That Moment When: An Anthology of Young Adult Fiction

by A. M. Lalonde

  Just as she finished, there was a knock on the door. Whiting sighed and rose to open it. A curse floated through the air as the door swung wide enough for Carlyle and Magda to see.

  There stood the boy from the bridge. Whole and unharmed, with a look of humble apology painted on his perfect face. Carlyle wanted to lunge at him and shake the truth from him, but she forced herself to stay still and silent.

  Another officer ducked into the room. “Sir, this here is Jack. He showed up here a few minutes ago.”

  The boy glanced at Carlyle without a change in his polite expression, then back at Whiting. “I’m very sorry to have caused so much trouble, sir. I slipped from that railing, and luckily I landed on part of the hill and rolled down, rather than falling. My girlfriend here isn’t guilty of anything.”

  Whiting looked between the three people before him, his eyes narrowed in disbelief. Carlyle felt her own mouth hanging ajar as she bit back questions. Beside her, Magda had stiffened, like a cat sensing danger nearby.

  “I don’t want to press charges,” the boy continued. “And I’m obviously not hurt, so a homicide charge seems silly, now doesn’t it?”

  Whiting sighed, knowing he didn’t have many options. “There will be a fine. For both of you. Together you’ve cost this department a good deal of money.”

  “I understand,” the boy said, ducking his head in what seemed to be embarrassment. Carlyle nearly laughed out loud at the false gesture. “My family will pay the whole fine today if needed, and we can all be on our way.”

  “Well, we can’t work that fast, boy. We’ll need to get the judge to approve the fine. Do you have a permanent address? We’ll need to find you later.”

  “Of course,” the boy said, his voice smooth and calm. He wrote a few lines on the forms in front of him. Carlyle leaned forward to read them, but the script was too light and scrawling.

  “Well, once you all sign these, I guess you’re free to go,” Whiting sighed. He almost seemed disappointed as he uncuffed Carlyle so she could write her name.

  None of them spoke a word until the door of the police station had closed, leaving the three of them standing in the parking lot, the purple-bruised haze of early morning creeping across the sky.

  Magda didn’t even look at Carlyle, but she kept a forceful grip on the girl’s arm. “Who are you and what do you want with the girl?” she hissed. Carlyle startled, wondering what Magda knew.

  The boy grinned, his eyes glinting like jewels. “I’ve come to offer you a deal.”

  Magda sneered. “I don’t deal with anyone except customers.”

  “The Ringmaster sent me,” he said, and Carlyle’s anxiety rose as she saw Magda’s jaw slacken. The sharp lemon and earth scent of fear was surging from Magda now. “Underbelly wants her.” Jack pointed at Carlyle, a half-smile flitting across his face.

  “Who is Underbelly?” Carlyle said, her voice barely more than a squeak.

  “Not who,” Jack corrected. “What. Underbelly Circus is the biggest freak show in the world. The Ringmaster sent me to find and collect you. It took me all summer to track you down, but I’d say I’ve done a bang up job. Maybe I’ll even get a bonus for bringing such a pretty one back,” he added, stepping closer and curling a lock of Carlyle’s pale hair around his finger.

  “Freak show?” she repeated, trembling. They’d come across that sort of festival only once, and now Magda avoided them at all costs. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered to the boy, fear creeping in to paralyze her.

  “You’re not doing this, actually,” Magda said crisply, yanking Carlyle closer to her, grasping her shoulders now, as though the boy might snatch her away. “This girl is mine. Ringmaster or not, I’m not handing her over to a teenage boy I’ve only just met. She is my livelihood.”

  Carlyle clamped down on the anger that statement brought. She’d never really grown to love Magda, after all, but she had thought they meant more to each other than money. Maybe going with Jack would be better than what she had here. But he had tricked her, too, on the bridge.

  She should run. Shake them both free and bolt.

  But she’d never make it. She had no money. Nowhere else to go. Jack glanced at her, and a flash of pity lit his eyes before he looked away again. Her thoughts began to spiral toward the sort of despair she’d sensed on the bridge.

  The despair she now realized had always been hers. She’d never actually been in control of anything, not even her own emotions.

  “The Ringmaster is offering you this as compensation,” Jack said, pulling a crumpled envelope from his pocket. Magda unfolded it and frowned as she read. Carlyle strained to see, but Magda angled the paper away even as she tightened her grip on Carlyle.

  “A house?” she said, glancing up.

  “You’ll have no expenses, save the clothes on your back and the food you put in your miserable belly. The Ringmaster is replacing your livelihood with luxury. He thanks you for taking care of this asset for so many years. But her services are required at the Underbelly immediately.” He placed his own hand casually on Carlyle’s other shoulder, and she shuddered under its intentions.

  “I’m not an asset,” she growled. “My services aren’t for…for hire.” She stumbled over the words, afraid of their power. She was being traded.

  “Oh, they won’t be paying you. You do get five years to earn back your price. But if you don’t earn out in time, you belong to the Underbelly forever.” Jack grinned, but his eyes looked hollow. Carlyle wondered how many years he had left, or if his window of escape had already slammed shut.

  But before she could gather her thoughts to ask, Magda’s hand dropped heavily from her shoulders, only to be replaced by Jack’s even stronger grip. Magda took a careful step away from Carlyle, lifting her hand again, and Carlyle blinked numbly as she watched them shake hands as though concluding a business deal. Magda nodded awkwardly at Carlyle, then shuffled off to the camper without another word or glance backward.

  Carlyle’s panic bubbled to the surface, and she strained to run after the woman who had taken care of her for nine years. The woman who had just traded her away. Property for property.

  But Jack’s grip held tight, and as Magda drove away, he sighed.

  “Underbelly is home now,” he muttered. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, but we’ve been waiting a long time for one like you.”

  Something in his voice made her stop struggling, and she closed her eyes, shutting down her emotions one by one, as she’d had to do once before. She stood motionless in the empty parking lot, barely feeling his hand on her arm, and in that moment, Carlyle knew she was no longer the witch, and she wouldn’t be needing those dreams anymore.

  She was back to being the candy house, and it sounded like the Underbelly Circus just might eat her alive.

  —ABOUT THE AUTHOR—

  The Circus is coming…to steal you away.

  Want to find out why the Ringmaster was searching

  for Carlyle and who else he wants?

  Get your FREE bonus Underbelly Origins story.

  Are you a stargazer, dreamer, or a believer in all things magical? Find Hilary Thompson here for fairy tales, myths from all cultures, and the wonderful “what if”. Villains, heroes, and sidekicks clamor for equal attention. Happily-ever-afters too (of course), but be warned that the road will twist and turn and seem to dead-end, before the magic of a sweet romance leads back into the sunlight.

  www.hilarythompsonauthor.com

  GLIMPSES

  Avril Sabine

  Dina sat on the brick wall, which edged the garden bed out the front of her home. She still wore her school uniform. With how late Hudson was she could have changed and had something to eat. She should have known better than to expect him to be on time, even though he’d sworn he would be. Whatever he had for her better be good. She’d wasted at least half an hour sitting out here. She checked the time on her phone. It was over half an hour. That was it. She’d given him more than enough time. Rising, she
started to head inside, stopping when she heard a vehicle. Turning, she saw Hudson pull up out the front. He was grinning. Not looking in the least bit apologetic.

  Crossing the lawn, a glare firmly in place, she wrenched open the front door and sat in the passenger seat. “You’re late.”

  His grin didn’t alter. “Barely. You should see what I found. I lost count of the times I nearly told you what it was today, but I wanted to see your expression.” He reached into the back seat of the car for a towel that was wrapped around something. “You’re going to love it, but your mum probably won’t let you have it in the house.”

  “It’s not some dead critter again, is it? I’ve already told you I’m not touching anything like that. If you want someone to catch a glimpse of ideas for a story about some disgusting dead creature, then you’re going to have to figure out how to do it yourself.”

  “It’s nothing like that.” Placing the parcel on his lap, Hudson slowly unrolled it.

  Dina stared at the dagger that was revealed. Her annoyance vanished. “It’s perfect.” She reached for it, wrapping her fingers around the well-worn, leather handle. “Where did you find it?” She couldn’t take her gaze from the blade. An image flashed through her mind of light catching on the curved blade as someone sharpened it with a whetstone. Large, strong hands moving the blade rhythmically back and forth. She could almost hear the sound of the blade against the stone.

  “I found it when I went out in the canoe with Dad on Sunday. We stopped along the river for lunch and Dad got a call from one of his mates. I went for a walk while I waited for him. It was covered by leaf litter and I only found it because I stood on it. I gave it a bit of a clean in the river and wrapped it in the towel.”

  She ran a finger down the centre of the blade, following the curve. “I can’t wait to write a story about it. It looks like the kind of dagger that would be used in a satanic ritual.” She frowned, the words not feeling right. “No.” A different word came to mind, quickly followed by the image of a girl with a tearstained face and pale green eyes wide in fright. “Killer. It belongs to a killer.” She could almost feel the story forming.

  “Cool. I can’t wait to read it. I knew it’d be perfect for you. The moment I saw it, I just knew.” He grinned at her. “So, you still mad at me?”

  “I should be.” She reluctantly returned the dagger to the towel and folded each end over before she rolled it up. “Extremely.” Except she wasn’t. She felt anticipation and a need to figure out the story the dagger belonged in.

  “But are you?”

  She sighed heavily. “You’re never there when I need you.”

  “Of course I am.” His expression became serious. “I’m always there when you need me.” The grin returned. “It’s those moments when you want me to be there I have trouble with.”

  “They’re important too.”

  “Only a little bit.”

  “What about the movie we missed the start of on Saturday night?”

  “We missed the boring part and arrived in time for all the action.”

  “I like those boring parts. I like to know how a story starts.”

  “You could have gone in without me. I would have found you.”

  She stared at him. There were some things he never seemed to be able to understand. “Some days I’m not sure how I ended up dating you.”

  “Because I’m lovable?”

  She couldn’t resist returning his grin. “Or you bring me the most awesome presents.”

  He chuckled. “That too.” He glanced at the towel wrapped dagger she continued to hold. “Want a hand sneaking it inside?”

  She handed the towel to him. “I’ll go first and check where Mum is.”

  It took longer than Dina expected to get the dagger safely to her room. It was nothing like the rusty rifle she’d found when she was digging in the backyard four years ago. She’d been thirteen and her mum had been pretty definite about no weapons in the house. There was no mistaking the dagger for anything other than a weapon.

  After hiding it in the bottom of her wardrobe, Dina turned to Hudson. “How about Friday night we actually try and see a movie from the beginning?”

  Hudson took a couple of steps closer so he could wrap his arms around her. “I can’t promise anything. You know how it is.”

  She did. At least as far as he was concerned. “Try?”

  “I always do.” A grin momentarily appeared and then his lips met hers.

  She returned his kiss, eventually drawing back to meet his gaze. “Was that try or be trying?”

  Hudson chuckled. “A bit of both?”

  She couldn’t argue that. “Thanks for the gift.” She glanced towards the wardrobe.

  He took a step back, his hands resting on her hips. “Message me when you post the story on your blog?”

  “I doubt it’ll be today.” She had homework she needed to do first.

  “Okay. Midnight it is.” He leaned forward to brush his lips across hers before he turned and strode for the door. He glanced back at her. “See you at school tomorrow.” With another grin, he left.

  Smiling, she stared at the empty doorway. If only Hudson could learn how to be on time. If it wasn’t for that major fault he’d be almost perfect. She didn’t need him to be completely perfect. Even she wasn’t. But being perpetually late was one of the most annoying things ever.

  After she closed the bedroom door, she took a step towards her desk, planning to get her homework out of the way. Her gaze was drawn towards the wardrobe. One more look wouldn’t hurt. How long could it take? She wouldn’t start writing until later. She wanted one more look before she started her homework. Locking the door first, she took the towel from her wardrobe and sat on the floor to unwrap it. The blade caught the light and she was catapulted into the glimpses of ideas she’d seen before. The dagger as inspiring as she’d thought it’d be.

  A man testing the edge of the blade with his thumb, only his hands visible as if she was seeing through his eyes. The satisfaction he felt and the anticipation for the night ahead. Flashes of images followed as the story progressed in her mind. Driving, spotting his prey, capturing the teenage girl, tying her up and taking her to his favourite place along the river.

  He sat beside her bound and gagged body as he talked about his plans while the night passed and the first colours of dawn began to fill the sky. The entire time he played with the dagger, a lantern beside him so he could watch the expressions cross the girl’s face.

  Dina wanted to see the man’s face, but no matter how hard she tried to visualise it, she couldn’t. Not until the blade was pressed against the girl’s throat and blood spread across her pale skin. She went from staring into large, frightened eyes, filled with a sense of power and anticipation, to looking out of those eyes, fear making her want to scream, the gag stopping her.

  He towered over her, innocent blue eyes that didn’t match the words that came from his mouth. A friendly smile and brown hair carelessly styled. He was young. Not as young as the girl, but not yet thirty. The girl swung between fear and disbelief.

  When the man cut the rope tying her legs together, she swung at him with her bound fists, managing to scramble to her feet. It was only seconds before he was following, the sound of his feet crushing dead leaves and twigs seeming impossibly loud as she ran through the trees. She couldn’t escape. He was too fast. Spying a branch about a metre long she ran towards it, grabbing hold of it to turn and swing it at him. She connected with the hand holding the blade and it went flying. It didn’t help. He crashed into her, driving her into the tree behind, pain exploding through her head.

  The scene faded from Dina’s mind, some of the words the man had spoken left behind like a chill breeze on an otherwise warm day. ‘I love the contrast of blood against pale skin. It’s like poetry.’

  Goosebumps rose on her arms and she stumbled to her feet, the feelings clinging to her. She had to write the story. There was no time for homework. Sitting in front of her comput
er she waited for it to turn on, rubbing the back of her head as if expecting to feel damage from the impact the girl had felt. There was nothing. Only her sandy brown hair that was cut short in layers.

  The moment the computer was on she pulled up a word program and began typing, lost in the glimpses and scenes she’d imagined. Filling in the spaces and writing an ending she hadn’t been able to get a glimpse of. The girl escaped. Finding the dagger and injuring the man. Running for a road where she found someone to take her to the nearest police station.

  When the words eventually stopped pouring from her, Dina stared at the bright screen, drained and slightly dissatisfied. The ending didn’t seem right. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but she had a feeling the girl should have died. Not escaped to give the man’s description to the police. She didn’t like that ending. She wanted the girl to escape. Wanted the man to be caught. Again his words rang in her mind. ‘Like poetry.’ A shiver went through her. It wasn’t her typical type of story. It was far darker and much longer than all the other short stories she’d written.

  “Dina!”

  She jumped, turning to stare at her bedroom door, feeling like she’d been dragged away from another place.

  “Dina.” This time her mum knocked on the bedroom door. “Are you in there? How many times do I need to call you?”

  She stumbled to her feet, her body feeling alien after imagining being in that of the girl’s. And the killer’s. “Yeah. I didn’t hear you. I was writing.” She wrapped up the dagger and pushed it under the bed.

  “Dinner.”

  The sound of footsteps moving away from the door caught Dina’s attention. She sat on the floor staring at the closed door, trying to feel connected to the world around her. She ran her hand across her neck, half expecting to find blood. And yet at the same time it felt like she held the dagger, the leather worn and comfortable from years of use. Her gaze was drawn to the bundle under the bed, then to the computer and lastly the door. She needed to have dinner before her mum was back, wanting to know what was wrong.