Lament: The Faerie Queen's Deception

I dreamt. It was the dark blue of night and I could see Luke walking slowly away from me. He was on the high school grounds, and he stared at the bench where we had practiced. He walked to the edge of the soccer field and I realized it was raining: cold stinging drops in the hot summer night.

He pulled his shirt off—crazy in this weather—and spread his arms out on either side of him like a crucifix, his fingers grasping at the rain. Staring at the sky, the drops biting into his skin with cold fury, his mouth moved as he turned slowly. I couldn’t hear him, though, over the rain and the sudden barrage of thunder that shook the ground itself. It seemed like some secret ritual that no one else ever saw: some hidden spell or incantation or some dreadful magic.

Thunder growled again as he dropped to his knees in the sharp gravel, his arms still spread and his head thrown back to the sky.

I was close enough to hear words: “One thousand, three hundred, forty-eight years, two months, and one—”

Thunder cracked like a tree smashing to the ground, and my eyes flew open.

Rain was pelting on the roof and rapping against the window as thunder growled outside. Awake, but not separated from the dream, I was confused as to what was real and what was still the dream. Was the rain real? Did I still sleep?

Light, on. The light switch flicked up as I thought about it, and yellow light partially illuminated my side of the bedroom. On the still, dark side of the room, a figure stood in the corner of the room, black and indistinct.

Blink.

Just a shadow. Though the room was empty, my heart was still pounding. I reached up to my neck, where Luke’s secret key now hung on a chain. From next to my bed, Rye lifted his head, sensing my anxiety.

“I thought I saw something,” I told him.

Rye looked at the corner of the room. Thunder boomed, and I risked a glance at the corner. Oh. My. God. My eyes watched a figure form again, an indistinct face turned toward me. I squeezed my eyes shut. Not there. I opened them again. The figure was still there, very nearly a shadow. Rye’s eyes were still trained on it, but he groaned softly and lay his head down on his feet, as if it didn’t concern him.

Because maybe it had been there all along.

I grabbed my cell phone from the bedside table and punched in James’ number. The bright numbers on the phone told me it was almost two a.m., but I thought—hoped—that James wouldn’t mind.

It rang and rang, while I stared at the unmoving figure. It was going to go to voice mail. No! Then, on the last ring, James’ groggy voice answered. “Dee?”

Now that I had him on the phone, I felt a little foolish. “Yeah.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Um—no—maybe? This sounds dumb, James. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Dee. It’s two in the morning. Something’s bothering you. Cut to the chase.”

I told him about the conversation Luke had had with empty air. “And now, I think there’s something in my room. I think it was there all along, only I just now can see it. It looks like a shadow. Or a person.”

James didn’t reply. I stared hard at the shadow. Was it staring back at me?

Blink.

The corner was empty: no figure, no shadow.

“Uh—James—it just disappeared.” Now I was seriously freaked out; I edged down in my covers, as if that would make a difference against a real bogey man. Natural shadows didn’t go away, so it had been something. And worse, now I didn’t know where it was. I looked around the room, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Real shadows don’t disappear.” James’ voice was flat. “Do you want me to come over?”

Of course I did. “My parents would freak if they knew.”

“Like I said, do you want me to come over?”

From the floor, Rye looked up at me, and then settled his head on his paws. With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes. Whatever had been in the room, he wasn’t concerned. I vacillated between what I wanted and what I needed, and finally went with the less selfish option. Also the one with less possible repercussions.

“I’ll be okay. Rye’s going back to sleep. He’d let me know if there was something to be worried about, I think.”

James sighed, less contentedly than Rye. “You can’t call and get me worried and then tell me it’s nothing.”

“I’m sorry. Can I come over in the morning?”

“You know you always can.”

After we’d hung up, I waited long minutes, waiting for the figure to reappear, but it didn’t. Finally I let exhaustion pull me into sleep.

six

The following day was clear and surprisingly temperate, all humidity and heat scrubbed clean by the storm of the night before. Sitting in the passenger seat of the old Audi, Luke beside me, I couldn’t believe the storm last night had been so terrifying. Or that his invisible conversation had been so creepy. Or that freckle-kid had really been in the back yard. It was crazy—every time I was in Luke’s presence, I couldn’t really be bothered by any of the things that troubled me when I was alone. Was this love?

No, said a cross voice in my head. It’s stupidity. And don’t feel bad, it runs in the family.

For an hour we talked about stupid stuff that I couldn’t remember afterward. Like why “Bill” was a nickname for “William” and why dogs didn’t come in stripes. Every time I thought we’d run out of things to talk about, one of us thought of something else.

“Bucephalus.” Luke tapped the steering wheel.

“God bless you!”

He laughed. “No, it’s the name of my car.”

“You named your car?”

He smiled impishly, a little boy.

Looking at my feet, where the carpet was stained two colors and curling away from the edge of the door, I demanded, “After Alexander the Great’s horse, no less? Going for a bit of irony, were you?”

“So you know who he was. You know the story.” Luke’s teeth flashed white in the clear sunlight as he gestured grandly to the dashboard. “That’s our story as well.”

“You and the car.”

“Yes.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So, what you’re telling me is that nobody else in the world could drive this car. That it threw all comers out and drove over them, leaving tire marks on their faces, and one day, you as a young boy climbed into it and bent it to your will?”

His eyes smiled more than his mouth did, which was only lifted on one corner. “That’s right. And we’ve been inseparable ever since.”