The Boys Who Danced With the Moon

by Mark Paul Oleksiw

  “You know her?” Now I knew I was tempting fate with these questions.

  “Not really. She keeps to herself. I know she likes to read and stuff. She was in one of my group projects. Maybe I should talk to her more,” he said, seemingly making a mental note.

  I laughed expressively, wearing a smile almost bigger than my face could bear, hoping to throw him off the trail. “You already talk to too many people.”

  Well, she was real and so close to me all these years. My mind raced. Was she a nice girl? What did she enjoy reading? Millions of things I wanted to know.

  English class was the first period today. The sun was bright and lit up the room as I entered. There she was in her seat, head down and writing. She looked up to copy something that was on the board. Her eyes were a deep dark black, and I was losing myself in them. I found myself smiling, and it took every fiber of my being to take my eyes off her and sit down. Marius soon came by and bounced his notepad off my head.

  Class started and we were given various works of poetry to read and analyze before discussing them. I was zoning out until I heard Mrs. Woodsmith say Laura’s name. “Yes, Laura.”

  “I think the writer is trying to say that there are things more powerful and meaningful than our material world.”

  “Good point. Anyone else?”

  Laura’s voice lifted me out of my chair. I read the poem and thought about what she said. I was not worthy of this. All I could see on the page were words.

  “Marius. What do you think the poet’s message is?” Once again, Marius was obviously uninterested, maybe daydreaming, and had been caught. Daydreaming was not the appropriate word. Marius was likely listening to some soundtrack running through his mind.

  “Know what? I see a lot of words and the poet is trying to make a living, so he was trying to explain why the world is evil. He really should just say that.”

  Mrs. Woodsmith smirked and then, horrors of all horrors, looked directly at me.

  “Do you agree, Mr. Wells?”

  I was startled. “Agree with who?”

  “Your friend.” She motioned with her hand in the direction behind me, and I quickly looked back at Marius and knew I was in bottomless trouble. Now Marius was smiling profusely. He was fully expecting me to play straight man to his court jester. However, to this day, I do not know how I found the words, but they came to me.

  “Well, I tend to think the poet has these strong feelings and emotions about the material world. Emotions and feelings shouldn’t be broken down to one or two words. I’m not sure if words even exist that can capture the soul’s desires.” I stopped and tried to wait for my brain to put an end to this runaway train.

  “Go on, Mr. Wells.”

  “Yes. Go on, Mr. Wells,” Marius chirped from behind, clearly realizing the punchline was not coming.

  “The feelings and emotions a poet wants to convey are those that we feel when we read the words. He has to put them in a way to get us to find the emotions buried within us. So because we’re all different, we get different emotions from what we read…” I paused for a freaking long time and added, “I think.”

  “Does that help, Marius?”

  I turned to look at Marius. I felt both sheepish and surprised by what had come out from me. He had a smirk on his face. “Yes. Clear as a bell, but I guess the world sucks would be too simple to write.”

  While everyone looked at Marius as he talked, my eyes drifted across the room. Laura was smiling. I had seen her smile, and she smiled at what I had said. There was a brief moment where our eyes may have met. However, I moved my gaze away so fast, I’ll never know for sure. Seeing that smile set my heart ablaze with joy. She smiled at my words—my point of view. I was so ecstatic, and I felt complete. There was little doubt now.

  I took out an empty notebook and wrote.

  Yesterday I fell in love. Today my world went from stick people and black and white to form and color.

  When the bell rang to end the period, the students got up to leave. Mrs. Woodsmith called out over the din. “Mr. Wells, if you have a second, I would like to speak to you.”

  Marius laughed. “Smartass. Now you’ll have to teach the class.”

  I waited for everyone to leave. My head was down, and I was suddenly embarrassed.

  “Mr. Wells. You were in my class a couple of years back, right?”

  “Yes. Ma’am.”

  “Well, you’ve obviously read more literature than you have let on.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Don’t be shy to express your ideas and speak out.”

  I stood there and nodded my head. There was a long pause, and Mrs. Woodsmith started to pack her things.

  “Sometimes, the words don’t come to me. I mean, to say things at the right time.”

  “Well, you did quite well today.”

  “I guess I had a good day today.”

  She looked intently at me. “Try this. Write your thoughts down as they come. A little trick I learned. It may help.”

  “Like a diary,” I said dismissively.

  “No. It doesn’t have to be formal. Write when you want to write. It can be about anything at all. I think it might help you find that voice within you.”

  “Well . . . thanks,” I said. “I have to get going to chemistry. Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  She smiled at me. “By the way, don’t expect everyone to understand you, either.”

  “Right.”

  I did appreciate it. From then on, I always had pen and notebook close by. It was also the only way I knew how to share the pure feelings of love I felt. I had awakened to a strange new and elegant world that welcomed my presence.

  The writing became an obsession. Wherever I went, the notepad would be close by and carefully guarded, especially around Marius. I used the excuse that I was taking notes for a particular class or that I was becoming forgetful and needed to write things down. One thing I never did was go back and reread whatever I wrote. Lines of paper were filled and not returned to—like unrequited love, I suppose.

  Marius was the first to notice that I had become more introverted, or even more so than I usually was. I sat and listened, but partook in carrying the discussions less and less. When we met after school, I heard the usual complaints about parents, teachers, what so and so was wearing, and all of the day-to-day trials and tribulations of a teenager. We would often tease each other, and even at that, I withdrew. I should say I was content through all this. I would enjoy the streams of communications flowing through me. I just couldn’t throw myself into their ways as I had been swept about into another universe.

  The air was starting to grow colder, and leaves would soon be completely off the trees. The after-school rituals of late summer would ultimately be put on hold only to return during the springtime, once the snow had melted.

  I would see Laura in and around the school at a distance. I would gaze and try not to stare as she boarded the bus home. I looked forward to every English class and devoting my ears to her voice when she spoke. I mastered the technique of adjusting my chair and turning to talk to Marius while glancing over at her. As weird as it seemed, knowing she and I shared this universe was enough for now.

  Moony had noticed all my scribbling and the notebook I was carrying. He told me he received a new backpack for his birthday and offered me his weather-beaten auburn-colored satchel. I accepted the offer and now had my own Ark of the Covenant to carry the words that meant so much to me.

  CHAPTER 18

  It was a crisp autumn evening. A perfect setting for Halloween night. Snow had not fallen yet, and it was unseasonably warm. A large contingent of us had met at the base of the hill with loot bags and makeshift costumes. Moony’s transition was smooth. He found a pointed cap, a plastic wand, and went as a wizard. Was he Merlin or Gandalf or who knows what? Nobody dared to ask. The accompa
nying literature lesson from Moony would likely go on, until Christmas if we did. We were too old for ordinary trick-or-treating, so we went out later in the evening under the cover of darkness after the young ones had long since retired. Bags of chips were our favorite treat.

  Marius showed up in cowboy boots, a jean jacket, and a black cowboy hat with a kerchief around his neck. He had a metal toy gun in one hand.

  “You Jesse James?” asked Thomas, who, like he did every Halloween that I could recollect, dressed as a football player.

  Marius gave him an eye roll before introducing his persona. “I’m going as a sheriff, a U.S. marshal.”

  “Why the black hat? Good guys don’t wear black hats.” It was Dale interjecting from beneath his makeshift ghost/bedsheet costume.

  “They wear black now, and who says I have to be a good guy, right, Moony?”

  Moony looked up at Marius lamentingly with his eyes open wide. “If you say so.”

  I knew the attention would turn to me at some point.

  “Who the fuck are you supposed to be, Mercutio?” We had been reading Romeo and Juliet that week, so Marius’s comments were much more intelligent than they may have appeared.

  I was wearing a flowing white shirt (one of my dad’s oversized dress shirts), slightly puffy at the sleeves, and pajama bottoms. Over the top of my shirt was an old white tablecloth with a hole cut out to fit my head through. Across the middle of the tablecloth was a medieval cross that I had carefully drawn in bright red.

  “Medieval knight,” I said, making sure I pointed out my sword to them. It was a blunt old sword that I had back in the day when I went as a pirate.

  Moony moved in close for inspection. “A Templar Knight. That’s what you are. You know they were all slaughtered by the church? Very brave of you to wear!”

  I laughed at Moony. “No need to worry about that. I’m glad you like it.”

  Marius shook his head. “Pajama bottoms. Seriously? You look like that damn Mercutio guy or maybe even his friend.” He grabbed my sword and stepped away from the assembled group that now stood before him. He pointed the sword, not menacingly but tauntingly, at me.

  “True, I talk of dreams,

  Which are the children of an idle brain,

  Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.”

  He gave me the sword back and smiled. “You thought I don’t pay attention. Right, Romeo?”

  “Umm . . . no, you just memorized the lines that we all had to,” I said, trying to poke holes in this victorious bubble he had created for himself. I laughed as I took the sword back and put it in the makeshift sling I made to carry it.

  We broke off into pairs and went into the residential neighborhoods surrounding our school and crisscrossed streets to do so, promising to return to the park to divvy up our loot and trade at the end of the night.

  It was around 11 p.m, and the moon hid amongst the threatening clouds. The forecasted rain remained at bay mercifully, so we could properly pillage our small town. The gang had returned after a good hour of trading. Marius hadn’t come back to the park yet. He had made us promise not to leave until he got there. We guessed he had probably followed some girls along the way and was playing his U.S. marshal routine to the hilt. One thing about Marius was that he always showed up eventually, especially if there was some new conquest to divulge. He always needed his audience.

  Moony yawned repeatedly. His eyes darted chaotically while looking to the sky as if he was trying to see through and in between clouds. He loved watching the sky at night. He claimed if he tried hard enough, he could set his mind to visiting the stars and the moon.

  I once asked if he meant just using his imagination. He firmly believed that he could leave his body and visit faraway places by only thinking about them intensely. I would sit and smile as he did this. My thoughts were not to the heavens but on one person here on earth.

  Suddenly, Moony became restless. Something caught his gaze in the distance. He was like a guard dog sensing an unwelcome presence. “Kiran! Someone just went into the cabin up there.”

  He was referring to the old cabin about forty feet into the woods near the top of the hill. “I saw someone going in there. I think I should check it out. Maybe someone’s lost.”

  “Moony, I hate to break it you but it might just be, you know, people who want to be alone. I mean, it is a great quiet spot and much warmer than you know . . .”

  “What? I’m not sure I understand.”

  I took an elongated pause as if to clear my throat. There was no way I was going to have a father-and-son talk with Moony.

  “Just forget about it. I hope Marius gets here soon. I’m freezing.”

  Moony got up suddenly. “I’m going to see what’s going on. Maybe someone’s lost. Those woods are gloomy and pretty thick.”

  “C’mon, Moony. If they went to the cabin, they’re quite fine in many ways.”

  “No. I have a bad feeling about this. Someone might need our help.” He started walking at a quick pace to the cabin and I scrambled to get up and follow him.

  “Damn. I’ll come with you.”

  I finally caught up with him as we got within a few feet of the cabin. There were voices coming from inside. It was completely black, and I could see a splattering or flash of light from inside. Whoever was inside was using a flashlight.

  I tried to pull on Moony’s outfit to stop him. I didn’t want to yell and attract attention; I had a sick feeling in my stomach. Suddenly, Moony took off in front of me and burst through the door. “Is everybody okay?” Within seconds, a body threw himself at Moony and tackled him through the doorway back toward me. My fake sword went flying to the ground. As I scrambled to turn around and retrieve my senses, two figures stood menacingly over me.

  Both had on black leather jackets and jeans. Both wore old work boots. I could see their faces clearly as they towered over me. They weren’t much taller than me. Unmistakeable were their shaved heads. I recognized the piercing gray eyes of the taller one. His name was Robbie Dialto. He dropped out of our school more than a year ago. The other guy must have been his friend Drey who got expelled with him. They were caught peddling drugs to the younger grades. Both were skinheads or dressed the role, whatever, it didn’t matter.

  “Wells! I remember you.” Robbie studied me carefully.

  “We went to elementary school together.” I slowly started getting up.

  “You know these geeks?” The other voice spoke.

  “Only this one.” Robbie pointed his finger at my chest. I could see the other hand reaching into his back pocket. I could see a knife handle sticking out of Robbie’s jacket. My heart started racing.

  “We thought someone needed help. No one hangs around this cabin and . . .”

  “Mind your fuckin’ business next time. Or next time will be the last time. Understand?” Drey stepped in front of Robbie and pushed me hard. I’m not sure if he was trying to provoke me or just scare me. I stumbled back and luckily caught my footing. My eyes fixated on their hands and their back pockets. I could see Moony in the background sitting up with his mouth wide open and trembling. He had rolled to the side when he got tackled. For an instant, they forgot him.

  “I got it. We didn’t mean anything. Sorry. We’ll just go.”

  Drey turned to Robbie and motioned for him to look over at Moony.

  “Look at this freak. He dresses like a five year old.”

  “Leave him alone.” The words came instinctively out of me.

  Both of them turned to me now and glared ominously with hands reaching into their pockets. I held my ground and could see Moony was distracted. A figure was running at a frantic pace. I recognized the heavy footsteps and could hear the thumping on the moist October grass. I backed up slightly and rambled on, talking as I kept stepping back. They continued to move toward me and were so saturated with rage that they didn’t he
ar the footsteps thundering behind them.

  “Run, Moony. Run! Go home. Fast!” I wanted to get him out of harm’s way.

  Moony grabbed his loot bag and ran in the opposite direction just as Marius appeared in full flight. As they turned to chase Moony, Marius rose full force through the air, swifter than a tiger through a circus hoop, and landed a ferocious elbow into Drey’s face. Blood splattered all over Marius’s jean jacket as he landed on top of him. I impulsively grabbed Robbie at the knees and tackled him before he could get to Marius. In no time, Marius was up in full vigor and onto Robbie’s back, flipping him over and pinning him to ground. His fists never stopped pumping. In the background, Drey covered his blood-drenched face with his hands and retreated quickly into the cabin and came out with a couple of small sandwich bags containing a powdery substance and ran off into the woods. I reached around Marius’s arms to stop the assault. He finally stopped and got up off of Robbie.

  “Skinhead creep. Get the fuck out of here and never come back,” he barked into Robbie’s face. Robbie got up and took off in the direction of Drey and off into the woods.

  “Where’s Moony?” Marius said, looking around.

  “He took off the other way. I’m pretty sure he went home,” I said while studying Marius.

  “Now what are you looking at it?”

  “I just never saw you so angry. You were going to kill him, weren’t you?”

  “No. I would have stopped punching. Eventually.”

  The display of brutality and anger both intrigued and saddened me. I was at the time grateful that Marius had arrived because I’m not sure what might have happened.

  “Shit. Sorry about your jacket,” I said. I walked along the route from where Marius had come and picked up the black cowboy hat he had worn.

  “Man….” We walked back together through the park.

  “Thanks, Marius,” I said, punching him on the shoulder as I headed toward my house.

  I looked back to see Marius checking his clothes for blood and shaking his head.