The Unbelievable, Inconceivable, Unforeseeable Truth About Ethan Wilder

by Cookie O'Gorman

  Mr. Green had put me in charge of the lake’s edge, where all the trash seemed to gravitate. But now, I had to admit, it was looking pretty good. If nothing else, I was a hard worker; the shoreline looked photo ready, squeaky clean. I was just thinking I’d make an excellent sanitary worker when I heard the piercing sound of a whistle, signaling the clean up was over, and we could return to the bus.

  Finally, I thought, time to take off this stupid vest and go home to a nice cool shower.

  Tying the bag off in a double knot, hefting it onto my shoulder, I was about to start heading back when something caught my eye. Out a ways from the bank was a McDonald’s bag, merrily waving in the breeze, attached to a low-hanging tree branch. The tree’s long arm stretched out almost to the center of the lake. Everything was Southern Living at its finest except that glaring piece of garbage. Red framed golden arches stared back at me, daring me to collect this one last scrap of litter.

  Turns out it was the one dare I shouldn’t have taken. But like I said before, I had never backed down from a dare.

  CHAPTER 2

  Why I did what I did next remains a mystery to me.

  I was just standing there thinking: I’ve been out here, sweating my guts out, cleaning up other people’s mess, and now Ronald McDonald’s trying to screw me over. Next thing I knew I was shimmying up that tree and scooting my way across its long branch with the single-minded purpose of getting that bag and finishing the job I’d started. The water was still as stone beneath me. But the farther out I slid, the more the branch I was perched on swayed up and down.

  Contrary to my current behavior, I wasn’t an idiot.

  I mean, I’d climbed my fair share of trees; the skill came in very handy when trying to escape crazy dogs in the neighborhood or evil little kids with water balloons. So after I’d checked the branch to see if it could hold my weight, I’d grabbed on like it was the rope at school and slowly inched my way forward, using the hand-over-hand technique. I didn’t have gloves, so I expected a few splinters. I’d kept on my shoes to avoid getting more scratched up than necessary.

  What I didn’t account for was the stupid prisoner-style vest I was still wearing.

  Lying chest-down, reaching my right arm out as far as it could go, I’d just managed to grip the paper bag between my fingertips when my vest fell off my shoulder (again) and somehow got caught on a piece of wood branching out from the main, preventing me from straightening. At first I gave a small tug. Then, when that didn’t work, I jerked my body upright.

  This proved to be a mistake.

  The branch creaked, swaying dangerously close to the water. There was the loud snap of wood giving way. And suddenly, with a shout, I was submerged. For a moment I couldn’t believe what’d happened. There was this great splash as I’d hit the water and then all sound disappeared. It was as if I’d put on earmuffs. When I recovered my senses, I tried swimming to the surface...but a second later something—the tree, I realized—came down.

  The trunk hit my head. I didn’t know which way was up.

  And for some reason my right arm wouldn’t budge.

  I was confused and scared, but even in my addled state I knew I needed to get that ugly-as-sin death-trap of a vest off and fast. Working quickly, I tried to slip the orange terror from my shoulders. My left arm came out easily enough, but my right was stuck tight. I tried swimming toward what I thought was the surface—but with my eyes seeing double and my right arm out of commission I didn’t get far. I worked at it, turning my arm this way and that, tugging to see if I could tear the material, but it was no use.

  I’d tried to remain calm up until this point, portion out my breathing, keep a level head, but now I started to panic. I kept tugging at the material—it looked cheap enough, it should’ve ripped easily. But nothing happened. More bubbles floated up all around me as I tried desperately to break free, using the last of my air supply. I didn’t know how many feet of water I was under. No one had seen me fall. No one was coming to get me. I’d either save myself or die trying.

  Please, I prayed, don’t let me die here. Not now.

  Not wearing this horrible, horrible vest.

  Okay, I knew it was silly, but in my defense, there was very little oxygen getting to my brain.

  And this vest was the ugliest piece of clothing I’d ever seen. Honestly, it was like the equivalent of granny panties but worse. So much worse, because it was worn on the outside, where anyone could see. And when they did, when they finally pulled my lifeless body up from the bottom of this lake, the orange would clash horribly with my red hair and graying flesh. No one should suffer the indignity. I would not be buried in neon orange granny panties. I simply refused to go out like that.

  Giving a final almighty pull, putting all my weight and energy behind it, I felt the material give a little.

  But not enough.

  I tugged uselessly, but my vision was getting hazy. The rest of my breath left me in a cloud of bubbles, fingers going lax. Then a shadow fell across my vision, and I thought: This is it. I can’t believe it. Dead at seventeen, never been kissed and wearing a prison vest. What a crappy way to go.

  Out of nowhere I saw two hands, much bigger than my own, grab the orange material and rip it down the seam. Something encircled my waist, and I shot up like a cork toward a bright shining light.

  Only when my head broke the surface, I realized that it wasn’t the light, the one leading to the great beyond, but simply the sun. I closed my eyes against the sight, coughing up lake water then breathing in deep lungfuls of air.

  Somehow I ended up on dry land, lying flat on my back. I could hear the sound of my breathing, feel the sun’s heat beating down, see the red glow shining through the backs of my eyelids. My throat was sore from all the hacking, my body tired from the struggle. I was cold despite the heat and was probably going through some kind of shock, but I was alive. I was alive and.... Checking my ribcage just to make sure, I heaved a huge sigh of relief. Free at last. No more prison attire. I’d beaten the orange terror that’d tried to kill me. I was okay. I was safe. And I was...not alone.

  I suddenly became aware of a presence above me. Another shadow blocked the sun’s rays, and a second later I felt the oddest sensation, like tiny raindrops were falling on my face. Curious, I opened my eyes...and gasped.

  There was a boy leaning over me. Well, not exactly a boy. He was about my age. The guy was soaked to the bone like me. He looked tired but shaken. And he was looking down at me with the strangest expression. I couldn’t read it clearly. It should’ve been easy; his face was only inches from my own. But it was too intense to decipher.

  What I’d mistaken as raindrops was actually lake water dripping from the boy’s dark hair onto my cheeks. His eyes searched my face, his breath mingling with my own. When he finally met my gaze, something in his expression shifted, and he rolled to the side, quickly getting to his feet. Without a word, he strode away, not once looking back. He bent to retrieve something black from the ground, a jacket if I wasn’t mistaken, and then disappeared into the forest.

  Standing, I brushed the dirt off my pants, grabbed the full bag of garbage, and started my trek to the bus.

  I’d read somewhere that after near-death experiences you’re supposed to have an epiphany of some sort, gain a new perspective on life, but for the most part, I was simply annoyed. I was mad at myself for being so stupid. One Mickey D’s bag was not worth dying over. I was upset at that guy for leaving before I’d gotten a chance to thank him. I mean, the jerk could’ve at least stayed to let me express my gratitude. And when I finally got to the bus and saw Mr. Green—at which point he said, “Young lady where is your vest?” And I answered, “Drowned.” And he said, “That was school property Miss Doherty. Your mama’s not gonna be too happy when she has to pay for a new one.... By the way, why’re you all wet?”—I was annoyed with him, too.

  It wasn’t long before we got back to school. I went to my car and fished fifteen dollars and twenty-one cents out
of my wallet to reimburse Mr. Green for the vest I’d destroyed (although fifteen bucks seemed like an awful lot of money to pay for that ugly thing) before driving back home.

  I was walking up the driveway to my house, when the front door was flung wide. An instant later, my Aunt Beatrissa came barreling out onto the porch, a huge smile on her face.

  “Should’ve listened to what I told you,” she said, pulling something small from behind her back and holding it out to me. A deck of cards. Tarot. “Should’ve let me read for you.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, slipping off my shoes and leaving them by the front door to air out. I tried to make a hasty get away, but Aunt B was on me like white on rice.

  “Didn’t I warn you this morning?” she asked, following me into the kitchen. “Twice before you even left the house?”

  “Yes,” I said, flopping into a chair at the dining table. Though mostly dry, I knew Aunt B would have a fit if I got her new sofa wet. “You did.”

  “You think I’m a fraud, don’t you?” she said, laying on the guilt, “Just like everybody else.”

  “It’s not that,” I sighed.

  “You think my ducks ain’t in a row,” she said nodding, “but you know what? My ducks ain’t in a row ‘cause they’re smarter than that. My ducks are so smart they fly in a V instead of sitting in some stupid old row.”

  “Aunt B—”

  “Now, don’t you Aunt B me, Delilah Marie.”

  “But I don’t—”

  “Never thought I’d see the day when my own blood would turn against me.”

  “But—”

  “What’d I tell you this morning?” she said, cutting short my explanation.

  I knew what she wanted to hear and accepted defeat. “Water,” I said finally. “You told me to stay far away from any bodies of water.”

  “And why did I give you this warning?”

  “‘Cause you had a vision about it.”

  “Pfft,” she leaned back, folding her arms across her chest, “vision my eye. I had a dream Delilah...about you, my most favorite niece—”

  “Your only niece,” I interjected.

  “—Water was flowing out of your ears, nose and eyeballs,” she continued. “Oozing from your pores like you were some kind of waterbed sprung a leak, spilling out until you just...deflated. It wasn’t pretty.”

  “Yeah, I bet.” I shivered at the thought. “I didn’t do it on purpose Aunt B. Really, I just forgot. I was trying to help out, you know. Give a little back to Mother Earth, save the planet one McDonald’s bag at a time.”

  Aunt B loved that I was in the EEC, made her remember her old days as an activist/hippie/tree hugger. She approved of my club choice, but I could tell she was still sore about the dream thing.

  “Listen,” I said, “I know you’re not a fake. Aunt B, you’re better than all those phony baloney psychics on TV. Remember that time you told Mr. Shafer about the dancing shingles? If he hadn’t listened to you, he’d still have been in his house when that roof collapsed. He’d have been a goner for sure. And what about that playground set?”

  Aunt B shrugged petulantly, though she knew exactly what I was talking about.

  “Those second graders didn’t stand a chance against that rusted out tunnel. And Mayor Whitney? What about her? She’d never have been elected if you hadn’t dreamed of those zombies filling up the ballot box.”

  As it turned out, one of the nominees had used dead people’s names and social security numbers to falsify votes and win the election. When Aunt B went to Whitney with her suspicions, the Mayor listened up right away—she’d been a regular of Aunt B’s for a few years—and she won the election by default after the other candidate, tail between his legs, dropped out.

  There was a small smile playing at the corners of Aunt B’s lips, and I knew that she’d forgiven me. She was good at guilt, but grudges not so much. She didn’t have a lot of dreams that were useful. Most of the time they were either too difficult or too strange to understand, but when Aunt B was on her game, she was really good. She gave tarot and palm readings on weekends but read mine every two weeks for free.

  I didn’t know if I believed in that stuff, the tarot and all that. But I believed in Aunt B and not just because she was my aunt either. The proof, as they say, was in the pudding.

  “I was pretty good, wasn’t I?” She glanced at an official-looking plaque on the wall. “Wouldn’t have given me that key to the city if I wasn’t.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “The best in Bowie. Maybe even the state.”

  “Ah, stop,” she said, smiling wide. “You’ll make me blush. By the way, your mama’s going to be working late tonight.”

  “Surprise, surprise,” I muttered as Aunt B got up and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. She pulled a soda bottle out of the fridge.

  I didn’t think she’d heard, but the frown she was wearing said otherwise. She was staring hard when she sat down a few moments later, setting a glass of ginger ale in front of me and crossing her arms. Waiting.

  “What?” I said after taking a sip, loving the fizzy feel as it lingered at the back of my throat. Ginger ale was the Doherty family cure for any and all health problems, which apparently included swallowing copious amounts of dirty lake water. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

  She said nothing. I was certain her steely-eyed gaze would cut through glass.

  “Okay”—I held up my hands—”I just wanted to see her alright? I know she has to work. I know she’s doing it just so she can take care of me. But my day was kind of crappy, and I wanted...I just wanted to talk to her about it.”

  Aunt B’s eyes turned from hard to sympathetic in under five seconds. “I know that, babe,” she said. “But she’ll be back tonight, and you can talk to her then.”

  “Probably be asleep by the time she gets home,” I lied. Every night I’d wait up just to make sure she made it back okay. Bowie was far from being the crime capital of the world, but there were drunk drivers in every city.

  “I think we both know that ain’t true,” Aunt B said, proving she could do more than just read palms.

  She could read people, too.

  “Now,” she pulled the deck of cards out of her pocket and started shuffling. “It’s been a while since I read for you, hasn’t it? What do you say?”

  “Aunt B,” I groaned, downing the rest of the ale. That was some good stuff. “I’m kind of tired. Can’t we wait—”

  “You want to wait and fall into another river?” she asked pointedly.

  “Lake,” I corrected.

  “Whatever,” she said. “It’s better to know, Delilah. Aren’t you curious about what the future holds?”

  “Not really.”

  “Child, you are far too young to be so cynical.” She laid the deck before me, fanning the cards out face down. “Pick the one that calls to you.”

  Rolling my eyes, I gave the deck a quick look, grabbed the first card I saw, and turned it over.

  The Fool.

  Great. Now my day was complete.

  “Okay, Aunt B,” I said, stretching as I stood. “I did what you said. Now, that I know I’ll be turning stupid in the future, I gotta get upstairs and start doing some homework.”

  “Hmm,” she said, picking up the card, “that’s not what it means, Delilah. The Fool card is a sign that change is coming. Whether that’s good or bad, you can’t be sure. You could get a new car or you could get cholera, but something big’s about to happen. Life-altering big.”

  “Given those choices, I’ll be hoping for the car,” I said, walking to my room. “Thanks for the ale, Aunt B.”

  “Hope all you want,” she called after me. “Change is coming, Delilah. You better be ready when it gets here. Hey, by the way, you hear about Ethan Wilder?”

  “Only about ten times,” I mumbled.

  Aunt B laughed. “Oh, I bet. His return’s sure to get tongues wagging.”

  She was right on that one.

  Shutting m
y door, I pulled a couple textbooks out of my bag and got straight to work. The ginger ale was going to wear off soon, and when it did, I had a feeling I’d be down for the count. It took me a few hours to do my homework. Some people who get straight A’s get them just because they’re super smart. I had to work for them. I talked to George after I got finished and told her about the EEC, the McDonald’s bag and the lake. And of course, the thing she was most interested in, the boy.

  She asked me all kinds of questions.

  “What’d he say after saving you?” George said.

  “Nothing,” I answered. “And I didn’t really need saving. I was doing alright on my own.”

  “But I thought you said you were trapped by prison apparel?”

  I remained silent.

  “D, you still there?” she said. “What’d your savior look like?”

  “Didn’t really notice.”

  “What do you mean you ‘didn’t notice’?”

  I tried to think back. “He had dark hair, a leather jacket and green eyes. That’s all I remember.”

  “Ooh, leather...I like that,” she said. “What kind of green?”

  “God, George I don’t know,” I said. “Light green, I guess.”

  “Was he hot?” she asked.

  “Hot?”

  “Yeah. You know, hot, fine, cute, good-looking, gorgeous, sexy, fly. Did you want to see him wearing only that leather jacket?”

  “George, have you been reading the thesaurus again?”

  “Maybe,” she said abashedly. “But was he hot?”

  “I guess,” I said, thinking back. “He was really close, like close enough that I could feel it when he swallowed. We were both soaking wet, but he felt warm. And his eyes,” I shivered. “It was like he was looking right through me.”