by Amy Herrick
Brigit just stood there, paralyzed. You could tell she knew exactly what was happening and that everybody was watching.
A low, rough voice began to sing:
Mine eyes have seen the glory of Brigit’s burning blush.
Just because a grape or two has turned the girl to mush.
We have seen the red go creeping from her neck into her face.
The grapes go rolling on.
Glory, glory hallelujah,
Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory what’s it to ya?
The grapes go rolling on.
Feenix’s squad of evil henchwomen had gathered around her and joined in. Beatrice the Poisonous Toadstool and Alison the Hangnail stood at her side popping grapes in their mouths.
The thing that happened next happened very quickly. A hand appeared from out of nowhere, and snatched Feenix’s little pink purse from off her shoulder.
Feenix stopped singing. For a moment she was too surprised to move. Then she gave a yell of fury.
“Eddie!” a voice called. “Heads up! Comin’ to ya.”
The little purse flew through the air and, without thinking, Edward put his hands up and caught it. It was a little pink-beaded affair, lumpy with personal junk.
“Hey!” Feenix called. She began to leap over chairs and around people in his direction.
Edward, his heart pounding, rose from his seat and began to run.
Around them, everyone else stopped singing and gave a cheer.
“Over here, Eddie!”
Danton was grinning happily, his hands up in the air, ready for the catch. Edward threw the bag toward him and Danton caught it easily.
Alison and Beatrice attempted to tackle Danton, but he laughed and eluded them smoothly. Feenix jumped on a chair and lunged for the purse.
“I’m open!” Edward yelled.
Danton threw the purse back to him and Edward tucked it under his arm like a football and began to run down the crowded aisle between the tables, heading for open space. Edward generally avoided any public physical activity since it might reveal that he had the hand, foot, and eye coordination of a sock puppet. To his surprise, the moment he had the purse in his grasp he found himself as light and swift as a deer. He held on to it tightly and felt the glorious pleasure of speed. Although shouting and laughing arms reached out to catch him, he was too slippery and too fast. He reached the open space by the water fountains and saw the exit door ahead of him. He put his head down and barreled through a knot of kids scattering them in all directions. When he looked up, there was Feenix, blocking his way.
He stopped short. She was, as always, taller than he was, and dressed to make other people stare at her. Today it was cowboy boots and pink leggings and some kind of lacy black skirt thing. He closed his eyes briefly, blinded and feeling the warm lightness in his veins swiftly leaving him, hissing away like air out of a balloon. She shook one finger at him as if he’d been a naughty child. She held out her hand.
Edward took the lumpy beaded purse out from under his arm and looked at it. It had a metal closure at the top. He started to hand it over to her and then stopped. With a quick snap, he twisted it open and, at the same moment, tossed the bag upside down in the air. A fountain of girly junk came flying out: eyeliners, Chapsticks, lipsticks, cell phone, snotty tissues, breath strips, half-eaten candy bars.
A low growl of fury came from her throat.
Girls hated it, he knew, when their purses spilled on the floor.
He watched with triumph while she scrabbled to pick it all up and stuff it back into the bag.
When she was done, she stood and snapped her bag closed. It had a thin pink strap, which she now slung over her shoulder, tucking the bag tight under her arm. She was breathing a tiny bit hard as she met his gaze with those unnerving eyes of hers. It was then that he spotted it, in the edge of his vision. On the floor near her foot.
His rock.
“Hey!” he exclaimed.
She followed his gaze and, quick as a snake striking, she bent down and snatched it up.
The wind rattled the windows of the lunchroom. It gave a low, hungry moan and dashed itself against the side of the old school building, like the waves throwing themselves against the rocks.
“Hey!” he repeated.
“I’m not happy with you, Edsel,” she growled.
“That’s my rock.”
She lifted her eyebrow. “Your name is on it somewhere?”
“No, my name isn’t on it.”
“Then how do we know it’s your rock?”
“I found it in my aunt’s garden this morning and I put it my pocket.”
“Well, then maybe your aunt’s name is on it?”
“Nobody’s name is on it, but that’s the rock I brought in for science class.”
“What if I told you that I picked up this rock last night when I went for a walk in the park?”
“You would be lying.”
“It’s just a rock. What are you popping your pimples about?”
“It’s my rock.” He felt how stupid this sounded, even as the words came out of his mouth.
The wind shrieked and Edward could have sworn he felt the building tremble.
“Whoa. Will you look at that?” someone whispered.
Edward turned.
The windows in the lunchroom rose nearly to the ceiling and looked out upon a gray afternoon. High up in the sky a gray object came falling toward them. It rushed down from the clouds in odd jerks and starts. Edward wanted to back up, but found that his feet were cemented to the floor.
The thing grew larger rapidly and now they could see the shape of a person with arms outstretched.
It was headed for their window, not in a straight line, but like a kite being pulled in, stopping and starting. Edward saw, with a very unpleasant drop in his stomach, that the thing had no head.
There were gasps and whispers. “What is it?”
The thing hit the glass with a thud and someone screamed. For a moment, it hung there, suspended. Its arms seemed to stretch up and reach toward them. Then, suddenly, it crumpled and twisted sideways.
“Look! It’s just an old coat,” someone shouted.
And with relief, Edward saw it was true. It looked like an old gray raincoat. The wind must have snatched it up and puffed it full of air so that it only seemed alive. Now it spun away from them, jerking and turning, and then it fell out of sight.
For a moment the whole lunchroom was silent, then the silence was broken with loud laughter and gasps of relief.
Edward pulled himself away from staring out the window. He turned back to Feenix. “My rock, please.”
Feenix’s face showed nothing. “What rock?”
Edward turned his gaze to her hand. It was empty.
“What’d you do with it?” he demanded.
For a minute she was silent, then she said, “I think it’s time for you to stop following me around and steaming up my space.”
“What are you talking about?” It wasn’t possible that she was saying what he thought she was saying.
“I see you in the morning, peering out your window curtain when I go by.” Edward heard a few little snickers of delight break out around him.
He took a step back. “You are grossly mistaken.”
She smiled. “Am I?” She adjusted her little purse on her shoulder and turned away.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Fog
Brigit slipped into a seat and felt the heat in her face and neck slowly recede. She saw Feenix head out of the lunchroom followed by her little gang. Edward sat down in his corner. Danton bounced back to his lunch, laughing and talking to the people around him. No one turned to look at her. That she had been forgotten was both a relief and a disappointment.
It hadn’t always been like this. She was a quiet person, it was true, but back in her old school she had had friends and people to sit with at lunch. But then Leo, her baby brother, had died in his sleep and her parents ha
d decided that it would be best to move to a new place. Somewhere in the shuffle, she stopped talking. Her mother, she knew, was worried about this and thought maybe it was because Brigit felt guilty or something and had brought her to doctors. Brigit listened to the doctors politely and nodded her head yes and no, and returned to her silence. After a while her mother, who was so heavy with sadness, let her be. Her father seemed to spend more and more time at work, so she hardly ever saw him. Sometimes, though, he came to her room late at night when he thought she was asleep and just stood in the doorway. Only her grandad really tried to talk to her. He told her not to fret, that her voice had gone journeying and when she really needed it, it would come back to her. He was always saying things like this. He called her an Old Soul. He had been born in County Cork in Ireland and had come over here with his own mother and grandma when he was fifteen. He had an endless supply of stories about selkies and banshees and the little folk who lived in the hollow hills and could bring luck or ruin. He knew about the second sight and the songs that could make a person dance until they dropped. It used to be that most nights after dinner he’d sing her a song and tell her a story, but since Leo had gone, he had become more and more forgetful and withdrawn into his own past. Sometimes she imagined that they were all under some sort of enchantment and that if only she could find the right words she would call them all back. But whatever those words were, she had no idea and, of course, even if she did, she wasn’t sure she would be able to speak them.
She finished her lunch and opened her book. She did not look up until the bell rang. She had been buried so deep in the wonderful story about the hobgoblin trying to protect the old English manor house where he has lived for centuries that she was confused for moment and not certain where she was.
She looked around the room and saw the stampede of kids rushing and pushing each other toward the exit doors. A tall boy whose head stuck up over the crowd turned and flashed her a grin. It was Danton again. She stared at him in surprise, but he was borne away by the rushing river of students before she could even begin to blush.
All afternoon Edward boiled with fury, as much at himself as at Feenix. To permit a mutant such as that girl to get under his skin was a violation of his most sacred principles.
He was so busy trying to calm himself down that the afternoon was gone before he knew it. When the bell rang at the end of the day, he almost couldn’t believe it. He gathered his books without looking at anyone and slipped out of the building. He was certain that everyone was talking about what had happened, so he avoided going anywhere near the bus stop and decided to take a side street up the long hill. The wind had died down, but the afternoon was gray and damp.
He was about to turn the corner when a voice he recognized called his name. He could pretend deafness, he supposed. Although he was pretty sure that it would do him no good. He took a breath and turned around.
Edward watched Danton come bounding toward him. Where did the guy get all that energy from? All that snap, crackle, pop? It just radiated out of him. He sparkled with furious good health. His jacket was wide open like it was a lovely spring evening.
“Hey, man. Whassup?”
“Not much.”
“You were really in the zone today.”
Edward stared at him.
“In the lunchroom. With Feenix’s pink beanbag. That was pretty awesome.”
Edward didn’t know what to say to this. They had had very little to do with each other in the past and Edward didn’t see why they should start now. But Danton persisted. “Why don’t you come along with me one Saturday and we’ll shoot some baskets? I have some guys I meet up with.”
Danton was not only a decent student but someone who moved with inexplicable ease between one social group and another. He was also the Lord of the Inflated Rubber Ball. If he didn’t have a ball to throw, he was willing to use whatever was handy. Apples, oranges, and hard-boiled eggs were good lunchroom substitutes. That he imagined Edward would consider getting up early on a Saturday morning to meet some other guys and play basketball was dumbfounding. Edward decided the best strategy would be to just go along with him and then silently sneak away when the guy got distracted.
“Sure,” Edward said. “Though I think I got something going on this weekend.”
Danton laughed and put his arm around him like he knew just what Edward was thinking. “That’s cool. We can talk about it next week. Right now we gotta figure out what we’re going to do about today.”
“What do you mean?” Edward asked sharply.
“You know what I mean. Your rock. Feenix’s still got it. We need to get it back.”
Edward’s eyes gleamed for a moment. He thought about the rock. He thought about Feenix. Then he shook his head.
“Are you going to let her get away with this? You can’t.”
“It’s only a rock.”
“People shouldn’t just go around just taking each other’s rocks like that. What would happen to civilization if people just went around taking each other’s rocks? If you let her get away with this today, who knows what she’ll try to get away with tomorrow. It’s for her own good. She’s not a bad kid. She just thinks she is. We’ve got to go after her.”
“Now? You want to go after her now?”
“Of course now. I saw her put it in her pocket, but if we don’t stop her before she gets home, she’ll hide it somewhere and then our mission will become seriously complicated.”
Edward stared up at Danton. Surely, he was kidding. But the sunshiny grin was gone. The guy was serious. Before Edward could say another word, Danton had grabbed him by the arm.
“Come on, Eddie,” he said. “I saw her back at the corner going into Mike’s deli.”
“All right,” Edward said. “All right. Would you mind just letting go of the jacket, please? And the name’s Edward.”
Brigit, who was about to head up the hill toward home, saw the two boys pass by. She smiled to herself. They were such a comical looking pair, Danton with those ridiculously long arms and legs, bouncing around, practically levitating off the sidewalk. Edward, on the other hand, looked kind of like Winnie the Pooh, shuffling along, shaking his head “no” like a bear trying to get snow out of his eyes.
What could they be whispering about? A certainty came out of nowhere that they needed someone to watch over them. She knew better than to ignore a feeling like this. Quick as a sparrow, she flitted behind a parked car and watched to see where they headed.
When they entered the deli, Feenix was nowhere to be seen. Edward was relieved. Then he heard the voice of Beatrice the Poisonous Toadstool.
“And did you get a look at that hair, with that mousse or whatever it was? Somebody’s got to tell her.”
“I’ll tell her,” volunteered Alison the Hangnail. Edward thought of her that way because she was always biting at her cuticles. Also, that was exactly the kind of pain she was. Small and excruciating.
The girls were somewhere behind the magazine rack. There was a low, bored, answering murmur. Feenix.
“What is that scent you’re wearing, FeeFee?” asked Beatrice. “It’s so awesome.”
“You’re smelling things. I’m not wearing any scent.”
Danton gestured to him and they edged down the aisle where the girls wouldn’t see them, but could be spied upon.
Feenix was slinking along, now and then reaching out to touch a glossy magazine. Alison and Beatrice followed behind, chattering away.
The girls came out into the center aisle where the gum and candy were. Feenix darted a quick glance around, grabbed a Three Musketeers bar, and shoved it into her coat pocket. She headed casually toward the door, the other two following. A damp draft rushed in as the girls pushed their way out. Then they stopped and stood there, Beatrice and Alison blah, blah, blahhing away.
Danton and Edward waited inside, watching. Feenix gazed around herself, listening to the two other girls with a distant look on her face. After a couple of minutes she interrupted th
em, saying something that Danton and Edward couldn’t hear. Alison and Beatrice headed off along the avenue, and Feenix stood there for a while, looking around. Then she reached into her pocket and took something out.
“There it is!” hissed Danton.
They watched her examine the rock, turning it around and around and even sniffing at it. Then she put it back in her pocket and seemed to make a decision. She began striding up the avenue into the wind, munching on the Three Musketeers bar as she went.
They watched, waiting a couple of minutes, and then Danton gestured to Edward. “Come on.” He pushed the door open.
Edward couldn’t believe he was actually doing this.
It was damp. It was cold. It was miserable. And here he was trying to keep up with Bigfoot. Up ahead, Feenix flapped along in her great black coat. What if she turned around and saw him?
He would be dead.
But she didn’t turn until she got to Ninth Street. Then she made a left and headed up the hill. She seemed to be completely unaware that she was being followed.
Every time Edward tried to ask Danton what his plan was, Danton gestured for him to be quiet.
For a while, the holiday decorations were strung carnival-like over the streets—red and green and blue, bells and candles and stars. But when you hit Seventh Avenue where life was more upscale, the decorations became white snowflakes. Edward suddenly realized that it was already beginning to get dark. Boy, these December afternoons were really short. Overhead, the lights of the snowflakes began to blink on. They looked pretty nice, floating against the gray sky.
At the top of the hill, Feenix crossed the street and reached the low stone wall that was the outer boundary of the park. She hesitated and half-turned around, looking behind herself.
Danton grabbed Edward and pulled him down behind a parked car. They crouched there waiting.