April Shadows

by V. C. Andrews

Come in? Into his house?

  Maybe in his mind, it was a trade or an assignment or work, but to me, it was like being on my first real date. We walked back into the building together and parted in the hallway after we arranged where and when we'd meet in the parking lot. I hurried to class, my thoughts only on Peter's soft smile. I didn't hear Dolores and her girlfriends come up behind and beside me.

  "We saw you out the window," Dolores sang. "You and Chief Smoke."

  "Don't call him that," I said.

  "Why not? He's an Indian, and a chief is the top Indian, isn't he?"

  "Because you're making fun of him, and he'll know it. too."

  "Big deal," Enid said.

  "What are you hoping to become, his squaw?" JoAnn asked. laughing.

  "She could be a squaw," Enid followed. "Aren't squaws big and stout?"

  My face reddened. The three of them walked faster, passing me by.

  My weight will always be a target forvicious people, I thought. Brenda was right all along. I'm going- to lose these pounds or die trying, I vowed to myself. for the rest of the afternoon. I caught their sneers and sly smiles whenever I looked at them or their other friends. My honeymoon period here had ended quickly. I realized. The only one who would feel sorry for me now was myself. Just like in Hickory, everyone was vying for top spots in the popularity contest, and if stepping on me to get a little higher helped, well, so be it.

  Of course. I didn't mention anything about the other girls and their snide remarks to Peter when we met after school. I wasn't sure he would care. anyway. He seemed to have little or no interest in making friends here or keeping the ones he had made. We drove away before any of the girls appeared in the parking lot. Despite my claim. I actually had forgotten the way to his house. and he had to correct me an two turns.

  "My aunt isn't home." he said when we arrived at her house. "She works for a dentist. She's the one who cleans and polishes people's teeth, a dental hygienist."

  "What about her husband?"

  "She's divorced. The marriage went sour before they had children, fortunately." he said, leading me to the front door.

  His aunt's home was modest in comparison with the home we had in Hickory, but if I compared it with where we lived now, it was a palace. The living room looked cozy. The furniture was arranged with the fireplace as the central focus. It was a pretty fireplace built out of fieldstone with a mantel upon which sat a miniature grandfather clock and two vases with flowers made of colored glass. Above the fireplace was a portrait of an old Indian man wearing a cowboy hat, a blue shirt, and jeans with boots. There was a corral behind him and a pony to the left grazing. In the distance were mountains with a blue tint and a pocket of soft white clouds crowning the peaks.

  "That's my great-grandfather," Peter said. "The Smokev Mountains are behind him."

  "Who painted it?"

  "My great-grandmother," he said. smiling. "C'mon. I have my chess board set up in my room. There's a game in progress."

  "Whom do you play against? Your aunt?"

  "No, myself." he said. "What you do," he explained as we walked down the short hallway. "is set up famous games and try to meet the challenge. This is a game that won the regional contest five years ago."

  His room was very neat and simple. The bed was made like a military bed, the cover sheet tight enough to bounce a coin off it and the pillows were without a crease. Nothing in the room was out of place. The dresser had a picture of a dark-haired woman in a silver frame on top of it. I didn't ask him. but I imagined she was his mother. There was a table to the right with two chairs and the chess board set up on it. He had a desk against the left wall, with his books, notebooks, and pens neatly arranged. The closet door was closed. The hardwood floors were polished and clean, with a light brown oval area rug beside the bed. I immediately thought my pathetic studio was a pigsty compared with this.

  The only thing out of the ordinary was a light blue hoop with feathers, beads, and what looked like arrowheads hanging above his bed.

  "What is that?" I asked.

  "It's a dream catcher."

  "Excuse me?"

  "A dream catcher. We believe that the night air is filled with dreams both good and bad. The dream catcher hung over or near your bed, swinging freely in the air, catches the dreams as they flow by. The good dreams know how to pass through the dream catcher, slipping through the outer holes and sliding down the soft feathers so gently that many times the sleeper does not know that he or she is dreaming. The bad dreams, not knowing the way, get tangled in the dream catcher and perish with the first light of the new day."

  "Boy, could I use one of those," I said.

  He smiled, went to the closet, opened it, and took one that looked similar off the inside of the door.

  "This will be yours," he said.

  "Really? It's beautiful,"

  "Really," he said, and handed it to me.

  "I have nothing to give you in return," I said.

  "You have given your friendship. Go on, take it," he urged, and I did. "Okay, let's go to the board," he said.

  He began to rearrange the pieces to set up a new game. "I didn't mean for you to ruin your game."

  "No problem. I have it all memorized."

  "You do?"

  "It's like a fine painting. You don't forget it so easily,' he explained. "Sit," he said, pointing to the seat across from him.

  I sat quickly. He folded his hands and leaned over the board.

  "Let's get more into it now. You know the board, the way the pieces move, the object of the game, some of the rules. The pawn. as I began to explain, moves in a most unusual way. This is one of the trickiest moves to learn and usually drives my students nuts. We call it capturing en passant. which is French for--"

  "'While passing'," I said.

  He nodded, showing he was impressed. "You know French?"

  "I'm in second year. I took it as an elective."

  "Tres bien," he said. "Okay. Here's the story about this move. During the early days of chess, pawns could only move a single square at a time. Some changes were created in Europe to speed up the game. One of these. as I explained, was that the pawn can move two squares if it has not yet moved. Now. I didn't explain that when a pawn moves all the way down to the last rank on the board, it becomes another piece."

  "What do you mean, another piece?"

  "It gets promoted, only you can't promote it to a king. A queen, yes, but not a king. Most of the time, it's a queen, so it's possible to have many queens on the board. And don't say something dumb like too many chiefs and not enough Indians."

  "I wasn't going to," I said, laughing. He laughed, too.

  "Getting back to the en passant. It became possible for a pawn to move all the way down the board without the opponent's pawn ever having a chance to capture it. Here's how the en passant rule applies. For one move, and one move only, the black pawn can respond by capturing the white pawn as if it had moved only a single square. To effect the capture, the pawn is moved forward diagonally."

  He demonstrated with the white and black pawn.

  "Only pawns can capture en passant, and only a pawn on an adjacent file or row, can capture in this manner. Understand?"

  "I think so," I said.

  It's a hard one. I know, Just watch as I move the pieces and do it again."

  I watched him play against himself. As he moved pieces, he announced what he was doing.

  "See?"

  "Yes." I said. It was still a little cloudy, but I didn't want him to get discouraged about teaching me. "Who taught you how to play chess?'"

  "My father."

  "Your father? But I thought you said..."

  "It was practically the only thing we did together. He could drink and still play well. After a time. I began to anticipate his moves, and he got so he started to forget. I stopped playing with him then."

  "Oh. I'm sorry."

  "There's nothing to be sorry about. It was what was and no longer is. My grandfather used to
say that if you dwell on the past, it will capture you, imprison you. Go outside and bury the unhappiness. I remember once I hurt myself, tripped and slid and scraped my palms raw. I cried until I ran out of tears. Then I sulked until my grandfather took me out back and dug a hole, 'Go on.' he said. Throw your unhappiness into the hole.' I had no idea what to throw, but I made a gesture that meant it, and he said. 'Good.' and filled the hole. 'Now you will forget the pain.' he promised. and I did."

  I smiled skeptically,

  "Try it sometime," he told me. "Okay, let's return to the king."

  "Actually, my sister thinks like you do. She says you can't dwell on the game before, no matter if you won or lost. You have to look to the next game. She's very strong that way."

  He nodded.

  "She's playing in the all-star game Friday."

  "You told me that." he said

  "It's sure to be an exciting game. Would you like to go?" I asked quickly. "We'd be going with my sister's roommate."

  He stared a moment. I held my breath.

  "I've never gone to a girls' basketball game."

  "They don't play like girls. You'd be surprised how exciting it gets, and when you see my sister play..."

  He started to laugh. "Okay," he said when my face began to sink into itself. I imagined I sounded like a little fool. "I will go, but I buy my own ticket."

  "My sister gets six free ones.. I'm sure there will be one for vou."

  "If there isn't, you tell me," he said.

  "Understood?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "Now we'll look at something called castling," he said. "The king is permitted to take part in a very special move, the only chess move that actually involves two pieces at the same time. To castle..."

  "Move the king two squares toward the rook and then move the rook to the square immediately on the other side of the king," I recited.

  He looked up with surprise, and I smiled at him.

  "You did do some studying," he said, impressed again.

  Mama used to say she won Daddy's heart through his stomach because of her cooking. Here I was hopefully winning Peter's heart through chess.

  "When can't you castle?" he asked. He sat back, folding his arms across his chest.

  "When?" I panicked. I had absolutely no idea. I had only memorized the term to impress him. I shook my head.

  "Why do it. anyway? When does it make strategic sense?" Again. I shook my head.

  "Go too far out in a stream before you learn completely how to swim, and you'll get washed away with the current,'" he warned. Then he smiled. "It's all right. If you knew all that, I wouldn't be able to be your teacher today."

  My smile returned. He rose and went to his CD player to turn on some music. It was very different but very interesting.

  "What is that?"

  "Cherokee music. Indian flute." he said. "Do you like it?"

  "Yeah, much."

  "Good. Back to castling," he said. "now that I'm with an expert."

  We went on for almost another hour before I realized how late it had gotten and practically leaped out of my seat.

  "I've got to get home." I said, recalling how Brenda and Celia had given me the third degree the day before.

  "I'm sorry, I let carried away myself." he said, rising. "Especially if I'm working with someone who is genuinely interested and listening,"

  I smiled, even though in my heart of hearts, I knew I was here not because of chess but because of him. If he had any such suspicion, he didn't reveal it.

  "Don't forget your dream catcher,'" he said, holding it out. He walked me to the door and out to the car.

  "Now, are you telling me the truth this time?" he asked. and I blanched. Did he see through me and know that I was less interested in chess than I was in him?

  "What do you mean?"

  "Do you really know the way home?"

  "Oh," I said, relieved at what he was asking. I showed him a paper on which I had written the directions I had gotten yesterday.

  "Okay," he said, holding the door.

  I stood there looking at him. In a burst of courage, I stepped up on my toes and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  "Thank you," I said quickly, and got into the car. I was afraid to look up at him.

  He wore a look of amusement when he closed the door. I started the engine, put it in reverse, and looked at him to wave good-bye, but he had already turned to go back into his house.

  I'd made a dumb fool of myself. I thought. My eyes were so full of tears by the time I reached the corner of his street that I thought I would have trouble driving. I sucked in my breath, bit down on my lip, and tried to shake the feeling of stupidity and embarrassment off, but it was with me all the way home.

  15 Us Against the World

  . Brenda wasn't home when I arrived. Celia came out of their room as soon as I entered to tell me Brenda had gone with her teammates to practice and would have a light dinner with them afterward.

  "You're pretty late," she said. "Peter Smoke again?"

  "Yes. He taught me more about chess."

  "Only chess?" she asked, swinging her eyes. "Only chess," I repeated sternly.

  "What is that?" she asked, seeing the dream catcher.

  "Something Peter gave me. It's called a dream catcher. You hang it over your bed, and it keeps nightmares away."

  "If only it worked," she said.

  "Maybe it does," I told her. "Maybe you just have to believe in it. Maybe the trouble is you don't believe in anything." I added sharply.

  She laughed after me as I charged through the house toward the rear door. "What do you want to do for dinner?" she called.

  I paused. "You go where you want," I said. "I'm just making a couple of eggs for myself."

  I closed the door before she could respond and hurried across the small yard to my apartment. The first thing I did was hang the dream catcher above my pull-out sofa bed. I had just finished when I heard Celia knocking at the door.

  "What?"

  "Can I come in?" she asked.

  "Come in." I said, and plopped on the sofa. I folded my arms across my breasts and glared ahead.

  She stood in the doorway, looking at me. "What's wrong. April?"

  "Nothing."

  "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make fun of the dream catcher. I actually know what they are and have a great deal of respect for Indian spiritualism. I took a course in comparative religions and was amazed at the similarities between Native American religion and Far Eastern religion."

  "That's nice.," I said.

  "Something else is bothering you besides my flippant remarks." I didn't answer. She stood there, holding the door open.

  "I know how it is when you have no one to talk to I had no one for most of my life. It's all right. I want to help you," she said.

  "Yeah. right." I said.

  She came in, closing the door behind her.

  "You don't have your mother anymore. and Brenda was never the sort of sister who had the patience for your problems. I'm sure, she said, which surprised me. "It's all right. I'm not telling stories out of school. Brenda would be the first to admit it. Am I wrong?"

  "No," I said, knowing well that Brenda would never pretend to be one thing when she was another. Often. I wished she would.

  "It's terrible to be alone with your feelings, especially when they're coming at you fast and furious, and they're so new and even frightening," Celia said.

  She sat beside me on the sofa. I glanced at her and looked away. She was right about that, too, of course. What could I say?

  "You really like this boy?"

  I hesitated for a moment, and then I relaxed my shoulders. "I think so," I said.

  "It's confusing, I know."

  "I might have made a big fool of myself." I confessed. "Oh? How?"

  "When we said good-bye. I just... just kissed him on the cheek quickly and jumped into the car. I probably looked like a real idiot."

  "I'm surprised. Usually, it's the
boy who looks like a real idiot." she muttered. "What did he do?"

  "Nothing. He just turned away and walked back to his frontdoor."

  "Maybe he's very shy. There are still a few of them around," she said.

  I turned and looked at her. ''Do you really hate men that much?"

  "Hate? No. I'm just, shall we say, a little cynical. I had a number of experiences when I wasn't much older than you are, and none of them left me satisfied. Most were quite upsetting, matter of fact."

  "Is that why you like to be with a woman?"

  "No. I wouldn't say it was only because of those experiences. It's not easy to explain what makes you feel this way or that. There's something inside me that takes me in that direction. And I'm comfortable with it," she added quickly.

  "When did you first know about yourself?" I asked, feeling bolder. She was the one who had come into my apartment to talk to me, after all.

  "I didn't."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I didn't first know about myself. Someone else did and showed me," she said.

  "How did she know about you before you knew about yourself?"

  "Sometimes, people can see you better than you can see yourself. You're not objective, and you have a number of issues that prevent you from facing up to the truth. I dated plenty in high school. I cared about my appearance. I was quite attractive."

  "You're still quite attractive," I said with an underlying bitter tone. I couldn't help feeling her goad looks were wasted on her.

  "I developed a reputation for being frigid. It wasn't something I could help. I didn't enjoy necking and petting and going farther. I wasn't comfortable. The boys in school began to call me the 'No Girl.' They wrote it on my locker, made up jokes about me. One day, they even pasted a large 'NO' on my back in the morning without me noticing, and I was the laughingstock of the school without realizing why for quite a while.'

  "How horrible." I said. I couldn't help being impressed with her revelations. Here she had been presenting herself as Miss Perfect, brilliant, attractive, and stable even after a very sad home life.

  "This other Girl at the school. Donna Cameron, befriended me while my so-called best friends began to distance themselves from me. After all. I wasn't being invited to the same parties anymore or going on double dates.