The Circle

by Cindy Cipriano

  Calum’s workload doubled when school started back at LMS. January passed quickly and February froze in. The teachers at Longwood sensed the annual bog-down of their students and decided it was time for Night School.

  Each grade celebrated Night School on a different evening. It was a time when the school was open for students to come in and enjoy various games, activities, or watch a movie. The Multipurpose Room was the place to go for scooter races. There was Cafeteria Karaoke, ping pong tournaments against the teachers, and games of Horse in the gym.

  Things were still strained between Hagen and Laurel, but Calum was happy they both agreed to come to Night School, even though they sat on opposite ends of the aisle during Napoleon Dynamite. They watched the movie in the Commons with Kirby Dare, Susie Turnbill, and Barry Langley. It was the second viewing of the DVD that evening, and they were the only ones who stayed to watch it again. This was one of their favorite movies. They knew all the lines, which made for an interactive experience.

  “Your mom went to college,” quoted Barry.

  “Yes, she did,” agreed Calum, and they all burst out laughing.

  “Why don’t you make me some que-see-dee-ahs?” asked Hagen.

  “Make your own dang que-see-dee-ahs,” said Kirby evoking more laughter.

  “Oh, look,” Riley sneered in her sickening sugary voice. She stood behind the rows of chairs, which had been lined up theater-style for the movie. “They’re taking notes on how to be cool.”

  “I wouldn’t follow their lead,” jeered a boy’s voice as he motioned to the large video screen.

  Arlen Stanton.

  “That makes one person you wouldn’t follow,” Calum said before turning his back on his former friend.

  “Ouch,” said Hagen.

  “Ignore them and they’ll go away,” Laurel whispered to Calum.

  “Why would we do that?” asked Riley. “We’d love to join your little group.” When no one responded, Riley continued. “Come on, if you don’t play along, it’s not as much fun.”

  “I think it’s interesting that with all of the things you could be doing right now, you choose to watch us. Tell me, Riley, are we that fascinating to you? Should we feel flattered?” asked Laurel.

  Riley stormed off in a huff, closely followed by Brenna and Arlen. Calum and his friends were not bothered by them for the rest of the evening.

  Night School was exactly what the sixth graders needed to recharge their batteries. They seemed to be shaking off the winter doldrums when they returned on Monday morning. Calum, Hagen, and Laurel were in a happy mood until they reached the sixth-grade hallway.

  By this point in the school year, Calum and his classmates were able to get in and out of their lockers within a few minutes. Books were still dropped and accidentally kicked down the hall, or someone would forget about the locker door above their own and bump their head as they stood up, but it was an organized chaos. Students managed to get around each other quickly to retrieve their morning books and materials. That morning, however, the students stood bewildered, frozen in front of their lockers. Teachers wandered between them, trying to discover the cause of the unusual quiet.

  “What in the world?” asked Ms. Itig. “Who’s responsible for this?”

  Calum heard other teachers asking similar questions, but no one seemed to have an answer.

  The padlock on every locker had been flipped so the dial was now facing the locker door. There was no way to access the combination. It was a long wait while each lock was individually opened with a master key.

  Riley showed up late as usual. “I wonder what happened here?” she asked Brenna, who giggled wildly.

  “Cute, Riley,” said Laurel. “It’s just like you to be such an inconsiderate brat.”

  “Ms. Itig,” Riley said loudly. “I wonder how anyone could have done this without a key.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Ms. Itig, eyeing her with a mixture of frustration and suspicion.

  “You know, one of those master keys like the ones the principals have.” She looked directly at Laurel. “Or someone close to the principal.”

  Laurel’s face and neck turned beet red.

  “If you have something to say, say it,” demanded Calum.

  “Oh, I think actions speak louder than words, don’t you?” asked Riley.

  “Calum, do you know anything about this?” asked Ms. Itig. She was joined by another science teacher Calum recognized as Mr. Craven.

  Calum felt as if he were roasting on a pit. His throat dried and he coughed out an unconvincing “no.”

  Ms. Itig’s eyes darted between him and Laurel.

  “If anyone knows anything, it would be better to hear about it before we get the principal involved,” said Mr. Craven.

  And with that, their happy moods were gone. Throughout the day, Calum and Laurel had fingers pointed at them and whispers said behind their backs. Calum overheard one girl say, “Laurel thinks she can do whatever she wants because her dad’s a principal here.”

  “Must be nice,” wheedled the other girl. “Wonder which one of her boyfriends helped—Calum or Hagen.”

  Laurel was still visibly upset at the lunch table.

  “Ms. Itig keeps the key in plain sight,” said Calum. “Anyone could have taken it during Night School.”

  Something tugged at Calum. Sure, anyone could have done it, but even with the key, it would have taken hours to unlock each lock and put them back on the locker. Calum doubted it would have been humanly possible for this prank to have been pulled during the short time the building had been opened for Night School.

  Maybe it was the trickster? he thought.

  For now, Laurel, still looked miserable. “Ignore Riley,” said Calum. “By tomorrow they’ll be talking about someone else.”

  Calum’s prediction was not an accurate one. Several days had passed and many of the other sixth graders were still giving him and Laurel a hard time. One day in the hallway, they overheard Riley talking about “that spoiled principal’s kid.”

  Laurel walked over to her and said, “I don’t know how you did it, but I’ll find out. Then you’ll find out that sometimes it is handy to be the principal’s kid.”

  “We’ll see,” said Riley.

  The days crept by. February bumped right into March, and Hagen and Laurel were still at odds. Calum decided he’d better intervene or his two best friends would never reconcile. He thought he’d start with Laurel—maybe it was all a misunderstanding. He invited her to his house one night after dinner. He sat struggling with his words as he picked apart a slice of chocolate cake with his fork.

  “You see, Laurel,” he began, but Calum did not get to finish because he was suddenly no longer sitting in the Ranson’s yellow kitchen.

  Chapter Ten

  The Grand Call

  Calum stood in a circle below the thick, leafy branches of tall oaks surrounding the clearing. His mother was on his left, his grandfather beside her. It only took a second to realize where they were.

  “Why are we in Aessea?” he asked.

  “The Grand Call,” said Kenzie.

  “A death?” asked Calum. “Who?”

  “Shh,” hissed a voice to his right.

  A tall figure moved away from the circle. Muscular and deeply tanned, he addressed the crowd, but looked straight at Uilleam. “As Keeper of the Aessea Mound, I have called you all to me. As a family, we celebrate the comings and goings of our clan. Please join hands.”

  The “shh-er” took Calum’s right hand. Calum felt his mother grasp his left. As she took her father’s hand, Kenzie looked very much like a child herself.

  “Today we honor the life of Iris Lindsey,” the Keeper announced.

  Kenzie pulled Calum to her, breaking his hold on the Sidhe beside him.

  Iris? thought Calum. One look at his grandfather and Calum knew this was no mistake.

  “Oh, no,” said Calum, his voice cracking.

  “Iris left this world a short time
ago. I was with her,” said the Keeper. “She died peacefully, and with love in her heart. She will rest beside her beloved husband, Alistair. You have my deepest sympathies, Uilleam.” He placed his hand on Uilleam’s shoulder.

  Kenzie sobbed into her father’s chest. Calum watched tears roll down his grandfather’s face. He hugged them both tightly, wanting to take away their sadness but feeling vastly inadequate in doing so. Kenzie regained her composure and called Tullia, who arrived instantly.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” said Tullia.

  “Please tell Salena I will be home tonight,” said Uilleam.

  “Calum and I will stay in Tusatha with Salena and Uilleam,” said Kenzie. “Would you please bring Gus there?”

  “I will,” said Tullia, and then she disappeared. Not being a member of the Aessea clan, she was not permitted to be at their Grand Call.

  Iris Lindsey’s funeral was held three days later. As dictated by Sidhe tradition, it was a quiet gathering of immediate family members.

  “My mother was a gentle soul who loved the earth,” said Uilleam. “She taught me to find peace and comfort in the natural world. She was a great lady, and I will miss her.” He placed several wildflowers on the top of her casket. “Be at peace, Mother. And may we find peace without you.”

  The air became heavy and settled on them like a thick dark veil. Calum saw nothing past his own nose. His mouth had a metallic taste. The darkness lasted only seconds before it was slammed to the ground by cold air from above. When daylight returned, Iris’ coffin had vanished. A sand-colored stone the size of a softball lay next to its mate, the marker of Alistair Lindsey’s grave.

  “I close the Grand Call and open the Aessea Mound,” said Uilleam.

  Salena and Gus arrived moments later. Salena took Uilleam’s hand and Gus pulled Kenzie and Calum into his arms.

  “I’m sorry about your mother, Uilleam,” said Gus.

  “Thank you, son.” Uilleam looked down at Calum as they walked away from the grave markers. “You were only three years old the last time we were called to Aessea for a funeral. I’m sure you don’t remember it.”

  “I don’t,” said Calum. “But I do remember that taste.”

  “What taste?” asked Gus.

  “Iron,” said Uilleam. “We taste it when we bury our dead.”

  “Why didn’t they tell you and Kenzie about Iris first?” asked Calum. “It’s mean to tell everyone at the same time.”

  “We’re summoned here at the wishes of the dying person,” said Uilleam. “They might call their family to them. But if they don’t, the Keeper calls right after they pass. Iris probably didn’t know it was her time.”

  “I want to show you something, Calum,” said Kenzie. “This was Iris’ charm bracelet. She left it to me because I was born on her birthday. There’s a face for each child, grandchild, and great-grandchild. Here’s yours,” she said, lifting a silver face toward Calum. “See? It has your birth date on it.”

  Calum flipped through the little faces. “It’s too bad Hagen and Donnelly aren’t here.”

  “You know they’re not allowed to come to our Grand Call,” said Kenzie.

  “But it’s not fair. She was Donnelly’s grandma too,” said Calum.

  “Yes, but when Donnelly’s mother married Torin, she broke ties with our clan and joined the Hobayeth,” Uilleam explained.

  “Did she have to?” asked Calum.

  “No,” said Uilleam. “My sister wanted to.”

  Calum and his family returned to Emerald Lake that evening. They were greeted in their own home by the Dunbar family, who had prepared a chicken casserole and fresh salad for supper. Calum didn’t realize how hungry he was until he served himself a third helping.

  “I’m sorry you couldn’t come to the funeral, Donnelly. Are you all right?” asked Kenzie.

  “Yeah,” said Donnelly. “Even though I haven’t seen Iris in a long time, I wish I could have been there.”

  “I’d like it if you would come with us when we go back to Aessea,” said Uilleam. “I need to empty Iris’ house. Mother was a collector. She had lots of dark Sidhe artifacts. I could use your help sorting it all out.”

  “I’d like that, Uilleam,” said Donnelly. “Thanks.”

  There was a knock at the door and Gus rose from the table to answer. Laurel followed him back into the kitchen.

  “Mom didn’t want to bother you, but she asked me to bring this over.” She set a cherry pie on the table.

  “Thanks honey,” said Kenzie. “It looks delicious. Please stay and have some with us.”

  “I can’t. I need to get back.” Laurel turned to Calum and Hagen. “But can I talk to you guys first?”

  Calum nodded and led Laurel and Hagen into the game room. “I’m sorry about your great-grandmother,” said Laurel as they sat down at the card table.

  “Thanks,” said Calum. Laurel seemed nervous, almost wary. Calum noticed she was avoiding his gaze. Something’s wrong.

  Hagen got up and slid the pocket door closed. Of course there is, you disappeared right before her eyes.

  “There’s something else,” said Laurel. “I know what you are.” Her eyes darted between Calum and Hagen.

  Calum choked and coughed. “What we are?”

  “I know,” Laurel repeated, clutching her stone pendant.

  “Okay,” said Hagen. “What are we?”

  “Sidhe,” said Laurel. She stared into Hagen’s eyes, waiting for him to contradict her. When he didn’t, she continued. “I knew there was something different about you and your families, but I couldn’t figure it out. It wasn’t until you disappeared right in front of me that I put it together.”

  Calum sat in stunned silence. She’s not afraid.

  “How do you know about the Sidhe?” asked Hagen, still not admitting she was right.

  “It was in the book Calum sold me,” said Laurel.

  “What’s she talking about?” asked Hagen, his voice held a hint of accusation.

  “A book she bought at Siopa Leabhar about faeries,” Calum replied. “But that stuff’s never right.”

  “Try me,” said Laurel.

  “Okay,” said Hagen. “What’s a polder?”

  “Well, that depends on who’s asking. For humans, a polder is a bit of land that used to be under water. For Sidhe, a polder is a bit of land that is surrounded by two circles. The outer circle makes the polder invisible to humans. The inner circle holds the thresholds.”

  “I need to get Donnelly,” said Hagen, rising from the table. “Keep her here.”

  Calum knew how his uncle would react to Laurel knowing about them. “Don’t Hagen,” he said quickly. “Please don’t tell Donnelly.”

  “That’s what tipped me off at first,” said Laurel. “You guys always calling your parents by their first name. You’d said it was an Irish tradition, but I know how that affects faeries. It strengthens the good ones, and weakens the bad ones. That’s why the bad ones don’t tell anyone their real name.”

  Calum stared at her in disbelief. After all the years of his wanting to share the secret, he never expected anyone to flat-out guess. “Most people would be freaking out right about now.”

  “I’m not like most people,” said Laurel. “I’ve seen Sidhe magic before. I’ve had years to think about what I saw, study it. I’m not afraid.”

  Daniel, thought Calum.

  We’ve got to do something. Hagen glared at Calum. It isn’t right she knows.

  No. She’s our friend. Give her a chance.

  “I think now would be a good time for you to explain about your brother,” said Calum.

  Laurel took a deep breath. “It was several years ago. Our parents took us camping at Fairy Stone Park in Virginia. I don’t remember much about the trip, except for the day Daniel disappeared.” Laurel glanced nervously at Hagen, who was now pacing the room. She recited a story she must have repeated to herself a thousand times.

  “A song woke me and Daniel before sunrise. We listened f
or a few minutes and decided to follow it. I guess my parents didn’t hear it, because Dad was snoring when we passed by their cabin room.

  “Daniel grabbed a flashlight, and we walked into the woods behind our cabin. The woods got thicker, and it got darker the further we walked. I was scared and wanted to go back, but Daniel wanted to keep going. I stopped, refusing to go on, so angry with Daniel for not taking me back to the cabin. I yelled at him, but he ignored me and kept walking. I was watching him when he walked right into nothing. All that was left was his flashlight, lying inside a circle.”

  “What do you mean a circle?” asked Calum.

  “One of your circles. A faerie circle,” said Laurel. “The leaves and grass had been flattened, forming a perfect circle and Daniel’s flashlight was in the middle.”

  Calum and Hagen exchanged worried looks.

  Laurel continued her story without noticing their silent communication. “I started to go after the flashlight, but before I stepped into the circle I was pulled backwards. I turned around and saw a boy. I don’t know where he came from, and I don’t know how, but he was holding Daniel’s flashlight. He handed it to me and turned me back toward the cabin. He also gave me this.” Laurel held up the pendant that was forever hanging around her neck.

  Hagen’s eyes fixed on the Hobayeth mark. He moved away to put some distance between himself and the stone.

  Laurel glared at him. “I know our moms think I’m madly in love with you, Hagen Dunbar,” she said, her voice rising.

  “Shh, keep it down or they’ll hear you,” Calum said in a warning tone.

  “I don’t care,” Laurel said even louder.

  “Everything all right in there?” called Gus.

  “It’s fine, Dad. Just joking around,” said Calum.

  “Keep your voice down, duine daonna,” Hagen warned.

  “Why don’t you make me?”

  “I just might.”

  “Hagen, don’t.” Calum had known Hagen all his life and knew when he was on the verge of losing control.

  “I hate to disappoint you, Hagen,” said Laurel, lowering her voice, “but the reason I stare at you is because you remind me of the boy who gave me this stone. When I’m around you, my memory becomes clearer. I can almost smell the scents and hear the sounds of that morning. I hope by strengthening my memory, I’ll be able to find my brother.” Laurel paused. Tears slid down her cheeks.