Harlow was just as handsome as Rider. Tall, dark brown—almost black—hair, smoldering hazel eyes, and sculpted eyebrows that arched slightly on his square face. A day’s growth of beard gave him a sort of rogue quality that only furthered my intrigue.
He greeted us with a polite “Hello.” And a small dimple appeared above the right corner of his mouth as he spoke. Even Harlow’s voice was as desirable as the rest of him. After I realized I was staring, I blinked to snap out of it and shifted my gaze to the silhouette of trees in the distance.
“What were you doing at orientation night, Rider?” Lacey probed.
“My mom volunteered me as a guide,” he frowned.
Lacey clapped appreciatively. “Oh, I would have paid good money to witness that,” she laughed.
A moment later Bethany declared that it was dark enough to begin the initiation. “Okay, seniors! Are you ready to be initiated?”
Our class cheered in response. I chuckled when a few sarcastic boos came from the crowd as the cheering died down.
“Rumor has it these very woods are haunted,” Bethany began in her best storytelling voice. A few people oohed as she continued. “The story goes that back in the eighteen-hundreds this twenty-year-old girl, Roslyn, fell in love with her family’s stable boy. They had to keep their love a secret because her family would never approve; a poor stable boy wouldn’t be able to provide for their daughter. So they would meet in this exact spot,” Bethany pointed at the ground firmly for emphasis, “in the woods to be with each other, away from the watchful eye of her father. One afternoon, the stable boy asked Roslyn to marry him and she accepted. Overjoyed by the proposal, she went home and confessed her love for the stable boy to her family. Furious with the news Roslyn's father fired the stable boy, never allowing him near their property, or his daughter, again,” Bethany paused a beat and when she spoke again her words came out slow and dramatic. “That night, Roslyn escaped to the woods to meet her fiancé, but he never showed. The next morning a servant let the news slip that the stable boy Roslyn loved had been killed the night before, likely at the hand of her father. Devastated by the loss, she ventured out to these woods and killed herself hoping that death would reunite her with her one true love.” When Bethany’s story ended the only sound came from the fire as it popped and crackled before us. “Now,” Bethany spoke up after a long pause, “legend has it that if you go out far enough into the woods and chant ‘resurrection Roslyn’ five times she’ll return from the dead and you’ll see her sobbing ghost wandering the forest, searching for her lost love. The first person to return here with proof of her ghost will lead the initiation next year,” she smiled. “Good luck! And oh yeah,” she added just as everyone began to talk amongst themselves. “You have to recite the chant alone. Roslyn will only appear for one person. So scatter! One more thing,” Bethany added quickly, shouting over the commotion as she bent down to retrieve a small, tin bucket beside her feet, “I have a few flashlights here if anyone wants one!” she told us, swinging the bucket by the handle as she spoke.
So running off into the woods alone to resurrect some ghost was the big secret of the initiation everyone in school spent years theorizing about? My first thought: What a joke. My second thought: how were we supposed to provide proof of a ghost? Someone hadn’t thought this through. Sure, the woods could be haunted, but proof? The odds weren’t in anyone’s favor. Regardless, I maneuvered through the crowd toward Bethany for a flashlight.
Bethany offered me a devious smile as I approached. “Good luck, Rayna!” she said, handing me a flashlight. I thanked her and headed back toward my friends
When I rejoined the group, Lacey had already taken charge. “Okay, so let’s start heading that way,” she suggested, pointing behind us while a majority of our classmates began heading east and west of the bonfire. Rider and Harlow had disappeared with a few of Rider’s friends, including Ivy, heading east.
“Let’s not separate too far you guys,” I suggested as we made our way deeper into the forest. “I don’t have my phone, so I’m just going to keep heading in a straight line, that way I can just walk straight back, okay?”
“Are you guys sure splitting up is the best idea?” Arianna asked in a worried tone. “Bethany will never know if we don’t.”
“We came all the way out here for this. Need I mention we’ve been waiting years for this moment? I think we should accept the challenge,” Lacey replied.
“Sorry, Aria, but I agree with Lacey.”
“You have your phone and I have mine,” Lacey reminded her. “And Rayna—”
“Won’t go far,” I said, finishing her sentence. “I’ll be fine without my phone. There’s probably little to no reception out here anyway. I do have a flashlight,” I reminded them, waving it back and forth in my hand. Besides, I’d spent enough time in these woods to know that I could face them on my own, disconnected from the rest of society.
Arianna still looked horrified by the idea that we wouldn’t be sticking together.
“You can do this, Arianna!” Lacey tried to encourage her. “We’ll meet back at the bonfire in one hour.” The flames from the bonfire were still visible from where we stood. “So I’ll head this way,” Lacey said, pointing to the right, “Arianna you go that way,” she pointed left. “And, Rayna, you just keep walking.”
After my friends ventured off in opposite directions, I continued my walk in a straight line. Every once in a while, I’d glance over my shoulder to make sure I could still see the fire. When the flames turned into a tiny orange glow, I decided I was far enough away from everyone else to try out the resurrection ritual.
“Hello?” I called out into the darkness, not sure how else to start. I pivoted and a branch snapped under my foot. The sound echoed across the night sky and a flock of birds took off overhead, probably spooked by the noise. I inhaled a deep breath to calm my nerves and stifled a laugh at myself. This was crazy. For all I knew, Bethany and her minions could be staking out around the woods filming this whole thing to humiliate us with later. Setting my distractions aside, I called out, “Resurrection Roslyn!”
Waited.
Nothing happened.
I called her name two more times and at this point realized, yet again, how ridiculous I must have sounded. Bethany hadn’t specified how long we were supposed to wait before giving up.
Tired of standing around, I surveyed the area until I spotted a large tree trunk lying nearby and sat down, annoyed that I didn't have my phone on me to check the time. No more than twenty minutes could have passed since my friends and I had parted ways. I sighed, returning my focus to the task at hand. Momentarily, Bethany’s instructions replayed in my head. We were supposed to recite the chant five times. I hadn’t said it more than three. So I stood one last time, just to test my luck. “Resurrection Roslyn,” I said, laughing to myself—which probably didn't help. “Resurrection Roslyn!” I yelled, throwing my arms into the air and spinning around. I had completed half my spin when the beam of the flashlight in my hand landed on a pair of glowing yellow eyes studying me from the nearby tree line, stopping me dead in my tracks. I screamed with fright, scrambling backward. In my haste, I tripped over something hidden beneath the leaves and hit the ground hard—my head making contact with a tree stump on the way down. My vision blurred as a deep, throbbing pain set in.
I couldn't move.
Something warm and wet trickled down the collar of my coat—blood—distracting me briefly from the pain until the blackness set in. Then there was nothing.
chapter two
I WOKE UP IN MY BED ON THE OUTSIDE OF MY SHEETS and comforter. My red peacoat lay draped over my desk chair and my shoes were lined up at the foot of my bed. They were muddy, with crushed leaves stuck in the crevices. I made an unpleasant face at them; not looking forward to cleaning them later. Lying back against my pillows, my head throbbed and with each pulse, the wild flames of the bonfire and Roslyn’s supposed haunting thumped across my memory. For a second, I wondered
if anyone had completed the task, or if everyone had just quit and gone home. I massaged my forehead, trying to piece everything together. How had I gotten home? The end of the night was such a blur. Had Bethany’s “signature drink” caused me to black out at some point? My stomach tightened at the thought. It seemed unlikely considering I never finished it, but then again, I had no idea what Bethany concocted in that cup.
Before I could process anything further, Dalyn came bursting into my bedroom, her entrance dramatic as usual. “You're going to make us late for school,” she chided. Tilting her head to the side, she gave me a once-over. “And you look like a cavewoman, by the way.”
Typical Dalyn, always a joy in the morning. “Thanks, sis. Your presence is always so delightful.” Rolling out of bed, I grabbed a change of clothes and headed for the bathroom.
While I waited for the shower to warm up, I busied myself by untangling my hair from a snarled side braid—removing leaf particles as I went. I leaned in toward the mirror and scrutinized my reflection. My skin seemed paler somehow. Maybe I had seen a ghost last night after all. I made quick work of raking my fingers through my hair, gathering it all behind my head into a ponytail. My thumb brushed against raised skin at the nape of my neck and I winced in pain. Sweeping my hair over one shoulder, I hesitated before touching the spot once more. Riffling through the cabinet under the bathroom sink, I pulled out a hand mirror and turned my back on my reflection, using the hand mirror to examine my neck. My skin was a little red with a nice clean cut that appeared to have healed overnight—maybe explaining my current headache. My hands trembled and I freed my hair, allowing it to fall over my shoulders. “Think, Rayna!” I said aloud to my reflection before my eyes dropped to the bottom of the sink. Fear gnawed away at me from the inside out. Part of me hoped that if I stared hard enough, the missing parts from last night would all come back to me in a sudden flash.
No such luck.
The answers—if I had them—just wouldn’t come to the surface. Regardless of what happened, at least I had somehow managed to make it home in one piece—apart from the deep cut on my neck—and I needed to get ready for school. Maybe Lacey and Arianna could fill in the blanks. That thought provided me with some comfort, so I hopped in the shower, washing all evidence of the Harbor Glenn forest down the drain.
In the kitchen, my mom had toast and a stern look waiting for me that emphasized light wrinkles on her forehead. Her straight, light brown hair wisped as she flurried around the kitchen, cleaning up dishes from breakfast and gathering lunch for her and my dad. My mom, Jenna Pierce, had been teaching sixth grade at Harbor Glenn Elementary for almost ten years now. She loved it—and her generally tender nature made her perfect for the job. Today, she wore a khaki, calf length skirt, brown boots, and a burgundy sweater.
I hesitated for a moment before sitting down at the table, almost choking on the burnt-to-a-crisp bread. My head too otherwise consumed by the hole in my memory to concentrate on chewing.
Across the table, my dad, Garrett Pierce, leaned back, settling deeper into his chair and further behind his newspaper. As a stockbroker, he needed to keep up with current events and the latest in the stock market. Just over the top of the paper, I could see his dark hair peppered with mid-fifties gray. Every so often he would peer up at me through thin, wire-rimmed glasses as if he were expecting me to strike up a conversation, but I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to discuss. What could I say that wouldn’t send my parents into a tizzy? He snapped his newspaper back to attention, signaling he'd given up.
When the awkward silence filling the kitchen became too stifling, I got up unable to stand it any longer. My dad cleared his throat just as I rose from the table with my empty plate. “Rayna,” his authoritative tone halted me.
I froze thinking the worst. Maybe he'd found out where I'd ended up last night. The fear of getting caught lurched within me and I turned guiltily around to face him.
My dad peered up at me over the rims of his reading glasses. “Are you all right?”
Instinctively, I lifted my hand to the back of my neck and opened my mouth to explain when Dalyn came bouncing into the kitchen, bumping past me to the refrigerator.
“She had a long night,” Dalyn smirked at me as she pulled the refrigerator door open and grabbed a yogurt.
I responded with a silent glare and headed for the sink to rinse off my dish.
“Trouble sleeping?” My dad asked, still probing for a response.
“First-day jitters,” I lied.
Dalyn swiped my keys from the dish on the counter and announced, “I’ll be in the car.”
“You can’t leave without me!” I called after her. “I’m your ride!”
“Bye, Mom,” I acknowledged her, grabbing another piece of toast as I headed for the front door. Before leaving the house, I made a point to drop my cell phone into the pocket of my smoke laden peacoat.
When I stepped outside, the sky darkened; a clear warning of an impending storm. And I couldn't help but notice the weather as it mocked me—or maybe this was just an omen for the day I was about to have.
Dalyn played with the radio from the passenger’s seat. She flipped through stations so fast that I caught no more than a blip of a song here and there. “Will you just pick a station already?” I huffed.
Dalyn glared at me. “What’s your problem?”
“Seriously, Dalyn, I'm not in the mood,” I warned her.
“Don’t take your anger out on me! It’s not my fault you didn't get any sleep because you stayed out all night,” said my know-it-all sibling.
“That’s the last thing I’m worried about right now.”
“Whatever,” Dalyn sneered, leaning back into her seat and shutting her eyes.
Because the population of Aroostook County doesn't fluctuate much, Harbor Glenn High hosted students from two neighboring towns—we were after all the third biggest town in the county. This year three-hundred-and-something students were enrolled at HGH. The freshman class of eighty-three students alone was said to be a record. Aside from the newly renovated gymnasium, the most extravagant part of the building was a giant statue of a wild Mustang, our school’s mascot, painted half blue and half silver at the entrance.
When we pulled into the parking lot of the high school, twelve minutes before the first bell, I knew that I would see the same people I’d seen every first day of school for as long as I could remember, apart from Harlow. His presence made school just a little more interesting for everyone. New residents were few and far between in Harbor Glenn. Naturally, as the new guy in our small town, he would undoubtedly be the topic of gossip, at least for the first month or two. After that, his new person glow would wear off, and he'd be old news just like the rest of us.
As I unloaded my backpack into my locker—the same locker I’d had since my first day of high school—I realized that while everything appeared the same, something felt different. Maybe because it was senior year. Our final year before hopefully leaving Harbor Glenn behind for college and beginning a new life somewhere else. It was crazy to think this day had finally arrived and that by this time next year, my life really would be different. Today marked our last first day of high school ever. I shook my head at the thought and slammed my locker shut, heading toward my last first day of homeroom ever.
The senior class at HGH had been split into two homerooms, one for last names A-M and the other for last names N-Z. Much to my frustration, my last name fell into the former while my closest friends’ names fell into the latter. Any other day the separation from my friends wouldn't have bothered me because homeroom was generally an uneventful twenty minutes where the teacher would make any additional announcements not covered over the intercom by the HGH news crew, while a few slacker students rushed to finish any homework due that day. But this particular morning I needed a close friend. So many questions swam around my head about the initiation last night, questions I didn't feel comfortable asking any of the familiar faces around me. Not tha
t it mattered though, between morning announcements, Mrs. Taylor passing out our schedules, and announcing that the new student Harlow Payne would join our homeroom tomorrow, the twenty minutes flew by in no time.
After homeroom, Arianna met me at the door of our Honors English class. Blinking at me she commented, “You look nervous.” Regardless of how collected I tried to appear on the outside, Arianna always had the uncanny ability to see right through me.
Arianna and I first met in third grade when the Dawson's moved to Harbor Glenn from Iowa after Arianna's dad landed a major construction job out here. She was just as shy back then, but just as kind-hearted too. One game of hopscotch at recess resulted in an almost decade long friendship.
Today, she wore dark wash skinny jeans and a baby blue and white striped sweater—a perfect complement to her long, blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders with ease. She had even put on a bit of eyeliner and mascara this morning, no doubt to impress Rider.
“It’s not first day nerves,” I explained as we took seats at the back of the room. “Last night feels like a big blur,” I said, pausing to gauge her reaction, but her expression remained blank and I knew she wanted to hear more before commenting. “How did we get home last night?”
Arianna stared at me, eyes full of concern. “Didn’t you catch a ride home with Rider?”
Had I? The thought offered some comfort; we were neighbors more or less. Before I could respond, Rider joined us and within seconds Arianna began to question him on the matter. I'd never seen her so talkative in front of him before today.
He looked at me with the same concerned expression Arianna had moments ago. “Who told you that?” he asked her.
“Derek,” Arianna replied.
Rider shook his head. “Oh man, he was so far gone last night. You couldn't tell?”
Arianna offered me a sympathetic shrug just as the bell sounded to start class.
Mrs. Hodgkins crossed the room appearing as though she had raided her grandmother’s closet the night before. She wore an unfortunate floral print dress that she only made worse by styling it with black tights and a pair of Mary Janes. I cringed a little as she shut the classroom door and began her introduction to AP English speech.
Iron Moon Page 2
