by Nicole Lee
As all of this happened, she stared outside to notice that the black cat was no longer standing on the sill of the school’s second story, but was now next to a man standing in the middle of the road many yards away in the distance. This person was the cloaked stranger, the one she saw outside of the Realm of Out of Print. Though he was hooded, she swore he was peering through her. He turned around and vanished behind a row of parked cars, their metal glistening under the rainfall.
“Rose,” Ms. Mynowski said from behind her desk. “Are you concentrating?”
“Yes,” she lied, picking up her pencil and trying to appear focused.
The restaurant was the size of two theaters. It overlooked the grandiose azure lake as the sun set in the distance, casting purple vapors over the water and through the mountain ranges. Rose had already found a booth in the back, alone. Her date was late.
Rose had filled her Dad in on another lie about where she was, saying she would be at Melinda’s to study for an upcoming exam. Sometimes she had the sense of being at fault for lying to him about things, and even keeping the majority of what she knew about Grady under wraps from her friends, but it was too soon to tell anyone the full story.
Grady soon stepped into the dining establishment well-dressed and groomed, looking flushed in the face. “I’m sorry,” he said, taking her hand in his. “The coach worked us ten times harder today.”
A half an hour after accepting his apology, they ordered. Dinner was good, comprising of a basic Caesar salad for her and a flank steak simmered in tomato sauce for him. The meal lasted a half an hour, and he refused her to see the check when it arrived, so something told Rose that it was expensive.
She stared at him as he reached for his wallet to pay the bill. When they made their way through the doors after the hostess had wished them a good night, they strolled out into the cool front entrance. The wind was frigid. He turned to her for a second, his hands in his pockets.
“Do you want to take a walk through Pine Park?” Grady asked.
“Isn’t that a while from here?”
“It’s twenty feet from where we’re at now.”
She felt herself turning red, knowing very well that her lack of geographical knowledge was a result of her staying inside and reading, living a life that was very rarely located outside of her house, her friends, Ms. Harvey’s bookstore, or school.
“Sure,” she said. “That would be nice.”
“There’s also a party going on in a playing field on the other side of the park. I think we should go. It could be a fun time.”
“It’s a little late for that.”
“Tons of people’ll be there.”
“What if I like it being just you and me?”
“That’s great,” he said, nodding. “It never hurts to socialize though, right?”
“I guess.”
Holding each other’s hands, they walked into the park. She was still begrudging about doing this initially, but the scenery soon took her breath away. They walked on a dark path where the only thing allowing them to see where they were going was a flashlight that Grady had brought along in his red and white jock sport coat. The silhouettes of branches twisting along the dirt trail made themselves known due to the half moon shedding its light upon the forest.
There was an orange and crimson conflagration in between a few trees, and for a second Rose wondered if a fire had gotten out of hand. When they made their way to the main party, she realized it was a bonfire.
Grady had grabbed two Cokes from the first freezer they encountered when strolling towards the event. Countless people were dancing around the inferno, many of them students she either knew well or had at least become familiar with for so long without ever having spoken to them.
“This will be a good time,” Grady whispered.
The two sat down on the first row of the bleachers nearby, and stared at the shifting audience as the massive flame in the center violently flared.
Rose stared at Grady, and for a mild second felt her heart pumping at a greater pace than she could have ever anticipated. She was not used to it. For starters, it seemed ridiculous for her to believe she could ever admire someone who was status obsessed. Then an insight into the nature of their relationship awoke within her. It occurred to her that he was not the one infatuated with the notion of being someone well known, he simply was.
He gazed back at her, and she could not help but wonder if the same thoughts were on his mind. They leaned into one another. They had not even kissed yet, but something about his gaze melted Rose; she felt like the bonfire twenty feet away from them was igniting their souls together into an embrace. Just as they were about to lock their lips together into what would have been a momentous hold, she saw three people in the corner of her eyes which soured the mood.
Gina Radcliff, Emma Banks, and Jessica Faulkner were in the distance, approaching them with the same evident attitude a pack of wolves would a pile of raw meat. Rose fidgeted, seeing them nearing their location at a brisk pace, and by complete accident her hand tipped over a half filled orange soda. Its contents poured on Grady, the Styrofoam cup ruining his shirt.
She apologized. “I can get rid of that stain.” A part of her was close to finishing that sentence with the phrase a spell I know works.
Rose then pointed to the spot behind him. He turned around and saw the three girls standing close to the couple.
“What are you doing going out with this freak?” Jessica asked, while Radcliff stayed in close proximity in the background. “Gina wants to go out with you, Grady. She’s willing to give you a chance if you dump this freak over here.”
The trio formed a malicious presence deadly enough to shrivel blossoms and set the moon on fire until it became another sun. Rose tried to pretend as if she had not heard these words, even though she could feel her rage building. The urge to rip out clumps of Jessica’s hair became overwhelming, but she wanted to not freak Grady out. First dates had to have a certain level of etiquette, and going on a murderous spree was not the best way to make a good first impression.
“Gina’s never been interested in me. She should have moved in sooner.”
“She will go out with you,” Jessica said. “But you have to leave the creepy one behind. I mean, who’s a better fit for you? A socialite like Gina, or Miss Voodoo?”
“Cool it,” Grady said, an edge of menace in his voice.
“You can’t blame me for being upset. Having a choice between Gina Radcliff and the loser Rose Whelan is like having an option between a princess and a slut. I mean, how much thinking does it take?”
“Be nice,” Grady said with a growl.
“You do know her past, right?” Jessica said while a smile formed at the corners of her mouth. “Even her own mother thought she was worthless.”
Not able to tolerate it anymore, Rose found herself lunging at Jessica with nails bared. Whether she had to claw off a face or scrape Jessica’s eyes out became unimportant, because either way permanent damage became her goal. The first thing she could recall experiencing was her palm connecting with the nose. The second thing was Grady’s firm arms wrapping around her torso, half a hug and half a move of resistance to push her away from the clique.
“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered, dragging her away and turning his back to the three. Rose admired this move so much, the fact that he was willing to protect her, and it served as proof that he had chosen her over Gina. Pride filled her.
Still, she wished she wished to get in a few more punches. She hoped that the rebellious actions would halt Jessica in saying something as bad as the last few statements stated tonight ever again.
That was when she had an epiphany about how this was the first time in a long time she had not felt her conscious pushing her forward to react, but to do so in a way that did not involve a hex.
Physical revenge felt as good.
They walked together at a very fast pace through the woodsy area leading to Pine Park, with Grady glancin
g over his shoulder to see they were not being followed. Like the proper gentleman that Grady was, he carried her through the rural, brown verdant trail. She made sure to keep a tight grip on his shoulder and neck. Rose felt comforted in his arms, like she could stay there for as long as she wanted. The vitriol was still making her tremble.
Trying to reach the parking lot became a hassle. It was not an easy hike on foot, let alone when taking into account of how Bell was carrying the body weight of someone else. The soil where worms and insect life gadded about was dampened due to the mist that had settled in the day.
Grady stepped over dirt, grime, filth, mud, dust, muck. They passed armies of trees, ones both grown and half chopped, smothered with foliage, leaves, and grass. He succeeded at making sure that no branches hit either one of them, whether it be the ones situated on the side or the knotted appearing protrusions which took them by surprise on the lane. The soles of his sneakers crunched on twigs, brushwood, undergrowth and kindling.
The half moon was still radiant above, its white illumination causing ghostly pale shafts of luminescence to cascade down on the hills, large and small, the mounts, knolls, mounds, prominences forming into a rough terrain. He had no choice but to leap over his fair share of moss covered logs, in one instance landing in a heap of sludgy mire. She could always patch up his sneakers later on with a good spell.
A rabbit sprung by and hid itself in a pileup of spidery ferns. The howling of a wolf could be heard in the distance, and she clung tighter to him.
The terrain leveled out and became flat, and the spacious park, with its fluorescent street lights making the way among its cement concourses, became easy to cross. He set her down. Grady’s strength would not allow him to bring her any further at the moment. They strolled on the concrete sidewalk.
When they were in the confines of his car, he took his shoes off and put them on the floor in the backseat, starting the heater.
She sighed. “Where do we go from here?”
“To be honest with you? I don‘t know.”
“I have a movie at my house,” she said. “Harold & Maude. It‘s a treat.”
“Sounds good,” he said, the ignition coming to life. They pulled out of the parking lot, and he drove them out onto the empty freeway.
“It was kind of unexpected,” he said. I thought you were right in trying to tear Jessica in two pieces.”
“She had it coming.”
“Let’s just make a deal,” he said. “We’ll be together when we‘re not in class. They can’t do anything to you if I’m around.”
She liked the idea of having to always be in his company, but she still felt the sting of his request. “I don’t need help, though. I can take care of myself.”
He looked at her quizzically, before making a left turn onto another dark boulevard. When they were in the general vicinity of her neighborhood, she put his hand over his, feeling the night’s coldness on his skin.
“My driveway’s too small for you to park there,” she said. “Sorry about that.”
He pulled into a parking space situated in front of closed McDonald’s. They both hopped out, and while he did not know where to head, she took his hand again in hers once more and lead him in the right direction.
Soon they were walking beside the cemetery.
Rose knew that this was a night she would never be able to recapture, though she would wish for one just like it for many eons to come. Or so she thought it was, until Grady turned to her halfway through the midnight walk and said something which took her a few steps back.
“What do you say we scale this fence and walk through the graveyard?”
Rose found herself almost hyperventilating, breathing in the nocturnal hour’s frigid air until her lungs cried out worse than a sloppily recorded jazz record.
"What?” Grady said.
“You don’t have to prove yourself to be more of a man to me. Especially something stupid like trespassing.”
“Who’s to say I’m trying to impress you? Maybe it‘s a test of my own integrity and personal manhood. Besides, what are you afraid of? Ghosts?”
“Please don’t,” she said. “Everyone with a mind knows there‘s no such things as ghosts. Believing in poltergeists is as ridiculous as believing in werewolves, vampires, and witch…es.”
By the time the last word escaped her mouth, even she had to admit her act had ran its course of being convincing.
Grady grinned after hearing her criticism, and then wrapped his hands around the thin and greasy bars of the black gate, doing so with an irritable stubbornness that both thrilled and agitated Rose. He had no hesitation. In a rather quick way he had already reached the top, and with a grunt he hurled himself on to the other side. He dropped down on the grassy hummock opposite of her, and stared at Rose with a prideful smirk.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to ruin my top.”
“I’ll buy you a new one. Besides, my hands are all that‘s dirty.”
Grady turned around and swabbed his palms against a mound of grass blades. She made an audible sound that was similar to ick, but his simplistic argument persuaded her. Coiling her fingers around the spiked bars, she reached the top, happy that her days of trying to squeeze in cardio into her schedule had paid off, and then cautiously swung her legs over the upper part of the barrier. She looked down to find a proper landing spot. She released her grip and landed on her feet, with Bell wrapping his hands around her hips.
Rose smiled. She caught sight of him turning red. After that, she had not been on the ground for longer than a few seconds when he pointed in the direction of what looked like a lit up cottage. A fireplace was roaring on the inside, based on the orange colors slithering past and lingering near the windows. The small house was near the very center of the cemetery, the same place she had woken up only a week ago.
“I think we should get a better look of it,” he said. “Just to see who’s crazy enough to build their place here.”
She playfully punched him in the arm. “I only live a block away, so cool it.”
Out of curiosity they agreed to see what sort of a residence it was, and perhaps to even peek in.
They followed a smooth hiking road made out of pavement past a series of both newly built and crumbling headstones, some of which were so old that time had made them crooked.
Soon they were in front of the warm dwelling - or at least it looked cozy on the inside, rather than its bleak exterior. It was a small bungalow with a red tile roof, the kind that Rose had always seen in LA squats when passing through southern California, only this place was surrounded by shrunken leafy trees.
“We’ve seen it,” Rose said. “Let’s go back now.”
“Oh come on,” Grady said. “Let’s look through the windows.”
She was loathe to do it, but before she could even get in a further word, they approached the place.
Soon they were standing in its black and emaciated rose garden.
There was no one inside. The only things visible to perceive was a large light source coming from some unseen place, and a barren laminated wooden floor lacking in any carpet, as well as the bland walls which had no decorative elements.
“I know what this place is now,” she said, feeling foolish for not having come to the simple and irrefutable conclusion earlier. “This is the under keeper’s house. Or at least his station. Mr. Barkwood has been the under keeper here for years.“
Anyone who had been unfortunate enough to deal with a funeral knew this.
“Let’s go inside,” Grady said while turning to her.
“Are you crazy?”
“I’m not going to steal anything,” he said in a low whisper. “It’s just that I’ve never seen an under keeper’s house before. What kind of possessions would a man like that have?”
“The same things a boring witch would have in her room,” she said. “Books. On magic. Magazines on gothic video games and junk.”
“Let’s go in,” he said. “There’s
no one home, and since we‘re not thieves, I‘m sure that what Mr. Barkwood doesn‘t know won‘t hurt him.”
“Do you think he‘s out? What if he‘s awake?”
“He won’t notice us,“ Grady said, turning around and walked through the front door after inaudibly turning the knob. He motioned with one hand for Rose to join him, and while she did not want to, she had already agreed to all of his other previous insane actions.
Walking inside, they closed the door behind them, trying to make sure that the latch fell into place without any kind of a noticeable din. Both felt a surge of warm air cover them from a heater installed in the ceiling.
They walked through the spotless living room. The two walked into another new space to discover it was a library. Tall shelves filled with endless stacks of jacketless and dusty books were in every corner of the quarters, which appeared to have once been a master bedroom, and had now been converted into a rather dank literary emporium.
He grabbed a book and stopped in his place, starting to read its contents.
“This is weird,” he said. “Check this out. It’s supposed to be a collection of people’s hateful thoughts, ones suppressed and never said aloud. Some of them are pretty disgusting. A lot of harsh language.”
She gripped the book and began flipping through its pages. It was comprised of inwardly directed vignettes, where thoughts ranging on every disturbing subject matter, controversial and subtle, could be found. Although she would have loved to find such a piece of strange cerebral magic when she had picked up witch craft two years ago practically to this day, Rose was now well-learned, at least when it came to the fact of how bringing ominous objects reeking of bad karma into one’s house was never a good decision. She put it back without a moment‘s delay.
Picturing Mr. Barkwood as a practitioner was not the first thing which sprung to mind when thinking of that gentleman, but then again, neither was a funeral director.
Once more, they clasped each other’s hands in a firm grip, and moved into the third room.
The last place was the darkest spot of the small but disordered house. It was a large stone area. In the center of this room was a wide medieval oak table. It was built of imperfect looking white wood. There were also stools, though they were uncomfortable and clumsily built enough to have been rightfully neglected. A hearth was at the far end, blazing brightly as a candle in the middle of a glacial lake.