Castle Juliet

by Brandon Berntson

  “Blue lasers, Alice!” Jack said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. “They have pink lasers, we have blue. See, we can’t confuse them. We’ll never know whose lasers are whose.”

  “Those pink lasers sure do look pretty in all the space and stars, though, don’t you think, Jack?”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “Hold on, Alice! We’re moving in!”

  Alice held onto her seat belt, the console, whatever she could grab (in this case the tree branch). The ship continued to dodge pink lasers. They were firing at them from everywhere! Jack moved the ship up and over the triangular formation of Fighters. In the next second, though, the Fighters dispersed veering off in their own directions. Instead of Jack out-maneuvering the spaceships, the fighters had them surrounded now.

  “We’re goners,” Alice said.

  “Not just yet, dear Alice. You underestimate my skill.”

  “Well, if we wait much longer, we’ll both be a couple of Kentucky Fried Sausage Patties.”

  “Watch and learn, Juliet,” Jack said.

  The ships moved in. One laser clipped the side of Jack and Alice’s spaceship, making it rock to one side, but the shield protected them.

  “What are you waiting for?” Alice asked.

  “Spring,” Jack said, and depressed a toggle switch. The switch was marked ‘Smart Bomb,’ like a classic video game. In a flash, all six destroyers exploded in bright light and fire, filling the window of the spaceship. Smoky balls of orange flame filled the star-filled sky. Jack pressed another button marked, ‘Warp,’ and the spaceship disappeared.

  “Cool,” Alice said, and Jack turned to her and smiled.

  *

  Alice and Jack climbed down from the tree after the galactic battle, saving the world, the universe, and everything in it. Because of the warmth, they took their shoes off and submerged their feet in the stream. The water was cold and crisp, refreshing after the long-fought battle. With the creek making rippling sounds over polished stones, they lay back in the shade and stared up at the sky through the branches, the leaves of the cottonwoods. It had been a satisfying day for both of them. The wind made a gentle soughing in the branches, cooling them. The sky was still intensely blue with huge, billowing clouds like slow moving vessels across the sky.

  “It’s pretty out here, Jack,” Alice said.

  Jack smiled. “Yes,” he said.

  “You were very brave battling Doornail and blowing up those fighters.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you, Alice.”

  Alice smiled now. Jack had been a very sensitive boy in the years she’d known him. The slightest things affected him in the profoundest ways. He could go from gleeful and exuberant—to melancholy and dark in an instant.

  “Jack, what do you want to do when you get older?”

  Jack lay there and thought about it for a minute before answering. “I want to be a football star,” he said.

  “But you don’t play football.”

  “No,” he said. “But it would be fun. The cheerleaders are pretty. You could be a cheerleader, Alice, and root for me.”

  “I don’t think I could be a cheerleader.”

  “Maybe a fireman,” Jack said. “I could put out fires. Save people.”

  “What if there were never any fires?”

  “I could work in a homeless shelter, help feed and clothe the poor.”

  “I can see you doing that.”

  Again, Jack smiled. He could see himself doing that, too. “Anyway,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. I plan on staying a kid forever. That’s what I really want when I grow up, to stay a kid. All the bigger people seem to have lost it. They’re so different. I don’t want to be like that. I want this now, everything. I want to fly forever in galactic ships, save the universe, and feed the poor.”

  “Those are lofty goals, Jack.”

  “I know,” Jack said. “But if you’re going to dream, why not dream big, right?”

  “Sure,” Alice said.

  They were quiet for a while before Jack asked: “What about you, Alice?”

  “I want to live in a quiet place like this, but I want to travel and see the world. I want to go to Spain, Germany, Japan, and Ireland. I want horses, lots of horses I can ride. I want to make movies someday.”

  “Those are lofty goals, Alice.”

  “Not as big as yours, Jack.”

  “Bigger, I think,” Jack said. “They’re more realistic, which means they’re more obtainable. And they will all come true. You’ll learn new languages, see all kinds of neat stuff, and travel the world. You’ll have your name in lights, Alice!”

  “Thanks, Jack.”

  “I wish it for you, Alice,” Jack said. “I will close my eyes and will it into existence for you.”

  “You’re very nice to me, Jack.”

  “I like you, Alice.”

  “I like you, too. Jack. Do you think we’ll always be friends?”

  “I do,” Jack said, matter-of-factly. “No matter what happens. I see us in all sorts of lights, Alice. I think we are very close and very good friends, because we’ve done this a million times before. I think we’re very lucky. I think if we were born again in another time and place, we would still remember this time now. Like our memory of now will be more powerful than the lives we lived, considering we will always live other lives. It will transcend lifetimes,” Jack said, throwing his arms into the air, and smiling. “It will be magical. Even though, it might not seem real to us at the time, I think it will always be real. Like how real this is now. We will remember the fantasies we shared, lived, and pretended. We will always have this time, no matter what. We will always know this time was more real than any other.”

  “That’s beautiful, Jack. Maybe you should be a philosopher instead of a fire-fighter.”

  “I owe my smarts to you, Alice. You bring it out in me. You are my best friend, and I hope we will always be friends. I know we will.”

  “Ditto,” Alice said.

  They were quiet for a while, looking up beyond the tree branches, perhaps seeing those worlds, those lifetimes taking shape in the sky above, places and times growing three-dimensional. It was all real, more real than the time they had now, if that were possible, Alice thought. If even felt more real than the time now.

  A hawk circled in the sky. A squirrel fluttered its tail and ran up the bole of the cottonwood on the other side of the creek. The squirrel stopped, watched them for a second, then bolted.

  “Maybe we were brother and sister at one time,” Alice said.

  “I think we’re brother and sister now.”

  “I know we were, and now we are best friends.”

  Alice paused for a time and then asked:

  “Jack?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you for letting me have the pink lasers.”

  Jack smiled. “Anytime, Alice.”

  The wind was soft and gentle. It moved through the branches, spiraled around the bole of the tree, and moved cool and quick over their limbs. Everything was magical now. Nothing was pretended, unreal, or imaginary. Sometimes things were perfect, and to Alice and Jack, it was like that now.

  CHAPTER III

  IN SEARCH OF THE HOLY GRAIL

  July turned to August, and school would be starting soon. The temperature dropped from blistering nineties to bearable eighties. Hints of autumn hung in the breeze, but the leaves still had a ways to go before changing.

  Alice lived in a modest, white, ranch-style house outside of Storyville with her parents. A split-rail fence bordered an immaculately green yard. Large elm trees shaded the area, cooling the house in the summer. The smell of fresh cut grass, the flowers her mother had planted in the spring, hung in the air. Boxer, a black and white Jack Russell Terrier, ran freely through the yard, chasing and nipping at Alice’s heels, wagging his tail, tongue lolling. The sky was still bright and blue with few clouds.

  Alice had not heard from Jack for several days. She missed him already but was hav
ing fun playing with Boxer. When Jack showed up at the gate, he was wearing khaki shorts and a Spider-Man T-shirt. Spidey was swinging from a skyscraper—out of sight—as if trying to swing his way out of the T-shirt. Jack also wore a cowboy hat made of straw. He was carrying another hat in his right hand. Alice had never seen the hat before. She stopped playing with Boxer, who seemed slightly disappointed. Boxer jumped into the air, paws extended, barked, and tried to get Alice’s attention. She made her way down the walkway and toward Jack. He blushed, perhaps because of the hat.

  “Nice hat, Tex,” she said. “What gives?”

  “I have something to show you, Alice. There’s a new sheriff in town, and his name is Old MacDonald.”

  “Old MacDonald?”

  “Actually, I don’t know what his name is. Here, this hat is for you.”

  Alice beamed, blushed, and took the hat. “Where did you get it?”

  “Dad has a bunch of old clothes and stuff in the attic, and these fine specimens were mysteriously in the lot. You should see it up there, Alice. It’s huge! Antique mirrors and stuff. I asked Dad if I could have the hats, and he said yes. Said he and Mom won them at a carnival. He said—get this—“Of course, you can have them, pard’ner.”

  Alice put the hat on. “How do I look?”

  “It brings out your cowboy boots.”

  Alice giggled. “So, what are we doing today?”

  “Going to Old MacDonald’s, like I said.”

  “Who’s Old MacDonald?”

  “Some guy who just moved into town. I was out messing around, playing and stuff, and saw he’d moved into the Heathrow place. Come on. If you can, that is.” Jack leaned on the fence, put his foot on one rail, and tipped his hat. He stuck a weed into his mouth, pretending to chew it. He looked like a real cowboy, except for the Spider-man shirt and shorts.

  “Let me go tell Mom,” Alice said.

  Jack tipped his hat and winked.

  Alice moved down the walkway and disappeared inside the house. Boxer followed her the whole way, leaping and barking, trying to get her attention. Not long afterwards, Alice emerged, skipping down the steps, her boots noisome on the cement. Alice’s mom, Jane, emerged, a healthy, plump woman with blonde hair and ruddy cheeks. She wore an apron over a floral dress.

  “Hi, Jack!” Jane said, and waved.

  “Hello, Mrs. Skylar!” Jack called and waved from the fence.

  “You kids have fun and be careful,” Mrs. Skylar said.

  “That we will!” Jack replied, and for some odd reason, this made Mrs. Skylar laugh. She closed the screen door and disappeared inside the house again.

  Alice met Jack by the fence, leaving Boxer at home, who delivered a whine at Alice’s parting.

  “I’ll be back,” Alice told Boxer, and in return, Boxer seemed to smile, tongue lolling out of his mouth. He barked a single time, ran in a circle, put his paws on the fence, panting like mad, then barked again.

  “Funny dog,” Jack said.

  They walked down a pathway made of dirt and into the fields around Alice’s house, perspiring under the hot sun. Alice followed Jack into the high grass and trees outside Storyville. A breeze picked up, rustling the leaves. Soon, they walked up and over a small hill of high, beige-colored grass. The land dipped below into what was now the old Heathrow place, a large, ranch-style house, much like Alice’s only bigger. A bright red barn occupied a large space to the north. Trees of all kinds bordered the area. To the left of the house, a coral made of wooden rails held half a dozen horses; some stood completely still, others trotted playfully. One, all by itself, away from the others, was solid black, its coat shimmering in the noonday sun. Two of the horses were spotted, mainly white with black spots. One was painted, an elegant match of light brown and white. The others were solid brown. The ranch was no more than forty yards away from where Alice and Jack peered from the high grass.

  “Oh, Jack,” Alice said, her voice brimming with awe. “They’re beautiful.” She looked over at Jack, who was smiling wide.

  “Do you like them, Alice?” Jack said.

  “How could I not? Do you think we could go down and get a better look? Do you think Old MacDonald would mind?”

  Jack laughed. “What’s the worst that can happen? He’ll just tell us to get off his land. Besides, Dad said he met him in town already. Brought in a pair of boots to have the soles fixed. He said he’s a real nice guy.”

  No one was in sight as they made their way down the hill through the grass. Alice beamed the entire way. They stopped at the wooden coral, and Jack climbed up onto the first rail to get a better look. He was smiling. The horses were silent, some studying them closely, others preoccupied with whatever preoccupied the thoughts of horses. A trough on the far side of the coral held gallons and gallons of water. One of the spotted horses slowly ambled their way and stepped up to Jack almost bashfully. It snorted, and Jack reached out to pet its muzzle. Another horse, the painted one, came up alongside the spotted horse. Alice put her hand out.

  “It blew on my hand, Jack!” Alice said, excitedly. “That means it wants to be my friend.”

  “I think this one just spit on me,” Jack said. “Do they bite?”

  “Sometimes,” Alice said, and Jack quickly snatched his hand away.

  “Alice!” he said.

  Alice giggled. “Just don’t frighten them, Jack.”

  Jack frowned, then scowled at Alice, but he reached out to pet the horse again. “I feel sorry for this one,” Jack said.

  “Why?”

  “Cause he’s not as pretty as the others. The others have coats that gleam, but this one is just a dull, muddy shade of white with black spots. He’s kinda dirty looking.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Alice said. “I think they’re all beautiful.”

  “Well, of course, you do. You’re a girl. Pink lasers and all.”

  “Which one do you like best?”

  Jack looked over at the solid black horse he thought was a stallion but was actually a Spanish Barb, and motioned toward it with his head.

  “That one,” he said. “Which one do you like?”

  “The spotted one you don’t think very attractive.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s something special about that one, Jack. Lack of beauty makes for better character—so to me—that makes him prettier than the others.”

  “What about the other spotted one way over there.”

  “The same.”

  “I see.”

  They stood on the fence for a while petting the noses of the horses, and eventually, some of the others meandered over except the one Jack liked. This horse owned a grandiose air. It remained by itself with its grandiose thoughts, or its inflated ego as far as horses went.

  “Pretty horses, aren’t they?”

  Jack and Alice, startled, whipped around at the same time. A man stood behind them, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. He wore jeans and work boots, a snug shirt, pronouncing every chord and muscle of his upper arms, neck, and body. His skin was deeply tanned and rugged, hard calloused hands rough with labor. He had wild, longish brown hair, salt and pepper stubble on his cheeks, and dark brown eyes. The man carried an air of darkness and mystery, though he was smiling, revealing an array of dazzling white teeth, and the smile seemed—to Jack and Alice—perfectly genuine.

  “Sorry, mister.” Jack was quick to apologize. “We just wanted to see the horses. Alice, here, is huge horsey-lover, and I thought she’d get a kick out of it. No pun intended.”

  “Is that so?” the man said, continuing to wipe his hands, and smiling still.

  Alice blushed, smiled, and nodded in way of reply.

  “I’m Jack Bristol,” Jack said. “And this is Alice Skylar, heir to the Skylar throne. She’s gonna be a princess someday. Well, I guess you could say she’s already a princess. I’m not sure how it works exactly.”

  The man laughed a loud, musical laugh, pleasant to the ear
s of Alice and Jack. “A pleasure, son,” the man said. “Miss,” he said, turning to Alice, and nodding. “I like your hats.” He put his hand out. “Name’s Frederick Tozensby. It’s just a little grime from the tractor,” Frederick said, indicating why he was wiping his hands.

  Jack shook Frederick’s hand, unafraid of the grime. Fred’s grip was rough, solid, and firm, but he didn’t squeeze Jack’s hand too hard.

  “Mr. Toz-and-bee,” Jack said, having a hard time wrapping his tongue around the pronunciation. “A pleasure, sir.” Jack beamed and Mr. Tozensby smiled.

  “Just call me, Fred, son,” Fred said. “It’s easier on the tongue, and I don’t mind.” Fred had a soft, deep, but cheerful voice. The introduction warranted a bigger smile from Jack, who liked Fred right away.

  “You have beautiful horses, sir,” Alice said, turning to pet the spotted mare.

  “One seems to have taken to you, Miss Skylar,” Fred said, nodding toward the spotted mare, which had moved over to claim Alice’s hand. The painted one had now moved away.

  “Alice, you made a new friend!” Jack said, excitedly.

  “And he doesn’t talk back,” Alice said. “I bet he doesn’t mind pink lasers, either.”

  “No, he certainly—Hey!” Jack said, barely catching the joke, and though Fred didn’t understand it, the man burst out laughing.

  “You guys ever ridden horses before?” Fred asked. “Some could use a good stretch.’”

  Jack widened his eyes, and Alice whipped her head in Fred’s direction, unable to believe what she’d just heard.

  “Are you serious?” Alice asked.

  “Sure,” Fred said, as if not being serious were completely unheard of. “I’ve been meaning to take them out, anyway. This just makes things more convenient.”