by C. W. Trisef
“Weird way of showing it,” Ret said, wringing water from his shorts. “I could have died, sir.”
“Yes, I myself wasn’t entirely sure how you would escape,” Mr. Coy admitted, “but I certainly knew this would come in handy.” He grabbed Ret’s wrist and revealed his glowing scar. Ret yanked it back, a bit upset.
“So where are we?” Ret asked.
“Still in the manor, of course, in the east wing’s upstairs basement,” Mr. Coy explained. “At least, I think that’s where this is.” He scratched his head. “Anywho, this is my personal aquarium, constructed completely of glass.” Ret reached down to remove one of his flip-flops and fling it free of water when he saw a squid pass under his feet. “Watch your step!” Mr. Coy cautioned. “Oh, and you’ll have to forgive my tiger sharks; apparently they think you’re the cat’s meow.”
“Which is faster, Ret: hot or cold?” Mr. Coy riddled. Ret gave him a blank stare. “Hot,” Coy answered. “You can catch a cold.” He handed Ret a dry shirt, which he promptly exchanged for his wet one.
Mr. Coy started up a set of glass stairs. Ret followed him, ascending up through the glorified fish tank. Ret thought the sudden lull in conversation was purposely allowed by Mr. Coy so that Ret could take in the impressive beauty of the aquarium, which rivaled a miniature ocean. Schools of swift-moving, shiny-bellied fish parted around the enclosed staircase, which also passed through a huge rock of coral. Rays patrolled the sands below while jelly fish soared like balloons over the carnival of color that was the vibrant reef. The tank seemed to stretch on endlessly, and Ret could identify only a handful of the myriad of specimens: crabs and lobsters, swordfish and tuna, sharks and, “Is that a whale?” Ret asked in amazement, pointing to a slow-moving figure in the darkest recesses.
“Killer, to be exact,” came the reply. “Wouldn’t hurt a krill,” Mr. Coy chuckled.
“Sir, I’ve been wondering,” Ret said, “how do you make things disappear and reappear—you know, like the statue of your mother and that trick you played on me in the other room?”
“Trick is such a vulgar, uncouth word,” Mr. Coy corrected, “hardly befitting someone as coy as I, so gifted in the clever craft of artifice.”
“Okay,” Ret conceded, “but how does it work?”
“I call it the Black Mirror,” said Mr. Coy. “It’s quite simple to understand, really, but you’ll forever be in the dark unless you are familiar with the fundamentals of light. Sunlight contains all the colors we can see, yet it has no color at all, which is why it is sometimes called white light. The color of an object, therefore, is the color that it reflects while absorbing the others. For example, a black car parked in summertime heat is considerably warmer than a white car because black absorbs all colors while white reflects just as many.”
“Okay,” Ret followed.
“Now a mirror is nothing more than a reflective coating applied to a rigid substance, most commonly glass. The reflection comes from the coating, not from the glass, hence the difference between a mirror and a window. I devised a chemically-advanced black coating: it absorbs sunlight, turns black, and then actually reflects its blackness. With a constant supply of white light channeled from the sun as well as an equally constant supply of black light reflected by the mirror, anything caught where they meet has no choice but to disappear. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Ret wasn’t yet sure what to say.
“The same can be said of life,” Mr. Coy related. “Where opposites meet, things become clear.” Mr. Coy glanced behind him just long enough to see Ret’s puzzled face. “Did that clear things up for you?”
Ret’s mind was too enveloped in its own thoughts to notice much of his ever-changing surroundings as he and Mr. Coy snaked up and down and all around the manor. He did, however, wonder if his guide knew where he was going, but the concern soon left Ret when he realized they kept passing through rooms and corridors where he had never set foot before. It was quite a relief when they arrived in the semicircular foyer, where Ana had joined Paige.
“Finally,” Ana rejoiced.
“Ret, your shorts are wet,” Paige observed, even though they had partially dried during the trek from the aquarium.
“I apologize,” Mr. Coy said, “that was my doing. It seems, during our visit together, I made Mr. Cooper feel so fitfully nervous that he couldn’t quite control himself.” Ana suppressed a laugh while Paige covered her grin with her hand and blushed. Ret glared at Mr. Coy, who gave him a wink and a smile.
“Paige, this is a fine young man,” Mr. Coy informed his daughter, putting his arm around Ret. “I’m sure we will all enjoy the dance together.”
“All of us?” Ret questioned, vocalizing the vexation on the girls’ faces.
“Yes, all of us,” Mr. Coy reaffirmed. “I’ll be attending as a chaperone.”
“Oh, Dad!” Paige exploded with joy. She fell on her father and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m so happy.”
“Yes, well…uh,” Mr. Coy mumbled uncomfortably. At a loss of what to do, he gently patted his daughter’s back.
“I don’t know what you did,” Paige confessed emotionally, turning to Ret, “but thank you. Thank you!” She hugged him, kissed him on the cheek, and scurried off through one of the doorways. Mr. Coy and Ret stood motionless for a moment, dazed and confused, their mouths slightly open out of shock, both unsure of what just happened.
“Men,” Ana summarized, rolling her eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Coy. See you soon.” She grabbed Ret by the arm and pulled him through the front door.
“Goodbye, sir,” Ret said.
Now nearly dusk, they hurried through the gardens of Coy Manor, passed through the front gate, and scampered down the hillside.
“Dating 101, Ret,” Ana said, smiling. “Girls don’t like guys who still wet the bed.” Ret playfully picked up his sister, heaved her giggling over his shoulder, and carried her the rest of the way to the kayak.
CHAPTER 7
MEDITERRANEAN MAYHEM
Besides a crisp chill in the air, the onset of winter had also brought a tangible excitement to Tybee Island. Homes were aglitter with holiday décor while shops were abuzz with late-season tourists. High spirits filled the halls of every school as students anxiously awaited their winter break. Even the streets seemed to sing of sleigh bells and snow balls, notwithstanding the absence of both. Despite the high level of festive merriment surging through the island community’s power grid, a certain young woman in the Cooper home was inadvertently attempting to trip the breaker.
“Mother, where is my necklace?” a flustered Ana demanded more than questioned. Ret knew she was annoyed because she addressed Pauline by her full title and not by the usual mom. For the last several minutes, Ret had been standing in front of the mirror to see if he looked as ridiculous as he felt in his tuxedo. From his bow tie to his shoe laces, Ret felt like he was in a straitjacket, and the vibrancy of his skin, hair, and eyes contrasted brilliantly against his black suit.
“You look fine, Ret,” Ana said without even glancing in his direction, “now help me find my necklace.”
“Alright,” Ret conceded peacefully, “what does it look like?”
“It’s a string of red corals,” she described.
“Red corals?” Ret asked, recalling something he had once read about the prized rock jewels. “You mean, the stuff they harvest from the bottom of the ocean?”
“Probably,” Ana ignored. “Aha! Here it is!” She sought help from the mirror as she draped the beaded necklace around her neck. Suddenly, Ret appeared at her side.
“You do know those are the exoskeletons of tiny organisms, right?” he teased.
“Why no, Ret, I didn’t know that,” she replied sarcastically. “Do you know what the theme of tonight’s dance is?” He gave her a blank stare. “A Night on the Mediterranean,” she announced dreamily, taking Ret by the hand and futilely trying to dance with him. “And that’s exactly where Dad bought this necklace—from a merchantman on the coast of Lib
ya.”
“And why did he buy it for you?” Pauline asked, joining them.
“Because it’s beautiful,” Ana said, matter-of-factly.
“Yes,” Pauline agreed, “and because red corals are worn as a talisman in some cultures to protect against evil spirits.” Ret and Ana looked at each other incredulously, doubting the folklore. “He always worried about his girls when he was away. He loved us.” Pauline, her eyes moistening, put her arm around her daughter. “All of us,” she added, including Ret in her embrace.
“Now,” Pauline said with soberness, “I want you to be extra careful tonight, young lady. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mother,” Ana replied, bored by the repeated reminder.
“You’re very beautiful, and you’re only a freshman, and—”
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Ana reassured. “Bubba’s a real gentleman.”
“And just how much do you know about this Bubba fellow, hmm?” Pauline pressed. “You say he’s an upperclassman, but which class exactly?” She chased Ana with her questions into the bathroom. “I’ve spoken with several neighbors, and none of them is familiar with a boy named Bubba.” Ana hurried back into her room, trying to escape the interrogation. “And how about a last name—you still haven’t given me one.”
“Like I told you before, Mother,” Ana said, obviously perturbed, “our conversation was brief. He asked if he could take me to the dance; I asked if he would wear a powder-blue tux. He said he’d be delighted to and that he’d pick me up at eight. That’s it,” she stated with closure.
“What do you mean that’s it?” Pauline protested, launching another barrage of questions. “And how did he know your name? Does he know your name? You told me you’ve never spoken to each other before. And he didn’t ask for your address? How does he know where you live?”
“What does it matter, Mother? It’s just a school dance. And besides,” Ana said romantically, “he’s really cute.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Pauline confessed.
Just then, the doorbell rang, sending a shockwave of electricity through Ana.
“Oh,” she gasped, “that must be Bubba. Hurry, Ret; go downstairs and let him in. I’ll be down in a minute.” Ret gladly obeyed.
It wasn’t until Ret saw Bubba’s attire that he started to feel better about his own. Ret had never seen such a ridiculous outfit, finding it to be more appropriate for trick-or-treating. The top hat was one thing, but it was the light blue shoes that put Ret over the top. Maybe it was just his size, but the suit seemed a bit too small for Bubba, and even though it was laughable, Ret doubted that anyone would dare to make fun of him for fear of being pulverized. Still, perhaps on account of the ruffled shirt, combined with the coattails, Ana’s date looked like a blue jay.
“Hey, Bubba,” Ret greeted him at the door, “I’m—”
“Ret, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Bubba interrupted, giving Ret a hearty handshake and striding by him on his way inside.
“Won’t you come in,” Ret mumbled to himself, still facing the empty porch.
“This is a fine home you’ve got here,” Bubba observed, strolling through several rooms like an appraiser, “excellent layout, if you ask me.”
Ret figured he ought to entertain their guest. “So you’re familiar with—”
“Oh, yes,” Bubba interjected again. “I just finished a two-week internship for the city’s archives department. Of all the models, this one makes the most sense, what with the two-car garage, the guest bathroom downstairs, and the attic above the master bedroom.”
“No,” Ret corrected, though confused by the subject of their dialogue, “the attic’s above the other bedrooms.”
“Oh, of course it is,” Bubba conceded, making eye contact with Ret for the first time. “That’s right.” Bubba sat on the couch and began to rapidly type on his cell phone. This afforded Ret a moment to study him unawares. His suit wrapped around his figure snugly enough to reveal the curves of a chiseled physique, but this was not nearly as intriguing to Ret, unlike Ana, as was Bubba’s curiously-colored skin. As his hands were gloved, the only skin visible was on his face and neck, which all seemed very normal except for a small area behind each ear, which looked very pale. Then Ret noticed the hair at the back of Bubba’s head, which looked bright red—the little of it he could see, that is, since his top hat had been pulled down nearly all the way. It all appeared a bit bizarre, what with such hair color inconsistent with that of his eyebrows, but, then again, it was not all that uncommon for young people to dye their hair.
Ret’s gaze shifted when Ana came into view. With angelic serenity, she silently made her descent, the only sound coming from her dress as it dusted the carpeted stairs at her feet. The long sleeves of her faintly pink gown stretched in vain to kiss her long white gloves. Her treasured red coral necklace accented her crimson lips, and her hair had been delicately tied up behind her head.
Before Bubba could rise to his feet at the sight of Ana, something happened so instantaneously that it nearly went unnoticed. Ret first felt his finger twinge and then saw one of Ana’s red corals shoot from her necklace and pelt Bubba in the face. It was enough to knock him back in his seat, and though he surprisingly did not rub the injured area, Ret noticed a slight white mark where the contact had been made. Ana daintily raised her hand to her necklace, thinking her jewelry had adjusted during her descent, and Bubba played it cool. Ret tried to secretly inspect his hand, for his scar seemed to faintly glow, although he wondered if that was merely the reflection of Bubba’s suit.
“My, you look gorgeous,” Bubba admiringly told Ana. He raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. Ret rolled his eyes, Ana giving him a look like she had just met her very own knight in shining armor.
“So you must be Bubba,” Pauline’s voice preceded her as she, too, came downstairs.
“Ah, Mrs. Cooper,” Bubba greeted with a smile. “Now I see where Ana gets her good looks.” Pauline was obviously very flattered, partly by the compliment but mostly by the realization that Ana wasn’t kidding about her date’s attractiveness.
“Smooth move, Bubba,” Ret muttered inaudibly.
Suddenly charmed, Pauline said, “Well, Bubba, tell us a little about yourself.”
“Why, Mrs. Cooper,” Bubba replied modestly, “I’d much rather learn about your lovely daughter, Ana.” As he moved to put his arm around her, Ret sensed another jerk of his finger and watched as a second red coral hurled itself from Ana’s necklace, colliding with Bubba’s chin.
“Ouch,” Bubba winced.
“What?” Ana worried when she didn’t feel his embrace. “Is something wrong?”
“Oh, no!” Bubba fibbed. “It’s just that you’re so—so hot!” Pauline and Ana burst into laughter as their enchanting comedian pretended to recoil from touching a hot surface.
“No, really,” Pauline politely persisted, “you must tell us more about yourself, Bubba.”
“Well,” he began, looking a bit nervous. Then the doorbell intervened.
“Saved by the bell,” Ret mumbled.
Pauline crossed the room to the entry and opened the door. On the other side stood Paige. Her large blond curls glided on the slick black shoulders of her silk dress with even the slightest movement. A white sash wrapped around her waist and culminated in a modest-sized bow, matching Ret’s white vest and pleated shirt. For a brief moment, everyone in the room fell silent, slightly taken aback by the conspicuous beauty of such an inconspicuous girl.
Pleasantries were exchanged, pictures were taken, and the couples readied themselves to leave. When Ana and Bubba were safely outside, Ret picked up one of the fallen red corals for further inspection. He noticed a brown smudge on its surface and, wiping it off, found it to be some sort of oily, powdery substance.
“Whatcha got there?” Paige poked.
“Oh, nothing,” Ret said hastily.
“It’s beautiful,” she observed. “Did you get it for me?”
“U
h, yes,” pretended Ret. “Here you go.”
“I will treasure it always,” Paige promised sweetly, slipping it into her pocket.
“Come on,” Ret urged, wanting to change the subject. “Let’s not keep everyone waiting.”
They made their way to the curb in front of the Cooper’s home where a black limousine was awaiting them. Inside, they found Mr. Coy in the back seat, with Ivan, the Coys’ Russian butler, at the wheel as their chauffeur.
“Good evening, Mr. Coy,” Ana said politely.
“So far,” Coy replied. All that could be seen of him was his dark silhouette, so dim was the moonlight, so dark were the windows’ tint. No one joined him on his side of the cabin, where he had extinguished all of the dome lights. Paige and the Coopers didn’t think twice about Mr. Coy’s odd and mysterious behavior, but Bubba was brimming with wonder.
“The famous Mr. Coy,” Bubba said in awe.
“Are you sure you don’t mean infamous?” Coy snickered under his breath.
“Are they true?” Bubba wondered earnestly. “You know, the things they say about you?”
“Is it true you’re dressed like a blueberry?” Mr. Coy rebutted. Ana blushed while Ret suppressed a laugh.
“Dad!” Paige snapped, expressing her disapproval.
“Well, at least some of the things are true,” Bubba concluded, rolling his eyes. Feeling a bit disappointed, he leaned back in his seat and put his hand on Ana’s knee. Astonished by such forward behavior, Ret kept a careful watch.
“You got a name, bluey?” Mr. Coy asked.
“Bubba,” was his answer.
“Suits you well,” Coy assessed. “Now I’ve a question for you.” Mr. Coy lunged forward, prompting everyone to shrink unexpectedly with fright. “Have you ever—Ben Coy?” The sudden shock caused Bubba to squeeze Ana’s leg. Rather impulsively, Ret’s hand jolted, sending another red coral as a projectile towards Bubba’s wandering hand. Bubba’s hand retreated, writhing in pain.