by Greg Ness
Her brow wrinkled. “You know which one. The Elvis box.”
Bruce laughed. Elvis? Apparently ELPIS was too hard to remember. What a ditz. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not? Why do you always have to be so secretive?”
Bruce remained silent and stared into her eyes. She waited for a response. It didn’t come. “I asked you a question, Bruce.”
“Huh?”
Kristen sighed and rolled over, leaving Bruce to stare at her glowing blonde hair.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s between me and Stephen.”
Bruce massaged her scalp, hoping to loosen her up. She continued, “It’s not just that. You’re secretive about a lot of things. You won’t tell me anything.”
“Okay, how about if I give you a hint?”
“No, Bruce. This isn’t about Elvis.”
Elvis! He did his best not to burst into laughter. He cracked, “No kidding.”
Bruce had to keep it a secret. If Stephen knew he was headed back into the forest the day after the cult incident, he would be pissed. Earlier in the day at school, they learned that Ixley was the cult leader thanks to a rather large bruise on the side of his face. Bruce was hesitant to invite Stephen after he barely made it out the night before. The follow-up mission was best suited as a solo undertaking.
Bruce stood in the heart of the forest in broad daylight, a nice change of pace from the night before. Also nice was the fact that he could make as much noise as he wanted. As far as he knew, there were no cult members around. He hiked through the forest, looking for the spot where the ritual took place. Around him were endless batches of trees. With higher visibility, he was able to see the millions of leaves littered on the ground. Twigs and sharp bark were scattered everywhere, creating a tightly woven maze. Their navigation the night before became apparently impressive.
Bruce spotted the ritual zone lying a couple yards in front of him. He surveyed the ground around him, realizing how familiar the area was. It was where he saved Stephen from cult-leader Ixley. Or Mr. Ixley as he demanded to be called. Bruce leaned over and picked up a log. With great satisfaction, he smiled. The log in his hand was the exact one he used to smack Ixley in the face, he was sure of it. What a nice keepsake.
Gripping the log, Bruce entered the cult area. The forest floor was flattened. In the middle of the open space, where the fire had presumably presided, an X was formed out of twigs and branches. Around the X was a circle formation. It was an intricate design that must’ve taken a good amount of time to configure. Bruce stepped into the circle, which was strangely illuminated from the sun above. The trees were parted, leaving the area perfectly open and exposed to the sunlight. It was probably why the cult picked the spot. Bruce looked at the outset of the circle, imagining the cult members standing in their Christ-like positions. “Redeo!” they shouted over and over again.
Bruce laughed. The sight of them ducking for cover as fireworks exploded around them was one he would never forget.
Under his feet, he stared at the X formation of branches. The first idea that came to mind was dig. X usually marked the spot right? Bruce lowered to his knees and examined the dirt: it was soft and damp. He’d have no problem digging into it.
Bruce stuck his fingertips into the dirt and applied pressure. As his fingers dug in, he was distracted by an unexpected noise: a fierce, angry growling. Bruce eyed the vicinity of the forest, looking for the culprit. Nothing but trees.
The growling grew louder. It became evident that it was coming from directly behind him. He slowly turned his head, careful not to make any sudden moves. Behind him, only inches away, was a gray wolf, revealing its sharp fangs. Its head was lowered and its body was crouched, ready to strike. The wolf’s muscles protruded. Bruce’s heart raced. One wrong move and he would be finished. Still clinging onto his log, he considered striking the wolf. But he would have to be lightning-fast. It was too risky.
Bruce carefully stood up. The wolf ceased its growling. An inch at a time, Bruce stepped out of the encircled X. The wolf watched his every move, making sure he didn’t try anything stupid. After Bruce was outside the circle, the wolf calmly proceeded inside and sat atop the X.
Bruce stared at the wolf. The wolf stared back. Its wildness was gone. It calmly guarded the X like a bouncer refusing to let him in a bar. “Are you serious?” Bruce asked. They continued to awkwardly stare at each other.
Hit with a dose of reality, Bruce turned to leave the forest. He wasn’t going to mess with a wolf. He took a couple steps toward the endless trees when he heard an even more unexpected noise. The sound of laughter.
It was a female laugh that filled the air. Bruce turned and darted his eyes around. A couple yards beyond the wolf, he spotted a girl walking toward him. She wasn’t from school and he’d certainly never seen her around town before. She couldn’t have been older than 21. She was plainly dressed, wearing a button-up shirt and jeans. She had blonde hair curled to her shoulders and looked like a country girl. Bruce found himself instantly attracted to her. Her face was bright and she was obviously amused about something.
The wolf turned to see what Bruce was looking at. When it noticed the girl, it lowered its head. But not to attack. It wagged its tail and begged to be pet. As the girl approached the wolf, she obliged. She knelt down and rubbed its head as Bruce watched in amazement. The wolf whimpered with pleasure.
“Run along now,” she said gently to the wolf.
The wolf obediently ran off.
The girl looked at Bruce and locked eyes with him. Her eyes were a glowing bright blue color that Bruce noticed immediately.
“Was that your… wolf?” Bruce asked, letting his log weapon fall to the ground.
She giggled. “No. No, it isn’t.”
There was something off about this girl. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
“No. You don’t.”
“You’re not a part of this cult thing, are you?”
She giggled. “No. What’s your name?”
“Bruce,” he responded. He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of her. She was charming, cute, giggly, and seemed trustworthy. But what was she doing in the forest? He asked, “So what’s your name?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Of course not. “And why is that?”
“No one can know that I met you. You can’t tell anyone. Ever. Can you do that for me, Bruce?”
“Shouldn’t be too hard. I don’t even know who you are.”
The girl looked below her feet at the X-circle and erupted with sadness. Her luminous presence vanished.
“Are you okay?” Bruce asked, sensing something was wrong.
She lifted her blue eyes off the X-circle and gave them back to Bruce. “I’m fine. Thank you, Bruce.” She took a deep breath. Her mind was plainly elsewhere. “I’m here to fix a mistake. There may come a time when I will need your help.”
Bruce gazed into her eyes, desperately trying to figure out if he could trust her. The whole encounter was bizarre, definitely not what he expected when he ventured out. What kind of help would she need? But hey, why not? Bruce was not one to shy away from a cute girl in need.
“Count me in, Pocahontas.”
She laughed. Bruce was more cooperative than she thought he’d be. It warmed her broken heart. She pulled a ring off her finger. It was a simple ring, made of cheap metal. She held it out to Bruce.
“This once meant a lot to me… Take it. A token of my appreciation.” She looked down at the X-circle again. Seeing it pained her heart. “Give it to the one you love the most. Whether you know her now or you meet her later.”
Bruce reached out to take it from her. “I don’t have to destroy this ring to save humanity, right?” She looked at him with a blank stare. The joke had obviously flown over her head.
“Nevermind,” Bruce said. He took the ring from her hand. “I appreciate it.”
She nodded. With that, she began to disassemble the neatly formed X. She kic
ked the sticks aside and brushed some leaves atop it. She knelt down, hovered her hand above the smooth soil, and glared toward the bright sky. She closed her eyes and whispered inaudibly.
Bruce examined the ring in his hands. Engraved on the outer rim were two barely visible letters: E.M.
“What does E.M. stand for?”
‘Pocahontas’ pulled down her head and smiled at him.
“You can’t tell me that either?” Bruce asked.
“I have to leave, Bruce.”
“Can I get your number at least? Take you out sometime?”
Pocahontas rose from her knees and faced him. She found his smile enticing. Oddly, she felt a strong connection to him. She stepped toward him. “I will find you when the time comes.” She leaned forward and gently kissed him on the cheek.
It was the strangest introduction to another person Bruce ever had.
Pocahontas put her fingers to her mouth and whistled. Without hesitation, the gray wolf came storming through the woods. When it reached her, it obediently sat beside her. Pocahontas got on her knees and whispered something in its ear.
She rose to her feet. “Now Bruce, I’m going to leave. Don’t try to follow me.” She pointed at the wolf. “He won’t let you.”
The wolf gazed at Bruce, daring him to give chase. Bruce took a couple steps toward her and the wolf revealed its fangs.
“I will see you soon.” She gave him one last look before turning and running out of the forest. Bruce could do nothing but helplessly watch as she disappeared from sight. Too bad. He would’ve liked to get to know her.
“Bad boy,” Bruce said to the wolf.
All he could do now was walk the other way.
But what happened was no miniscule event.
Pocahontas had chosen him.
“Alright. No more secrets,” Bruce said, still laying on the grass. All he could see was the back of Kristen’s head. Her blonde hair flowed toward his face. “Kristen, look at me.” She rolled over and faced him.
Bruce asked, “Do you want to know what’s in the box?”
Her puppy dog eyes stared into his. She didn’t care about the box. She was just frustrated about her lack of a genuine connection with Bruce. She so desperately wanted what Stephen and Lisa had.
“I don’t care what’s in the box.” Kristen pointed to Bruce’s heart. “I just want to know what’s in here.”
Wow. If that wasn’t the corniest line Bruce ever heard, then he didn’t know what was. But he would take it. He was off the hook. He took her hand and held it up to his face. “I love you Kristen.” He kissed her hand.
Truth be told, Bruce meant those words. But there was one thing glaringly missing from her hand: the E.M. ring.
Bruce had already given it to another woman.
22
Many years before Bruce met Kristen, he was a senior in high school. Then, his sights were set on another girl: Sara Ixley, the sweetheart of the school. Her popularity worried her father, the dean, Mr. Ixley. To him, boys her age were stupid. Hormones raged and their minds were underdeveloped. Luckily, he could keep an eye on her all the time. Most unluckily for him, she accepted an invitation to prom from Bruce, his arch nemesis for years. How she could fall for such a loser defied his understanding.
Sara sat in homeroom, patiently waiting for the bell to ring, signaling her transition to class. Her teacher, Mrs. Gilligan, a short woman with puffy hair who reminded her of a munchkin from The Wizard Of Oz, stood at the front of the class and meticulously took attendance. The room was packed with dozens of polo-wearing students (their mandatory uniforms) sitting at their desks. Mrs. Gilligan had firm control in her classroom and demanded the silence of the students. Sara, of course, obliged.
At the front of the room, in the doorway, appeared Stephen Pandora. Sara smiled. Stephen and Bruce always made her laugh. Their highjinks were highly entertaining. As much as her father disapproved, she approved. Stephen’s collar was popped in a simple act of defiance. “How’s it going, Gilligan?”
Mrs. Gilligan pounced her disciplinary judgment on Stephen. “How did you get out of your homeroom?”
Stephen played stupid. “This isn’t my homeroom?”
“Okay Mr. Pandora. If you don’t get back to where you belong, I’m going to give you a pink slip.” Uh-oh. The feared pink slip. Stephen had a collection of the infamous VIP tickets to after-school detention.
“Can you show me where my homeroom is? I’m lost.”
The students snickered. If there was one thing they enjoyed, it was watching Mrs. Gilligan get riled up. While Stephen was distracting Mrs. Gilligan, Bruce slipped into the back entrance of the room. He weaved his way through the desks and snuck behind Sara.
“Hey Sara,” he whispered into her ear.
She turned around with great surprise to see Bruce gazing at her. The innocence twinkled in her eyes as she looked at Bruce. “What are you doing here? You’ll get in trouble.”
“What? Get detention? I already have, like, twenty I haven’t served yet.”
Sara chuckled and grabbed Bruce’s hand. “I can’t wait to go out tonight.”
“Me too,” Bruce replied, “Did you tell your dad yet?”
“I told him about prom. Nothing else.”
Stephen was still occupied with distracting Mrs. Gilligan. “Okay, so down the hall and first room on the right?” It wouldn’t last much longer and she was already pulling her stack of pink slips from her pocket.
Suddenly, a voice filled the air. It was the intercom. It blandly announced, “Bruce Dennett to the dean’s office, please. Bruce Dennett to the dean’s office.”
Bruce stood up and came out of hiding. Getting caught no longer mattered. Stephen vanished from the doorway. Bruce glanced at Sara, who looked at him with great concern.
“I might not make it out of this one.”
Bruce sat in Mr. Ixley’s tiny, dimly lit office. It was a familiar sight. But this felt more serious. Never had the conflict between them been so personal. The confidence Bruce usually exuded in this situation melted away, revealing a frailty Mr. Ixley would gladly exploit.
“So Bruce,” Mr. Ixley said, sitting directly across from him, “I heard the news.”
“What news is that?”
Mr. Ixley leaned forward and folded his hands. Instead of speaking, he stared through his glasses. Several seconds passed. Bruce stared back at him. Where was this going? Bruce looked around the room. He had always appreciated the dim lighting. It was daunting, like a jail cell. “I like the lighting in here,” Bruce declared.
Mr. Ixley didn’t move. His continued staring at Bruce. It was creepy. Was he using mind tricks? “You’re kinda creepy, Ixley.”
Mr. Ixley pounded his fist on the desk. “You have taken this too far, Bruce! She is my daughter!” The veins on his forehead protruded. He was mad. Really mad.
“I think you’re taking this the wrong way,” Bruce said. “In fact, she was too scared to even tell you that we’re dating.”
Mr. Ixley’s face flushed. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to break the news to him. If he wasn’t the dean, he would probably sock Bruce in the face.
“This isn’t about you,” Bruce added. “I liked a girl. And she happened to be your daughter. I’m not doing this to get at you.”
That provided no solace for Mr. Ixley. “Let me tell you something, Bruce. I am the dean of this school. If you screw up, just once, I can get you expelled. Just remember that.”
The bell rang. Homeroom was over. It was time for the students to move on to their classes. Bruce stood up. “So are we done?”
“No. We’re not.”
Bruce rolled his eyes. Mr. Ixley didn’t care if Bruce was late to class. Just another detention for him to serve.
Bruce’s eyes wandered and settled on a dirty old leather book that rested on Mr. Ixley’s desk. The cover had a logo: an X with a circle around it. It was the same formation Bruce found in the forest when he met Pocahontas. Bruce stared at the familiar symbol
. Mr. Ixley looked at his expression with great wonderment. It was almost as if Bruce recognized the book that sat on his desk.
“What are you doing, Bruce? Sit down.”
Bruce realized how obvious he made himself when spotting the book. Did Mr. Ixley notice? There was no way to tell. All Bruce could do was obediently follow directions and sit.
The door behind Bruce whipped open. Sara Ixley walked in. Mr. Ixley promptly covered the X book with another book. He was hiding it from Sara? That meant she had no idea what he was up to.
“Why is Bruce in here, Daddy?”
Mr. Ixley’s heated anger vanished like the wind. “Sweetheart,” he said, “We’re just talking.”
Sara looked at Bruce for verification. Bruce had never seen her so… determined. “Leave him alone.” She held out her hand. “Come on, Bruce.” She was bailing him out.
Bruce looked wide-eyed at Mr. Ixley then at Sara Ixley. This was not good. No matter what he did, he was screwed. And now, the Ixleys were turning on each other. Bruce stood up, intently watching. Mr. Ixley was infuriated and itched to verbally attack, but held it in for the sake of his daughter.
Sara hanged on Bruce’s side. He held his hand out to Mr. Ixley. “I want to make this work.” His hand floated in the air, waiting to be shaken. It could’ve waited forever. There was no handshake coming.
“Goodbye Bruce. Two months until prom. Break her heart and I’ll break your neck.”
Bruce stared at Mr. Ixley as he and Sara left his office.
23
Bruce had officially moved in with Kristen and had been living with her for two months. Living between Michigan and Michigan State was a situation that suited both of them. They were right between their respective schools and it was an easy commute. Sure, he’d see Stephen less, but he got to be with Kristen all the time.
On this summer day, Kristen managed to coerce Bruce into going to Michigan State to help her buy books for her classes. As Kristen sorted through the endless shelves of books, Bruce grew bored. Quickly. He wandered off, eventually finding his way outside. Across the street from the bookstore was a small cafeteria. With any luck, they’d have cinnamon rolls. He would do anything for a cinnamon roll right now.