by John Goode
I could not. In fact, with a gun to my head, I couldn’t have picked Shakespeare out of a lineup with three boring playwrights and a crib sheet. Knowing there was no way she was going to let me go until I gave an answer of some kind, I took a deep breath and offered up, “A dream, that um, was in the summer?” I saw the shocked looks on the other kids’ faces and added, “At night?”
You could swear I had insulted Liza Minnelli and Rent at the same time. I hated that people thought just because I was gay I would be into drama. It was an ugly stereotype that just was not true since I loathed being on stage more than anything in the world. I volunteered for anything backstage each time we had a production, against the strong objections of Ms. Brody, who said I was a butterfly just waiting to come out of his cocoon.
A butterfly? Really?
“No, but thank you for trying,” she said, pacing the stage like she owned it. “The play is actually two stories intertwined together that come from two completely different places. The first one is about a girl who is forced to choose between marrying a man she doesn’t love or becoming a nun while the second one is about the king and queen of fairies who are having an argument over the fate of a child who is a shape shifter. The king sends his henchman, Puck, to ensorcel his wife so she may forget the child. What happens next is a wild adventure that is just—” She clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh, you will just love it!”
A couple of kids shared in her exuberance as I tried not to shake my head in disbelief.
“One of the things I want to explore in this production is the motivation of Puck throughout the play. He is a trickster and loves chaos, but what is it he is truly after?”
One of the kids called out, “Sex!” Which brought laughter to the rest of us.
“Well, not sex as much as passion…,” she began to correct him.
“Hot mothers!” another screamed.
“And Quinn!”
She tried to wave her hands to get us under control, but she was painfully Glee ignorant and had lost control of the class.
The day couldn’t end fast enough for me.
I practically sprinted to my locker to ditch my books before I met Jewel out front. If anyone could make me forget what had happened, it would be her and one of her truly awful independent bands. Screeching vocals with barely tolerable instrumentals would be the only thing that could banish the image of my imaginary boy from my mind and hopefully give me some peace.
And then he walked right by me.
My head spun so fast I swear I got dizzy. I dropped the book in my hand as I watched him examine the lockers carefully, obviously reading the numbers posted on the top of each one. He kept glancing to a small slip of paper and back to the locker as I held my breath in fear he might suddenly vanish. Never taking my eyes off of him, I knelt down and grabbed my book and shoved it back in the locker, pushing aside the useless umbrella to make room. I slowly closed my locker, trying to make as little noise as possible, as if I was watching a deer drink from a stream instead of a guy opening his locker. His face was obscured as he opened the door and removed the pack from his shoulder.
I tried to be as quiet as one can be in sneakers on a tile floor as I approached him before he could vanish again. I had no idea what I was going to say, but making sure he was flesh and blood was a good start. Maybe I’d welcome him to the school and the town. Though I wished he was gay, even if he was straight, the chance to slowly ease someone into the chaos that was Athens would increase the chance of normalcy around here by at least a small percentage.
He was wearing boots that looked similar in construction to his jacket. By that I meant they looked handmade instead of store bought. In Athens, more than a few people made their own clothes and clothes for others. All natural, homespun cloth with wooden buttons guaranteed to make even stylish people look like Amish rejects, it was a rarity to find actual fashionable clothes to wear within fifty miles. Another clue he wasn’t from around here. Mystery Boy’s jacket was sweet. It was a shade of smooth, brown leather that I had to ask how was achieved. I couldn’t guess the animal the brown leather had come from, but I wanted to touch it to see if it was as smooth as it seemed. The boots were a little too worn for my taste, but they accented his ruggedness, minimizing his innate prettiness.
I was within two steps of him when I decided to reach out and knock on his locker door. My knuckles were less than a quarter inch away when he slammed the door shut violently. I froze as he lunged at me. A blur of motion, a glint of metal in his hand. Then he slammed the metal into my chest.
I looked down in shock. The hilt of a sword stuck out where I was always told my heart was located. His face was next to mine as he hissed, “Die, assassin.”
I swear nothing in this town was ever normal.
Chapter Two
I SAW my fifth birthday party; bubbles danced around my backyard as my father played his flute. I saw Jeanie Francis kiss me when I was eight, the thought I was sure I had just been infected with a terminal case of cooties filling my mind. I saw myself at eleven having a sleep over with Leon Parsky, wondering why I wanted to kiss him a thousand times more than I had ever wanted to kiss Jeanie Francis. I saw myself at fourteen sitting across from my dad, squirming as he explained that there was nothing wrong with liking boys, and he was more than willing to accept me and my lifestyle.
It was my entire, miserable life passing before my eyes, and I realized how incredibly lame it was.
A second passed, and I waited for the pain to start. I’d just been stabbed by a crazed fashion model in the hall of my high school, and I had no reaction? Nothing in my life had prepared me for something like this to happen. I hated that even as he glared at me, waiting for my pierced heart to stop beating, that he looked even better than I had first thought. I could see a ring of lighter blue around his pupil, and I casually thought that must be why his eyes seemed to twinkle so much. Another second passed, and neither of us moved as we both waited for something to happen that obviously wasn’t. Another second passed, and I realized I was confused but not in pain. I stared down at the hilt, and I saw him do the same half a second later. He had it gripped with both hands, and the base of it was pressed firmly against my chest, yet there was no blood or pain.
I looked back up at him, and our eyes met.
The anger in his face melted into confusion and then undeniable chagrin. He slowly stepped back, and I watched the blade slide out from my chest in amazement. I had begun to think that it was one of those collapsible blades magicians use, but it was obviously real metal that he was pulling out of me painlessly. In that panicked moment, I estimated it to be more than twelve inches long, and the metal it was made from had a blue hue to it. I’d never seen that before in the weapons that were made around town by Renaissance Fair fanatics. It was engraved completely in runes, which made it look more like something out of Lord of the Rings than an actual weapon. Once he pulled it free, the metal changed color from blue back to a normal silver; I stood in front of him, blinking.
“You’re not a Dark,” he whispered. The emphasis on the “dark” meant it was a name instead of just the word. Already paler than most people, his skin seemed almost paper white. His hands moved so fast they blurred as he tossed the blade into his pack and closed it quickly. “Apologies,” he mumbled as he stepped away, obviously trying to flee the scene.
That was when my brain started working again.
“Hey!” I called out, grabbing his shoulder. “What the hell was that?”
His entire body moved back toward me as his shoulder ducked under my grip, and he faced me. I could see the crystal blue of his eyes and could see the light blue were like particles of ice now as he seemed to stare through me, past my face, into my mind. “Forget this happened,” he commanded in a tone that sounded like he was used to being obeyed.
We stood there for a few seconds before I exclaimed, “You have to be kidding me! You just stabbed me!”
The baffled look on his face would have be
en endearing if he hadn’t recently buried a knife in me. He reached out and grabbed my shoulders. I wondered for a second if he was going to kiss me and then he repeated with more force, “You will forget this happened!”
“I really won’t,” I stated flatly, wondering why all the hot ones were crazy.
He stumbled back a few steps. For the first time gravity seemed to affect him like the rest of us, and he lurched to the side.
“That’s…,” he stammered. “That’s impossible.”
“You do know you can’t even have a knife at this school,” I protested as my shock wore off.
He continued to back away from me as if I was the one who had stabbed him. Still gaping, he bumped into the door and fumbled it open. “Stay away,” he warned warily as he turned and rushed down the steps.
“As if!” I shouted, chasing after him.
I bolted out the doors seconds after him, but he was gone. I searched the front of the school for him but saw no one. He had vanished on me for a second time, and the trick was getting annoying fast. I looked down and touched my shirt where his blade had stabbed me and saw nothing at all. Not a rip or a tear was anywhere to be found. I pulled it back and looked down at my chest, and it was equally unmarked.
“How the hell did he do that?” I asked myself.
“There’s fashionably late and there’s you,” Jewel called across the lawn toward me. “Come on!” She gestured at me to move, and I had to admit, he was nowhere to be seen. There wasn’t much sense in scouring the school for someone who was clearly not there anymore. Shaking my head, I ran over to her, vowing that whatever was going on with this boy was far from over.
FROM THE shadows cast by the shrubbery he peered out at the strange boy who had not been affected by Truheart and wondered again how he had resisted his Charms. “He isn’t one of the Dark,” he said out loud.
“We can’t be sure,” a disembodied voice snapped grumpily.
“He wasn’t affected by the blade, trust me. That is not an agent of the Dark,” the boy insisted.
“I should end him,” the voice added.
“No,” he said quickly. “If he isn’t affected by my blade he must be pure of heart.” He watched the boy leave with the strange girl and added, “I’ll look into it. Leave it to me.”
The other voice grumbled, “I say we should kill him.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You say that about everyone.”
“And I’m always right,” the voice countered.
He couldn’t argue with the voice’s sentiment. However, the boy intrigued him; there would be time to kill him later, if necessary.
“OKAY, THAT’S the third horrible song in a row, and you haven’t complained once.”
I looked up and saw Jewel staring at me from her bed.
“Sorry,” I said, sighing to myself and lying back on the floor. “Bad day.”
Or good day since I wasn’t dead and bleeding in the hallway in front of my locker.
“It’s not like you won’t find a guy, you know,” she said, rolling onto her back, looking at the plastic stars on her ceiling. “Once you get pardoned to college, that is.”
Normally, one of our favorite hobbies involved sitting in Jewel’s or my room and idly speculating about what we’d do once we left Athens. She was convinced she was going to be a band manager or band promoter or band groupie. She wasn’t sure which, but she was going to have to do something with a band. My plans changed by the minute, but I knew if I was flipping burgers and sleeping on a couch in an apartment I shared with four people, life would be better than being stuck in this tar pit of a town.
“I’m gonna go,” I said, slipping my shoes back on and grabbing my bag.
“We can listen to some of your crappy music if things are that bad,” Jewel offered in an attempt to console me, even though she had no idea why I was acting like an idiot. “Look, I have Backstreet Boys!”
“It’s not the music,” I said quickly. “It’s just….” Glumly, I realized I couldn’t explain how Athens had just scored eleven out of ten on the weirdness scale. “…I’ll see you tomorrow,” I finished, and left as fast as I could.
I felt bad about just bailing on her, but I knew she’d just chalk everything up to me being a drama junkie and forgive me tomorrow.
I bundled up my coat as I realized it was getting slightly colder.
I’d never thought about dying before today but realizing that someone just stabbed you in the heart has a way of bringing those thoughts to the forefront something fierce. If I had died, the most miserable excuse for a life ever would have ended. At the very worst, my dad would be sad, Jewel would have an excuse to wear a lot of black, and the forty-three Facebook friends I had would wonder why all my crops were dead and why I never posted anymore.
My life was just so pathetic I felt like crying.
I made my way directly home, not even pausing to get something to eat for me and my dad from Mr. Watson’s like I normally did. I just needed to be in motion for some reason. If I was avoiding traffic while crossing a street and ignoring people, I wouldn’t have time to think about how useless my life had been up to this point.
HE FOLLOWED the boy from a safe distance.
If the stranger had any training in espionage he certainly didn’t show it as he made his way across the town. The sun was setting, and there were more than enough shadows for him to conceal himself in case the boy turned around.
So far, he was not overly impressed with this world. The people were ugly, dim, and showed no aptitude for The Arts. Servant stock at best, they seemed to have no ruling class, which was distressing on many counts. He wasn’t sure what was the dominant class here, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
His prey was passable to his eyes, though. He wasn’t a noble. The boy would have been acceptable as a pleasurling in the right light. He was more concerned about how the human had resisted not only his blade but his Charms. Though seemingly in decent shape, he gave no indication of formal Training. To be honest, there was doubt that this side even had such schools to begin with since magic here was almost nonexistent. Centuries had passed on his side, which meant almost a millennium here since his people had walked this world. He highly doubted that any of his kind had survived for so long unaided, much less thrived enough to pass on their skills.
The boy entered what the humans called a “house.” He considered it barely a hovel, but when in Arcadia….
“Rome,” he muttered under his breath, remembering the lesson he had learned in the human academy today. “It’s Rome on this side.” He chastised himself for his ignorance as he crossed the street into the boy’s yard. He bounded up the tree as if half cat and perched on a limb, concealed from all sight. Shivering a bit, he tightened his coat around him and waited.
I TOSSED my bag into the corner as I kicked off my shoes.
“Dad, I’m home!” I yelled, knowing he was most likely back in his studio, out of hearing. When there was no reply, I nodded and made my way to the kitchen. I poured myself some apple juice as I began to thumb through our collection of take-out menus. I knew rationally that there was no other place that offered food like we ate here in Athens, but I had never known any other cuisine. Where normal people chose between Chinese and pizza, I was deciding between Tofu Togo and Wizard of Wok.
“Kane? Are you home?” my dad called, coming down the stairs.
“In here!” I called back as I decided on Wizard. “I’m ordering from the Wok, what do you want?”
He came around the corner. “You didn’t bring anything?” he asked, clearly disappointed.
“Yeah, spaced it out,” I lied and grabbed the phone off the wall. “What do you want?”
“Fourteen with extra onions,” he replied as he opened the fridge in hopes food might have magically appeared. He sighed heavily when he realized it hadn’t.
“Hi, I’d like to place an order for delivery,” I said and then read off the menu.
HE WATCHED through the wind
ow as the boy used the “tellyphone” as Spike had called it. It was some kind of communication device, and he wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t some kind of Sending. He could see the boy’s lips move, but the shapes his mouth made were gibberish to him. The bauble allowed him to understand their language, but from his vantage point, with a closed window between him and the conversation, it was useless.
The father seemed as unappealing as everyone else. He was powerfully unattractive with a head of long gray hair and a pair of thick spectacles. Whatever remarkable traits the boy possessed, they hadn’t come from his father.
They continued to talk between themselves, which was more aggravating than watching nothing at all. He needed to know more, and sitting out in the Dark on a tree branch was not going to achieve it. He began to climb higher up the tree and then stepped out onto the branch that had grown toward the house. The branches that far up were so slender that they shouldn’t have been able to support his weight, yet the skeleton-like twig fingers didn’t budge as he edged closer and closer toward the house. There was a foul chill in the air that promised a storm eventually, and Hawk didn’t like it at all.
Silently, he judged his distance and jumped across the gap, landing and clinging to the side of the house like a piece of metal to a magnet. The nearest window was locked, but he could see the mechanism from where he clung. He rapped on the window twice, whispering a word that the wind dispelled as he spoke it.
Seconds later, he pulled open the window and made his way inside, closing it behind him silently. He paused for a moment, listening, and the two people’s voices drifted upward into the range of the bauble. He smiled as their gibberish became understandable.