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“That part made me cry.”
“I know. Our sacrifices need to mean something like that. Think of what we found in the cigar box. We don’t know the stories behind those pieces, but they meant something. Letting go wasn’t easy.”
Loretta’s face, her body language, everything about her changed as she began to grapple with what I was saying. Gone was the king cobra. “You’ll be ready,” I assured her. “I know you will. You’re the wolf.”
I walked inside then and left my sister standing in the garage, pondering her future. Tricking her into forgetting about my disappearance and putting the king cobra back to sleep was easier than I’d expected, but what lay ahead was going to be far harder—for all of us.
Camp on Thursday was a hot mess. No, there wasn’t any trouble with P.E. Bubba. Yes, I still owed him—I wasn’t about to forget that—but P.E. would need to wait because there was something more pressing in my life—Waylon’s expectations for our upcoming ceremony of sacrifices. I doubted my favorite scrunchie was going to be worthy enough.
With my mind swirling, I went from being an all-star soccer player to all-around pathetic. It was so bad that Alyssa—or maybe it was Grace, I couldn’t keep them straight—actually asked me, “Are you feeling all right?”
I told her the truth. “Not really.”
“I didn’t think so. You should take it easy. Alyssa and I will pick up the slack.”
Guess she was Grace. “Thanks,” I said.
As suggested, I took it easy for the rest of soccer, but that only helped for so long. I felt worse when I saw Waylon walking and laughing with that girl again on his way back from robotics. And then a thought came to me. What if my brother had ditched me to go and see her yesterday? No, he wouldn’t, I told myself.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to stomach watching them for long because the girl’s ride was waiting and she left as soon as they got back to the youth center. Waylon came and found me after she was gone.
“Is she your girlfriend?” I said, a bit nastier than I’d meant.
“Who?” he replied, playing dumb. I’d seen too many movies to fall for that.
“That girl,” I said.
“Penelope?” he scoffed. “No! We just hang out at robotics.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Have you decided on your sacrifice yet?”
I didn’t answer. He was trying to change the subject. I wasn’t falling for that either.
“I have,” he said.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “The ceremony is tomorrow night, Loretta.”
I shrugged.
“You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think you know what you need to sacrifice and you’re scared.”
“Pfft. No, I’m not.”
“I’m scared,” Waylon admitted. “If you’re not, then I’m not sure you’ve selected the right object.”
Dad pulled up then, and that was the end of our conversation. We didn’t talk about it anymore until the time finally came.
* * *
—
It was just after midnight on Friday when Waylon and I crouched in the underbrush surveying Louie’s house.
“Looks quiet,” Waylon said. “Let’s go.”
“You’re too late,” a voice behind us whispered, simultaneously clamping a hand over each of our mouths and stifling our screams. My heart pounded against my chest. Gradually, the person’s grip eased, and Waylon and I spun around.
“Now we’re even,” Louie said, and grinned.
I punched him in the chest. “Not funny,” I hissed. “It’s already spooky enough out here without you pulling a stunt like that. What would you have done if our screams escaped?”
Waylon smirked and shrugged. “You got us.”
I wasn’t in the mood. “Let’s go,” I growled. “We’ve got a big night ahead of us. Any more fooling around and I’ll knock your heads together.”
That did the trick. They knew I wasn’t joking. Waylon took the lead and we double-timed it to the fortress and dropped our packs around the Circle of Stones, but we didn’t rest for long. After a couple of puffs from his inhaler, and quick drinks for both of us, Louie and I began gathering wood and kindling so Waylon could build our fire.
“Waylon, here,” I said when it appeared he had things close to ready. I held out Ron’s lighter, the one we’d found inside the box. “It only seems right that we use this as we begin our quest.”
“Good call,” he agreed. “This will help connect us with the spirits.”
“How do you suppose the lighter became an object worthy of sacrifice?” Louie asked, surprising us with his question. He was still wondering about the stories behind the pieces.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it was used to light candles on a memorable occasion. Or a first cigarette,” I offered as possibilities.
“Or maybe it belonged to somebody else before,” Louie said, “somebody special, and the lighter was all they had left to remember that person by?”
My eyes narrowed. “What made you think of that?”
“When you sit around all day, you’ve got time to think of stuff like that, I guess.”
“Is that what you do?” Waylon asked. “Just sit around?”
“I read. Watch TV. Play music. Get bored…Watch the clock as I wait for you guys.”
I kinda felt sad for him after he said that.
“Well, you’re not going to be bored tonight,” Waylon promised. He flicked Ron’s lighter, and a tiny flame danced to life. He held the flame under the kindling, and soon our fire began to grow.
My brother stood and faced us then. “It’s time for our second fire ceremony—the Ceremony of Sacrifices,” he announced.
I steadied myself, not wanting to give the impression I was nervous—but I’d been nervous all week. What did my brother have planned?
Waylon went to his backpack and started pulling out the now-familiar markers.
“We need more tattoos?” Louie asked.
“Yes,” Waylon replied. “Tattoos are a vital part of every fire ceremony, and it’s even more important before a sacrifice.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
“Didn’t you like the turtle? And didn’t it protect us?” Waylon said.
Louie grinned. “Yeah, it was cool,” he admitted, rubbing his shoulder where the turtle was.
“You’ll love tonight’s, then,” Waylon promised.
“Let’s do it,” Louie said, clapping his hands together and walking across the circle to where Waylon had his supplies set out. Whether Louie was only trying to pump himself up or if he was truly excited, I didn’t know, but suddenly I was with two boys who’d found courage—and that just made me all the more anxious.
Using the same techniques, Waylon went to work on Louie’s other shoulder. It didn’t take him long, and then he stepped aside and made his proclamation. “Dr. Louie, I’ve given you the eye of the medicine man.” He’d drawn two sideways diamonds, one inside the other, with a dot in the middle. “You’re the healer, and you will keep us safe and in harmony with mother earth.”
Louie straightened and puffed out his chest. Waylon had bestowed a great honor on him.
I went next. I didn’t look at my shoulder until Waylon was finished. My new tattoo was pretty. The design was familiar, but I couldn’t recall its name or what it meant.
“For our leader, I give you the dream catcher,” Waylon said. “This will keep you connected with the spirits, who will bring you good visions and keep the bad ones away.”
I liked the idea of keeping bad dreams away. Sounds like something Louie’s mother could use, I thought.
“I’ll do yours,” Louie offered to my brother.
Waylon handed the paper to Louie and talked him through the procedure. Louie did a great job—he was better than me at tattooing—and he didn’t stop there. Even though my brother had chosen the tattoo for himself, Louie was the one to make the proclamation.
“Waylon, you’ve been given the eagle, a majestic animal revered by the Forest Spirits. No matter what happens with our quests, may you continue to soar.”
Waylon bowed his head, accepting the gift of the eagle, and then Louie began our dance. Waylon and I joined. We danced and danced, taking in the sounds and smells of the burning wood, feeling its heat.
When we slowed and came to a stop, I immediately took charge. I needed to see how serious Waylon planned on making this ordeal before I sacrificed anything.
“Tonight’s challenge calls for us to make a sacrifice,” I began. “Like those who’ve explored these woods before us, we will need to be strong. And brave.”
Waylon remained calm, but I could see Louie’s confidence beginning to waver. He’d been brave when it came to tattoos and dancing because he knew what to expect, but now we were entering unchartered waters.
“Captain Waylon, are you ready?” I asked.
Our night of fun and games was about to get very real.
Waylon stepped forward. “Tonight’s test is meant to pull at our emotions,” he said. “We’ve been challenged to make a sentimental sacrifice. We must answer this challenge because only then will we be rewarded. We must let go of the past and face our futures.”
My breathing quickened. Where was my brother going with this?
“Loretta, I need you to get my hatchet,” he said, his voice low. “It’s in my pack.”
“I thought you said we weren’t killing anything!” Louie cried. His voice was not low.
“We aren’t,” I assured him, fighting to steady my shaking hands. Taking slow and easy breaths, I summoned the courage to walk to Waylon’s backpack. I returned with his hatchet, as requested. The firelight sparkled and reflected off its sleek silver blade.
“What are you going to do?” Louie begged. “No one gets cut or hurt,” he said, trying to sound firm.
“Relax,” Waylon commanded. “Your unraveling will upset the Forest Spirits. Trust them.”
Louie took another zap from his inhaler but didn’t say anything more. He stood by, wide-eyed and silent. I thought about asking him for a puff, but I doubted it would help. After what happened next, it wasn’t an inhaler that I needed, but CPR.
Waylon stepped closer to the fire, absorbing its heat and energy. He draped his ponytail over his shoulder and held it while lifting his face to the sky. My brother’s stoicism was impressive, especially because I now sensed what was coming—and I was too stunned to react.
I stayed back with Louie, watching my brother until his gaze returned to the fire and he nodded. That was my cue. I approached and stood beside him.
“Are you sure?” I whispered.
“It’s time,” he said, unblinking.
“You’re really sure?” I asked again, fighting against the knot forming in my throat.
“Loretta, it’s okay. Just do it.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then I moved behind my brother and grasped his ponytail in my left hand.
Louie gasped, suddenly understanding.
Squeezing the handle in my right fist, I brought the hatchet up. Then I gritted my teeth and pulled the silver blade across his hair. Waylon’s tail fell. Five years dangled from my hand.
Waylon reached up and felt the back of his head, touching the area where his pony once hung. Slowly, he turned to me, and I handed him the rope of hair. Turning back to the fire, Waylon lifted his severed ponytail high above his head.
“Forest Spirits, I feel your presence. Please accept my sacrifice as a symbol of my faith. I’m ready to let go of the past and face the future.”
And with those words, my brother tossed his once-prized possession into the fire. The eager flames sprang to life, energized by Waylon’s gift. We watched in silence until the last of it was gone, and then we proceeded with the ceremony. I knew it was coming, but my heart still fluttered when Waylon asked me if I was ready.
I closed my eyes and took another deep breath, channeling the wolf. We had to be a pack, and I had to lead. One more deep breath, and then I looked at my brother and nodded. I walked over and knelt beside my backpack and unzipped it.
I reached inside and knocked my scrunchie out of the way, dug past my favorite T-shirt, and pushed aside my Return of the Jedi DVD—which I’d thought would be my ultimate sacrifice if Waylon got too serious, but even that was not enough. My throat tightened as my hand grasped the only worthy artifact.
I tore my favorite ragged corner off and stuck it inside my pocket next to the few strands of Waylon’s pony that I’d also saved. I took a minute to myself, then stood and slowly approached the fire. Louie whimpered as I strode past. I kissed Blankie and lifted him up high.
“We remember, but we let go of the past and face our futures!” I shouted, my voice cracking. I sucked in a deep breath, and then I threw my beloved blanket into the fire. The hungry flames rose up and swallowed my faithful companion. I let go of my breath and watched as he was taken.
“Goodbye, Blankie,” I whispered. “I promise I won’t ever forget you.” I wiped my face and turned around.
Like me, Louie’s eyes were wet. I knew that was partly because of what he’d just witnessed, and partly because of what was to come. It was his turn. Two quick puffs from his inhaler; then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, same as I had. One more breath and then he looked at Waylon and me and nodded, signaling he was ready.
We watched him reach into his pocket and pull out his harmonica, the same one he’d played so beautifully. The tarnished metal told me it was old, and the way Louie held it and gently rubbed his thumb across the top told me how much it meant to him. He approached the fire, cradling the instrument in his shaking hands.
Waylon and I never said a word. It would be a while before we learned the story behind the harmonica, but we could see—and feel.
Louie lifted the instrument to his lips, paused, and then he played. And I mean, puh-laaayed. A mesmerizing song poured from him, starting slow and building into a passionate middle, before slowing once more and finishing softly.
I had to wipe my face again.
Louie kissed the harmonica and whispered something to it. Then he tossed it into the fire.
Waylon and I stepped closer and stood beside him, watching the flames surround his gift. The metal turned shades of red and gold as it melted and warped under the heat.
“That was beautiful,” I said.
Louie nodded and brushed his cheeks.
I reached over and took his hand in mine. I gripped Waylon’s with my other. This wasn’t anything I had planned, but it felt right. The three of us stood together, holding hands, staring into the orange glow, thinking about the pasts we’d let go of—and the futures we were yet to meet.
During that moment, I realized watching Louie and my brother make their sacrifices had been harder than making my own. I was beginning to understand the truly special bonds and forces that exist within a pack.
We stayed that way until the fire died down. When it was time, we covered the pit with dirt and poured water over the top of it, making sure it was out.
Leaving the Circle of Stones that night, I felt different. I’d let go of something cherished, and though it pained me, I suddenly felt older—and stronger. Looking at my brother and Louie, I knew the same was true for them. I saw it in their faces. This quest that we’d started on, it was already changing us.
I was exhausted. The kind of tired that made your body feel heavy. But skipping Dad’s breakfast was not an option and would only raise suspicion—not what we wanted or needed. I pulled myself out of bed and fixed my covers. Out of habit, I looked for Blankie to put in my backpack before I remembered and felt a tinge of sadness. On the plus side, I’d still slept like a rock without him.
I ventured down to the kitchen, surprised to see my brother wasn’t there yet. But Dad was. He was making a pot of coffee and—no surprise—singing along to a Conway Twitty ballad. He crooned a few lines to me when I walked in.
Hello, darlin’
Nice to see you
It’s beeen a long tiiime
I rolled my eyes and plopped into my chair.
Dad laughed and turned down the music. “Not often that you’re down here before your brother,” he said.
I nodded. “Better keep an eye on him. He’s turning into a rebellious teenager.”
Dad snorted. “I have an appointment this morning, so you okay if we just do cereal?”
“Sure,” I agreed.
“Thanks.” He went to the cabinet for our bowls.
“You have an appointment on Saturday?” I asked, after thinking about that.
“Yes. I’m actually interviewing somebody for a possible assistant position,” he said, glancing back at me.
“Really?”
“Yes. You and your mother have worn me down.”
“ ’Bout time.”
“ ’Bout time,” he mimicked.
“What? You need the help.”
He shrugged. “We’ll see. Mom’s covering a shift for one of the other vets this morning, so I figured I could do the interview.”
He placed our bowls and spoons on the table, then grabbed the boxes of cereal from the pantry and the milk from the fridge. Before sitting down, he went to refill his cup of joe. Waylon finally strode in just then, quietly slipping into his chair. When Dad turned around and saw my brother sitting across from me, his jaw practically hit the floor—his coffee did! He slopped it everywhere.
“Son of a nutcracker!” he hollered, shaking his hand where the hot brew had burned him.
Waylon’s ponytail! It had never even occurred to me that Mom and Dad would see it missing—obviously! Naturally, there would be questions. Especially from Dad! Asking questions was his job—and then analyzing the answers. So our responses had better be clever—and careful.
