Historically Inaccurate

by Shay Bravo

  “Shh, even if they can’t see us they’ll hear if you storm out.”

  “Who, the ghosts?” I hiss back.

  “Oh, half of the things here are probably haunted. Don’t try your luck, Sol.”

  Look, I’m atheist-ish as hell (and yes, I recognize the irony of that statement), but I was raised Roman Catholic, so the idea of ghosts, demons, and possession has been ingrained in my mind since I was young. “You know I’m kidding, right?” His hand leaves mine and grasps the doorknob.

  “If you get possessed I ain’t saving you. I could, I’ve watched Supernatural.” I move past him into the dark hallway.

  The hall is darker than most of my jokes, so I take out my phone and raise the brightness as much as possible. I’m not crazy enough to turn on the flashlight since any guard would make a beeline for that.

  “We should have gone full-on Strange Encounters and brought night vision goggles,” I say, walking slowly down the hall. The tower is a floor above us.

  “We don’t have the money or the time, let’s move on.” He walks ahead of me, finding the door that leads to the stairwell and surreptitiously making his way up.

  I follow, glancing behind me as we go, the feeling of someone or something watching us leaving a chill against the back of my neck. Large buildings like this, old buildings like this, seem to carry a spirit of their own, as if the halls themselves are filled with memories. It’s good we didn’t have to navigate the entirety of the archive with the lights out or otherwise we would have been hopelessly lost.

  Of course, there are rumors from the workers at the archive that the building is haunted, especially the church area. La Parroquia Nuestra Señora de los Dolores was erected in the early 1800s on the backs of minorities, mostly Indigenous people, who built the church stone by stone. It is, quite possibly, the oldest standing building in the entire town. Which is why, when it was abandoned after the fire, city officials decided to make it part of the archive.

  “Sol, let’s go, we’re losing time.”

  “Sorry, got distracted.”

  The third floor is the last one the stairs reach. At the middle of the hall there is a small bridge that leads to the bell tower. If Anna is not wrong, the security door that separates the main building from the tower should have been unlocked with the outage. Ethan is currently looking over the keypad on the door.

  “Come on, open the door. I want to get out of here sooner than later.”

  He sighs and tries the lock. It gives, and the door swings into the small hall. The moonlight fully shows through the glass windows, our shadows becoming highly contrasted on the stone floor under our feet. Ethan holds the door open for me.

  “This feels too easy—”

  He holds a hand over my mouth, turning slowly and looking at something over my shoulder.

  Ghost, ghost, ghost, ghost.

  “I thought I heard something. Let’s get this over with.”

  Ethan closes the door behind us so slowly and quietly that I give him a sharp look to get it over with. Once it’s closed we make our way across the hall, which stretches for a seemingly impossible length during which we are crouching and stealthily trying to be on the lookout for any cameras that might have stayed on even during the blackout. A distance that should be crossed in under a minute thus becomes a five-minute ordeal.

  “We must look so stupid right now.”

  “Speak for yourself,” I hiss. “I look like a spy.”

  “Sure, Sol, whatever you say.”

  “You better not be looking at my butt.”

  There is a small pause. “I wasn’t until you mentioned it.”

  “What?”

  He snickers. “I’m kidding. Let me go first if you’re self-conscious about it.”

  “Whatever, it’s not like I care.”

  “You’re the one who mentioned it, but it’s not bad at all.”

  “Anyway.” I check the handle of the door for the bell tower and it gives easily. “Once we’re done with all of this you’re going to owe me so much. I’m legit so close to bolting.”

  “I’m with you all the way.”

  We enter a small room that leads directly to a spiraling staircase. Slivers of light come from the barred windows placed along the steps. Unlike the previous building, here in the tower the floors are made of wood instead of stone. Every step we take causes the tower to echo, creaking all the way down.

  “Do security guards check this building often?” Ethan’s voice is a lot closer than I thought he was, which at this point has stopped surprising me.

  “I wouldn’t know.” My knees hurt from crouching so I straighten up and move my legs. “It’s off limits so I would assume they don’t check it as often.”

  The staircase does not have a banister, and that’s dangerous for someone like me, who falls down even with their shoes tied right.

  “Either way, the bell ringing will alert anyone that something is going on.” I place a hand firmly against the stone wall and climb. “Let’s hope that the lights are still out by the time we come back.”

  Ethan follows me up slowly, and we have climbed up about ten steps or so when I notice he is being extra quiet.

  “Everything okay?” I look over my shoulder.

  “I . . . yeah, fine.” His eyes flicker to the edge then back to me again, throat working.

  “You afraid of heights?”

  His Adam’s apple moves as he swallows. “I, um, I know it’s stupid, but—”

  “Come.” I reach out to him with my right hand. It’s a bit awkward but I want to make sure I have the left one pressed firmly against the wall. “We’ll get up there together, can’t have you falling behind.”

  He nods, grasping my palm as we climb faster than we did before. I look back at him every now and then to make sure he’s all right.

  At the end of the stairs there’s a door too small for him to walk through without hunching his back, which leads to an even steeper set of stairs up to an alcove where the bell resides. It’s larger than I thought it would be. The tower gives us a view of the city. Cool air brushes against my face as I march up the last few wooden steps.

  Ethan hangs back.

  “It looks amazing up here.” The archive is close to downtown Westray, and while it is nothing compared to a large city, it’s beautiful nonetheless. Houses and cars are still lit up this time of the night, and the bell tower is tall enough to make the twinkling lights appear like a Christmas celebration.

  Ethan stands still, one hand firmly planted against the wall. “I’m sure it does.”

  “Ethan.”

  “Yeah?”

  “We kind of have to do this now.”

  “I know.” He keeps his eyes on me as he comes up the stairs. It takes him a couple of seconds but then he’s standing next to me, hands balled at his sides. “A couple of rings, you shoot the video, and we’re out of here, and if this ruins my life—”

  “I’m going down with you.”

  He seems as surprised as I am to hear that.

  “I was going to say I’d ruin the whole club,” he says.

  “The club going down would mean me going down too.”

  “You deserve better than that, Sol, you—actually, no time to talk, just film me.”

  I move back, pull out my phone, and open my camera app. Time seems to slow as he grabs the rope hanging beside the bell, the heavy bronze reflecting his figure as he pulls with what I can only guess is all his strength.

  Then comes the bong. A physical shock to my body, I have to concentrate on both keeping a good grip on my phone and not letting out a yelp when the sound waves vibrate through my entire skeleton. Ethan nearly falls to his knees and covers his ears, but manages to grab the rope once more and pull it another two times. He is clearly in as much pain as I am.

  We don’t have time to r
ecover from the auditory attack. I swiftly end the video, rush to his side, and pull on his arm. The bell is still swinging, though not as strongly and as terrifyingly as it had during the first rings.

  “We gotta go now!” I yell, even though I can’t hear my own voice, and push him to the small door and down the spiraling stairs. Anna said there would be an exit at the back of the building open for us to slip through, but didn’t give us the exact location. I hope she meant the one at the back of the church or else we’re screwed.

  My brain doesn’t catch up to the fact Ethan is scared of heights until we’re halfway down the stairs. When I slow down he keeps going, which I take as a sign that he will be okay. By the time we’re both on the bottom floor with sure, nonwooden ground under our feet, I sense a headache behind my right eye beginning to form.

  There are two exits at the back of the church. I’m betting on the one closer to the area where delivery trucks unload for events. Stained-glass windows line the wall to our left, the different colors painting the halls in an oddly beautiful and haunting way.

  “Time?” I whisper, struggling not to pant.

  “I’m guessing, like, five minutes, don’t want to look at my phone.” Ethan rests his hands on my shoulders as we pace as slowly as we can to the end of the hall.

  We take a left turn, walking along the back area close to the confessional booth that was turned into a storage closet. The left side of the church is a merging between the modern and times past, the archive blending into the holy building and helping it stand. We take a right to the back of the building and enter the darkened halls modeled after the newer building, which will make the flashlight beam so easy to see.

  A hand covers my mouth before I can even think of gasping. Ethan presses his body and mine against a wall, his forehead flush with mine. I can feel his breath against my cheek, and I clutch his arms, my pulse racing. If it wasn’t for the sudden adrenaline spike, I might even blush at the sensation of him against me, and it feels like minutes go by instead of seconds as we are frozen in terror.

  To our right footsteps grow fainter.

  As soon as we can’t hear the steps anymore, I gently push Ethan away and reach down.

  “Shoes off,” I whisper.

  He doesn’t question me. Once we’re both in socks, I grab his free hand and make a run for it. We reach the door and push it.

  It opens.

  Relief makes me go weak in the knees but Ethan presses a hand to my back, hurrying me along to Scott’s van, which is parked along the sidewalk outside the archive’s back entrance. We’re not even a yard away from the archive when the lights turn on outside and adrenaline makes us sprint to the vehicle and jump into the door that opens from the back.

  I get in first, Ethan following by launching himself in and slamming the door behind him. Scott hits the gas harder than I anticipate. When he turns the corner, I fall over Ethan’s side and his arm quickly goes around me for support.

  “Scott!” I manage. Ethan rests his hand on my shoulder when I sit back up. I drop my shoes on the floor of the car so I can wrestle my feet into them.

  “Sorry, kiddos, gotta get out in case things get ugly,” Scott shoots back.

  Anna leans over the armrest, blue hair shining every time we pass under a street lamp.

  “How was it? You guys had fun?” She’s beaming.

  If it wasn’t for Ethan suddenly tightening his grip on my shoulder, I would scream at her. Why am I doing this to myself? To Ethan?

  But Anna is still smiling, and Ethan is still holding me close, and we did just storm the archive—and somehow I’m alive.

  “Fun,” I exhale, resting a hand on Ethan’s leg. “It was fun.”

  Ethan laughs and bops my bun once. I shoot him a look.

  “Yeah,” he says. “It was.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Can we agree yesterday didn’t happen?” I ask, sitting down in a booth of the café, the conversations around us low enough to hear the low jazzy music playing overhead. Taking a bite out of my blueberry muffin like it’s the last meal I’ll have in my life, I sit back and stifle a moan at how good it tastes.

  “If there was a way I could erase it from my memory that would be nice.” Ethan is drinking tea, something aromatic and calming, like chamomile with lavender. I would poke fun at him for it, but the boy knows how to rock his aesthetic, with a moss-green shirt, gray beanie, and denim jacket. “Why are you glaring at me like that?”

  Because I wish I had your goddamn fashion sense.

  “You’ve got a bit of glaze on your cheek,” I lie, pointing at my own. He takes a napkin and wipes, and I nod. “You got it.”

  As he takes another bite of his cinnamon roll, I drink my coffee. I stumbled home about one thirty last night. We dropped Ethan off first at his grandparents’ house.

  As he was walking away, Anna had snickered, “Oh right, I should have put two and two together about his grandparents.”

  “You should’ve warned me,” I told her, not able to hide the annoyance in my voice.

  “I’m sorry, Sol, I’m not allowed to disclose details.”

  “For something that breaks the law a lot, the club has a lot of restrictions.”

  “They call it organized crime for a reason. Every organization has their own set guidelines. Even the devil follows the rules of his contracts.”

  “Sol?” His voice interrupts my memory from last night. The café is a nice distraction from everything that is going on everywhere else, and somehow the buzzing around of the students makes this feel normal—Ethan and me grabbing a bite before class is surely something I wouldn’t mind repeating more often now that we’re on good terms.

  “Sorry, I’m spacing out. What’s up?”

  “Nothing, you seem to be spacing out a lot today.”

  “I’m fine. I just haven’t fully woken up.”

  “And you look nice today.”

  I stop drinking coffee midsip. Aside from my regular clothes, I braided my hair, which took nearly half an hour to get right. Also, I put on makeup because Ethan offered me a ride to school. While there hadn’t been a lot of thought put into arranging my look, there might have been an extra bit of effort put into it when I knew I was going to see him.

  “Um . . . thanks, man, that jacket is nice.”

  He smiles and turns his head. “Well, thanks, girl. You going to the library?”

  “Yep.” Checking my phone, I see I have ten minutes to clock in, and it takes about six to walk there from the café, so it’s a good call from him to remind me. “I love my job, but I don’t particularly enjoy working Sundays.”

  “I don’t either. I hate working retail, but—” He shrugs.

  “You gotta make that check, I get it. Thanks for the ride this morning. I would’ve probably been late if you hadn’t messaged.” I wasn’t even sure if he had any reason to be at school on a day like today—most students tried to keep an ample distance between themselves and the educational system on Sundays, but he had been the one to offer a ride when I mentioned I had to work.

  “We did stay up pretty late.”’

  “No, I’m usually late. It’s funny you think I go to bed at a reasonable time.” I grab my bag and walk a few steps to quickly give him a side hug before taking my cup of coffee off the table and trying not to walk too awkwardly out of the door and into the February morning after saying an awkward good-bye.

  The library is mostly empty on Sundays. It usually does not become hectic until it is time for midterms or finals. Karim and I do a round of rock paper scissors for who gets to pull the books for the hold list and he ends up losing. I spend most of my shift helping students with questions or fixing their printing-credit problems.

  Miranda comes over once or twice to check on my work. By check I mean she tells me about her day and what she is planning on having for dinner: candied-bacon ca
uliflower mac and cheese.

  “The cauliflower cancels out the unhealthiness of the bacon,” she assures me, and really there’s no arguing with that mindset, and even I start to believe it by the end of the conversation.

  While the library closes at five on Sundays, my shift ends at one o’clock. The doors of the elevator open to the main lobby area, and I can taste freedom in the air. As I quickly wave at Lucy in circulation, I see Carlos strutting into the area like he secretly owns the place. Dark hair slicked back, bright-green eyes under bushy eyebrows, he smiles at me.

  “Ready to go?”

  I give him a side-eye. “Where are we going?”

  Carlos takes my backpack from my hand and puts it over his shoulder so that he can drape his right arm around my neck.

  “Diane messaged me. Something about you meeting her girlfriend and needing a date or else you’ll feel like the third wheel—again.”

  Wincing, I close my eyes. I had completely forgotten I agreed to do that, like, a week ago. It’s not the first time—there is a reason Diane and Carlos have each other’s numbers. Whenever I go MIA or do not show up in class one or the other usually knows where I’ve gone sulking to.

  “Oh right.” I look through my phone and sure enough there is a missed call from Diane. “Friend of the year, aren’t I?’

  “You’re all right. I’m sure she doesn’t mind.” He lets his sunglasses fall over his nose as we step out into the sunny day.

  “As long as she doesn’t tell Natalie you’re my boyfriend.” I laugh.

  “She wouldn’t. Maybe friend with benefits.”

  “Oh God, no.”

  He snickers and tugs on the back of my braid. I push him away then pretend to take a swing at him as he flips me off. Carlos reaches over and grabs my arm, directing us to the sidewalk.

  “Come on, Solecito, we’re going to be late.”

  After Tyler broke up with me in late February last year, I had no prom date. There were no hard feelings about it, but I had already gotten the tickets, so Carlos and I decided to go together. It worked fantastically since I didn’t want to be approached by anyone else, being fresh out of a relationship, and Carlos got to be eye candy for anyone who decided to look for him.