by Bob Krech
Roddy ignores Lynne. “Jazzy Jughead it is. Now. Tonight yer all goin’ ta Dunnotar Castle.”
Dunnotar Castle?! At night?! With some ritual?
Joseph says, “I have practice tonight.”
Roddy glares and speaks slowly. “I repeat. And I don’t particularly favor repeatin’ meself. Tonight yer all goin’ to Dunnotar Castle.”
Joseph nods and straightens his tie. Roddy lowers his voice and looks around into the bushes. “Git to the dungeon o’ the castle by nine o’clock tonight. Make a wee fire . . .”
Lynne says, “We canna’ make a fire. . . .”
Roddy freezes. “And why is that? Did Smokey tell ye nawt ta, big tough girl? Don’t flippin’ annoy me.”
Lynne looks so mad, but she just shuts up.
Roddy continues, “As I was sayin’, make the wee fire, and walk around it ten times chantin’ the ancient words. I’m givin’ ’em to Jughead here. I’ll be watchin’ and I better see the fire signal and all o’ ye there. If ye do as yer told, ye can pass safely inta upper school. If not . . .” He spits on the ground. “ . . . Basically yer life here next term won’t be worth livin’.”
He looks from face to face. “Meet at dusk at the Cults Library. There’s a trail behind it to the castle.”
He walks over, takes Jasmine’s hand, and stuffs a crumpled-up paper into it. “Don’t lose this, lamebrain. And do exactly what it says.” He swaggers away toward the walkway to the upper school. No one says anything till he’s out of sight.
Finally Jasmine pipes up. “Wow. Have any o’ ye ever bin to Dunnotar Castle?”
Becky says, “Everybody’s bin there. ’Bout as scary as goin’ to the pettin’ zoo.”
Bernadette wipes her hands on her skirt. “It’s very historical.”
Jasmine nods solemnly. “Druids used ta sacrifice people up there. It’s very haunted.”
“Like yer head,” says Gordon.
Jasmine, still on her own track as ever, ignores this. “I go there all the time at night with me brother. It’s incredible. Ye kin really hear the ghosts and I saw one once—the main ghost, Lord Dunnotar. Ye wouldn’t believe it.”
Margaret says, “Yer right abou’ that. I wouldn’t believe it.”
Stewart says to Joseph, “It’s nay big deal. Me sister did it.”
Stewart, Joseph, Gordon, and Ian walk off. Christian trails behind them still flapping his hands wildly and talking to himself. Bernadette is wiping her hands on her skirt again. She says, “Isn’t it private property?”
Lynne leans forward. “It doesn’t matter. We all have to go.”
Jasmine puffs up. “Yeah. Unless yer too chicken.”
Becky stretches her arms over her head, leans back, and says, “Well, yeh. I’m not doin’ anythin’ tonight, anyways.”
Molly yells, “This is goin’ to be excellent!”
The bell rings and we all turn to go in. Margaret says, “Le’s meet at Gorty’s to talk about this after school.”
I nod. But I don’t see what there is to talk about.
When I get to Gorty’s, Margaret is sitting on the low stone wall. She hops off when she sees me. “So, what do ye think? Ye goin’ to the castle tonight?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Nah.”
“Well—” Margaret starts, but I cut her off.
“D-d-d-don’t give me that ‘no reason why not’ stuff, because I can think of plenty of reasons why we sh-sh-shouldn’t be following Jasmine, of all p-p-people, to an old ruin—”
“Think now!” Margaret puts a hand on top of my head and leans me forward till our foreheads connect. “Looks to me like Stewart and Joseph are goin’.”
I jerk back. “But . . .”
She grabs my head again and reconnects me to her forehead. “Stop. Think. We’d get to see them away from school. In—the—dark.”
I pause then move back. “No. It’s not going to work.”
We get our food and go sit on the wall. It smells so good. Margaret starts again. “Andrea. We’ve only got like two weeks o’ school left. Tonight is our perfect chance. Think! Joseph and Stewart. Dark. Romantic castle. Dark. Spooky ghosties. Dark.”
She does have a way of putting things. I think about his freckles. The way his hand brushed mine. But Dunnotar is so, so, weird. What about the Druids? They might still be out there. Waiting for fresh, young blood to sacrifice.
Margaret puts her food down. “Look. I could use yer moral support here. C’mon. Help out a sister.”
I laugh, but I can see from her face that she really wants me to do this with her. “Oh. Since you put it that way. All right.”
“Andrea,” Margaret puts a hand on my shoulder. “Yer really okay for a girl who’s not even a natural born Scot.”
After I get back to the house, I tell my mom. “Mom, I’m going with Margaret to the library to work on a report tonight.”
She keeps putting dishes away. “Okay. I’ll be out with Faith, clothes shopping. Dad has a meeting. We should all be back by ten at the latest. You too.”
I stop at the door and zip up my jacket. “Okay. Um, Mom. Were there really Druids around here?”
She calls back over her shoulder. “Yes. That’s what I’ve read.”
“Did they really sacrifice people?”
She turns around. “Is that what your report is on? The Druids?”
I shake my head. “No! It’s definitely something else.”
She gives me a funny look. “Oh. Okay. Good luck with it.”
The library is a block from my house. When I get there Jasmine, Stewart, Lynne, Becky, Molly, Margaret, Gordon, and Joseph are all there sitting on the front steps. Only Bernadette, Ian, and Christian are missing. As I walk up, Stewart suddenly has to look at the woods.
Jasmine is wearing an Australian bush hat with a big, long feather sticking up out of it. “All right! An-dy is here. An-dy, are ye ready? I thought ye were gonna chicken out fer sure.” She’s so excited, she’s just about drooling.
“Yeah,” I say. “Whatever.”
Jasmine leaps up and points to the woods. “Not whatever! To the castle!”
26
GORSE
A low growing, stickery shrub, juniper.
JASMINE takes off running around the side of the library. Molly is shoulder to shoulder with her. Gordon tries to push in front of them. All the rest of us follow. Behind the library at the edge of the woods is a narrow trail and a peeling white wooden sign with black letters: DUNNOTAR CASTLE, 3 KM.
As we walk, the woods get thicker and the light gets dimmer. I think about Druids. And human sacrifices.
Margaret begins to sweat and huff. “Phew. I’m not used to this warm weather. It’s like Egypt or somethin’,” she jokes.
After about half an hour of almost silent walking, the woods thin out and everyone comes to a halt. There rising up in front of us like a big, black skull is Dunnotar Castle. I say to Margaret, “There might be a night watchman.”
Jasmine interrupts, “I told ye. Ah’ve been in and out o’ here a hundred times with me brother. Yer such a chicken.”
Before I can answer she dashes up the hill. Gordon and Molly are close behind. We hike up through the dusk and stop a few steps from an old, red, wooden door in the castle wall. Everyone stands there. Margaret sits down on a rock, breathing heavily. Jasmine pulls a rope loop off a hook on the wall that’s connected to the door. Then she reaches down and removes a little triangle of wood from underneath. She nudges the door with her shoulder and it opens.
“Told ye. Nay problem.” She bows and waves everybody in. I help Margaret up and we follow into the room.
It is dead quiet inside and dark. Once my eyes adjust though, I can see we are in a little room with a wood floor. There is stuff on a shelf. A mug and a little coffeemaker and a jacket on a peg. Becky says, “This is grand.”
Then the sun disappears totally into the sea behind us and it is dark. No one says anything for a few seconds. We just stare. Lynne says, “It’s almost
nine. We better start the fire. Le’s get some stuff to burn. I brought matches and paper.”
We all go outside, scooping up handfuls of little twigs and dry grass. Jasmine says, “C’mon. Hurry. We have to go to the dungeon.”
We go through the little room and into a small hallway. Jasmine says, “Look.” It’s a sign with an arrow—DUNGEON.
Everyone stops. Then Lynne says, “Right. Tha’s it.”
We walk around a corner and down three slimy stone steps. There is no roof. I can see the moon. I can smell the North Sea and hear it pounding the rocks way down below. We pile the sticks and grass in the middle of the wet dirt floor. Lynne stuffs paper under it and lights it. The flame flickers then goes out. Becky glances around the dark walls. “C’mon, Lynne. Quit messin’.”
Lynne says, “Shet up, Becky.” She strikes another match. Everyone’s face looks pale in the quick little light. The paper catches and the flames lick the dry grass. It hangs there, then grows, then the twigs start to catch.
Gordon says, “All right!”
Molly yells, “Read it, Jazzy! Read it!”
“Okay. Okay.” Jasmine reaches in her pocket and pulls out the crumpled paper. She flattens it and bends down toward the flames for the light. “Long ago there was a prince . . .”
Becky says, “What?! Gimme that.” She tries to grab the paper out of Jasmine’s hands.
Jasmine jerks backward. “No! Ah’m the leader. Roddy sid. Ah’ll tell him.”
Becky snorts. “Yer such a jerk. Hurry up.”
Jasmine starts again. Her nose is practically on the paper. “Long ago there was a prince. The prince’s name was Oh-wa. He was in love with a beautiful princess named Tah-na. They lived in the country o’ Siam.”
Margaret and I look at each other. This does not sound like something Roddy would give anybody.
“Oh-wa loved Tah-na, but Tah-na’s father forbade the marriage. So Oh-wa threw himself from the highest cliff as he would rather die than be without her.”
Gordon laughs. “He jumped off a cliff?! What an eejit.”
Stewart says, “Listen. There might be a clue or somethin’ we have to hear.”
Jasmine reads slowly, “We remember these star-crossed lovers to this day. We chant the ancient words of this ritual in solemn re-mem-ber-nance.”
Like a reflex I say, “Remembrance.”
Jasmine moves her glasses up on her nose. “Remembrance. Chant and circle the fire ten times repeatin’ the chant ever faster as ye do.”
It’s pitch black except for the flames of the little fire. Lynne says, “Okay, okay. Wha’s the chant?”
Jasmine says, “Right. We have to say this together. ‘Oh-wa. Tah-na. Si-am.’ ”
Molly gets all excited. “Tha’s the names! Tha’s the names!”
Gordon says, “This is stupid.”
The wind kicks up, just about blowing the fire out. Lynne says, “C’mon, hurry up. Le’s do it. Git in a circle.”
We all make a circle and start stepping around the fire. Jasmine says, “Oh-wa. Tah-na. Si-am.” Nobody else says a thing. Then Lynne says, “We better do it. Roddy could be here somewhere.”
Then we all chant it together. “Oh-wa. Tah-na. Si-am.” It looks and sounds really weird, all of us chanting and moving in a circle. I look over at Stewart, but he’s watching his feet.
“Faster!” Jasmine yells. “It says you have to say it fast.”
We speed it up. We all chant, “Oh-wa. Tah-na. Si-am. Oh-wa. Tah-na. Si-am. Oh-wa. Tah-na. Si-am.”
We get around the circle five times. “Oh-wa. Tah-na. Si-am. Oh-wa. Tah-na. Si-am. Oh-wa. Tah-na. Si-am.”
Suddenly Margaret falls to the ground. She’s choking! No, she’s laughing. Or crying? Everybody stops.
“What?” says Lynne. She looks annoyed. “Git up. It’s only bin six times. Wha’s wrong with ye?”
Margaret get up on one knee. “Oh-wa. Tah-na. Si-am. Ye git what yer sayin’?”
Lynne fires back all annoyed, “No. Tell me. What am I sayin’?”
Real slow, Margaret says, “Oh-what—an-ass—I-am! It’s a joke!”
Lynne looks unsure. So does Becky. Jasmine screams it, “Oh what an ass I am! Oh what an ass I am!”
Gordon yells, “Biggest ass . . .”
Whoop! Whoop!
Everything stops.
Whoop! Whoop!
A blue light flashes out of the darkness from near the road. Gordon shouts, “Cops!”
Lynne hisses, “Put the fire out!” Lynne, Becky, Gordon, and Jasmine stamp all over the little fire.
“I’m out o’ here!” Molly yells.
Everybody’s climbing up the stone steps at once, knocking into each other in the blackness. I knew I shouldn’t have done this! I knew I shouldn’t have come! We race through the little room. As we get out of the castle onto the hillside my eyes start to adjust. We’re tearing down the hill like billy goats. I’m right behind Gordon and trying to decide whether to pass him when I hear—
“Andrea!”
I look back. Margaret is twenty feet behind me, sitting on the ground. I scoot back to her, crouching and whispering, “Margaret, what are you doing?”
The pale blue police light flashes over the castle walls. Margaret hunches there, gulping air. “Margaret, what’s the matter? We’ve got to run,” I say.
Margaret pants, “Can’t. My asthma. Can’t run now.”
Two white flashlight beams slice through the dark field. I whisper, “You have asthma? You never said you had asthma!”
She gives me a half-smile. “Ye never asked.”
I can’t believe she’s joking at a time like this. Everyone else is gone. There’s no way I can pull Margaret fast enough to get away. I whisper, “We have to hide.”
We crawl on our hands and knees, me half pushing, half dragging Margaret through the gorse on the side of the trail. Gorse is a Scottish-style sticker bush. The ground is stony and the gorse is scratching me up like crazy.
We crawl about twenty yards off the path and then lie down as flat as we can in the deepest part of the gorse I can find. We’re not completely covered but there’s nowhere else to hide.
Just as we sink down, two policemen come out the red door and stride down the hill. There’s one young guy and one old guy. They’re moving their lights over everything. The old guy stops and spits on the ground. “Punks. These stupid kids burn me up.” He takes off his hat and runs a hand through his white hair.
The young guy stands up tall, looking all around. “Ye see anyone?”
“Not now. There was a slew of ’em though.”
They’re standing next to each other on the path. The young one shakes his head. “No respect fer the institutions. Fer the historical.” He stands there, brushing dirt off his pants. They begin to walk in our direction.
“Probably a buncha graffiti artists,” the older guy says. “Look around to the sides some, Wallace. Ye never know.”
They fan out and start looking up and down both sides of the trail, cutting wider and wider swaths. I use the old strategy from when I was little—if I can’t see him, he can’t see me. I keep my head down and buried.
The gorse is stabbing me and sweat is pouring down my sides. Every time I move a fraction of an inch, I get scratched and stabbed.
Finally I hear them walk back up the hill toward the castle. I can hear their voices but not what they’re saying. I think they’re on their radio. I hope they’re not calling for the crime scene guys to start dusting for fingerprints. Do I have fingerprints on file? Did I touch anything? Can they find me that way? I try a whisper to Margaret. “Margaret?”
No answer. I look at her face. Her eyes are closed, but I can still hear her breathing. Her T-shirt is rising and falling slowly on her chest—very slowly.
“Margaret?”
No answer.
27
COMA
A state of profound unconsciousness caused by disease, injury, or poison.
I shake Margaret’s arm.
She doesn’t move. Oh God. If Margaret is in a coma or something, I should tell the cops right now and get her to a hospital. But if I do that, we’re both going to jail right after that. “Margaret!” I whisper as loud as I dare.
Nothing.
But she is breathing. I can hear her.
A car door slams. I wait for the engine to start so I know they’re leaving. But it is silent. Then a new, bigger light beam sweeps across the field. They are completely serious!
I flatten myself even more. I am like a piece of cardboard now. The light beam disappears into the castle. The old guy pokes through the red door, smoking a cigarette. I’m going to bust.
The young guy calls out, “There’s nothing in any of the rooms.”
“Check the full perimeter, please, Wallace. I’ll be right here.”
Sweat is running down my face. I pray, make them go away! Then around the corner comes the big beam. It goes right over us.
The young guy calls from the darkness. “They’ve gone.” I risk a peek up and I am looking right at the old guy and he is looking right at me.
The young guy calls again, “I think they’ve cleared out.”
The old guy holds my gaze. He takes off his hat and scratches his head. A small thin smile crosses his face. “I suppose so,” he says.
The light beam moves away across the field. I lay there in the darkness. Finally, the engine starts. The headlights and the blue light go on and they move slowly down the road. I wait until they are completely out of sight. I get up on my knees and shake Margaret hard. “Margaret, please. Margaret!”
She slowly turns her head toward me. Her lids look heavy. “Wha? What? Are they gone?”
“Margaret, are you all right? I thought you were in an asthma coma or something.”
She rubs her eyes. “I was asleep.”
I reach out and pull her to her feet. “Asleep?!”
Margaret dusts herself off and shakes her arms and legs. “No, really. I was. Sometimes when me asthma kicks up, if I can calm myself down and slow my breathin’, it gets better, but sometimes I fall asleep, too.”
“Are you okay?”