“I’m sorry, Beverly. He, uh, we didn’t mean to be ungrateful,” said the woman sitting next to Bob. “We’re just worried is all.”
Charlie watched his aunt. Warring emotions played across her face. She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it. Opened it again, then shut it again. Everyone waited, willing to let Beverly find her words. Finally she spoke.
“Les and Ginger, I am so sorry. You must be out of your mind with worry. Twice now there have been attempts to kidnap my nephew.”
Several people in the crowd gasped. All eyes turned to Charlie. He dropped his head, wishing that he could be invisible. His hand automatically went to the cut on his neck, nearly healed, where Grace had cut him with her fingernails.
“What?”
“When?”
“How did…?”
“As you can see, Charlie is safely with us here today. But if he wasn’t, I would be crazy with fear and worry myself. It’s time for us to band together to protect our children. We cannot, will not, let any more of them be taken.” Charlie wondered why his aunt hadn’t said anything about the fight with Grace.
“But what’s going on? Why is she trying to take our children?” someone in the far corner shouted.
Beverly looked around her, trying to find words once again. There was a shuffling from the back as Daniel Burman made his way to where Beverly stood.
“At first I wondered if Grace were doing it to try to get at us,” Daniel said, “to use the kids as bargaining tools. But there have been other kidnappings in the greater Seattle area, and that tells me it might be something else.”
“What do you mean?” asked Ginger Nickerson.
“Well, there have been four other teenage kidnappings in the last month. The higher-ups at SPD seem to think they’re unrelated: one might be connected to drugs and gangs, another could be teenage prostitution, and the last one seems to be for reasons unknown.
“However,” Daniel continued, his ice-blue stare holding authority over the crowd, “I believe that they’re related. Or I’m suspicious that they might be. Kidnappings don’t tend to happen as much at this time of year, when school is newly underway. Parents and teachers are more on guard. Kids too. Security is tighter. It’s in the late winter and early spring that kidnappings tend to increase. So the fact that at least four teenagers have gone missing, or five, now that we’re considering Suzette’s disappearance in light of the others, has me suspicious. As I’m sure you all know, we have reports that echoes in the area have an increased skill level, and Beverly can attest to the fact that our local bookie and potions-and-lotions witch, Mavis, has considerably more abilities than ever before.”
Daniel looked over at Beverly, who nodded back to him.
“I suspect that there are a few in the upper echelons of the Seattle Police Department who may be part of a local echo network, people who have somehow acquired new abilities, and are in cahoots with Grace. And that somehow, the kidnappings are related. And that this network is trying to make it look like the they are random, individual events.”
The basement was quiet as everyone digested this new information.
“I agree with Beverly. Grace has the upper hand right now. But we’re working on finding a connection.
“In the meantime, I think it would be best if we applied new wards to our homes, used more talismans for our children’s safety, and accompanied them to and from school. I don’t think Grace would be stupid enough to attempt a public kidnapping during the day, while someone is at school or soccer practice. But the fact that she’s able to get into our homes at night tells me that what we thought was effective at keeping intruders out isn’t working.”
“What I want to know is, where’s Malcolm?” asked Bob, the flannel-wearing guy. Others nodded and voiced similar questions. “Shouldn’t he be here?”
“You know him. He’s out popping kids. I think this time he’s in the Midwest somewhere,” said Beverly. Charlie looked at his aunt. He knew her well enough now to know that there was something she wasn’t saying, something she was keeping from the crowd. He watched the faces of those around him. No one else seemed to notice.
A few committees were formed. One of them took on the task of resetting stronger wards and other spells that would be used to protect people’s homes from invasion. Another set about acquiring protective talismans for the children. A third agreed to help Daniel with his investigation. The meeting broke up soon after.
On their way out, several people asked Charlie about the kidnapping attempts. The first one was easier to talk about, since he had been in bed asleep when it had happened. The second one, though, made him uncomfortable to explain. Remembering how Beverly hadn’t told the group about the fight with Grace, he left those details out too, though he wasn’t sure why he was doing it.
“One of the witches tried to get me when I was out alone one night,” he said, deciding that this was true, if only partially. “Beverly found out that I was missing. I guess she used a scrying bowl to find me, before, uh, before anything bad happened.”
His answer seemed to satisfy people, and none of them asked if it had been Grace or someone else who tried to kidnap him. But it left Charlie with a hollow feeling inside. The fact that he’d been out on a broomstick by himself because he thought Beverly hated him being gay, and that the witches had been forced to come to his rescue, narrowly escaping with their lives, was still very painful to accept.
Charlie had begun to think of the attack beneath the bleachers as something he deserved, something that had happened to teach him a lesson. True, he had wanted it to stop when it was happening. But the more he thought about everything, the more shame he felt. His actions put people at risk. Maybe getting beaten up by the guys at school was something he had coming to him.
He wanted to help Beverly and Daniel stop Grace and find the kids who had gone missing. But he was worried that he’d cause more trouble and put more people at risk.
He had also been thinking again about what Grace promised to tell him, about why that Dog Man had gone to all the trouble to come find him in California.
Why hadn’t he told Beverly and the others about this, about the information she offered to him? Maybe he was worried that they’d overreact and do something foolish, like go after Grace, all the while lacking the strength or ability to escape unscathed.
‘More likely you’re ashamed of yourself for listening to her, for hoping that she could give you something good,’ he said to himself. This seemed true.
He was conflicted enough about it that he decided not to mention it for the time being.
Was it connected to the other kids disappearing? Why had there been two attempts to kidnap him? He couldn’t really have anything that Grace wanted, could he?
These thoughts troubled him as he helped Randall and Beverly, as well as some of the stragglers, clean up after the meeting.
––
Later, Charlie sat in the kitchen with his aunt and uncle, eating leftovers. Amos slept by the blazing hearth.
“Where is Malcolm, anyway?” Randall asked.
“I told you. He’s out popping kids.”
“Come on Bev. You didn’t look like you believed it when you said it to the group downstairs, and you don’t look like you believe it now. What’s up?”
Charlie watched his aunt’s face, eager to hear her honest answer.
Beverly picked up her fork, and then set it down on her plate. She twisted her wedding ring back and forth, then scratched her palm lightly before speaking.
“I don’t know. This is unlike him. I can usually reach him. But he hasn’t been himself this week. He seems preoccupied. When Daniel told me about the other kidnappings, I called him to let him know. He basically brushed me off and said it probably wasn’t anything related to our community. This, from the man who is so protective of our kids that he’s basically gone ninety percent of the time, from one city or town or hamlet to the next, popping and educating and overseeing everything kid-related?
“What do you think is up?” asked Randall, his forehead crinkling.
“I haven’t the slightest. I asked him about it but he just told me he’s extremely busy, even more so than usual.
“Another thing,” she said after a moment, “I wish he were here to talk to the community. They trust him. They rely on him. He has more of a global vision, and I know how much they relax when he’s back home among us.”
“Bev, you’re the heart of leadership for these people. Don’t think they don’t trust you. They’re wild about you, and you know it.”
“I know they appreciate me, Randall. And many of them respect me. But I wouldn’t say they trust me. They trusted Dad, and look where that got them. I think it’s hard for them when they know that I’m his daughter.”
“Don’t you think they’re passed all that now? That they can separate you from him?”
“In good times, sure. But when the shit hits the fan, like it is now, I don’t know,” she said, looking at the window at the dark night, scratching her palm again, this time with an absent-mindedness that Charlie found to be a little spooky. “I just don’t know.”
Chapter 70
The two boys walked along the trails at Carson Park. There was no dog yanking them along. No late summer sun to warm their backs. Just the two of them, wearing boots and waterproof jackets as the rain drizzled down on them. Beverly had agreed to let Charlie go to the park with Diego on the condition that he wear his new talismans (two bracelets, a necklace, and a ring), all of which had been newly charged for protection and identification, should something happen. That, and the fact that the whole park had been newly fortified with wards of a much higher caliber than the community had ever used before, seemed to satisfy his aunt.
Diego was upset. He had been mostly silent when he’d picked Charlie up, other than a few questions about his new jewelry, which he’d asked without really listening to the answers. But as soon as they entered the park, the boy looked around to make sure no one was listening, then turned to face Charlie.
“What are you hiding?” Diego asked.
Charlie looked at him in disbelief (Which was genuine. Of course he was hiding things from him, but he couldn’t believe that the boy knew Charlie was lying). Diego talked about how strange Charlie seemed the last few days: quieter than normal, looking over his shoulder, not replying to voicemail or texts right away, like he usually did.
Finally Charlie responded. “Look Diego, I don’t know how to tell you about it. Can we just walk for a while and then I’ll say something?”
The boy had agreed, but the look on his face changed from suspicion to worry.
Back in California, Charlie loved going on quiet hikes in the hills behind his house with Mike or some of his other buddies, none of whom talked much. He enjoyed the quiet, enjoyed hearing the sounds of nature around them. But today, the silence between Diego and him was nearly unbearable.
Charlie looked around him. More of the trees were changing color. Even though the wet weather dampened the fiery display of autumn leaves, the change was still noticeable. The ferns and the conifers retained their bright green hues, of course. But the deciduous trees seemed to be changing into their October coloring before September even finished.
He felt a sense of foreboding. He had no idea what was going to happen with Grace or the others. He only knew it would probably happen soon. Of course he couldn’t tell Diego any of this. But there were some things he could confide.
Charlie’s jeans were wet at the knees and the sides of his legs by the time the boys stepped out from the narrow wooded path and saw the clearing in front of them. He smelled the saltier, cooler air, and saw the familiar expanse of the bridge above their heads.
Without talking, they walked over to the bench and sat down. The light rainfall mottled the surface of the creek.
Finally, Diego spoke. “Look, if you want to stop hanging out with me, just tell me, okay? I mean, this whole keeping-your-distance thing is really pretty awful. I’d rather know, instead of…”
“What are you talking about?”
“…have you sort of fade away, like a ghost or something.”
“Diego, I don’t want to stop hanging out with you. Why do you always assume that’s the case whenever I’m upset or something?”
“I don’t know. It’s just that you seem so, not into it that much, is all.”
“Believe me, what I’m going to tell you doesn’t have anything to do with not wanting to hang out with you.”
“Is it about the, uh, the kissing?” he asked, whispering the last word and looking around to see if anyone could hear them. “Because if you’re feeling too much pressure…”
Diego’s face looked so earnest, his eyelashes blinking so rapidly under the hood of his raincoat, that Charlie couldn’t help giggling.
“What? Don’t tease me. Why are you laughing?”
“I’m sorry. You just look so cute,” he said, then leaned in and kissed him softly on the mouth. He kept his eyes open, watching as Diego’s nose doubled and his eyes blurred together from the close-up vision.
“That’s the first time you’ve ever called me ‘cute,’” said Diego as their lips parted, his voice soft. “I like it.”
“I’ve told you before that you’re cute.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Charlie felt badly. He knew Diego needed more reassurance than he gave him. But he wasn’t used to giving it. For one thing, Charlie hated the encouragement he’d been given his whole life, by his mother, by teachers, by his friends’ parents, to open up more, to not be so shy. He knew it was well-intended, but it always left him feeling like there was something wrong with him. He didn’t want to do the same thing to Diego. And secondly, it was still hard for Charlie to believe that Diego, so self-assured and independent, needed to hear from someone else about his good characteristics.
Charlie wanted to do better. Even now, by asking Diego to wait for him to disclose what he’d been holding back, he was making the boy anxious and worried.
“Ok, I’ll tell you what I was going to tell you. But you have to promise not to get mad. Or to do anything about it, okay?”
“Okay, I promise.”
“Well, I want to tell you two things,” Charlie said. “I don’t think you’ll be mad at the first one. But don’t be mad at the second one, okay? You’ll probably want to go rush off and…”
“Will you just freakin’ tell me?”
Charlie explained that he came out to his aunt and uncle. Diego’s smile grew so large that the corners of his mouth expanded beyond the edge of his hood. In spite of himself, Charlie smiled back.
“How did it go? What did they say? Why did you decide to tell them?”
Diego’s enthusiasm was so great that he didn’t seem to notice the holes in Charlie’s story. He told him about overhearing his aunt and uncle talking, about misunderstanding what Beverly meant when she said she didn’t want Charlie to be gay. He then lied, explaining that he stormed off in the middle of the night, and that Beverly drove around until she found him. That he and his aunt and uncle had a huge talk about it all, and that they were supportive.
“Oh, and they really like you, Diego,” Charlie said.
Diego looked as excited as a little kid with a new toy.
“This is totally cool. Hey, they can go to PFLAG meetings with my mom if they want to.”
“What’s a pea flag?”
“PFLAG. Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays. It’s a nationwide support group for people who love queer people. They have a local chapter, and I bet they’d…”
“Uh, I don’t think that my aunt and uncle are support-group kind of people.”
“Oh. Well, if they change their minds, maybe they could go with
my mom. She likes to go sometimes when she doesn’t have to work late. I think it gives her some peace of mind, and helps her overcome her own homophobia.”
Diego went on to explain about how everyone was homophobic, that you couldn’t not be in this culture, that gay people’s homophobia was called internalized, that…
Charlie stopped paying attention. He knew at times that Diego, who was very smart and had many thoughts running in his head at the same time, needed to talk things out to calm himself down. Usually Charlie just listened, knowing that it helped the boy to say things out loud. But today he had too many other things on his mind to be able to concentrate on the chatter.
Eventually Diego stopped talking. Together they watched leaves and twigs float down the creek toward the Puget Sound. The drizzle had stopped. The clear water eddied and swirled in places. At a slight bend in the creek, several small leaf-covered branches had bunched together. A yellowish foam gathered around the branches, adding froth to the leaves’ surfaces.
“What’s the other thing you wanted to tell me?” Diego asked. “Is this the part where I’m not supposed to get mad or go do anything drastic?”
“Yes. Although I didn’t just say drastic. I don’t want you to go do anything at all. Except listen.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Well, promise me again.”
“I promise. I won’t do anything except listen. Just tell me.”
Diego’s lips were parted, and his breathing increased slightly as he waited for Charlie to speak. In that moment Charlie wished he hadn’t decided to disclose anything. He knew Diego would get upset. Charlie was enjoying his friend’s companionship on the bench after their hike in the damp woods, away from school, and witchcraft, and worry. He didn’t want to ruin it. But it was too late. Diego was expecting something, and wouldn’t leave Charlie alone until he knew. So he began to speak, marring the calm the way the rain had disturbed the surface of the creek only moments ago.
Charlie told Diego what happened under the bleachers with Julio, Dave Giraldi, Randy, and the boy he didn’t recognize. He watched as Diego’s mouth went slack, how the caramel color of his skin paled to light beige, how the light in his dark brown eyes dimmed.
The Boy Who Couldn't Fly Straight (The Broom Closet Stories) Page 40