Castle Juliet

by Brandon Berntson

  Jack had put his imaginings on hold more than ever, or at least saved them until school was out for the day. Whatever he used to help him through his activities, he kept a secret.

  The friendlier Jack and Alice became as spring moved on, the more contemptuous Lance grew toward them. Often, he’d snap his head in their direction, as though jealous of their companionship. Lance would roll his eyes, snort some diabolical, contemptuous sound, or shake his head in disgust. Alice wondered if maybe he couldn’t understand the bond between her and Jack. When Lance was around, she went so far as to put her affection on hold. Still, she couldn’t ask Jack to be less playful, and the more playful Jack became, the angrier Lance got. So, whenever Lance was near, she tried not to let it get in the way of their friendship, or Lance’s naturally despicable nature.

  Once, however, during lunchtime, Jack and Alice were standing in the line, waiting to get into the cafeteria and enjoy their meal. Lance was quick to get to the bottom of Jack and Alice, and what their friendship was all about.

  “So, what’s the deal with you guys, anyway?” he said. He’d sneaked up on them while they were standing in line. Other kids idly shuffled along the hallway.

  Jack and Alice turned. Lance was standing right behind them. Jack and Alice looked at each other, then looked at Lance.

  “What are you talking about?” Jack asked, frowning.

  “You two,” Lance said, his dark eyes peering at them with an expression neither could read. “Are you, like, going steady or something?”

  “We’re friends,” Alice said, simply.

  Jack looked at Alice in numb disbelief, as though saying, ‘Here we go again? Are you kidding me?’—then looked at Lance. Alice wondered if he were contemplating biting through Lance’s boots, or if he could bite through them. Jack (as Alice looked at Lance’s boots) was going to need sharper teeth.

  “Huh?” Lance said in reply, unable to grasp the concept of a boy and girl being friends. “What does this little dweeb have that I don’t?”

  Alice did everything but laugh at this, stunned by the boy’s comments. Even Jack raised his eyebrows.

  “Manners,” Alice said.

  “Come on, Alice,” Jack said, taking her arm. “Let’s get some lunch. I have Twizzlers in my pack and they’re getting cold.”

  Lance looked at Jack, frowned, and bit his lip. “What is that, some kind of secret language?” The boy was determined to pick a fight, make a stand, a statement, something, and Jack was doing everything he could to avoid the issue.

  “Excuse me?” Jack said.

  “Some secret language?” Lance said. “You trying to get rid of me?”

  “Oh, brother,” Alice said, and looked at the ceiling.

  “Look, you over-sized creep,” Jack said, stepping toward Lance, and turning red in the face. “Aren’t you supposed to be dragging your hairy knuckles on the ground somewhere or something?”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Man, you really don’t get it, do you?” Jack said. Alice grew frightened for Jack. Once he got mad, he didn’t know how to stop. “Amazing you made it to the third grade. What are you supposed to be by now: a freshman in high school? I bet you got more years left in this joint than the rest of us.”

  Jack balled his hands into tight, red fists. Fury pulsed from his face—Alice could feel the heat. He spoke rapidly, not catching his breath, eyes turning bloodshot and penetrating.

  None of the teachers were present in the hall, only the straggling line of hungry students waiting for a hot lunch. The kids in front of Jack and Alice turned to watch, but kept their mouths shut. The ones behind them took a step back, giving Lance plenty of room to huff and puff.

  Jack went into a world all his own. He stared at the bracelets on Lance’s arms, the arms themselves, the curled scowl, and everything that made Lance the pestering, peevish, overbearing punk he was. Truth be told, Jack was scared, but he didn’t want to show it. Anger and terror went hand in hand, and a sleek amount of both were swapping back and forth now like spit. Lance owned a quality Jack didn’t appreciate. Here he was facing another brutal punk in just under a year. Only the setting was different, and he had a feeling his escape wouldn’t be as fortuitous as the first. Jack opted for agreeable.

  “Look, Lance,” Jack said. “We don’t want any trouble…”

  “Well, you should of thought about that,” Lance said. “I was curious. I mean, Alice here, with her cute little skirt and her stupid cowboy boots on. How retarded is that? You seem to be the only friend she has. Everyone else just fades into the distance. You cherry or something, Jack?”

  Jack clenched his fists, his face turning beet red again. He ground his teeth together and looked at the ground.

  “Come on, Jack,” Alice said, grabbing his arm now, and steering him toward the cafeteria. The line shuffled along.

  “No, wait!” Lance said, and stepped directly behind them. Lance smiled with cocky arrogance, his soulless eyes somehow alight. “I want to know. What gives? You soft, Jack?”

  Jack flushed with embarrassment. Hatred etched like embers across his face. His ears burned. Hatred gathered in the palms of his hands in slippery pools of sweat. Jack was, Alice saw, on the verge of losing complete control. He was coming apart at the seams. In fact, Jack looked ready to spring and devour Lance with his teeth and claws, when another voice broke in:

  “This creep picking on you, Jack?”

  When he turned, his expression mirrored Alice’s. They hadn’t seen him practically all year, but he was here now. Not only was Lance about to crack his jaw, but another brute had joined the midst, and who else could it be but Tork McGuckin? And Tork did not look pleased. In fact, Tork McGuckin looked as furious as Jack felt.

  “This punk bothering you, Jack?” Tork asked again, but he was looking at Lance as he said it.

  “Uh…” Jack stammered. In all actuality, Jack had no idea what to say. He and Alice—it seemed—stood very small between the two giants. Jack didn’t know how to respond. Was this a game the two thugs had concocted, or was Tork actually playing the role of savior?

  Lance accepted Tork’s challenge with a glare, daring the boy to step closer. The heat of their gazes melted the air above Jack and Alice.

  “What the hell business is it of yours?” Lance said, crossing his arms.

  “I’m making it my business,” Tork said, who was massaging his fist with his left hand. “If you have anything to say to them, you say it to me first. You got that, you brainless twit?”

  Alice’s eyes bulged, and she tried to stifle laughter, putting a hand to her mouth. Lance looked her way, scowling.

  “Something funny?” Lance asked.

  Alice shook her head, eyes wide, but she wanted to laugh. Suddenly, she thought she didn’t have anything to worry about.

  Lance looked at Tork again. “Like I said, grease ball. This is none of your business, so why don’t you just move it along.”

  “Whether you like it or not, I’m staying right here,” Tork said. He took a step closer to Lance, hemming Alice and Jack together in even more. “Jack and Alice are friends, and I plan on resolving this issue in the next ten-seconds. So you can either mosey along, or you can prepare for what’s coming.”

  Jack stepped aside. It was snug between these two, and he couldn’t breathe suddenly. He took Alice’s hand, allowing the boys to stand face to face without interfering.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Lance said, and grabbed Jack’s arm.

  “Let him go!” Tork said. Spittle flew between his teeth. Other kids in line gathered around, watching the scene unfold.

  Alice was thinking this was still a game, concocted by Tork and Lance to humiliate and pulverize Jack and Alice. Lance and Tork, when she thought about it, were made for each other. How could it be any other way, she thought? Surely, the two were conspirators, bent on maiming, torturing, and brutalizing them for what Jack had done to Tork the year before. But neither were ca
pable of acting this out so well, she knew.

  The next thing Alice knew, Tork punched Lance right in the face. Lance was sent reeling holding onto his bleeding nose. His feet sailed out from under him, and he hit the floor on his back. Other kids cheered, made sounds of surprise, hollered, and stepped back, giving Tork room to move in.

  “Holy cow!” Jack said, more surprised than anyone, his eyes alight. Alice looked on with a similar expression, but was too stunned for words. Alice looked at Tork—who was advancing on Lance—with reverence and awe.

  “Oww! Jeez, man! You broke my nose!” Lance said with tears in his eyes. He sounded nasally and whiny now. Blood poured down his face, his chin, and onto his shirt. His hands were slick with it. His eyes were red and filled with tears. He sat up slowly, shook his head, and moaned. “You broke my nose, man!”

  “The next time you decide to pick on Jack and Alice,” Tork said, eyes burning, and pointing at Lance, “I’ll break the rest of you. Understand?”

  Lance nodded, backpedaled, and got to his feet somewhat awkwardly. “Yeah. Yeah. I understand.” He was on the verge of blubbering. Just as quickly, he stumbled down the hallway like the town drunk and disappeared around the first corner he came to.

  “Punk,” Tork muttered, then turned to Jack and Alice. “You guys all right?”

  Jack and Alice looked at each, nodded, then looked at Tork. Neither of them knew what to say.

  “I…” Jack began. “I…uh…I don’t…what the…”

  Tork smiled and clapped Jack on the shoulder. “Shoot, man!” Tork said, brightening. His entire character transformed from vengeful to amicable. “Every since you hog-tied me that day and bit my ear off, all I could ever think of was what a couple sissies Pooper and Lonny were, and how little Jacky Bristol-boy was one bad mother. A little crazy in the head, maybe, but one bad mother, nonetheless.” They all shared a smile, Jack taking it as a compliment. “So, I made a vow. I told myself I’d watch over you, even though you don’t seem to need it. I’d keep my distance, but if anything came up, I’d be there. I learned my lesson, little man, and wow! As far as I’m concerned, you and Alice are about the coolest cats Storyville has ever seen. Aces in my books! So, if you ever need anything, you just name it. All right? I mean that.”

  Jack and Alice looked at each, smiled, then looked at Tork. Neither could believe it.

  “Does this mean we’re friends?” Jack said.

  “Hell yes it means we’re friends!” Tork said with enthusiasm. He took Jack’s hand and pumped it vigorously several times.

  “Well, I was gonna ask you to shake on it, but you beat me to it,” Jack said, still grinning.

  Tork laughed. “That’s all right. Here, little Alice. We’ll shake on it, too. Same goes. You need anything, let me know. I’m always around. Not visible, but always close. Just holler.”

  “Sure thing, Tork,” Alice said, still stunned. “And thanks for sticking up for us. I don’t think Lance’ll be bothering us ever again.”

  “He’s a punk,” Tork said. “He got the picture.” Tork looked around, as if wondering what to do with himself. “Well, I’d better go. See you on the playground or something. Enjoy your lunch.”

  Tork waved, turned, and moved down the hall with a swagger in his step. The other kids in the lunch line looked at Jack and Alice in awe.

  “Well, I’d say that was the most bizarre thing to happen all year,” Alice said.

  “Don’t I know it,” Jack said, watching Tork until he was out of sight.

  “What are you thinking about Jack?” Alice said.

  “The world’s a dang funny, place, Alice dear. The world’s a dang funny place.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Alice said.

  “Come on,” Jack said. “All this madness has not only got me quaking in my boots, but starving, too.”

  “Amen,” Alice said. “A—men!”

  *

  Lance, of course, never bothered Jack and Alice again. In fact, rumor had it, he’d been seen in the hallway talking to Tork, and not only talking, but apologizing. They’d even shaken hands. Still, however, Tork’s absences continued, and once, in Mrs. Dermott’s class, Lance had the temerity to lean over and ask Alice to explain what the object and subject of a sentence were. He couldn’t grasp the concept, he’d told her.

  “You should start charging for lessons,” Jack told Alice with a wink.

  Timid and wary, Alice tutored Lance anyway—if only briefly—and only in school. The boy was intimidating and frightening as it was, and that was enough for her. She didn’t altogether trust him and with good reason. Yes, the world was a strange place, as Jack had said, and Alice had no idea what to make of it.

  Still, despite spring, the warmer and longer days, Alice saw less of Jack, except at school. She looked forward to seeing him on the weekends to go off on one their imaginary adventures together, but when she visited him at his house, he was never home. Alice puzzled over this and asked Jack about several times when they were in school. He said he’d been helping his dad down at the shop.

  Because she had more time alone, and it was getting warmer, Alice took Sue out more often, riding deeper into the hills and forests. She had plenty of time to spend alone with Sue now, and she explored places she’d never been and never seen outside of Storyville. She wore her cowboy hat and boots all the time.

  On her trips with Sue, she savored the warmer changes in the air, the teeming life all around her. Every tree was in full bloom now, and the grass throughout the expanding meadow grew tall and lush. Flowers sprang up all around. The mountains, too, in the distance, hinted changes of color in their steep dark faces. Often, because she missed Jack, she imagined him riding on the saddle behind her, and the things he’d say: “Look, Alice. You see? The castle on the hill? Pink lasers like the Fourth of July are shooting into the night sky!” Alice smiled at the thought, thinking about Jack as this played in her mind.

  It wasn’t like Jack to disappear for so long, though, and she grew worried about him. She’d talked to him about it several times at school, and he just shrugged, not looking at her. Just busy with Dad, he’d said. It wouldn’t be forever, he told her.

  After several weeks of this, however, Alice couldn’t help it. They were sitting in school just before the first bell, and in the time before everyone took their seats, Alice leaned over and asked:

  “Jack?”

  “Yes, dear Alice?”

  “I’ve been trying to get together with you for weeks now. What gives?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been gone every night and every weekend. Even your dad is gone. I’ve been wanting to play and take you out on Sue, but you’re never home anymore. It’s getting so warm out, and I thought you’d be anxious to play outside again. I’ve been wanting to go off on one of our adventures. Don’t you like me anymore?”

  Jack looked at Alice as though he were about to cry. “How can you say such a thing, Alice? Of course I still like you. I love you.”

  He paused, gathering his thoughts, before he continued:

  “I’ve just been real busy with stuff lately. It was like this last spring. Dad doesn’t have anyone to help him in the shop, and business is picking up more. People need their shoes fixed. They need their clocks to work throughout spring and summer. The shop isn’t so bad. It’s kind of cool, all those clocks. It’s a fun place to just hang out.”

  “Huh,” Alice said, unable to decide how to respond. She resigned herself to Jack’s explanation, but something didn’t make sense. How come when she asked him where he’d been, he blushed deeply and looked into his lap as if guilty of a crime?

  *

  Wanting to get to the bottom of it, Alice decided to visit Jack at his dad’s shop downtown the following weekend. It was a bright, beautiful day in May, and the bustle throughout town put a smile on her face. The clouds were less white, more gray and damp, and the sky wasn’t as sharply blue. Still the hazy nature lent a quality—despite the bustle—of lazi
ness, as though every individual were moving at their own slow speed. The streets hadn’t teemed with this much activity in a long time. People came and went, sat outside café’s, sipping coffee; some simply window-shopped, ran errands, mailed packages, or chatted idly with store owners.

  Sue clip-clopped along Main Street with the other cars as if it were the most natural thing in the world. This might seem odd on any other occasion, but not today. The crowds, the people, even the slow-moving cars, did not intimidate Sue, at least not at first. Those who knew Alice, waved and called her by name, and Alice tipped her hat in their direction.

  “Hi, Mr. Forrester!” Alice called to the local barber, who wore coke-bottle glasses and was completely bald. Alice like the irony. Mr. Forrester waved back. “Hi, Anna Calloway!” Mrs. Calloway, owner of the antique shop, waved back. She frequented Phillip’s shop to browse the clocks and had a few for sale in her own store. “Hi, Alice,” Tanith Keller waved, the local librarian, and Alice tipped her hat.

  She was just another cowgirl in another small town. Nothing fancy. People knew her, knew her father ran the Storyville Gazette (oh, how he loved that name!), and people welcomed her. Even the local law enforcement, Sheriff Daniel Newles, waved to her from the front seat of his patrol car. “Mighty fine horse you got there, Alice,” he said.

  “Her name’s Sue, sheriff!” Alice called.

  Sheriff Daniel Newles threw back his head and laughed. “Perfect,” he said. “You and Sue have a nice day.”

  One of the reasons, Alice supposed, people loved living in Storyville was because it was a horse-friendly town. Horses were, in fact, favored over automobiles. Carriages, stage-coaches, and cabriolets moved down Main Street all year round. In Storyville, the primitive world lived side by side with the new, the reason cars and trucks parked alongside one another along with horses. It was a town moving forward, but unable to let go of its past.