Here There Are Monsters

by Amelinda Bérubé

  Deirdre shied back, cradling the bones to her chest, and scowled at him.

  “No,” she said, glowering. “They don’t like you.”

  “Deirdre!”

  “They don’t,” she insisted. She got to her feet, not breaking eye contact with William, whose eyebrows had gone way up. “Do you spend much time in the woods around here, William?”

  “Uh, sometimes, I guess,” he began, but she cut him off, her voice a wicked hiss.

  “You shouldn’t. They don’t like you either. You’re not welcome here.”

  “Deirdre, are you seriously going to—”

  “You go in there, and they’ll chew you up and spit you out just like an owl would. Just like this.”

  She brandished one of the skulls at him. I pressed a hand to my face, closed my eyes.

  “Um. Oookay.” William took a step back from the door. Deirdre turned away from him, stroking the skulls with one finger like they were pets in need of soothing, crooning to them in an undertone. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…well…sorry.”

  His footsteps faded. I thumped the nearest shelf on the plant stand with my fist, sending a shiver through its greenery.

  “What is wrong with you?” I hurled at her, keeping my voice low. “Could you get any creepier?”

  She shrugged—hiding a smile, I thought—and turned back to the windowsill, where a dozen more little skulls were arranged in a wide arc.

  “If Mom catches you with those, she’ll make you bathe in bleach. You know that, right?”

  She rolled her eyes, but after a moment, she swept her grim collection back into the Tupperware, snapped the lid over it. Feeling like I’d done way more than my duty, I turned on my heel and stalked from the room.

  In the dining room, I pulled the lid from the box for Settlers of Catan and set about arranging the hexagons on the carpet to make the board.

  “I’m really sorry,” I muttered to William. “She is the biggest freak.”

  The awkwardness in his answering shrug made me wince, and I moved on to explaining how the game worked instead of trying to comment further. I could feel Mom trying to catch my eye, but I kept my attention on the board.

  Christina drifted away from the game partway through the rules, but William turned out to be alarmingly good at it, with an eye for strategy that surprised me. I guess it shouldn’t have, given his vaguely nerdy vibe.

  “Damn,” I said as he cornered one of the two-for-one ports. “Are you sure you haven’t played this before?”

  “Yup.” He grinned and passed me a handful of sheep cards. “This is for a city, by the way.”

  Deirdre chose that moment to sidle into the kitchen, head down, still refusing to meet my eye, glaring at William’s back. He saw me looking past him and twisted around. Deirdre’s scowl deepened. She was fiddling with something in the pockets of her dress.

  “Well, I have the longest road now,” I announced loudly, and he turned back to the game. I caught his gaze, rolled my eyes. He smiled crookedly in response. But he was obviously uncomfortable after that, shifting his weight a little bit, his eyes flickering to the side every now and then like he was resisting the urge to look around again. Mom tried to draw Deirdre into conversation with the grown-ups but got only monosyllables. She refused to join them at the kitchen table and shrank into the corner instead. Her presence blighted the room, and eventually the Wrights started to make bright, friendly overtures about heading home.

  Six

  I forgot about the cops.

  I freeze for a second on the doorstep, though there’s no way they’d miss me, standing in the bright circle of the porch lights. Past the mobile headquarters still parked in the driveway, two cars are parked on the road, illuminated islands. The occupant of the nearest one is looking out into the dark over the rim of a coffee cup.

  Well, for all they know, I have permission. It’s not even that late. And they’re not here to worry about me, anyway.

  So I toss my hair out of my face, fold my arms against the chill, and crunch down the driveway like I have every right to be there. The officer in the closest car catches my eye as I come out onto the road, nods at me. I flash my hand in a wave, but don’t slow down, don’t look up again until I’m around the bend of the road, out of sight.

  It’s so quiet. The light of the streetlight at the corner spills down the pavement, but on either side, the woods make a darkness so impenetrable I should be able to touch it, a solid velvety curtain hanging in the air.

  Somewhere behind it is Deirdre.

  The more I refuse to think about Deirdre, the more I can’t help it. And the angrier I get. Idiot. What did she think she was doing? It’s as if this whole thing is some sort of joke. She could be right behind me even now, sneaking up on me with bare feet. I can just imagine her leaping forward to grab my hand and laughing, laughing when I scream. I clench my fists in my pockets and walk faster.

  Kevin lives at the top of the hill, at the end of the road that disappears eastwards into the woods. Up there, the trees are higher, the spaces between them airier, the ground more solid, more open. Past the cars filling the long driveway, past the dark and silent house, a track of crunching pine needles eventually opens up into a wide, scrubby space, dominated by a broad shelf of flattened rock. They call it the party rock. It’s justly famous.

  Tonight, though, it’s more subdued than I expected, only a dozen people or so, sitting around the dancing light of a fire. I guess having the police cruising past all night would cast a bit of a chill. I hesitate at the edge of the rock, suddenly not sure I should have come, not sure I can pass for one of them tonight. What the hell am I even going to say?

  But Sophie, sporting the kind of sparkly butterfly wings that kids wear over her low-cut top, spots me first, and says hey, in a perfect blend of surprise and concern. A wave of silence washes over the clearing. I swallow and shuffle farther into the light.

  “Hey,” I manage.

  “We didn’t think you were coming,” Sophie says after an uncomfortable pause. Sucks to be her, she’s the designated spokesperson now. “Is there—? Did they, you know—?”

  “Not yet.” I can’t afford a stone-faced stare. Not here. I need to be brittle, vulnerable. That’s what they want to see. I can do that. “I just wanted to get out of the house.”

  Sophie bites her lip in sympathetic horror. Beside her, William sneaks occasional glances my way, but Sophie holds my gaze. She’s good. I guess she has to be, to keep all the pieces of her spiderweb intact. If I play it right, changing the subject won’t be weird. I swallow, blink up at the sky for a second, and then offer her a shy, shaky smile.

  “Nice wings,” I say, and she smiles back. Relieved. She’s good, but she’s not that good.

  “Do you want something to drink?”

  “Hell yes,” I say fervently, and their awkward laughter washes over me, warms me through.

  Sophie scoots over to open a space for me to sit between her and William, who’s wearing a cowboy hat. Ironic accessories. I totally called it. And then she startles me by putting an arm around me and resting her head on my shoulder. I stiffen for a split second before I remember to relax into it, rest my cheek against her hair to accept the hug. William, not quite as bold, leans his shoulder into mine companionably. Even Kevin twists his lips into an appropriate grimace.

  “I’m sorry,” I say into the silence. “This is weird, isn’t it? I didn’t want to make everything weird.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Sophie says firmly. She kind of has to say it, but even so, I’m absurdly reassured. “We’re glad you’re here.”

  “We were worried about you,” William adds.

  Slowly, conversation starts back up around us, though mostly they avoid my eyes. Which is fine by me. I sip at the drink Sophie brings me, one of the vile pink concoctions she likes. I guess it’s better than beer. Around me
, they relive sports victories, pass somebody’s phone around to cackle at an internet video, speculate over the sex lives of teachers. They spend a long time dissecting what’s going on between Zeke and Brittany, and whether they’re together again or not and how everyone hopes he’s not that stupid, especially after she hooked up with that guy behind Jared’s back, and what kind of desperate slut is she trying to dress like anyway.

  “Don’t call her that,” Kevin says, suddenly serious, and a brief silence is broken by James and Adam hooting at him. “Hey, shut up, I mean it.”

  I hide my surprise in a scoff. “Who are you, and what have you done with Kevin?”

  He rolls his eyes, takes a moody gulp of his beer, and doesn’t answer.

  “You were the one who caught them at it,” Sophie says. “Come on. If the shoe fits…”

  “Exactly.” James lifts his bottle in salute. “Thank you.”

  Adam’s not ready to let it drop yet. “Hang on. You were the one who saw them? Holy shit, man, I didn’t know that! Who was it?”

  “I don’t know,” Kevin grumbles. “Why the hell does anyone still care about this? It was, like, two years ago.”

  Sophie tosses her hair, a blond waterfall that never seems to turn tangled or stringy, no matter how windy it is, how long she leaves it down.

  “So what? Actions have consequences.”

  “Aw, Kevin’s just hoping for his turn.” James grins. “Admit it, Kev, you’d totally hit that if you got the chance.”

  Kevin hits James instead, to general hilarity, though James rubs his arm surreptitiously once the spotlight has moved past him.

  “You can’t really blame him,” Adam muses. “I mean, Brittany’s pretty hot.”

  “From the neck down,” Kevin mutters, and that’s more like him, so everyone laughs again. I manage to smile enough that I’m participating. But something bristles under my skin, refusing to be soothed. A voice that sounds like Deirdre’s.

  Seriously? it says. This is what you chose? Over your sister?

  * * *

  When I get up to pull another drink from the cooler, a voice at my elbow startles me.

  “Hey.” It’s Kevin, of all people.

  “Hi.” I eye him warily, wondering what he’s about to pull.

  “I just wanted to say—you know, I’m sorry. About your sister. That…that really sucks, you know?”

  “Yeah.” Is this sincerity? From Kevin? How drunk is he? The whole world is upside down tonight. “Thanks.”

  “Do they know what happened yet?”

  “No. It’s like she vanished into thin air.”

  He peers at me. Hiccups. He must be drunk.

  “Do you think she ran away? I heard she was kind of, you know, freaky. Like, at school, I mean.”

  I don’t bother to hide my bristling irritation. “You’re in on all the eighth grade gossip, huh?”

  “Seriously, I heard she was, like, trying to hex people in her class, and got all mad when it didn’t work. Like she really expected it to. Maybe she—”

  “Look,” I snap, “can you just back off already?”

  He blinks at me. “You don’t need to bite my head off. I’m just trying to, you know, express concern and shit.”

  “Yeah. Right.” I bare my teeth in something like a smile, not caring that it’s transparently false. “So, what’s the deal with you and Brittany, then?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Why do you care if anyone calls her a slut? Was it you who slept with her?”

  Score one for me. He jerks his head back a little, like I slapped him. And then he takes a step closer. Thinking he can intimidate me, maybe? He should know better.

  “You don’t know a fucking thing about—”

  “I’m just trying to, you know, express concern and shit.”

  “Right. Whatever.” He throws up his hands in surrender, retreats. “Jesus.”

  William claps him on the shoulder as he reaches the fire, and they both glance my way. Kevin says something, intense and scowling, and William protests. Kevin turns a hand out in a gesture that plainly says fucking whatever, and after a last reproachful glare at me, he turns his back and sits again.

  William, meanwhile, jogs over to me. I focus on twisting the cap off my drink.

  “What happened there?” he asks.

  “Kevin,” I say shortly. “Being Kevin.”

  William sighs. “Yeah.”

  “Remind me why the hell you hang out with him again?”

  “He’s really not as obnoxious as he pretends to be.”

  You wouldn’t know it, considering the assholes he hangs out with. I steal a glance at James and Adam, interchangeable jocks in hoodies and backward baseball caps, laughing again over Adam’s phone. Kevin’s in his element. I’m tempted to say it aloud, but William might think it includes him. I take a long swallow of my drink instead of speaking.

  “Give him a chance,” William says. “You guys just…got off on the wrong foot.”

  “Yeah. And you guys keep making excuses for him.”

  He winces, glances back toward the fire. I draw a deep breath. It’s time to go. I have to get out of here before I do any more damage.

  “Never mind. I shouldn’t have come.”

  “Skye—”

  “No, it’s all right.” I push my just-opened drink at him.

  “I could walk with you, at least.” He starts after me, but I throw an arm out to block his way, stop just short of hitting him, and he jerks to a startled halt.

  I pull my hand back, a little shaken. Drinking was a bad idea. I’ve got to get my shit together.

  “Just leave me alone.” My voice trembles. Great. What the hell is wrong with me?

  I glance back just once, as I reach the edge of the trees. He’s still staring after me.

  * * *

  I kick myself all the way down the hill. I should have known better than to get in Kevin’s face. He was just…being Kevin. I let him get to me. Why is everything getting to me all of a sudden?

  But I know the answer to that: It’s Deirdre. Like it always is. I couldn’t stand the idea of them talking about her. Not just because Kevin’s act is too much like certain assholes who came before him. Because I didn’t want her invading my life, taking it over. Not again. Not here.

  Because for a minute, I fell right back into defending her, into being the Queen of Swords. Without thinking. Like it’s a reflex.

  Like I never stopped.

  I’ve almost reached the cop cars when a twinkling silver noise makes me jump: a bell. Like Mog used to wear.

  I stop dead in the middle of the street, straining my ears, turning around and around. There it is again. I’m not imagining it.

  “Mog?”

  The street is empty, the darkness of the woods complete. The sound pauses, jingles, weaves closer. I can’t tell where it’s coming from.

  “Mog! Here, kitty!” If it’s her, she listens about as well as she ever did. It couldn’t be her, not after so many weeks. Deirdre would be beside herself. A picture of her flickers through my imagination: She’d be sobbing, tears dripping into Mog’s gray fur as she squirmed to escape Deirdre’s embrace. My heart crimps into a small and painful knot.

  I turn on the flashlight on my phone, cast its pale circle of light over tall dead grass, brown cattails turning fuzzy, losing their firm shape. The bulk of the dirt castle looms just beyond the light.

  The sound of the bell twinkles out through the dark.

  I push my way into the empty lot, shivering, calling Mog’s name, snapping my fingers, and making encouraging smoochy noises. The bell sounds again whenever I fall silent, pinging on ahead of me.

  Something catches my eye, a flicker at the edge of the woods. There, between the trees—a light? Is there more than one? It winks off
, then on again. Vanishes, then reappears a little farther on. Pulsing in and out at the edge of my vision.

  It’s way too late in the year for fireflies.

  I lurch after it, about to run, but my next step sends me stumbling over the bank and into the creek, a trickle of water barely visible between the reeds. My running shoes are promptly soaked through, icy water biting into my feet.

  “Hello?” Someone calls, an urgent male voice. A car door slams, and a flashlight beam catches me in the face. I put a hand up to shield my eyes. “Hello? Who’s there?”

  “It’s me,” I manage. “It’s Skye. It’s just me.”

  The officer doesn’t move his flashlight. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s just—our cat went missing last month, and I heard—I thought I heard—” I twist around to look at the woods again, but there’s no sign of whatever it was I glimpsed. “And I saw something just now. A light. In the woods. I swear I did.”

  We stand there a moment, his flashlight scanning the face of the forest, back and forth, searching. Everything is silent. The light splashes over gray tree trunks, tall grass.

  Maybe Deirdre heard the same sound. Maybe she followed a dancing light into the woods.

  “I heard a bell,” I stammer. “Like Mog used to wear. I heard it.”

  “I expect there’s other cats around with bells,” the officer says kindly. “It does get kind of spooky out here. Let me help you up.”

  “Deirdre?” The shrill voice comes from the house as he pulls me up the bank. A door slams. Mom. Oh shit. “Deirdre, baby, is that you?”

  I’m going to catch hell, but it’s not like there’s any escape. And I can’t stand the hope in her voice.

  “No, Mom. It’s me. It’s Skye.”

  “What?” Her face, as she runs up into the light of the flashlight, is pinched and white. “Skye?” She leans against her knees, lets out all her breath. “Oh. Oh, dammit, Skye, I thought—” Her voice breaks. She buries her face in her hands.

  “I didn’t mean to make you—”

  She looks up at me, her eyes brimming, accusing, and doesn’t let me finish.