not quick enough.

  Before I get my coat on, Mom opens the door. I cringe, terrified that she’ll giggle and fuss, but to my surprise, she acts like Peter is the pizza delivery guy or someone from FedEx.

  “Have fun,” she says as I step out with Peter to his parents’ car.

  “Ew,” says Dylan. “Kira’s got a boyfriend.”

  “Shush,” says Mom, slamming the front door.

  We pick up Charlotte on the way. She and I settle in the back seat while Peter sits up front.

  Arriving at the movie theater, we choose a comedy about a nerdy kid while Peter’s Mom leaves to go shopping.

  “I’ll get the popcorn,” Peter says, joining the line at the concession stand.

  I wink at Charlotte. She suppresses a smile.

  When we find our seats inside the theater, Peter sits between the two of us holding the popcorn we all share. />
  Goosebumps run up my flesh whenever our elbows touch, and though I try to focus on the movie, I can’t keep my mind off Peter.

  When the movie lets out, his mom’s waiting for us at the door. She drops off Charlotte first. We wave at her through the window, and then they take me home.

  Pulling into the driveway, I open the car door, about to say my thank you and goodnight, but to my surprise, Peter gets out too and follows me. My heart races.

  “That was a lot of fun,” he says, looking straight ahead like he’s terrified.

  “Yeah, it was. We should do it again.”

  “Yeah.”

  We stand for what seems like a whole minute in silence. Then to my surprise, he turns and faces me, his eyes full of emotion.

  My heart speeds up, and just when I think he’s going to lean over and kiss me, Dylan’s head pokes through the curtains.

  “Dylan!” I mutter under my breath.

  Peter lets out an awkward laugh and turns around. “Well, goodnight.”

  Dylan, I’m going to kill you.

  Pounding up the front steps, I grab the door knob and enter, mad Dylan’s ruined my chance and that Peter’s driving away with his Mom.

  Chapter 28

  The Science Project

  On Sunday morning, the day of Mr. Bachinsky’s concert, I’m still on cloud nine from the date on Friday. I can’t believe it – Peter nearly kissed me!

  Leaning on one elbow over my half-eaten bowl of cereal, I relive the moment when he gazed at me with that expression in his eyes. Maybe I’ll sit with him this afternoon at the concert, and who knows what’ll happen after that.

  The abrupt ring of the phone interrupts my daydream. I dive to answer it before Dylan does.

  “Hello?” I say in a cool voice, hoping it’s Peter.

  “Kira?” Disappointment fills me – it’s a girl. “It’s me, Taylor.”

  Stunned, I don’t respond for a few seconds. “Ah … hi,” I finally say.

  “What are you doing this afternoon?” Her voice trembles like she’s on the verge of tears.

  “Um, well, Dylan’s playing in a recital and ...” I stop, realizing I sound like a nerd.

  “Oh,” she says in a small voice.