Tell

by Carrie Secor

  “Okay, I’ll see you later.”

  “’Bye,” she responded as he disappeared into the main office to wait for his mother.

  Melody turned and saw her sister walking into the art room down the hall. She broke into a jog to wait outside for her, realizing that she was probably going in there to tell Mrs. Davinsizer that she was accepting the editor’s position. She reached the art room, panting, and leaned against the lockers outside.

  Cadie came out a few minutes later and looked startled to see her there. “Hey,” she greeted Melody. “Where did you come from?”

  “Band room,” Melody answered, pointing. “I have music theory last period.”

  “Okay. Now I know where to find you when you don’t have practice.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Ready to go?”

  “Yeah.”

  They started walking toward the side exit, back down the hallway in the direction from which Melody had come.

  “So, you took the position, right?” Melody asked excitedly.

  Cadie nodded. “Yep.”

  “Great. Are you going to print any of Andy’s pictures?” She looked at her sister expectantly.

  Cadie glanced at her sidelong. “If they’re good.”

  “Come on, Cadie,” Melody whined. “They never print any of his good ones.”

  “For some reason, Amber didn’t seem to think that photography was art.”

  “Who’s Amber?”

  “The old editor.”

  “Oh.”

  They walked in silence for a few moments.

  “Andy and I are hanging out tonight,” Melody piped up. “We’re going to walk around town and he’s going to take pictures.”

  “Make sure you have your clothes on in all his pictures,” Cadie answered.

  “He’s not going to take pictures of me.”

  “So he says.”

  “Do you really think he would take pictures of me walking around town without any clothes on?”

  “If he did, I would most certainly publish them.”

  Shane glanced at his watch. He and Felicia had been sitting stationary in the car for eight minutes and counting. His foot was starting to get tired from being pressed on the brake. He shifted into park, then lifted his foot. Meanwhile, the train lumbered on slowly. The red and white gates blinked with red lights. They were the third car lined up behind the railroad crossing. It was a coal train, and a long one at that.

  “You should have taken the back way,” Felicia chided from the passenger seat. She was filing her fingernails.

  “Like I knew there was going to be a train,” Shane responded.

  “There’s always a train. I think there’s a 3:00 train every day.”

  “There’s also a 7:15 train every day, so maybe you can get ready a little quicker tomorrow morning.”

  Felicia threw the nail file into her purse. “Whatever. All I know is that Brian is going to come over before dance class tonight.”

  Shane took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All I know is, it takes fifteen minutes to go the back way and it only takes ten minutes to go on 220.”

  “It’s not worth the gamble.”

  “There’s a lot more school traffic the back way.”

  “There are three lights on 220.”

  “I don’t want to follow a bus.” Shane was starting to get annoyed.

  Felicia sighed. “Whatever,” she said again.

  The last car on the train passed them, and the gates mercifully rose. Shane took his car out of park and the Camaro crawled forward, tailgating the minivan in front of them. It had been a long day, it was hot, and his car did not have air conditioning. Fortunately, because it was the first day of school, Coach Hoover had decided to give them the day off from practice. He was exhausted.

  Felicia began rapping her nails impatiently on the console between the seats.

  “You’re pleasant today,” Shane remarked.

  “I just want to get home,” she replied testily.

  “You want to know what?” he retorted. “Every day that I have practice, I’m not going to be driving you home. And if you’re this annoying to people on the bus, they may throw you off.” He pulled into the driveway and groaned inwardly when he saw that Brian’s green Dodge Shadow was already parked there.

  “Finally,” Felicia breathed. The car had barely stopped before she had unbuckled and practically tumbled out the door. She was running for the house when he put the car in park.

  Shane took his time gathering up his backpack and heading toward the house. He did not really harbor any resentment toward Felicia or Brian for dating each other, although it made things weird at times. Still, it was going to be annoying for the next couple weeks. Brian was leaving for college soon, and Shane was resigned to the fact that he was not going to get to spend any time with his friend before he left for school. Actually, when he came home on weekends, he would probably be all over Felicia then, too, so he really was not going to be spending any time with him ever again.

  He shut the driver’s side door, feeling slightly bitter. Shane had a lot of acquaintances, but not a lot of friends that he would willingly hang out with outside of school or practice. He knew he did not have any room to be upset, because he had ruined a few of Felicia’s friendships in his time. But he could not help but feel like he was losing one of the few friends that he had.

  When he got into the house, he headed upstairs into the kitchen. Brian was standing in the kitchen, chatting with their dad. He had his arm thrown across Felicia’s shoulders.

  “I was lucky they didn’t put me in one of the dorms with those quad rooms,” Brian was saying. “That was basically two dorm rooms stuck together with four people in it and two sets of bunk beds. There really wasn’t enough space to live.” Brian caught sight of Shane and smiled. “Hey, man.”

  “Hey,” Shane answered, smiling as well. He held out his hand and Brian slapped it. It had been their greeting for years. “Enjoying the last few weeks before hell?”

  Brian laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “Yesterday was my last day at work.” Brian had worked at an Auntie Anne’s pretzel kiosk in the closest mall for the past three summers.

  “Now you might be able to buy books,” their dad remarked.

  “Maybe one or two,” Brian joked back.

  “What classes do you have this semester?” their dad asked.

  “Gen eds, mostly,” Brian responded. “Biology, algebra, history, composition, and a P.E. course.”

  “What are you majoring in again?”

  “Sports administration.”

  “And where exactly will that field get you?”

  Shane was sort of relieved that Brian was there to take some of the edge off. Their father, Alex, was one of the managers for a nearby restaurant. He typically worked later than this, but Shane knew that he had been planning on taking off early today to be there when his kids got home from the first day of school. On the surface, this appeared to be sweet and caring, but Shane was aware his dad would be instigating the Spanish Inquisition about SATs and future plans at some point this evening. His mother, Molly, an auditor, was no different, but she tended to work longer hours and therefore had less opportunity to question him.

  “Dad,” Felicia interrupted, “enough with the third degree.” She tugged on Brian’s arm. “Come on.” She started to lead him away by the hand.

  “Nice seeing you again, Mr. Stolarz,” Brian called over his shoulder as he was dragged from the room.

  “So, what do you think?” asked Alex. His back was turned toward his son as he transferred a plate from the dishwasher to the china cabinet.

  “I give it ‘til Thanksgiving,” Shane answered, dropping his bag on a kitchen chair.

  His dad looked over his shoulder. “I meant about the first day of school.”

  “Oh.” Shane paused. “It was fine.”

  Felicia and Brian lay on her bed, her head against his chest and his arm around her shoulders. It was one of the few positio
ns they could lie together that was not awkward; at six-foot-two, Brian was fourteen inches taller than his girlfriend. He was deeply tanned from the summer sun, and his black hair and brown eyes added to his overall dark and brooding image. This, combined with his lankiness and long limbs, caused Felicia to think that he looked like he should be playing bass in some grunge band. Unfortunately, he kept his wiry hair cut short. She had always liked the long-haired look on guys.

  “So, how was the most wonderful day of the year?” he asked her conversationally.

  “Not so wonderful,” she responded. She thought about telling him about meeting Elliot, but refrained. She was not sure he wanted to hear about her meeting new people already. Besides, it probably was not worth mentioning. He would not even be interested.

  Brian tucked a strand of her black hair behind her ear. “I know what would make your day better,” he said, pulling her closer.

  “What’s that?” she asked playfully, already knowing the response. He did this so often, it was almost scripted.

  Brian leaned over and kissed her, but she was startled at the kind of kiss it was. His lips parted hers and his tongue slid into her mouth immediately, as he drew her body sharply to his. She responded, but hesitantly. When his hand slid underneath the hem of her shirt and touched her stomach, she broke away.

  “My dad is right down the hall,” she pointed out quietly, “and my door is open.”

  “So close it,” he whispered back.

  “You know I’m not allowed to have boys in my room with the door closed,” she admonished teasingly.

  Brian rolled his eyes.

  “What?” she asked defensively.

  “You’re always making some kind of excuse,” he answered.

  She furrowed her brow and pulled away from him slightly. “I’m not making excuses,” she said slowly. “That’s the rule at my house and you know it.”

  “Yeah, that’s the rule here,” Brian shot back, “but it’s not the rule at my house and you still pushed me away when we were there yesterday.”

  Felicia sighed and sat up, facing away from him. “I’m getting sick of having this conversation,” she said tiredly.

  “Well, you could stop saying no,” he suggested sarcastically.

  Felicia stood, suddenly not wanting to be on the bed with him. “I don’t understand why you always have to push me. Can’t you just wait until I’m ready, Brian?”

  “Felicia, we’ve been dating for almost a year and I’m leaving in two weeks. I was cool with waiting until you’re ready, but it’s frustrating that you always make excuses to push me away every time I try to kiss you or do anything. We haven’t even been doing the stuff we used to do.”

  “That’s because every time we do, you start bugging me about having sex and I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “Is everything okay in here?”

  Felicia and Brian both turned toward the door. It was half open and Shane was standing in the doorway, looking too casual to be casual. His eyes flicked from Felicia to Brian and hardened slightly, and she suspected that her brother knew exactly what they were arguing about.

  “Everything’s cool,” Brian responded smoothly.

  He and Shane both looked at Felicia.

  She smiled and nodded at her brother.

  She knew that he knew her well enough to know that everything was not “cool”, but after hovering for a minute and staring at Brian suspiciously, he walked off down the hallway. Felicia rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I wish he’d mind his own business,” she muttered.

  Brian looked at her. “I wish we had more business for him to mind.”

  “I still don’t see why you feel the need to go here,” Melody said, stepping over a fallen branch.

  “Hold on. Let me get a picture of this tree.” Andy stopped in the path and aimed the camera lens at the tree with the gnarled branch that divorced the trunk around four feet up, but reconciled with it later in its ascent. He snapped the shutter, capturing the tree in time. “Mel, why don’t you get on that branch and let me take your picture.”

  “Uh, no thank you,” Melody responded, though her face warmed at his use of her childhood nickname. “That branch looks about ready to snap off.”

  “No way. We used to sit on it all the time.”

  “Yeah, when we were about seventy pounds lighter.”

  Andy continued down the path, and Melody followed him. They wound around trees and shrubbery and stayed within sight of the creek.

  “Good thing the creek isn’t very high,” Melody said conversationally. “The path would have been underwater.”

  The two were quiet the next several minutes when the path molded into a narrow ridge. They held onto tree trunks for balance as they passed. The height difference between the ridge and the creek below lengthened to several yards. A fall into the foot-deep water would be unpleasant at the least.

  “This thing keeps eroding,” Andy remarked. “It won’t be long before we won’t be able to use this path at all.”

  It leveled out eventually and the two were once again able to walk side by side.

  “Remember when Cadie told us that the hill was just a house buried under a bunch of dirt?” Melody asked.

  Andy nodded. “I still believe that.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “I’m serious!”

  “You can’t be.”

  “Melody, look at it.” They rounded the bend and there it was, jutting out of the earth like a giant blemish, dotted with marble headstones and surrounded by an iron fence. The creek wound away. Even it wanted to be somewhere else. Andy stopped in the path and gestured toward it. “Look at how unnaturally it’s shaped. It totally looks like someone just decided to bury their house.”

  “What did Cadie say—that there was a witch who lived there, and they buried her alive?”

  “Yeah. And she still lives inside, casting spells and brewing potions using body parts from the people buried in the cemetery.”

  “God, how do you remember all that?” Melody asked.

  Andy shrugged. “I used to have a crush on your sister.”

  “Get out!” She pushed him playfully.

  He stumbled, then recovered. “I almost dropped the Nikon.”

  “Sorry.” Melody waited for a few moments as they approached the iron gate, but Andy did not elaborate on the huge bombshell he had just dropped. She was forced to pry. “You used to have a crush on Cadie?”

  Andy shrugged again. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “You guess?”

  He grinned sheepishly, turning to look toward her. “Okay, yeah, I did.”

  “How come you never told me?”

  “I dunno. It wasn’t a big deal. I was like ten.”

  “Was that the reason you started hanging out with me?”

  Andy rolled his eyes. “Melody, I didn’t even meet Cadie until you and I became friends.”

  “I guess.”

  He pointed away, toward the far side of the cemetery. “I’m going to take some pictures of the headstones over there.”

  “Okay,” Melody answered somewhat moodily. Andy headed off toward the other side of the hill, and she trailed to the iron fence to look over the edge.

  It was a stupid thing to be pouty about and she knew it. It was not as if Andy still liked Cadie. And it had been six years ago. She just wondered why he had had a crush on Cadie, but never Melody. She knew he could not help it. Still, she wondered.

  Melody turned around, and Andy lowered the camera as she did so. “You weren’t taking pictures of me, were you?” she called across the graveyard.

  “Why would I take you all the way to a cemetery just to take pictures of you?” Andy responded. He pointed the lens at a headstone.

  A few minutes later, he announced that he was ready to go. The two of them climbed through the bars of the iron gate, which had rusted shut probably a hundred years before. “You think the lit mag will use pictures of a cemetery?” Melody asked as they started walking
again.

  “Probably,” Andy replied, turning off his digital camera. “There’s always emo children writing some kind of goth poetry, and I’m sure a graveyard photograph would complement it perfectly.”

  “A little different than your sunflower picture from last year.”

  “At least this time, it probably wouldn’t be accompanied by the story Bill the Bunny,” Andy said condescendingly.

  “Not unless it’s Bill the Bunny Buries His Buddies.”

  “Cadie! Dinner’s ready!” Mrs. Dawson called downstairs from the kitchen.

  “Coming.” Cadie was on the couch in the Dawsons’ family room, watching TV. She turned the set off and walked upstairs into the kitchen, where her mother and father were sitting down to the table. A steaming pan of lasagna sat in the middle of the table, along with a huge bowl of salad and a basket of garlic bread. “Did Will Smith die?” Cadie asked without preamble.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” her mother replied, beginning to cut up the lasagna with a spatula. “Why?”

  “Because all they have on right now is Will Smith movies. Men in Black just ended and then Men in Black II was starting, so I changed the channel and Hitch was on. I thought I might be missing something.”

  “Maybe it’s his birthday,” her father suggested.

  Mrs. Dawson’s first name was Daisy, and she looked just like the kind of woman who should be named Daisy. She had the same long brown hair as her daughters, only more manageable, and she wore it in a bun high atop her head. She liked to wear pink and sandals with heels, and she never wore white after Labor Day. She was unemployed, but she volunteered a lot, mostly at animal shelters or assisted living homes—anywhere that involved taking care of someone or something. She had a bed of begonias in the backyard. She preferred pansies, but the deer ate them. She got a manicure once a month. She liked things made out of wicker.

  Mr. Dawson was a real estate agent. His first name was actually Tom, but after he started dating Daisy in college, his friends had started calling him Duke, and that was a name that they still used today. Daisy thought it was cute. Tom did not. Cadie and Melody were just glad their father’s name was not Donald. Tom did not like wearing pink, but he was an avid card player, and Cadie and Melody had both grown up with games such as poker, canasta, gin, bridge, and a bunch of other miscellaneous card games that none of their friends knew how to play.