Fireflies - a Tale of Life and Death

by Bree Wolf

Gabriel's mouth dropped open. "What? How would she know about that?"

  "Her spies operate on a very covert level," Eddie explained. "You don't see them coming."

  Gabriel frowned. "Who?"

  Liam laughed. "Your parents, of course. Who else?"

  "Their parents actually go and tell Principal Hall?"

  "Most don't do it intentionally," Liam explained further. "They just mention it, and somehow it reaches Mrs. Hall's ears." He shrugged. "And then you're toast."

  "Welcome to Kenton Woods," Eddie said, grinning from ear to ear. "Aren't you glad you transferred?"

  Chapter 2 – Real Girls

  Back in school, Gabriel spent his first two weeks getting used to his changed circumstances, which, occasionally catching him off guard, still amazed him. On Tuesday, he walked into the cafeteria after his art class−that all of the others had refused to sign up for−and couldn't help but beam with pride when Liam called to him, indicating that they'd saved him a seat. Having friends was still new, a privilege, and sometimes a tiny voice warned him to watch out, saying a privilege could be revoked.

  "So, how was it, Picasso?" Jack asked as Gabriel placed his tray next to him on the table. "How soon can we expect paintings that are worth something?" He chuckled.

  "Well, I don't think ever," Gabriel said smiling. "I'm no good at it."

  Jordan frowned. "Then why are you taking the class? You don't even sound like you're enjoying it."

  "Well, ...," Gabriel started, unsure if he should explain his reason. "It's just...I...It kind of..."

  "You're doing it because of the chicks, aren't you?" Eddie cut in, bobbing his head up and down. "I'm right, aren't I?"

  "You're a moron," Jordan said, taking a French fry from her brother's plate. "And besides, 'chicks', seriously?"

  Eddie grinned. "Oh, c'mon, we're seventh grade now. It's about time we got ourselves a girl. This year, we gotta make it happen."

  Eyes popping out, Jordan shook her head. "I don't even know where to start with this." She took a deep breath. "One, you're a pig. Agreed?" She looked at the others, who nodded their heads in accordance. "Two, you're aware that I'm a girl, right?"

  "Eh, well, you're kinda not," Eddie said, a somewhat stretched grin on his face, showing his teeth. "Not the real kind at least."

  "What are you talking about?" Liam snapped. "She–"

  "Not the real kind?" Jordan cut in, anger flaring up in her eyes. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

  "Oh, c'mon," Eddie said with a hint of pity in his voice. "Don't pretend like this is news to you?" Once again filling his mouth with a spoonful of undefinable food from his tray, he went on. "You know, real girls! They braid their hair, wear pink getups, talk about shoes all the time, for some reason can't go to the bathroom on their own and–"

  "Seriously, that's your idea of a real girl?" Jordan asked through clenched teeth.

  Ignoring her boiling anger, Eddie nodded. "Yep, for example, take Nahla over there." As they all turned their heads, Nahla and Kaitlin walked by on the other side of the cafeteria. Both were wearing bright, colorful outfits, their hair done up in a way usually seen on a fashion magazine as they headed for the restroom. "Those are real girls," he stressed once again. "By the way, Liam, is your sister seeing anyone?"

  "Oh, no," Liam shook his head. "Stay away from my sister!"

  Eddie raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, never mind." He looked around. "There are plenty of fish in the sea."

  "Eddie," Jack said, shaking his head. "This kind of talk is really not good for you...for many reasons. But one is sitting right here." All eyes turned to Jack’s sister, who had trouble staying in her seat.

  Eddie grinned. "She'll extend your sentence," he dared her. "But go ahead. It'll give you the chance to get used to working on the clean-up crew, which is good because you probably won't amount to much."

  As Jordan lunged across the table, her chair tumbled backwards, tripping a kid, who landed face-first in his pudding. However, Jordan didn't notice. Neither did she notice the silence that fell over the room as all conversations stopped.

  After pushing Eddie off his chair, she went after him. He yelped and tried to run, but as a crowd started to gather around them, all he could do was circle their table, staying slightly ahead of her at all times. Gasping for air, Eddie wheezed, "I don't mean to interrupt your little vendetta here, but this is exactly what I meant. Thanks for proving my point."

  Jordan stopped in her tracks. "You know, for someone who likes to talk a whole lot, you sure know very little." She glared at him across the table. "Real girls know how to take care of themselves. The damsel-in-distress era is long gone." A grin crossed her face as she started after him again in a slower pace. "Which is actually good for you because otherwise I'd have to come down on you for not being a knight in shining armor, just a smart-ass who couldn't get a real girl to go out with him if he paid her to."

  A dark cloud descended on Eddie's face. His jaw looked clenched. Without another word, he turned around, pushed through the crowd and walked away.

  Jordan smiled. "I guess I hit a nerve."

  ***

  "Don't worry," Mr. Eves said, his voice calm, his eyes meant to comfort. "I know it seems like a lot right now, but you won't have to hand in any writing before the end of term. However," he lifted a finger, and his eyes now held a warning, "I recommend you do NOT wait until the end of term to start working on the assignments."

  Looking over the list of assignments, Mr. Eves had just handed out to them, Gabriel felt a slight shiver run down his back. More than ten different tasks stared back at him from the otherwise blank piece of paper in his hands. And one assignment looked more terrifying than the one before. Gabriel took a deep breath. Looking at himself under a magnifying glass was not his strong suit, but it was what Mr. Eves asked of them. Frowning, he looked over the assignments once more.

  What do you expect of this school year?

  What dreams do you have? Why?

  What job would you like to have one day?

  What are you good at? Why do you think that is?

  What are you bad at? Why do you think that is?

  What do you think you should change about yourself? Why?

  Who is your idol or hero? Why?

  What makes a good friend? Why?

  What makes a bad friend? Why?

  In what way are you different from your parents?

  In what way are you like your parents?

  Sum up what you've learned from the previous assignments and answer the following question: Who are you?

  How was he supposed to answer any of these questions? He wasn't a writer. Most questions were even too scary to ask, let alone answer. Glancing over at Eddie's table, Gabriel found him ignoring their assignment sheet altogether and instead scribbling away on a notepad. The title line read, The Firefly Girl.

  Instantly, Hannah's face smiled at him from a hidden place in his mind, and Gabriel felt an answering tuck in the corners of his mouth.

  When the bell finally freed them from Mr. Eves and his promises that the assignments would turn out to be fun, Gabriel grabbed his bag and stopped next to Eddie's table. "What are you writing there?"

  As the notepad disappeared into his backpack, Eddie looked up at him and shrugged. "Nothing really."

  "Oh, c'mon, tell me!" Gabriel insisted. As he saw the reluctance on Eddie's face, he asked, "Is it about Hannah?"

  Hesitating for only a second, Eddie nodded. "It's my story for the Writers' Workshop."

  "Writers' Workshop?"

  Again, Eddie nodded. "It's a week-long workshop for...well, writers. But you can't just decide to participate. You have to hand in a story, and only if they think you have potential, you're invited."

  "Wow, that sounds tough."

  "It sure is," Eddie agreed as they headed down the hallway. "But I guess, otherwise everyone would go because it's during school hours. If you're accepted, you get a week off school."

  "And you're writin
g about Hannah?"

  Eddie nodded. "Is that okay?"

  Stopping, Gabriel looked at him. "Why wouldn't it be?"

  Eddie shrugged. "I'm not sure. I just thought...she kind of was your best friend, and now she's...dead. I wasn't sure if you'd mind."

  "I don't," Gabriel assured him, imaging what Hannah would say. "I think she'd like it. I think she'd be proud."

  Eddie's eyes lit up. "You think?"

  Gabriel nodded. "Can I read it when you're done?"

  Again, Eddie nodded, a bright smile illuminating his face.

  ***

  People yelling and arguing still made Gabriel retreat into his shell. He knew that with Jordan and Eddie it was mostly friendly banter, but that day, it had gone too far. Something had changed. He only wished he knew what.

  Since Liam stayed longer after school to secretly help Jordan with her clean-up duties, Gabriel was alone as he headed home. The warm sun on his back, he kept to the sidewalks, only veering onto the street when a throng of people came toward him. Feeling a light breeze brush over his almost bare scalp, Gabriel lost all touch with reality. Submerged in his thoughts, he rode through the streets until the houses grew fewer and green started to dominate his surroundings. Trees and bushes in a sea of grass, swaying in the wind, greeted him. He blinked and was surprised to find himself, not at his grandparents' house, but at the spooky mansion out by the woods.

  Hannah's home.

  He hadn't been there since the day of the funeral.

  Standing by the old fence, Gabriel gazed up at the withered, old house that had inspired Eddie's horror story. He left his bike and walked around back. The tree still stood right outside Hannah's window. Was it still Hannah's window? Gabriel wondered.

  Carefully stepping closer, he put a hand on the tree, feeling rough bark under his fingers. As real as the tree felt on his skin, the thought that Hannah would not be there if he climbed up this very tree and went through her window was just as surreal. Like two realities that were both true, and yet, mutually exclusive.

  Before Gabriel knew why, he was already half-way up the tree.

  Slowly, he approached the window, setting one foot in front of the other, while his hands tightly held on to the branch just above his head–like Hannah had told him. As though time had stood still, the window was unlocked, welcoming him, and for a moment, he was convinced Hannah was waiting for him to pick her up. Without making a sound, Gabriel pushed the window open and slid inside.

  He half-expected to see her lying on the bed, a damp cloth on her head. But the bed was empty, and Gabriel felt a small stab in his heart. His head had known all along, and yet, his heart had hoped.

  The room looked like it was expecting Hannah's return any moment now. Her books were still stacked the way she had sorted them. Some towers almost reached the ceiling while others stood just high enough to sit on. In the corner by the windows stood her easel. A canvas rested on it, half-finished, showing the one place irrevocably connected with their summer adventures, the Dive: the tall trees, the shimmering water and those who had meant most to Hannah, her friends.

  A sad smile flashed over Gabriel's face as he recognized himself, sitting under a tree and watching his friends as they splashed into the small lake. The painting was wonderful, capturing the essence of their summer together. Life would never be like this again, Gabriel realized. Not exactly. Hannah would not be there. This painting would remain unfinished. Forever.

  Suddenly feeling exhausted, Gabriel sank down, resting his back against Hannah's bed. Absentmindedly, his right hand moved up to his head and brushed over his short hair. Although he missed the opportunity to hide from the world every now and then, Gabriel continued to re-cut his hair, keeping it exactly the way Hannah had cut it that summer. A small part deep inside him thought she'd be disappointed if he didn't.

  "I miss her, too," came a voice from behind him.

  Startled, Gabriel jumped up.

  "Don't be alarmed," Mr. Hamilton said as he walked into the room. "I understand why you're here."

  Gabriel nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, though. I don't know how to explain."

  Mr. Hamilton shook his head. "It's okay. Most of the time I don't have the words, either." He sat down on Hannah's bed. "In a way, she's still here, isn't she?"

  Again, Gabriel nodded. After a moment, he sat down, too.

  Looking around the room, Mr. Hamilton said, "I just can't bring myself to change anything in here. I wouldn't know how. Do I simply pack things up and store them away? Or should I even throw some out?" He shook himself as though trying to get rid of an awful thought. "It doesn't seem right somehow."

  "No, it doesn't," Gabriel agreed. "All those beautiful paintings. People should see them."

  "They should, yes."

  For a while, they sat quietly on Hannah's bed, eyes drifting over the various paintings she had worked on that summer. Everything felt like it always had. Birds chirped outside, and a soft breeze came in through the open window, raising goose bumps on Gabriel's neck. The smell of old wood mixed with moss and a hint of rain carried in from the sea far away hung in the air. Moving his legs, some of the floorboards creaked under Gabriel’s shoes, and the colors of Hannah's paintings shone brightly as the sun touched them. The only one missing was the small, red-haired girl that had brought all of these things to life.

  "I should go home," Gabriel said and rose from the bed. There was nothing else to say.

  Mr. Hamilton nodded, but before Gabriel could slip out the window, he said, "I don't mind if you do want to come back every now and then."

  Gabriel looked up and nodded. "Thank you."

  Hannah's grandfather smiled at him wistfully. "When I hear you climbing in through the window, I can almost believe she is still here."

  Gabriel nodded. "I guess that's why I didn't knock on the door," he said and went out the way he had come.

  ***

  On his way home, it wasn't only Mr. Hamilton's voice that found its way into Gabriel's mind. Eddie and the crazy things he had said rang in his ears as well. Real girls, he had said. What was a real girl?

  Hannah had been a real girl, even according to everyone's definition. She had been tough and smart, courageous and gentle and able to take care of herself, which was probably why Jordan had liked her, Gabriel thought. And yet, she had been the damsel in distress, and they had rescued her from captivity and taken her out into life. Twice even. First from her room, to see the world, and then from the hospital, to say goodbye the way she'd wanted. Hannah had been real, but now she was dead. Was she still real?

  "Are you all right?" his grandfather asked as he sat down to dinner. "You look a bit out of sorts."

  "I'm okay," Gabriel sighed, holding out his plate to his grandmother.

  All she said was, "Mmmh."

  "Everything okay at school?" his grandfather tried again, and Gabriel nodded. "Trouble with your friends?"

  "Not really," Gabriel said, munching his baked beans.

  His grandparents looked at each other, and something was exchanged that Gabriel couldn't quite grasp. They had an uncanny ability to communicate with one another without saying a single word.

  After dinner, Gabriel retreated to his room, still wondering about what was real and what was not. What did it mean if something was 'real' anyway? He wondered.

  He finished his homework without paying any attention to it, feeling a stab of guilt though, for not taking things more seriously. His new teachers were mostly really nice and were all cutting him some slack because he was new, but that bonus wouldn't last forever. He knew that.

  When the sun had finally disappeared, Gabriel looked out the window to his grandmother's apple trees, looming in the dark like giants. He felt restless. All of a sudden, the cozy interior of his room suffocated him, and he felt the desperate need for some air. Gabriel knew he shouldn't, but in that moment, he couldn't help himself. Pulling on his sneakers, he grabbed his helmet and quietly climbed out the window.

&nb
sp; Going downhill, he stopped pedaling and let the bike roll, breathing in the night air and feeling it touch his skin. Slowly, the stone was lifted off his chest, and he felt the dizziness brushed from his mind. Suddenly knowing exactly what he wanted, Gabriel headed west.

  The old cemetery lay in silence like the last time he had been there. A dark blanket covered not only the stones but also the paths leading in winding circles through the area that had disappeared from his view. But Gabriel didn't mind. He knew where to go. In no more than a few minutes, he found his way through the dark, sure-footed like a mountain-goat in the Alps.

  Once again sitting down cross-legged, Gabriel found himself across from a small boulder that had his best friend's name written on it. A tighter grip had gotten hold of his heart, and his breath came in uneasy gasps, and yet, he knew he wanted to be there. Gabriel wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but when he suddenly found himself staring into the distant dark, a tiny light came buzzing toward him, and he wasn't surprised at all.

  After all, friends didn't leave friends alone in a time of need, did they?

  Chapter 3 – Summer’s Over

  I'm surprised to see you here again, Hannah's melodious voice whispered in the dark.

  Gabriel frowned as he pulled a blade of high grass from beside her small, lightly moss-covered headstone. "Why?"

  Breathy laughter reached his ear. Because it's the middle of the night, and you got school tomorrow. That's why.

  "I just wanted to talk to you," Gabriel said as he ran the blade of grass between his fingers, his eyes avoiding the tiny light hovering in the dark.

  About what?

  Gabriel shrugged. "This and that."

  What's on your mind? Hannah asked; her voice echoed with impatience.

  "We got this assignment at school," Gabriel said, his eyes darting up to the tiny light still hovering in front of him before returning to his hands. Trying to keep busy, he ran the blade of grass between his fingers again and again.

  When he remained quiet, Hannah growled at him. If you're going to make me beg for every little piece of information, you might as well go home. I've got better things to do.