I straightened and glared at him. "That was you?" I rolled my eyes and threw up my hands, then moved to gather up everything I dropped. "I should have known it was a kid pulling a stunt. Is that how you get your kicks, scaring people?"

  "What stunt? You saw me?" he asked with heightened curiosity, he dropped his foot from the side of the building and stood erect.

  I scoffed, "What were you doing? Just waiting down the street watching me?"

  "I wasn't watching you, I was down close to Main Street and wanted to know—"

  "Then you circled around to my street? I’m going to call your father. I'm going to call him first thing when I get home."

  "I don't have a dad, and I didn't follow you anywhere. I was down on Main Street—"

  "Look, I don't have time for games. Go home," I said digging out my keys from under the bench. "Wait. What were you doing outside last night?"

  He wrinkled his nose. "Those rules don't really apply to me."

  "Isn't that convenient," I said snatching up some of my stuff.

  He bent down and helped. "I don't want to have to tell Mr. Bankward about last night. Why were you outside?"

  "Who is Mr. Bankward?" I asked.

  "Man, who are you and why don't you know anything?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  He stared at me, and, for whatever reason, I gave in. "I left my toothbrush and toothpaste in my bag, in my car, and I have a thing about brushing my teeth before bed.”

  He paused.

  "You went outside after dark because of a toothbrush?"

  "Yes. Don't you brush your teeth before you go to bed?"

  "Yeah, but this is the backwoods, mister—"

  "All right, I know. Why does everybody keep saying that? It's really irritating."

  He looked at me like he was gob smacked. He finally shook his head. "Look, Mr. Christian, did anyone tell you the town rules?"

  “Franklin told me the rules. I just needed to—Why am I explaining this to you?"

  "Did you tell anyone you went outside last night?"

  "No. Will you please—"

  "Good. Don't. It's a serious thing around here."

  Maybe he was actually trying to help me, maybe not. "To be honest, I didn't even think about it until I was halfway there. It's a stupid rule. I can't believe you saw me."

  "This is Middwood, you're always being watched.

  "That's disturbing. Now if you will excuse me, I need to go." I gestured to my things in his hands.

  "I can carry it." He turned toward the trail, then glanced over his shoulder. "Come on, Mr. Christian. I'll walk you down."

  "No," I said with a laugh not holding back my sarcasm.

  He stopped. "We both have to walk down the mountain."

  I paused. Peter had already proved to be a prankster, and I didn't want to deal with his intrusive questions. "No, actually, I forgot something inside, so I'll see you tomorrow."

  He shot me an inquisitive stare. "What?"

  I furrowed my brow. "What, what?"

  "What did you forget?"

  "My..." I shook my head. "My..."

  "Come on," he said. "It will be fine." Then he walked away with half of my belongings.

  I sighed, and, against my better judgment, I followed him.

  We walked in silence for the first few minutes.

  "Jeepers, Christian. Are you always such a stuffed shirt?"

  "I'm not a stuffed shirt," I said hiding my offense. "I'm just your teacher."

  "Well, we aren't in school now, so you are just another guy."

  I taunted, "That's not how it works."

  "Okay, fine. I tell you what. I'll be quiet, and you can talk. Here's Johnny!" he said motioning for me to take it away.

  I grimaced at him, then my sights back to the path. "I'm not a fan of talking."

  "Well, I already know you don't want to hear me talk. Do you?" He glanced over at me. I was silent but gave him a plastic grin.

  He huffed, "Oh boy, you're mean."

  "I'm not the one who was spying on people."

  He stopped and turned. "Christian, I told you, and I promise that wasn't me last night."

  "Why is that?"

  "Because there's no way you saw me.

  I kept walking. "But you saw me."

  "I did."

  I stopped and spun. "Okay, then. How come the rules don't apply to you?"

  He waved off the question. "That's easy. I'm Shawnee." He sounded so sure of himself, like it was the most profound, indisputable truth.

  "Because you're Shawnee?"

  He nodded. "Well, half Shawnee. My mother is full-blooded."

  "And that matters why?"

  "She’s a scary woman. Ghosts and monsters know better than to mess with us."

  I continued my bitter stare.

  He twirled his pointing finger toward my nose. "Don't do that or your face will freeze that way."

  I swatted at his hand but missed.

  He laughed, then he pulled a thin, black cord from around his neck and handed it to me. "See this? It's magic."

  It was a simple leather strap with a crude flat silver charm about the size of a dime.

  "Wonderful," I spoke again with sarcasm.

  He laughed. "You're such a jerk. It's hysterical. But seriously, check it out."

  Amusing him wasn't my intent, but I enjoyed the release being a jerk gave me. "Why is there a bug on it?"

  He snatched it back, shocked. "It is not a bug. It's a hummingbird. They keep the ghosts away."

  "Oh, forgive me. It looked like a bug. And here's the scoop, I don't have a problem with ghosts. Just possums, maybe raccoons, and prying eye teenagers." I glared at him.

  He stared at me, and my glared faded into a sigh.

  I looked forward shaking my head.

  He jumped up and pointed at me. "See, you do like me. Good. I knew you couldn't be a sourpuss forever."

  "I don't like you."

  "Yes, you do. I'm your best friend."

  I laughed. "No. You are not."

  "I'm your best friend in Middwood."

  "I don't have any friends in Middwood."

  He laughed. "You do now."

  33

  At the base of the hill, we turned left toward the town, and walked to Keepers Bridge.

  As we crossed over the bridge, Peter waved to Eddie as he was walking into the station. "What's new, Eddie?"

  Eddie kept walking but waved a hand and shouted. "About to go take a shit. What about you?"

  "Just walking with my new best friend."

  "Don't tell people that," I scoffed with a nervous laugh.

  "Glad to hear. Talk to you later." Eddie disappeared.

  I glanced at Peter, "You aren't walking me home are you?"

  "No, but I can drive you if you need a ride," he said gesturing with an open palm to the three trucks parked beside the station.

  "No thanks."

  He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

  "Which one is yours?"

  He pointed. "The rust bucket."

  There were three old trucks, but his was indeed the most rusted.

  “Like I said, which one is yours?”

  “Haha, funny man.” He strutted over and patted the back end of the middle truck. "Don't you love it?"

  "It's pretty boss. Besides, if it's running, it's better than mine." I pointed across the creek.

  "It runs great. Stopping is the issue. I usually cut it off before I get to the bridge and then coast in. He has a name, too—the Rustic."

  "The Rustic?" I smiled. "Mine is the Falcon."

  "No way? You named your car too?"

  "Well, mine isn't as creative as yours. It's a Ford Falcon, so it came with the name."

  "Still. Great minds." He gestured to my head, then to his.

  "Oh, right. We're geniuses," I replied.

  "We are, it's so cool." he turned and bowed as we parted. "Thanks for the talk, Christian. It's been swell."

  I gave a fake grin, waved, and kept walking. A minor explosion made me duck in fright.

  Spinning, I saw Peter waving, and I could barely make out what he was yelling. "She's a bit loud sometimes. Later, best friend."

  I nodded. "You're a strange kid."

  After parting ways with Peter, I made my way back to the house. I was aggravated when I found the frowning English bulldog, Franklin, sitting on my porch steps. At first, I was worried his scowl was because Grandma Rollin told him I had moved my bed. I didn't want to have to explain it again.

  "Good work, Mr. Christian," Franklin said, his expression changing to a smile. "I listened to your lesson after lunch. How was the rest of the day?"

  I cocked my head. "You listened?"

  He nodded. "I was outside on the bench."

  A great sense of relief washed over me. I couldn't imagine Franklin hiding microphones around the schoolhouse, but I wouldn't put it past him either. "You could have just come in, Franklin."

  "I wanted to see how you did when you thought no one was watching."

  "That seems to be the theme of the day."

  "Welcome to a small town, Mr. Christian. Someone is always listening or watching. Speaking of which, you may want to start putting on more clothing before you step outside in the mornings. Our women aren't used to peep-show performances." He laughed. "Especially from a man without some meat on his bones."

  I stood there not sure what to say, which made old man Franklin laugh harder to the point of coughing.

  I cleared my throat. "Any luck on finding someone to work on my car?"

  Catching his breath, he said, "I'd forgotten about that. Though I will admit we had a good laugh about you not being able to repair your own car." He chuckled. "He’ll be by tomorrow, shortly after school. Old man Casteel. He does pretty good work. He owes me lots of favors. Time I started calling in some."

  "That's amazing. Thank you." I grinned.

  "But it does come at a price. You see, Casteel, he's a nice feller, but he is slow as molasses on cold shit."

  My smile turned plastic. I turned my attention to the sky. "Well, the moon is up. I know how sundown is regarded and such. Thanks for looking into that for me, Frank. I need to get some work done."

  "Good man. I'll check with you again soon."

  I opened the refrigerator, grabbed an aluminum-covered dish from Grandma Rollin, grabbed a fork, and headed to the porch. I stepped outside and sat on the top step. I kept my eyes on the mountain and sky above the rooftops of my neighbors while I ate the cold cubed steak and mashed potatoes.

  I could feel my neighbor's eyes on me, but after a few minutes, they resumed whatever they were doing. I didn't want to be inside. That wasn't true. I didn't want it to get dark. However, the sun didn't care what I wanted, and there was a heaviness that set on me as the sun continued to sink. I held the empty, white-and-floral plate and stood. I watched the sky closely as I inched back onto the porch, and right before the last bit of the orange ball slipped behind the mountain, I shut the door.

  34

  I went and opened the living room shutters. I looked down onto the calm, quiet village below and said, "Welcome, Mr. Baggins. You are a hobbit, hairy feet and all."

  I sat on the sofa, took off my glasses, and set them next to me. I rubbed my eyes with my thumbs then blinked them open before leaning back against the pillows.

  Movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention. It wasn't the moonlight.

  I leaned forward on the sofa and my glasses fell to the floor. I reached down to grab them but stopped when something shot across the yard.

  I stood and went to the window. My view wasn't clear and it was dark, but I could see the silhouette of the weeping tree beyond the wood railings of the porch. The view was no longer calming because with the warmth spreading over my face and chest, I knew I was being watched.

  I scanned the yard and houses across the street. "Who's watching me now?" I wondered aloud.

  When I looked away, another movement close to the street caused me to whip my head back.

  I scanned the grass, my heartbeat increasing and the top of my shoulders tingling, turning into a dull ache. I rolled my shoulders back, then stepped closer to the glass. Who was it?

  My eyes strained to focus in the darkness. However, I could tell there was... something.

  In the lower corner of the yard, I saw something under the weeping tree. My curiosity pushed against my fear. My hands were shaking as I twisted the hairs on my chin, trying to zero in on whatever it was. It was hiding from me, moving when I moved, knowing at that distance it would be hidden. I looked for my glasses on the sofa, but they were gone. I searched the floor near the sofa, but I couldn't find them.

  I bit at my fingertips, I wanted to go out there, but I remembered what Peter said, and remembered what I promised Philip and Grandma Rollin.

  "Come on, Matt, don't cause any more trouble."

  My stomach growled. "See, even your stomach agrees. Let it go."

  * * *

  I turned to get a bowl of cereal. I took two steps toward the kitchen when a light touch from cold, smooth fingers ran along my elbow. The sensation rushed up the back of my arm all the way up my neck and settled under my ear.

  I spun, grabbing at my arm, but there was no one in the room. I cradled my elbow. It was chilled.

  "Never turn your back on an open window," I recited. The hairs on the nape of my neck stood up. Cold washed over me, penetrating me.

  I turned back to the window and leaned forward. Straining my weak eyes.

  There. I could see it part of it. It wasn't an animal. It was a person, a child? There was a porch post blocking my view so their face was hidden, but they were clothed in white. It looked like a dress with a puffy shoulder. A little girl, I assumed. She wasn't moving.

  Goosebumps went down my neck and arms. I inched sideways, revealing more of the shoulder. The base of my throat was tight, bile threatened to come up. I slowly leaned further to the right until I saw her.

  The front of my body ached, like my skin was pulling away from the threat. Tears formed but didn't fall. Screams built but I washed them down my throat with the saliva flowing in my mouth. It was a little girl standing under the limbs of the tree looking at me. She was like a doll with her blonde hair and antique, white dress. She held perfectly still, with a blank, yet pouty expression on her face.

  "It's just a child."

  No, it couldn't have been. People here adhered to the rules. Never go out before the sun comes up or after the sun goes down. We both held the stare. I bent at the waist toward her, but then she moved.

  I tripped backward over my ottoman and fell to the floor.

  I spotted my glasses under the sofa. My fingers at clutched them, and I popped up again, but she was gone. My chest rose and fell, anxious as I searched the yard. I shouldn't have been afraid of a little girl, but I was. All of my flesh still crawled. I was glad she was gone.

  "I'm not turning my back," I said as I closed the shutters and backed away.

  A creeping itch crawled under my skin to my right shoulder. It was like a bug.

  I couldn't help but check the window and front door.

  Backing up the stairs, I shook my head trying to get it on straight. "Come on, come on, come on," I topped the stairs and went into the bathroom.

  In front of the mirror, I placed my hands on the rim of the teal porcelain sink with my feet cooling on the smooth floor tiles. I looked at myself and said, "Come...on. You cool? When in doubt pop one out." I flung open the cabinet, pulled out my little bottle, opened it up, and took out two of the white pills for anxiety.

  I closed the medicine cabinet door and put my mouth under the faucet. I caught myself in the mirror again and asked, "You cool? Yeah, I'm cool."

  I took a deep breath in through my nose and just stood there looking down at the sink, biting my upper lip. There was no telling how long I stood there, but it must have been a while because my head started to swim. When my head made an involuntary dip to the right, I caught myself by reaching out to the wall.

  35

  Wednesday, November 4, 1964

  Sunrise 7:00 am. Sunset 5:33 pm

  * * *

  The sunlight split my eyeballs, cracked my head, and made my body ache. I shivered from the cold.

  Something was wrong... Where was I?

  I grimaced when I realized I was in the hall outside the bathroom.

  I pulled myself up so I could lean against the hallway wall. I needed to stop taking so many pills, but I was sure that wasn't going to happen. I groaned.

  I was half asleep, writing sentences on the board, when someone entered. "Good morning, Christian."

  I turned. I was Peter. "And the day just continues to get better and better."

  Peter raised his eyebrows and cupped his ear. "What was that?"

  I waved it off and turned back to the board.

  "I'm sorry about scaring you yesterday."

  "And what about Monday night?"

  "I thought we'd already passed this. That wasn't me!"

  "Come on, Peter. It's over now, just admit it."

  "I'm being serious. I'd tell you if it was."

  "School doesn't start for another thirty minutes."

  He was quiet, which bothered me. He was behind me and my sense of being watched, or my paranoia of not seeing what was happening, kicked in.

  I glanced back. "Did you need something?"

  "Not really," He sat on top of the front center desk. "I just woke up early and thought I'd come in to see if you needed any help."

  I wasn't buying it. "I see. That's nice of you, but I don't need any help."

  "Sure, you do."

  "Fine." I pointed to the broom. "You can help by sweeping the floor."

  He wrinkled his nose. "Is sweeping my punishment or penance?"

  I rolled my eyes. "You said you wanted to help, so help."

  He shrugged in compliance. "Okay." He hopped off the desk and grabbed the broom. "Can I call you Matt?"

  I pointed my chalk at him. "No."

  "Why not?"

  "I'm your teacher, and students should show respect to them while they are in school."

 

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