by Sia Wales
“That’s not the way it works in all councils,” I murmur ironically to myself, thinking about Donn’s family. My rain-soaked hair whips my face, half blinding me. I look out towards the dark ocean and see Donn’s indecipherable turquoise eyes on the mirror of black water. Those very eyes that affected me so much since my life has taken new and unexpected turns. I try not to wallow in thoughts of him, so I change the subject.
“It’s something you feel strongly about,” I say hesitatingly, closing my eyes to protect them from the stinging rain, now no longer falling from above, but cutting in from the east.
“How can you tell?” he asks sarcastically.
I just smile and nod at him.
“It’s true. Tyler, Dora and the others are my family,” he says calmly as his eyes seek out the pre-fab house hidden in the trees near the cliff base. For a while we don’t speak, we just climb the stairs to take shelter on the porch, as the rain beats down on the wooden roof.
I can feel his eyes piercing me, and I glance at him out of the corner of my eyes. “But I don’t see what bothers you about this whole story. It seems like there’s something behind everything you’ve just told me.” My curiosity gets the better of me. He doesn’t answer. I think that maybe I’ve gone too far. But he doesn’t seem angry, and when he does finally speak up, he sounds playful.
“It’s hard to believe that you’re older than me,” he smiles. “Next to me, you seem so small!” I turn up my nose, feigning offence. “Now don’t start making jokes about my height,” I play along, knowing it’s his way of changing the subject. “Five foot five is a perfectly average height!”
“To be honest, Ella May, it’s your pale face that makes me wonder about you,” he laughs. “Seriously, are you sure you’re not from Norway?” He brings his arm alongside mine to compare skin tone. I must admit, my fair skin is not impressive.
“I’ve never seen anyone as pale as you… Well, apart from the night of the party…”
I avert my eyes, trying to ignore what he’s probably about to say.
“But I guess you’re the exception that confirms the rule, as far as Mediterranean skin color goes. You look like a porcelain doll.”
“Well, let’s just say I haven’t been getting out in the sun much lately. And only my mom has Mediterranean skin,” I explain, as I open the door and we finally step into the welcoming warmth of the hallway.
The first floor of the house is mainly taken up by the parlor and kitchen. The light wooden flooring stretches throughout the house, and a small round table is set with a ceramic jug overflowing with wild flowers.
Standing in front of the oven, Scott is removing gigantic muffins from the pan, trying unsuccessfully not to burn his fingers. The kitchen is a welcoming spot, lit up by the glass doors overlooking the beach.
“Locke?” I say. He’s no longer by my side.
“Yes,” he replies from the window.
I join him, trying to read his expression. “Why did you get upset earlier?”
He sighs. “Fergus… He’s been looking at me strangely, just lately.” His voice trails off.
“What do you mean, he looks at you strangely?”
“Yes. It’s scary,” he whispers, then the words begin to flow. “He looks at me as if he were expecting something… as if he wants me to join the protectors one day.”
“And?” Sounds like there is more.
“It’s the way he treats me… I don’t understand why he pays more attention to me than to the others in the clan. I’m just the same as all the rest.”
“So Fergus treats you in a… special way?” I suggest.
“Right,” he replies, torment in his eyes. “Why do you think I’m on the east coast right now? No one has ever treated me in a ‘special’ way before. And I hate it.” He sighs and breaks off. “And I wanted to go to college, but I had to come here instead – no offense, it’s not that I don’t like it here. But I wanted to get my qualifications to become a forest ranger. But, anyway…”
I feel annoyed for him, infuriated.
“And usually, the council members, all of them, almost have a heart attack when someone refuses a scholarship or to go to college. But no one cared about me!”
I just stare at Locke, struck by rage. Who do these council members think they are to be making decisions for him?
“I can see that it’s a really upsetting situation… a weird one,” I add, hoping I haven’t offended him. “But they can’t force you to join them if you don’t want to.”
As he looks at me, his eyes seem racked with terror, then he suddenly stiffens, and peers out the window. “The fact is that I have to… My body is changing, Ella May. My organism is like a book that only I can read. And soon it’ll be like a ticking time-bomb, ready to go off at any given moment. Or so I have been led to believe.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s to do with the fact that, according to legend, I’m the descendant of one of the original thirteen,” he explains.
“Have you talked to Tyler about this?”
His face darkens and takes on a sad expression, rather than angry. “Yes,” he snaps. “Of course. And a lot of good it did me!”
“No good?”
Seething with rage now, his words are dripping with irony. “Yeah, sure, a great big help!”
“What did he say?” I wrap my arms around my body, but not to protect me from the cold.
He lowers his head, shakes it. I can see his eyes are full of fear. “To hear him speak, you’d think Fergus was the best thing to ever happen to the clan.”
Then he imitates Tyler’s voice.
“Don’t worry about it, Locke…” He grimaces and goes back to speaking in his own voice. “”In a few weeks, if not before… well, he had led me to believe that I’ll be over this silly crisis between adolescence and adulthood. He called it a ‘transitional phase.’ I tried to explain to him that I’d already overcome that phase a long time ago, but he said that he would explain later. But I don’t get what he means. It was pointless talking to Tyler… And there’s other stuff, too, none of it good. When Fergus treats someone in a special way and pays more attention to them, suddenly the chosen one is set to one side. They disappear for a few weeks. But if you go looking for them, they never seem to be at home. And when they return to the clan, they seem like they have become someone else. At first, they’re terrorized, then they become restless, like a caged lion. And if you ask them what happened, they refuse to answer. That’s what always happens. And then the chosen one starts hanging out with Fergus, becomes his best buddy, even if before they couldn’t stand each other. In the end the chosen one joins the rangers and sticks like glue to the group as if they had joined some kind of cult.”
“And what do you make of all this?”
“I have no idea… But I can’t see Dora and Amelia being involved in anything illegal.”
“What else could it be? And why doesn’t the clan council deal with it?”
“My father is part of the council, so is Tyler’s grandfather. And the elders see Fergus as some kind of hero, rather than just a Siberian.”
My eyes are full of confusion; I don’t know which straw to grasp at anymore.
“Who was the last ranger to go through all this?” I finally ask.
“Dora. The same thing happened to her. She wasn’t friends with Fergus at all, let alone with his girlfriend. Then she was gone for a few weeks from the supermarket where she usually works. Fergus had begun hanging around the place where she worked, it was her job to stack the shelves. Then when she came back into the community, it was as if she had become his private property.”
“Dora became… like Fergus?”
“Nah, nothing could change Dora. She’s sweet and kind, she’s like a polar opposite to Fergus. But she never lets him out of her sight now.
“And before this isolation, did she act weird?”
“Yeah, but not as much as the others. Maybe for just one day. Then Fergus came along and to
ok her from her house. Since then, they have lived in the same house, with the blessing of our parents, obviously.”
The story seems almost romantic. A prolonged shiver runs through my body.
“And I don’t know what it all means,” adds Locke hurriedly. He stops to get his breath back. “I can’t imagine what it’s all about, but I feel that there’s something deeper to understand. Dora is my sister and… Fergus looks at me strangely. I’m afraid I’m the next in line. But for what?” Fear makes his voice quiver. “Otherwise, why bring me to the east coast, where Fergus can keep an eye on me? There’s no sense to it otherwise; to be honest, I’m just in the way here, with Scott and Ronald having to look out for me while my family are at work.”
“It’ll all be alright, Locke. And if things get too out of hand, you can always come at stay at the bar. There’s a cot there you can use when you want.” He breaks into a big smile that seems to wash away the dark mood.
“But just imagine Jeff’s unease if Scott found me sleeping in the back room of the bar.” He kicks the wall, frustrated, but laughs.
I laugh along with him, glad to see him out of his funk. But then Fergus arrives with Tyler, and Locke seems to draw inward again.
As Fergus launches into the details of his latest venture up the cliffs, he sees Locke and I exchange glances. He seems to perceive that Locke has confided in me. He starts to quake, almost imperceptibly, then he smiles a wretched smile. He seems beside himself.
“Myco.” I barely move my lips, and instinctively stretch out a protective arm across Locke’s chest.
Tyler shakes his head slightly at me – a vague ‘no’. Fergus keeps staring intently at Locke.
“Now the bomb is in your hands.” Locke suffocates a grim laugh into my arm, and then looks at me. “Don’t worry, when he gets angry, he’s impulsive, but he doesn’t actually do anything.”
Amelia shows up behind Fergus and Tyler, and I tighten my grip on Locke even more defensively. He looks me deep in the eyes. “I can see why Fergus wants me to keep away from you. Tyler’s right, you’re… special. And thanks; it was great to be able to talk to someone about this stuff.”
Fergus and Amelia continue to eye us with hostility; that same look in their eyes just accentuates their resemblance. Tyler is the only one who seems cool, calm and collected. He seems in some way to be holding Fergus back from tearing Locke to shreds.
Locke nibbles nervously on his lower lip, he looks like he’s about to burst into tears.
“I have to go now,” he whimpers.
I hug him. He’s so hot; I fear he might be running a fever. And he’s so huge that, despite being quite a few years younger than me, I feel like a little girl in a grown-up’s embrace.
“Don’t worry, if you let me go, I won’t explode,” he reassures me.
“Ok.”
“Thanks, Ella May, see you around,” he murmurs. Then he turns around and walks out the kitchen door towards the beach. The sky outside is still gray, somewhat lighter now, but the draughts whistling through the cracks of the house tell me that the wind has risen.
Fergus disappears from sight in the garden too, and Tyler is by my side. He cautiously studies my expression, as I melt into the delicious amber of his eyes. He suddenly gives me a big hug and leads me to the sofa while Scott whistles a happy tune as he goes about his business in the kitchen, seemingly unaware of the bomb that almost went off in his own house.
“So what happened?” Tyler cuts to the chase.
“I saw you dive off the cliffs,” I say enthusiastically, trying to cover my nervousness.
“And then?” As he speaks, he pulls a blanket over my shoulders.
“I got to know Locke,” I spurt, “He told me about Fergus, how he doesn’t let him have any friends outside the family. Why doesn’t he want me to go near him?”
Tyler frowns. “Pay no attention to Fergus. He’s not what he seems and he’s not as strict with Locke as the kid makes out.” He brushes it all off. I try to betray no emotion, concentrating on the drip-drip sound of the water splashing from my wet hair onto the wooden floor. Tyler glances rapidly towards the kitchen.
“Want to stay for dinner with us?” he asks politely, changing the subject expertly, as I sense invisible eyes spy on me from the window.
“No, thanks. You know how it is, I have to prepare dinner for Jeff,” I reply distracted. “And I need to get out of these clothes.” I’m lost in my thoughts. Who knows how long they’ve been watching me without me realizing.
“Ok, maybe next time,” he replies, almost relieved. “We’ll have to arrange a barbecue, all together.”
He walks over to the door and opens it for me.
I say goodbye to Scott, my ears perking up to listen for telling footsteps behind me. But I hear nothing, so presume that Tyler hasn’t followed me. But when I look up, I see him by my side.
It is colder now, the icy wind blowing in from the ocean not helping matters. The rain is falling diagonally towards the porch, I dig my hands deep into my pockets to keep them from turning to icicles. I realize that we are not alone.
There are three other figures on the grass, just by the porch. All tall, pale-skinned, with amber eyes just like his.
They freeze, immobile when they see us, all talk coming to a quick halt. I bet by the way they’re looking at me, that I was the subject being discussed.
They keep staring at me; uncomfortable under their gaze, I lower my head. They look like siblings. If it were not for the length of her hair, I wouldn’t even recognize Amelia. She is so beautiful, she looks like a fairy.
At the head of the group is Fergus, laid back, relaxed. I try to swallow down the bile that has risen in my throat. I feel the urge to punch him for what he’s putting Locke through.
He says something in a language I don’t recognize, I guess it must be Siberian.
They all wave hello to me, as they continue to stare.
“Stella, this is Fergus, Dora and Amelia,” says Tyler, breaking the silence. “They’re here from the Rocky Mountains, but they’re originally from Siberia. Guys, this is Stella.”
“The one and only,” comments Dora, as Fergus pulls her towards him, a tight arm around her waist. From what I can tell, this is not the first time they’ve heard my name being mentioned.
“It’s a pleasure to meet your family, Tyler,” I mumble, my voice barely audible.
They all nod at me, I exchange this greeting with a big smile. Not aimed at Fergus, obviously. He doesn’t take his self-assured eyes off me, he seems to find this whole situation amusing, but his mouth betrays no emotion.
I can feel the tension rising within me. How can Tyler treat him so reverently, knowing full well how he persists in tormenting Locke. That poor kid is going through hell. I swallow down a knot in my throat.
Tyler and I continue down the steps, the rain beating down on us as soon as we leave the shelter of the porch. We head to the Jeep parked on the wet gravel. I can’t tear my eyes off their perfect, Oriental faces. Their handsome, proud expressions remain branded on my mind. I’m slipping and sliding all over the place, only Tyler’s warm arm around my waist stops me falling flat on my face.
Under the shelter of the trees, far from Fergus, I start to relax. As we walk, I search my mind for the right words to say to tackle the subject of Locke again, but nothing springs to mind.
He suddenly releases his grip on my arm and speeds up, overtaking me. When he gets to the Jeep, he turns to fix his amber eyes on me.
“Make sure you get some dry clothes on when you get home,” he says. “And don’t worry about Locke. There’s nothing wrong with Fergus Bradford.” Then he turns and races back to the house, as Scott joins us, a massive umbrella sheltering him from the downpour.
I had forgotten to close the passenger side window; the seat is soaked. It doesn’t matter, though. So am I.
Balance
It’s all Fergus Bradford’s fault. Even my dream tried to tell me. Fergus got to Locke. Whatever h
appened to the other kids in the clan happened to him too, and it terrified him. He was sucked out of his normal life in Jackson, an end put to his dream of going to college.
“Stella, you can get out if you like,” suggests Scott, looking sidelong at me. I wonder how long I’ve been sitting here transfixed, without realizing it.
I bet he left the kitchen in Dora’s capable hands when he took me home. One thing is certain––I have to speak to Tyler, face-to-face, about all this, it’s the least I can do. After what Locke told me, I feel involved, I can’t leave the poor kid to be tortured by Fergus without batting an eyelid. I’d feel like a heartless monster if I did. I’m not sure if it’s the right move, but I need to warn Tyler about Fergus.
I’m dying to ask him what he thinks about Fergus’s behavior. I know that he defended him earlier on, so I’m guessing that he’s not that bothered by the way he acts. But I don’t see how he can justify him, if he knows what I know. A flash of lucidity, and I realize that Scott is still looking at me sideways; my eyes meet his in silence. In his eyes, I see a myriad of questions dying to be asked, but he seems not to dare open his mouth either.
It’s a slow night at The Pats. Right now, there are only two bar flies; judging by their conversation, they are probably hikers. They say that they know Tyler, that he told them about the bar. I find out that another couple of tourists, a father and son, will be arriving tomorrow after camping out tonight in the forests to the west.
Scott spends a good hour discussing the pros and cons of the hiking paths through the Green Mountains. But the talk goes from debating which is the toughest trail, to recalling their most remarkable anecdotes about hiking.
Scott whispers to me under his breath to go home, and change out of my wet clothes.
“Don’t worry about it, they’re pretty much dry now anyway,” I reply, trying to ignore the hearty laughter coming from the direction of the tourists.