“Delbert? Devin? Delilah? Demi?”
“No,” Claire said. She was about ready to get up. The Soap Network wasn’t looking too bad compared to this…or maybe Clue.
“Don’t be a baby. Sit back down,” Tabby said.
Claire settled back in her chair and just as she reached her hand out to touch the wedge, the board cracked down the middle and a gash of misty blackness opened.
“What the fuck?” Claire screamed. Tabby was knocked back out of her chair. She landed with a rattling thump.
A long, black arm reached out of the gash in the board.
“MARIAAAAA!” a ghostly voice croaked.
The arm swiped at Claire. Sherlock came into the dining room, barking wildly at the black arm—which Claire realized was not a human arm at all, but a spider leg.
“Close it! Close it!” Tabby was yelling. She was back on her feet, holding the overturned chair out in front of her like a shield.
The leg still slapped at the table. A napkin dispenser fell over with a crash. Salt and pepper shakers rolled off the table. Claire lunged forward, her mouth silently screaming—or maybe screaming, she couldn’t hear much of anything over Sherlock’s barking.
“MARIAAAAA APPPLEEEE!”
The arm swiped, and Claire dodged it. She snagged the board and closed it in half. The spider leg stuck out from between the folded halves, but Claire pressed harder, trying to ignore its screaming. She could feel the dark energy resisting her. Tabby grabbed the box and held it open. Claire slammed the board into it, and Tabby put the top on. It bucked in her hands for a moment.
Then it stopped.
Sherlock kept barking, but Tabby and Claire hardly noticed. They just stared at each other.
“See, I told you,” Claire finally said.
“How was I supposed to know that a giant spider leg would pop out and try to strangle us?” Tabby said, defending herself.
“At Maria’s house, anything is possible.”
Their eyes both focused on the old Ouija board box.
“I say we burn it,” Tabby said.
“Or we put it in that warehouse they put the Ark of the Covenant in, Indiana Jones style,” Claire answered.
“You’re so lame.”
“At least I’m brave. Otherwise we would’ve been spider food.”
“I’m never using a Ouija board again,” Tabby said.
“Well let’s go put this back.”
Tabby thrust the box out to Claire. Claire took it apprehensively.
“I’m not going up there alone,” Claire said.
“Sherlock will go, won’t you, boy?”
Sherlock shook his head. Apparently, Bloodhounds were not immune to ghostly spider legs, either.
“We all go up together. How about that?” Claire suggested.
“Fine.”
They went upstairs and put the box back in the chest with the other board games piled on top of it. After they shut the chest, Claire said it would probably be a good idea to lock it up, or at least set the dresser on it for good measure, but they weren’t strong enough for that, nor did they have a padlock—much less one that would protect them from ghosts. So they just closed Ignatius’s door tightly behind them and vowed to never visit the labyrinth of craziness again.
Once downstairs, they turned the TV back on, and Passions filled the screen. They watched it and waited for Maria, not talking, trying to make everything seem like it was back to normal, even though it was far from it.
***
Two episodes later, they heard a car pull into the driveway. Tabby got up and looked out the window. Sherlock was already barking, which meant that he knew who it was.
“Come here!” Tabby hissed.
Claire did.
Tabby had cracked the curtains enough for them to be able to peek out and spy on Maria and Joe. Maria wore a big smile on her face. Joe was laughing, his head thrown back, one hand on the steering wheel, the other around Maria’s headrest.
“Oh, my God!” they both squee-ed.
“Wait, wait,” Claire said, “Shh, they’re getting out.”
Sure enough, Joe got out and went around to the passenger’s side. He opened Maria’s door and helped her out by holding her hand.
“Aw,” Tabby whispered. “Look at them.”
“Quick, get down!” Claire whispered back. They were coming up the walkway, their shadows thrown against the window by the light post in the front yard.
“I’m not missing this for anything.” Tabby leaned out farther. She was obviously visible to Joe and Maria, but they were too busy goggling each other’s eyes to notice.
Muffled, Claire heard Maria say, “I had a really good time tonight.”
“So did I,” Joe answered.
“We should do it again.”
“Really? So I didn’t screw it up?” Joe said, loud enough to be heard clearly.
“Oh, no, my dahling,” Maria answered, a goofy smile on her face.
Claire and Tabby exchanged a confused look, and Tabby stuck a finger in her mouth, faking a gag. Claire had to slap her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing loud enough for Joe and Maria to hear her.
“Milady, how does tomorrow night sound?”
‘Milady’? Tabby mouthed to Claire.
All Claire could do was shrug in return.
The two on the front porch laughed hard together. Maria put her hand on Joe’s shoulder, and with his opposite hand, he took hers. They stared longingly into each other’s eyes for a moment.
Claire and Tabby watched in anticipation. It was like witnessing a real live version of the soap opera playing on the TV behind them.
“Tomorrow sounds great,” Maria answered. Then she stammered as she turned her head and looked out at the front lawn. “Well, maybe.”
“Whenever you can.”
“What if you’re not free? I know you work a lot at the mall.”
“Unfortunately, yeah, but I can have Mikey cover for me. Besides, he owes me one.” Joe winked.
“Bet it’s hard to make dates when you have to work around fighting giant spiders and saving ghosts and whatnot,” Claire whispered.
“Shush,” Tabby demanded.
“Geez, just speaking the truth.”
As Tabby and Claire bickered back and forth, Sherlock pushed his way between them. Using the ledge for support, he put his front paws on the painted wood and looked out through the curtain. He was much less covert. Maria spied him from the front porch, and shook her head softly so Joe wouldn’t notice. But Sherlock wasn’t going anywhere. Maria is my master, and if that guy puts his hands on my master—
Suddenly, as if reading Sherlock’s mind, Joe did just that. He leaned in awkwardly, wrapping an arm around the small of Maria’s back. Though he stood about a head taller than Maria—who was quite tall for a female—when Joe bent down for their first kiss, Maria stood on her tiptoes.
Sherlock growled softly, not believing his eyes.
“What are you growling at, boy?” Claire asked.
“Oh, my God!” Tabby said, noticing what was happening, too.
Joe and Maria were lip-locked, their eyes closed, their bodies close. That kiss beats any soap opera kiss, Claire thought. But I see why Sherlock's jealous.
The kiss lasted for about five seconds—probably not long enough for Joe or Maria to slip in any tongue. That would have to be saved for a later date, Claire supposed, but when the two parted, Tabby and Claire squee-ed so loud that both Maria and Joe turned to the window. Tabby and Claire’s heads were no longer covered by the curtains; they were out in the open, all three of them.
Joe chuckled and scratched the back of his neck, a sure sign of his nervousness. First kisses, unless in the movies, hardly ever have an audience, but the one shared between Joe and Maria was as magical as the best of them.
“I better get going,” he said.
Maria took his hand, smiling. “Joe,” she said, before he could turn away and head back to his Honda.
&n
bsp; “Yes?”
“Thank you for being such a gentleman.”
He bowed. “Thank you, fair lady, for being such a dahling.”
“Blech,” Tabby said.
Claire punched her lightly in the arm.
Maria snorted and shook her head. “Get out of here before I change my mind about a second date.”
All the color drained from Joe’s face.
“Kidding!” Maria assured him.
“Oh,” he laughed, “I knew that!” Then, practically skipping down the walkway, Joe went back to his car, got in, backed out, and disappeared down the road as Maria watched from the front porch.
As soon as the coast was clear, Claire and Tabby rushed to the door, Sherlock right on their heels. Their little run-in with a demon spider leg or whatever it had been was the furthest thing from their minds.
Claire threw open the door.
Maria still stared in a daze at the empty road.
Silence hung between them all.
Finally, Maria turned around, the color standing high on her cheeks.
“Oh. My. God!” Claire said.
“I know,” Maria answered, her voice hardly there.
“That was beautiful. Romeo and Juliet shit,” Tabby said.
“Well, gee, when you put it that way…” Claire said.
“Shut up.” It was Tabby’s turn to punch Claire back.
“Ouch!”
“Oh, don’t be a wuss!”
Maria had to step inside and break it up. “Guys! GUYS!”
“Sorry,” Claire said. “It’s been kind of an odd night…”
“What? Why? Can’t I just go a few hours without anything odd happening?” Maria asked no one in particular. She crossed the living room floor and plopped down on the old flowered love seat. The fragrant smells of what she now knew to be Oriceran wheezed out from between the cushions.
“We’ll tell you later,” Claire said.
“Yeah,” Tabby butted in, “nothing to worry about. We handled it.”
Sherlock barked.
“With the help of Sherlock, that is,” Tabby added.
Ghosts, Sherlock said, but Maria hardly paid him any attention. Her mind was on the kiss she had shared with Joe, how soft his lips were, and how, after all the garlic they ate, his breath still smelled like spearmint.
“It was just magical,” Maria said, looking off into space, reminiscing. Claire and Tabby raised their eyebrows. Maria had never been like this before. She usually was the first one to dismiss all that fairytale, romantic-fantasy bull crap as fiction, but seeing her now, you would’ve thought she was a female Cupid reincarnated. “And I don’t use that word lightly, since I’m technically magic and all.”
“Ooh,” Tabby said, “you can totally use that to your advantage! Magic him out of his shirt. I bet he’s ripped.”
Claire shook her head.
“No, that’s cheating—wait, you didn’t magic him into that kiss, did you?”
Maria looked offended. “What? No! It was just a really good night. I learned so much about him. He’s the youngest of six brothers! His dad owns a construction company. Gelepo!”
“Oh, man, I see their signs all over the city,” Claire said.
“I know, I know! I never put two and two together. His mom teaches Shakespeare and his World at Akron University.”
“Mrs. Gelepo? Oh, my God, I’ve had her!” Tabby said.
“It truly is a small world.”
Sherlock weaseled his way into the conversation. Not to be rude or anything, but I haven’t had a proper meal since I’ve gotten back from Oriceran…
Claire saw Maria staring at Sherlock, taking in his telepathic words, so she asked, “Is he talking about food?”
Maria nodded.
“He ate, don’t listen to him. I gave him roast beef and horse radish.”
Dammit, Sherlock said. Tell Claire Dog Prom is off again. Fucking traitor.
“I’m not telling her that, Sherlock. Dog Prom is not a thing, no matter how much you bring it up.”
It is! I swear. I have the invitation somewhere. Hold on. Don’t talk anymore until I come back. With that, Sherlock bolted out of the living room and into the room where his old dog crate was. It also held his bed, which he refused to sleep on, instead opting for Maria’s pillow where he could stick his tail end in her face and snore as loud as an Orc. There were toys in his crate, too. Stuffed elephants with the stuffing mostly ripped out and the eyes missing, squeaking rubber bones that had been squeezed so much that they only wheezed, and the ever-famous tennis ball, so drenched in dog spit it was a forest-green color instead of the neon green it was when fresh out of the packaging. Sometimes Sherlock liked to pretend he got mail delivered in that room, which he so haughtily called his ‘office.’ Doing that was his way of coping with the mailman, whom he could bark at constantly from inside the house. But once, Sherlock had been outside when the mailman came around, and had cowered in the front bushes, much like he had cowered away upon meeting his first Gnome.
So no, there was probably no Dog Prom invitation in there—probably.
The girls continued talking about Maria’s date, and it was obvious to both Claire and Tabby that Maria was head-over-heels in love with the cute security guard from Rolling Hill Mall. Though when Tabby suggested the idea of love, Maria blew a raspberry and said, “Not likely. I’ve got responsibilities now. I can’t just go around and fall in love with people.” She had avoided looking them in the eyes when she said it.
Claire and Tabby told her of their night, really downplaying the spider-leg, because they didn’t want to be the reason Maria’s pleasant night came crashing down. But Maria kept prodding them for more information, and they eventually settled—despite Tabby’s almost tearful pleas—to bring the Ouija board downstairs so Maria could see it for herself.
Sherlock shouted more than once, as the sounds of ripping paper and moving clutter rang out in his ‘office,’ I can hear you guys talking! Stop it, unless you all want to be on my shit-list, right under squirrels, the mailman, and Gnomes!
They kept talking.
Maria stood up, and Tabby was still pleading with her not to go get the Ouija board, to which Maria replied by saying, “I’ve got my sword now. No big deal.”
“You also have the music box here. Maybe the spider leg sensed it wasn’t here before and gave up,” Claire said. “And as big as it was, I’d hate to see what it’s attached to.”
Maria just patted her sword hilt. The belt was now cinched around her waist. She still wore the pretty blue dress, and on her way to the stairs, she caught her reflection in the hall mirror. “I better change into something more comfortable, if I’m gonna be fighting giant spiders again. You know, just in case.”
So she went to her room and changed into a pair of comfortable jeans, a tank top, and, because it made her look like a badass witch, especially with the sword around her waist, a leather jacket she had bought when she became obsessed with the movie Grease a couple years ago. She also removed the bobby pins from her hair and let it fall down. It was still done up, but looked much closer to her regular style than normal.
She smiled in her vanity mirror and said, “I kissed Joe Gelepo; I can do anything.”
Pleased with how she looked, she left her room and turned down the hall toward her grandpa’s. Just as she reached out for the doorknob, a great burst of energy crackled downstairs. Her heart trip-hammered in her chest. She feared the worst; especially with the image of a giant spider leg coming out of a black void in the middle of the Ouija board so fresh in her mind.
“Claire? Tabby?” she shouted down the steps. In her hand was the sword. She wasn’t even aware that she’d drawn it until she looked down. Now she took the steps two at a time—probably not the safest practice. They say don’t run with scissors, not the type of big swords you see in high fantasy movies, her mind mused.
When she turned the corner into the living room, where the TV was blaring, she saw a strange woman dr
essed in black. She was older, perhaps in her fifties, but her deep blue eyes shone with youthful enthusiasm.
Maria raised the sword up so it was diagonal in front of her, going by what she had seen in movies like The Lord of the Rings and Willow.
The woman’s mouth opened to say something, but Maria didn’t want her to even get one syllable out, because this woman was a witch, Maria could almost smell the dark magic lingering about her. She made a move.
“Maria!” Gramps shouted.
The witch backed up, lost her balance, and fell into Gramps’s arms. Claire and Tabby watched from the corner of the room, near the television, with shocked expressions on their faces.
“Sheath your sword. Freida is an ally!”
Maria obeyed.
There was an uncomfortable silence in the air for a moment, until Maria said, “Whoops! Almost stabbed you there. I’m so sorry!”
The dark witch named Frieda shook her head. “No, it’s no big deal. Do not worry, child. I should’ve announced myself before things got so out of…control.”
Sherlock waddled into the living room, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air near Frieda. In his mouth was a slobbery piece of paper.
Who’s this?
Maria was surprised to hear that his voice sounded muffled.
“Frieda, meet Maria and our dog Sherlock,” Gramps said. He was smiling, now that any sense of danger seemed to be vanquished.
Frieda stuck out her hand and shook Maria’s. “It is an honor, Maria.” Then she bent down and stroked Sherlock under his chin. She hit one of his many ticklish spots, and his leg kicked wildly. “And it is a pleasure to meet you, too, Sherlock.” When she stopped, Sherlock sat there in a daze, his tail going a mile a minute.
Wow! Ask her to Dog Prom for me, Maria! Please!
“For the last time, there is no Dog Prom!” Maria shouted, a smile on her face.
Then what’s this?
Sherlock dropped the wet piece of paper on the carpet in front of Maria. She picked it up by the lone dry corner, read it, and then burst into uncontrollable laughter.
What? What the hell is so funny?
“This…this is a subscription card for Cat Fancy magazine,” Maria said through her chuckles.
The Midwest Wanderer Page 15