by Geof Johnson
“He’s got his father’s jaw. I think he’s more handsome than cute, especially now that he’s getting older.”
“But he’s got his mother’s blue eyes, and his hair is so blonde and curly and, oh!… I want to kiss him right now just thinking about it.”
“About the kissing, Honey.” Lisa pressed her lips tightly together before continuing. “I’m happy that you’re in love, and I’m thrilled that it’s with Jamie, but could you be a little more discreet around your father? You know he likes Jamie a lot, but your father’s having a hard time dealing with you being so…affectionate in front of him.”
Fred scrunched her face. “Dad’s a prude.”
“Not really. He’s just a little conservative that way. I don’t think he kissed me in front of his parents until our wedding.”
“Well, that’s his problem, not mine.”
“Fred, do it for me. Please?”
Fred looked at her mother for a long moment, bottom lip tucked under a tooth. “O — kay,” she said reluctantly. “I’ll try. But how about Jamie’s parents? Do they have a problem with it?”
“I know Rachel doesn’t, and I don’t think Carl is as bad as your father. But try to be considerate when you’re around other people. Nobody wants to see you smooching Jamie all the time.” She leaned over and kissed Fred on the cheek. “Except for me.”
They laughed, and Lisa left Fred to her book. Fred watched her mother walk out and thought, She’s the only one who really knows how much in love Jamie and I are.
* * *
A lone witch, dressed all in black, staggered down a dark Louisiana road on a moonless night. The neon lights of the bar were hundreds of yards behind her, and the music from the jukebox had long since been swallowed up by the warm humid air. Her graying hair and her clothes reeked of cigarettes; the raunchy tune she sang was punctuated by frequent hiccups, accompanied by the croaking frogs and the occasional alligator bellow from the marsh on her left.
The shoulder of the road was uneven, full of holes and high weeds, so she walked on the asphalt, not exactly in a straight line, but in the general direction of home. There were no streetlights, no porch lights, and few headlights to illuminate her way, just the feel of the hard pavement beneath her old boots to assure her she was on the right path.
Her shadow stretched before her as the light from an approaching vehicle grew. She heard the roaring engine behind her but didn’t turn, stepping off the road onto the shoulder. But when her foot landed in a hole, she lost her balance and stumbled back onto the highway.
Chapter 2
Jamie sat behind the steering wheel and watched Rollie slide into the back seat of Jamie’s old blue Buick, the car that had formerly belonged to his grandmother. Fred was already in the front next to Jamie.
“Dude,” Rollie said, “I’m so glad your parents finally let you drive to school. I’m tired of riding the bus. There oughta be a law that says seniors shouldn’t have to do that.”
Fred leaned across the seat and kissed Jamie on the cheek with a loud smack. She looked back at Rollie. “Does it bother you when I do that?”
Rollie fastened his seat belt. “Nah. I’m used to it.”
“My mom says that people don’t want to see it.”
“Don’t care. Kiss him all you want.”
Jamie looked at Rollie in the rear view mirror as he started the car. “Where’s your bag?”
“My football bag? Don’t need it. I’m quitting.”
“Dude! Are you serious?”
“Yep. I’m still third string and I haven’t played a down in either of our first two games, so I’m done. My parents want me to focus on my grades, anyway.”
“They sound like mine.”
“Yeah, and I talked to the basketball coach, and he said I’ve got a real good chance of getting some playing time this year if I keep working on my three-point shot.”
“Even though you’re only five-seven?”
“Huh,” Rollie grunted. “But I can knock down the outside shot, Baby.”
“Well, you know Fred and I will be there cheering for you, ’cause we’re the Crew, right?”
“We can’t be beat,” Rollie said, a grinning splitting his dark face.
Together they shouted, “Everybody smell our feet!”
* * *
Carl shared an office with two other detectives. One wall was lined with filing cabinets and a whiteboard; two others were filled with shelves overflowing with books and papers. One wall was dominated by a long window with open blinds that looked out on a long room where the uniformed officers worked.
On his desk was a file, an unsolved case, of the murder of shopkeeper Sheldon Steinhauer. Inside were two photos of the deceased’s head, showing the small hole in his forehead and the exit wound on the back of his skull. The skin around the holes was cauterized, suggesting high heat. A sticky note was pasted to one photo that had “Possible laser?” written on it in green ink.
Carl had talked to Jamie about it a few days ago, and Jamie, his science-freak son, had assured him that a laser powerful enough to burn through a human skull would only be found in a research institute or an industrial facility and would be too massive to be portable. Jamie had taken his father to the back of their yard and demonstrated how Renn might’ve killed the shopkeeper. Jamie shot a white-hot pencil-thin beam from his finger that burned through a watermelon in a microsecond.
It’s a good thing that psychotic wizard is dead, Carl thought. Then he realized something even more important: It’s a good thing Jamie’s a good kid. With the power he has, he could be a monster like nobody’s ever seen around here. Carl closed the file and dropped it on the far edge of his desk.
I bet Jamie is the only sorcerer who goes to church every Sunday. He laughed to himself. I also bet he’s the only one who has a grandmother like Evelyn Wallace.
* * *
Jamie was in the boys’ locker room after school, sitting on a wooden bench, dressing out for cross country practice, when Bryce walked up. “Hey, Jamie, you know that new guy, Spencer?”
Jamie leaned past Bryce to peer down the row of lockers.
“Don’t look.” Bryce said in a low voice.
“What about him?” Jamie leaned back and brushed off his bare foot before pulling on a short white sock.
“I heard he’s been talking trash about you and me. Seems he’s upset that we got named captains.”
“What’s the big deal?” Jamie pulled on the other sock. “He’s just a junior anyway, and coach won’t let juniors be captain. We’re the two fastest guys right now, too.”
“Well,” Bryce leaned closer, “I heard his dad donated some big bucks to the athletic booster fund, and for some reason he thinks that makes him entitled to it.”
“So what?” Jamie slipped on a running shoe. “Your dad donated, too. You’re Richie Rich, right?”
Bryce’s face clouded. “Wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
“Manny did.” An image of last year’s team star popped into Jamie’s mind.
“Well, that was Manny, and he’s gone off to college now.”
“He’s probably got some nicknames for his college teammates already, I bet.” Jamie pulled on his other shoe.
“So what do you think we oughta do about Spencer? If he’s gonna run his mouth, he’ll hurt the team.”
Jamie rubbed his chin for a moment. “We could talk to the coach, but I don’t think that’ll fix the problem.” He stood and straightened his shirt. “How ’bout if we run some of Manny’s workouts this week? We’ll tell Spencer that if he can keep up, we’ll suggest that he ought to be a captain.”
Bryce laughed. “If he can keep up on one of Manny’s workouts, he deserves to be captain!”
* * *
Late Thursday afternoon, Jamie and Bryce were already in the school parking lot, walking around and warming down after a hard workout, when Spencer plodded up, gasping and red-faced.
“Hey, Spencer!” Bryce looked at his watch. “
You’re two-and-a-half minutes behind.”
Spencer staggered past them, bent over and heaved.
“Yeah, running those last two miles under eleven minutes used to get to me all the time,” Jamie said. “Especially after running those first eight miles hard.”
“Next week we gotta run the last two under ten-thirty,” Bryce said. “That’ll be fun.”
Spencer retched again and Bryce said, “Hey, you still want me to talk to Coach about you being captain?”
Spencer shook his head wordlessly, still bent over, hands on his knees. Bryce elbowed Jamie and grinned as they walked toward the locker room.
* * *
Saturday morning, Jamie and Bryce ran shoulder-to-shoulder across the back field of their high school toward the meager crowd that waited in the sunshine. Jamie glanced over his shoulder to see the nearest runner dozens of yards behind. “Wanna kick?”
“Nah,” Bryce said between breaths. Two strides before the finish, Jamie slowed and Bryce finished first, a half-second ahead of Jamie. They slapped hands and Jamie glanced at his watch. “Good race, Buddy.”
As they walked around, catching their breath, someone called Jamie’s name. He looked over to see his parents with his grandmother.
“Nice race, Son,” Carl said when Jamie joined them.
Rachel handed Jamie a water bottle. “Why did you slow up?”
“It was Bryce’s turn to win,” Jamie said, still breathing heavily. “We have an agreement to take turns if it’s an easy meet.”
Evelyn frowned. “Sounds a little cocky to me.”
“I didn’t mean to. It’s just that we were pretty sure one of us would win, but neither of us is shooting for a cross country scholarship, so….” He shrugged.
“Okay, that makes sense,” Carl said.
“Jamie,” Rachel said, “today’s your Great Uncle Ray’s birthday, and we thought maybe we could celebrate with a picnic.” She winked. “At our special spot. The one that’s out of this world.”
Jamie laughed. “Do you want to tell them about you-know-what tonight?”
“If it’s okay. Connie, Gina, and Cory are coming, too.”
“Oh, wow.” Jamie ran one hand through his sweaty, curly hair. “I guess we’ll tell the whole family at once. That’ll be interesting.”
“Don’t forget about my sister,” Rachel said. “But if we tell Sophie, it’ll have to wait until she comes for Thanksgiving.”
“What can I get Uncle Ray for his birthday?”
“Something to remember the occasion. A gag gift, maybe.”
Jamie’s face lit up. “I know.” He leaned close to Evelyn and whispered something in her ear.
She laughed and said, “Perfect. You can get it made at that shop downtown.”
* * *
Fred and Jamie watched as Evelyn shepherded Aunt Connie and Uncle Ray toward them through the magic doorway onto the expansive rocky ledge.
“They look stunned,” Fred said.
Jamie glanced over at his cousin Gina and her husband Cory, who stood near the edge of the cliff, holding hands and looking at the moonlit valley below. “They seem to be doing okay.”
Larry stood near the doorway, gesturing broadly at Jamie’s aunt and uncle. “Come on, Connie and Ray, it’s great! If I can handle it, anybody can.”
Connie looked up. “Three moons?”
“They were all full last week,” Evelyn said from behind them. “It was pretty amazing.”
“This is a real place?”
“It’s real. It’s another world.”
“Unh,” was all Ray managed to say, his narrow face a mask of shock.
Gina turned to look at Jamie. “So it’s true, then. This is another planet, and you’re really a magician.”
“Sorcerer.” Jamie gave his head a tight shake. “I’m a sorcerer.”
“Wow.” Cory nodded. “If that’s true, then it’s the coolest thing ever!”
“We’re having burgers again,” Carl said, tending the grill beside the table as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Hope that’s okay.”
Rachel unpacked food with Lisa at the picnic table and the long folding table next to it. She counted chairs and said, “We’re still one short. Jamie, could you get us a folding chair, please?”
Jamie started outlining another doorway and Carl said, “What are you doing?”
“Making a doorway to the garage.”
“Don’t be lazy, Jamie,” Evelyn said, pointing at the other open doorway a couple of dozen yards away. “March yourself in there and get one.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said without hesitation, jogging toward the open portal.
* * *
Rachel looked at her uncle. I feel sorry for him. This is hard to accept. Ray had listened in stunned silence to the story of Jamie’s magic. She reached across the picnic table and squeezed Ray’s hand. “It’s okay,” she said. “Try to think of it as being something really special.” Ray looked at her but only blinked.
“Special?” Larry said. “Real magic? How about ‘amazing’, or ‘fantastic’, or ‘unbelievable’, or —”
Lisa poked his shoulder, “We get the idea.”
Connie shook her head. “But…all this time? He’s been like that since he was born?”
Evelyn nodded and glanced at Jamie, who was engrossed in conversation with his cousin, Gina, and her husband, Cory. “We always knew he was special, but not that special.”
Connie frowned. “I feel bad for him that he had to kill that other sorcerer. I know that must’ve been hard for him…he’s such a good boy.” She looked down the table at Fred, who was leaning on Jamie’s shoulder. “But I’m so happy that they’re in love now. They seem perfect together.” She turned back to Lisa. “Your daughter is so lovely. Is Fred still tap dancing?”
“She’s teaching a beginner’s class on Tuesday evenings and Saturday mornings. It’s her first job.”
“Fred’s finally getting paid to boss people around,” Rachel said.
“Is she still trying to boss Jamie around?” Connie said.
“Don’t think so. He’s not complaining about it.”
Lisa gave a short laugh. “And she hasn’t kicked him in years.”
Just then, Jamie and Fred jumped up from their seats and ran toward the cliff’s edge, holding hands. Then they floated up toward the moons as music began to play.
Ray covered his eyes with his hands and whimpered.
Lisa chuckled as she watched her daughter put her arms around Jamie and twirl, hundreds of feet in the air. “They’re dancing in the sky — that’s what Fred calls it. It’s really something, what those two have together.” She put both hands to her cheeks and shook her head slightly. “To think that most people have to search for years before they find their soul mate, but they’ve —”
“Soul mate?” Larry raised his eyebrows.
Lisa gave him a sharp look. “Yeah, soul mate. The One. The Perfect Match. Call it whatever you want, but it’s still —”
Larry put his hand on her arm. “Okay, okay, they’re in love, I know. Fred only tells me about ten times a day.”
Lisa’s gaze turned back to Jamie and Fred. “It’s not just a puppy love, either. I think it’s the real thing.”
“Oh no,” Carl groaned. “Here we go again. Just like with the prom. You’re already planning their wedding, aren’t you?”
“Carl, don’t be so unromantic!” Rachel said.
Carl shook his head and rolled his eyes.
“From where I’m sitting, I’d have to agree with Lisa,” Connie said.
“Thanks, Aunt Connie,” Rachel said, shooting a hard look at Carl. “They have a special romance. I think we can all agree on that.”
Maybe the most special ever, she though wistfully.
* * *
“I don’t think Ray’s having a good time,” Rachel whispered to her mother.
“I know,” Evelyn whispered back. She leaned across the table and patted her brother-in-law’
s hand. “Ray, this is all my fault. I thought it would be fun to do this for your birthday, but I didn’t realize it would be so…difficult for you. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. What say I take you to lunch? How about that?”
“Evelyn,” Ray said, his mouth firm, “I’m not I child. I can handle it.” He wiped his face with one hand and looked at the distant moonlit mountains for a moment. “It’s just a lot to process right now.” Then he looked back at Evelyn. “But I will let you take me to lunch.”
“Good.” Evelyn managed a smile. “Let’s do your presents now.”
They had to coax Jamie and Fred out of the sky so they could have birthday cake and give Ray his gifts. Jamie saved his for last. He handed the blue paper-wrapped gift to his uncle and said, “I talked with Gramma about this. I thought it would remind you of tonight. I had to get it custom-made.”
“What is it?” Ray said as he tore the wrapping from the rectangular box. Then his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together.
“Let’s see it, Ray,” Evelyn said.
Ray held it up and showed it to everyone. It was a white T-shirt with lettering on it that said, “I went to an uninhabited world and all I got was this lousy T-shirt!”
The whole family laughed, and Connie kissed her husband on the cheek.
* * *
Two witches — one tall, with bleached blonde hair and too much makeup, the other short and pudgy — with dyed red hair and a dress that was too short for her stubby, stockinged legs, stood together at the open door to the chapel at Smythe and Sons funeral parlor, thanking the other mourners as they left.
The last one, a heavy, bearded man, offered his tattooed hand. More tattoos decorated his upper arms, left bare by his sleeveless black shirt. A chain was attached to a belt loop and a wallet in his back pocket. His black motorcycle boots were scuffed.
“Rita, Cassandra, I’m real sorry about Isabelle,” he said, his voice a guttural rasp. Rita, the shorter witch, took his hand in hers. Her nails were painted black, and she wore black lace gloves with the fingers exposed. He nodded. “If you need anything, you just let me know.”
“Thanks, Dan,” Rita said. “It was good of you to come.”