Chapter One

Creek Woman

     The first thing you should know about me is that Rabbit and I are not friends. We are unlucky companions because he will simply not die. Believe me, I’ve tried to kill him.

     Rabbit is a trickster who has plagued my people, the Creek all down the line of our history. And in my own life, he has caused great hardships with his practical jokes. It’s true that at times, his tricks have benefitted people. His nature is not to be cruel, but he doesn’t consider the consequences of his actions either. His nature is to play games, no matter the price.

One of my earliest memories is of a great burning. I can still smell the smoke, hear the cries of the old who could not outrun it. I can remember the great heat under my heels, threatening to consume my flesh.

     There is an old story among my people, a legend now, about Rabbit and Alligator. Rabbit asked Alligator if he had ever met the Devil. Alligator said that he had not. Rabbit asked if Alligator was afraid to meet him. Alligator said that he was not afraid. So Rabbit told Alligator, “That’s funny. I just saw the Devil, and he said you were afraid of him.”

     “I’m not afraid of the Devil,” answered Alligator. “Please let him know that the next time you see him.”

     The conversation continued, Rabbit goading Alligator into meeting the Devil. He told Alligator that on the next day, he should climb to the top of the grassy hill and wait. Rabbit would bring the Devil and Alligator could prove that he was not afraid. And Rabbit told him also, “If you see smoke, do not be afraid. That is just the Devil passing by.”

     “I understand. I am not afraid. Bring him and I will meet him.”

     The next day, Alligator trundled up to the top of the hill and waited to meet the Devil. Rabbit, however, went to the edge of the field and started a fire. He fanned it so that it grew and it swept down towards Alligator. Alligator waited, believing it was only the Devil passing by. Finally, he ran back to the water, his feet and belly burned from the fire from waiting so long.

     Rabbit just laughed and laughed and kicked his heels. He loved a good trick.

     I sat in a tall tree at the edge of the field that day. I saw Alligator waiting, saw Rabbit’s trick. I saw the fire sweep towards my village, and I ran across the hot, burning field so that I could warn them.

     I was too late. By the time I emerged from the field, the thatch roofs of our homes were already alight. I called to any who could hear, “Flee! Leave the village!” Many were already running. Many could not run fast enough. We lost our homes that day. We lost many elders and a few children too. It was a terrible day.

     Still, Rabbit laughed and laughed. He did not seem to understand the suffering his joke had caused.

     And because I emerged from the fire, the others looked at me differently. How had I survived? Was I truly immortal? And if I was, was this a good omen or bad? Had I offended the trickster and caused the fire myself?

My mother and father shielded me from many because I was a full-blooded clan member. I had rights. I belonged. But things changed for me that day. Many of my clan grew wary of me. I began to worry that I would be unable to make a good match for my future. I could not have known the way life would make so many choices for me.

​

Neveah

     Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.

     Snip, snip.

     Neveah frowned. Having a grown man climbing your hair seemed like a terrible

way to meet people.

     Snip, snip.

     The hairdresser made quick, economical movements with her hands. Fluffing

Neveah’s hair this way and that, assessing how it lay against her scalp. Neveah wondered if this hairdresser went to other people’s houses to give private haircuts. Or was it just Neveah who was indulged like this? Surely it was an unusual request? Neveah’s mother insisted though.

     For the last three years, Neveah had rarely left her family’s estate. She was a bit like Rapunzel herself. Maybe that was why her mother insisted she cut her hair short? She didn’t want to discover people using Neveah’s hair like a back door. Neveah grinned at the thought. She doubted her mother was that paranoid about “suitors.”

Her father on the other hand, well, that didn’t bear thinking.

     Her father was the one paranoid about her safety. Neveah’s mother was just the enforcer. It had to do with her father’s business dealings, but he went to great lengths to keep that information out of Neveah’s path.

     Sigh.

     Snip, snip.

     “What do you think, Mrs. Winters?” The hairdresser asked Neveah’s mother. She was looking at Neveah in the mirror’s reflection though. Neveah appreciated this subtle nicety. The hairdresser was also interested in her opinion, it seemed. Neveah looked at the reflection of herself smiling timidly in the mirror. The hairdresser nodded her head slightly in acknowledgement.

     “It will do. Thank you, Anita,” Neveah’s mother, Jillian Winters, said in a cool, professional tone, inherently dismissive. Anita packed her things away. Neveah stood as soon as the plastic apron was removed from her, and she followed her mother out of the room as expected. At the door, she turned back and said, “I like my haircut so much. Thank you.”

     Out in the hallway, Neveah’s mother waited impatiently. 

     “You’re too casual with the help, Neveah.” It was an often enough refrain between the two of them. Not much else needed to be said as all the lectures had been heard and repeated. Neveah had few small rebellions in her life, but this was one of them.

     “I know, Mother,” Neveah said, averting her eyes. She knew what she would see there: hardness, disapproval.

     “Go to your room. No diving practice tonight. It’s supposed to rain, so I don’t want you roaming around on that horse tonight either.”

     “Yes, Mother.”

     An hour later, Neveah sat on her horse, Sunbeam. She had escaped from her tower room (actually, upstairs bedroom) in a daring escape. She had pocketed a few biscuits and a carrot from the kitchen, with the help of one of her secret alliances (the chef, Harry). She had army crawled through the den, so Mother wouldn’t be able to see her from her post in the living room. Neveah had carefully opened the back door and ducked under the windows until she was on the other side of the house. The groundskeeper kindly ignored her goings-on. The stable master had Sunbeam saddled and ready for her, bless him! She wordlessly handed him the biscuits and gave Sunbeam the carrot.

      Freedom! No hair climbing involved!

     She was far enough away from the house now that she wasn’t worried about her mother glimpsing her with a casual glance out a window. Neveah gave Sunbeam her head and let the reins go. She pulled out her digital camera and leaned back as far as she could in the saddle. The light filtered down to her through treetops and she snapped a few pictures. A bird was perched on a lower branch and Neveah captured its image mid-song.

     These were the moments that she lived for. Pleasantly quiet and away from the pressures of life at home, she felt like her true self. The only drawback to these little escapades was that she was still alone, like Rapunzel.

​

Elliot

     Elliot gently pushed aside a low tree branch and watched. He’d been following the dark-haired girl on her solitary horse rides for some time now. He saw the camera she clutched in her hands and wondered if he was lurking in the backgrounds, unseen, in any of her precious photos. 

     Elliot slipped his hand into his pocket and felt his phone. Since watching her so enraptured with photographing nature, he’d begun photographing what he loved. His phone was now filled with images of the animals he’d caught, the traps he’d laid for them. He began to understand her interest in photography. He found himself pouring over his own photography for hours.

     There, she snapped a picture of a robin. A female, he surmised, as the bird was only a dull rust color instead of the brighter hues of a male. Elliot mentally filed away the image of the bird. He would try to catch one just like it tomorrow. He would keep its feathers. Maybe its feet, too. One day, maybe he would show these trophies to the girl.

     Elliot felt a tightening in his chest. His vision began to darken. There was The Face, pressing in on him again. He blinked and shook his head, not wanting to let go of this moment. 

     Then blackness.

     ➹➹➹

     Elliot looked around and saw leaves. It was early fall but the trees had shed more than they had kept. The leaves were stuck to him because of the dew. Despite the wetness, they looked as if they were on fire. Elliot reached to peel them away and reminded himself that they would not burn. They wouldn’t even feel hot.

     The forest also looked on fire. Elliot reminded himself that that was just because the sun was setting. If the forest were really on fire, there would be smoke. The animals would be restless or gone already. He would smell it in the air.

Lately the gaps were growing. He sometimes was afraid that he would get lost in them. At first the gaps in his memory, the blackouts frightened him. With time, the lost time stopped mattering. But now, he was gone for longer and longer periods of time. 

     And now he was beginning to dream in the gaps. He dreamed about the girl. This time, in the dream, he gave her a present. It was a tiny box wrapped in silver paper. She smiled at him, her eyes big with surprise. Her small hands unwrapped the paper. Her hands bled, more and more as she unwrapped the present, from a thousand tiny papercuts.

     Elliot savored the memory of the dream. 

​

Ash

      Ash hated putting in insulation. Even with gloves, he felt itchy for hours after. He always imagined pieces of it under his clothes or in his hair. But it had to be done. Ash wasn’t sure where his step-mother, Abigail, got the money to flip houses. The only thing she ever spoke to him about were ways to cut more corners and save more money. And then every time Abby sold a house, Gerald and Elliot got some new toy. And Ash? The only thing he got was more work. The last time, his step-brothers had gotten a car. Ash had gotten another house to fix up. He felt bitterness rise up in him like bile. Ash pushed the feeling away. That won’t help get this insulation in any quicker, he thought. Besides, the truth was that he didn’t want to know where Abby got the money, or how. Some things were better left alone.

     Oddly, Ash was thankful to Abby for the work. With all of this forced labor, Ash now had the skills to work almost anywhere that construction was going on. He could support himself, maybe even save enough to go to college. It was hard to imagine having that much money to his name, but he knew that men supported families with construction work. Surely he could support himself.

     Also, because of his work on her little house flipping projects, she had reluctantly bought him an old truck. She had grown tired of making trips to the hardware store, hauling lumber and other things she called “common work.” That truck wasn’t worth much, and certainly wouldn’t survive a long road trip, but it gave him a new level of freedom. As long as he didn’t wander too far, he could put gas in it every week. It was hard to complain about that arrangement, especially as it helped him with his other business, the one that actually made him money.

     Ash finished the insulation and washed his hands and face from the outside faucet. He hadn’t put in a sink yet, so it would have to do. This house hadn’t really been a smart buy; he’d had to tear it down to the studs. Abby hadn’t been happy about that, but the housing inspector knew her well enough that she couldn’t fudge all the details. It just had to be done. Ash wasn’t afraid of hard work, or even long hours. It kept him in good shape and taught him valuable skills. He just wished she would pay him for it.

     Loading tools in the back of the truck, Ash saw a familiar figure coming his way. He felt an instant guttural fear and forced it down. Elliot was drawing near. Ash had spent a lot of time and effort over the last few years ensuring that he was never alone with Elliot. He couldn’t explain why exactly that he feared Elliot. They were the same age and roughly the same size. Elliot had never hurt him outside of the rough bullying that he engaged in with his brother, Gerald. However, there was a glint in Elliot’s eyes that promised so much more, if only he ever had the chance. The part of Ash’s mind that was still animal instinct always reacted strongly to his presence. He knew, in some intuitive way that Elliot was dangerous.

     “Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down.” Elliot sang it softly, with a smile on his face. He casually leaned against the truck and watched Ash pile tools in the back. “More work for the little mouse, eh?” Elliot chuckled to himself.

     “You’re in a good mood, Elliot,” Ash said, as he wrapped an extension cord.

     “Ah yes. I caught a squirrel today. Have you ever done that?” Elliot examined a thumbnail as he talked. “They squirm so. It’s rather lovely.”

     Ash repressed a grimace. Elliot loved to catch and torment animals. Ash had rescued any number of squirrels, cats, birds, and mice from Elliot’s little traps.

     “I know I’m not supposed to talk about it. Mother gets rather cross with me when I do. But I say, why hide it? It’s who I am. Isn’t that what all the social justice is about these days? Speak your truth?” Elliot’s face held a taunting grin.

     “Somehow, I don’t think that’s what they are talking about,” Ash answered drily. He walked to open the driver’s door of the truck. Elliot was there in an instant.

     “Aren’t you going to offer your dear brother a ride home?” Elliot pressed Ash against the side of the truck. Ash felt the alarm bells in his mind ringing out, Danger! Danger!

     “I didn’t think you’d agree to ride in such a piece of crap truck as mine. Dear brother.” Ash ground out the reply from between his teeth. Elliot grinned again. The menace was wiped from his face. He stepped away with a laugh.

     “Never any fun and games for you, is there, Cinderfella?” Elliot said. Ash gave up trying to follow his cryptic answers long ago. He was just relieved to see Elliot turn and walk away.

 

Elliot

     There it was again. A black cat. Elliot had noticed the cat a number of times, always hanging back just out of sight. It was as if the cat was stalking him.
     Elliot laughed.
     Thus far, he had encountered no predator more dangerous than himself in the woods. Let the cat follow him.
     Just then, Elliot had seen the cat in a tree nearby. It carefully watched him through the cover of foliage, still as the tree itself. The Face rose up in his consciousness like it had out of the water that day, so long ago. Elliot had never heard its voice, had never spoken to it directly, but he did get feelings from it. The Face did not like the cat.
     How peculiar. Elliot had never known The Face to dislike anyone or anything. Normally he sensed from it a sort of laughing curiosity. It loved to play tricks on others above all else. Elliot himself did not much care for the games but indulged The Face on occasion. He had learned that denying it just meant more gaps, as it seemed to take over him and do as it pleased anyway. Elliot often felt as if he were sharing headspace with a willful child.
     He continued on in the woods, but kept track in his mind of the watching cat. Elliot would have to learn more about this, and why The Face in his mind disliked it so much.
     Elliot remembered the first time he met his mentor. He had been studying a koi pond at some event Mother had dragged them to. They flitted through the water, sleek and shining. Little lily pads were scattered around, and the fish would hide beneath them, then dart forward to catch a mosquito with their wide mouths. If Elliot cut the fish open, would he find the mosquitos there? If he cut the fish open fast enough, would he see its little heart still beating?

     A hand fell at his shoulder.

     “Beautiful, aren’t they?” He said. William. A large built man with red hair that was going white at the temples. He had hands like a butcher and a smile that stretched a bit too far over his face. Elliot was certain that if he cut him open, no matter how quick, there would be no beating heart inside.

     “Yes. Lovely fish. I wonder if they are as beautiful on the inside?”

     “Truly, they are. I love throwing a fish on the fire, listening to the skin crackle. I used to make myself dinner that way in the woods, as a boy. Have you ever done that?”

     “I haven’t. I’ve never burned anything.” Elliot’s mind flickered back to the last time he’d been alone in the woods. He had not been able to coax a fire out of the wood he’d gathered.

     “I’ve always found flames beautiful. You might try it sometime,” William said simply. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket. “This would do. If you set fire to something small, it’s gone so fast, you miss the beauty of it. But be careful. Wouldn’t want you to burn down your house or anything.”

     William handed the lighter to Elliot. It was heavy. A large ornate W was etched into the metal casing. Where had he bought such a thing?

     “And also, son. If you don’t mind me saying so, it might be wise to keep these talks about fire to yourself. Most people won’t understand. Do you follow what I mean?”

     Elliot thought of Mother then, and her disapproval. “Yes, sir.”

     “That’s a good boy. Perhaps we will run into each other again in the woods.”

      “I’d like that, sir.” He slid the lighter into his pocket.

      William had walked away that night and, Elliot later learned, began an illicit affair with Mother. For some reason he sunk his claws into their family. The gaps were already beginning to cloud Elliot’s views of what was important and what wasn’t.    Otherwise, he would have thrown that lighter into the koi pond.

      William had meant what he said when he spoke of meeting in the woods. There was a strip of forest that lay between his property and theirs. Over the years, they met numerous times. Elliot began to notice that whatever force that brought on the gaps in his memories chose to lie dormant when William was around. And for that, he met him as often as he could.

     William was not a nice man. He was, however, very competent. He taught Elliot many things about hunting and tracking, starting fires and slipping unnoticed in the shadows of trees. Elliot assumed that this was what his own father would have taught him had he lived.

     Soon he came to a small clearing. It was deep enough in the forest that it was unlikely anyone would accidentally walk through. Elliot had met William here numerous times over the last couple of years. It was very important to William that their meetings remain a secret.
     Particularly since William was cheating on his wife with Elliot’s mother.
     Elliot was not supposed to know about that part. His mother would be terrified if she knew he was aware of it. William would be angry. He should not, however, be surprised. It was William, after all, who had taught Elliot how to track people unnoticed.
     Elliot had followed his mother on one of her more secretive outings. He couldn’t say he was too surprised when she met William at a diner at the edge of town. Nor was he surprised when they went to a hotel room together. His mother always seemed to have an unexplainable amount of extra cash. She worked late a lot for someone who worked at a county courthouse that closed at 5 sharp. She came home in the wee hours of morning often enough that he had already guessed what she was up to.
     William appeared at the edge of the clearing, carrying a small satchel. He opened it up to reveal several short lengths of ropes.
     “What do you know about tying knots?” William asked, a hard grin on his face.

     “Not as much as you do, apparently,” Elliot answered. He reached out for a piece of rope. The two men sat next to each other companionably. William began to show him a knot, without preamble. It fell silent as Elliot tried to repeat what William had shown him.
     “What is this one for?”
     “This would be good for tying off a boat to a dock.”
     “Doesn’t seem like something I would need to know. I don’t care for boats.”
     “Always be prepared, I say.” It was an often enough comment from William.
     “Isn’t that the Boy Scout motto? Were you a scout?”
     William was silent a moment, untying his own knot and taking another length of rope out for another demonstration. “I was.”
     Elliot did not respond. He was able to mimic William’s knot on the first try.
     “Here’s a good knot if you’re ever climbing the bluffs.” William continued showing him knot after knot. They fell into a working silence, William tying, Elliot retying.
     “Do you have a daughter?” Elliot asked quietly. He knew the answer of course. A Winters daughter, hidden on their estate.
     William’s hands instantly stilled. “Why would you want to know about something like that?”
     “Do you teach her how to tie knots as well?” Elliot knew this would irk William. He refrained from smiling. William stared at Elliot for a long moment.
     “I suppose there’s a reason you’re asking me this?” He fished a cigarette out of a pocket and lit it with his heavy engraved lighter. It was the only outward sign of his irritation. Elliot did smile then.
      “You have a daughter. She is my age. Why have I never met her?” Elliot set the rope down in front of him. “Are you embarrassed of her? Or me?”
     William took a long drag on the cigarette then ground it into the soil at their feet.
     “I’m not embarrassed of anything.” He began gathering the ropes and stuffing them back into his bag. He stood to leave and paused. “Never go near her.”
      Elliot leaned back against a tree with his hands behind his head. He smiled as he listened to William disappearing into the forest. “How very interesting!”

 

Ash

     “Asher Price!”

     Ash’s head snapped up. He’d fallen asleep in class.

     Again.

     The teacher was glaring at him in a decidedly unforgiving sort of way.

     “Thank you for finally joining us, Mr. Price,” she said in a sarcastic tone. The teacher turned her back to him and continued with her lesson.

     Ash felt his cheeks redden. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. However, Mrs. Nelson was unlikely to believe that since it happened so often. He generally liked her too, so it bothered him that he kept sleeping in her class.

     A nudge at his back caught his attention. A note was stuffed into his waiting palm.

     Dude! You are going to get detention if you keep sleeping in class!

     Ash was well aware of this and didn’t need the reminder. He turned around and glared meaningfully at his friend, Gilly, who had passed the note. Gill was holding back his laughter.

     Some friend!

     Ash rolled his eyes and deferred his attention to his teacher for the last 15 minutes of class. It was brutal, but he managed to take a few notes. Hopefully Gilly had gotten more and would share.

     The bell rang and Mrs. Nelson said in a tone that brooked no argument, “Stay, Mr. Price.”

     Oh no.

     Ash gathered his things and stood, but didn’t leave. It seemed like it took a long time for everyone to leave the classroom while he lingered there awaiting his punishment.

     “Yes, Mrs. Nelson?” He tried to be as polite-sounding as he knew to be.

     “Have a seat.”

     Not a good sign.

     “I’m a little concerned about you, Mr. Price,” Mrs. Nelson said. Her tone and expression were serious, but there was a bit of softness in her eyes. It was going to be one of those talks. He’d had a few since his father died.

     “I’m sorry I keep falling asleep in class. Really, I don’t mean to,” Ash said, trying to inject genuineness into his voice.

     “I realize that you aren’t doing it on purpose. However it does mean that you are falling behind. If you keep falling behind, you could fail. It would mean not graduating on time.” She paused meaningfully. “I get the feeling you want to graduate on time.”

     “Yes, ma’am. I do.” Ash looked away.

     “Would you consider after school tutoring? It would help you catch up.”

     “I...I don’t have money to pay someone for tutoring, ma’am. I’m sorry.” He paused. “I will try harder.”

     Mrs. Nelson looked at her gradebook. Her expression told him what her mouth didn’t want to say: It wouldn’t be enough. 

      “You need to find someone to help you. Could you come to my classroom at lunchtime?”

      Ash grimaced inwardly. He usually napped or caught up on homework during lunch.

      “I could make it work, I’m sure.”

     ➹➹➹

     On the back edge of the property, there was a little metal gate, the kind anyone could buy at a hardware store. Ash walked through it now and looked around. He was definitely out of sight of the main house, she’d seen to that. By now Elliot and Gerald would be off to their own entertainments. Ash had some time to himself for now, and this was often where he spent it.

     There were three rows of modest stones tucked neatly inside the fence. Ash had worked to keep them clean and the grass mowed. The fence, however, he had let the vines overtake. It was to give his family some privacy. In the spring, tulips bloomed happily on the graves. He always hoped Mother could see them from wherever she was now.

     Ash settled down beside two of the stones and watched the sun go down.

     “It won’t be too much longer until I will have to leave you two. I hope you can understand. It’s not that I don’t love you, but I can’t stay. If I don’t leave, I’ll always sleep in a shed and I’ll always be looking over my shoulder for trouble. I want to do something with my life so that you’ll be proud of me when I finally see you again.”

      Creature jumped down from a fencepost and sauntered over. She sat in front of Ash as if she had something to say. Her tail gave a quick swish and she turned and walked away. At the gate, she stopped and looked at Ash expectantly.

     “I guess you’re right, Creature,” Ash said with a chuckle. “Mom and Dad wouldn’t want me to sit around feeling sorry for myself.” He stood and left the graveyard. His shed was settled right nearby, and he was inside in a moment.

     As far as sheds went, Ash’s wasn’t bad. His stepmother couldn’t literally leave him in a shed. Not while he was a minor in her custody. So she had doled out the cash to have their shed outfitted with a sink and toilet, a mini fridge and a stove. He had a bed and a desk. What else could her peasant stepson need?

     Actually the arrangement suited him just fine. He didn’t exactly relish the idea of sleeping near his step brothers. They were likely to get ideas about further tormenting him in his sleep. At any rate, sleeping, eating, and living in the shed meant that he had more time to himself and away from his ...whatever they were. He didn’t consider them family. His family was sleeping in the little graveyard.

     Ash carefully scouted around his shed to ensure he was alone. Elliot had a knack for sneaking up on people unexpectedly. The last thing Ash wanted was Elliot knowing his secrets.

     Ash had taken up a few hobbies to fill his time. Unbeknownst to his stepmother, Ash had started making dollhouses. It wasn’t that he had some secret desire to play with dolls. It was more that he was able to do it. And carpentry was a family tradition. Before his mother had fallen ill, his father had been a master carpenter. After she died, he couldn’t seem to pull himself together well enough to hold down a regular job. He still had his business, but it dwindled dramatically. His heart just wasn’t in it anymore. Love had made him a strong man while his wife was alive, but her death had destroyed him. They had had to sell more and more of their custom pieces, their family heirlooms. Even in the end though, he could still tell his son about his lifelong study of wood and how to turn it into something beautiful. The only things his father had left him, that no one else could take away from him, were his memories and his love and knowledge of carpentry.

     Back in his shed, Ash checked on his sketches again. One by one, he carefully pried up the floorboards in his shed. Underneath were his cutting tools, boxes filled with wood glue and clamps, and extra pieces of balsa wood. He took great pains to put everything back underneath when he finished working for the night. He wanted to make sure that anyone suddenly peering in would see nothing except a normal 17-year-old boy’s room.

      Ash had sold four or five of the dollhouses now. He didn’t advertise publicly, but found people by word-of-mouth. He had pocketed a little cash, quietly selling them to mothers and grandmothers of little girls who loved their dolls. 

     He carefully counted out his stash of money. It was a woefully small number. He remembered his plan, his goal: I’ll throw my stuff in the truck. I’ll drive west. I’ll find work. I’ll survive. It was his mantra of sorts. He fell asleep that night whispering to himself, “I’ll survive. I’ll survive.”

 

Neveah

     Neveah was supposed to be doing research for an English paper. She had read yet another Shakespeare piece and was supposed to be comparing it to something-or-other. That’s what she was supposed to be doing.

     What Neveah was actually doing was stalking local teenagers on social media. Her keen interest in photography naturally led her to Instagram. It started as a harmless pastime. She loved photography, she missed people. Here was an entire world of both, all at her fingertips. She didn’t have a cell phone, of course. Her father felt that having a phone was taking on an unnecessary risk. She could be tracked. She could be hacked. She could have some semblance of a normal life. Obviously that was out of the question.

     And then, she found the name of a girl she knew in elementary school, the last time she attended a public school.

     And then she found that girl’s friends, all students living in or around the nearby town.

    People. And even better, teenagers. It was like after a lifetime of hunting unicorns, she found a unicorn night club. Teenagers, who were so absent from her life, were suddenly everywhere.

     Of course, these people didn’t know who she was. And she couldn’t post pictures of herself. Her father would go completely mad if he found out. But she did post some of her photography. And people actually liked it! It was an unimaginable kind of magic in a world of private lessons and loneliness.

     Neveah was addicted. Every spare moment of unsupervised computer time became a dive into the world of Instagram.

Neveah was supposed to be doing research, but the tutor had left early, so that obviously was not going to happen tonight. She was on a mission.

     There had been some event at an art museum that was not too far from where she lived, the Regional Art Museum of Sebastian County. She learned from a previous internet binge that a notable photographer was going to have his work on display there. It was a one night event as part of a fundraiser. Surely there would be pictures? The museum’s website only offered three, as a teaser and incentive to come and spend money. But Instagram rarely let her down in these matters.

     “Neveah, are you studying now?” It was Mother, leaning into the den to check on her.

     “Yes, Mother,” Neveah answered. Her laptop was turned so that Jillian couldn’t see the screen. She paused what she was doing, waiting for her mother to leave.

     “Did your tutor leave early again?” Jillian’s tone could have frozen the wine in the glass she was carrying.

     “Yeah.” Neveah’s tone was flat. She wasn’t very impressed with her current tutor, either. The woman seemed to practically run from their house at the slightest excuse. “Today she left because she said she had to get back to feed her neighbor’s dog. Apparently, the dog is on a strict regimen, can’t get its food late.”

     Neveah and her mother shared an eye roll. Jillian was already pulling out her phone when she turned and left. That will be the last of that tutor. Not that Neveah was especially heartbroken. This was her fourth tutor since starting her high school curriculum. She had stopped getting attached to them.

     Neveah heard her mother’s voice fading down the hallway. Neveah let go of a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Back to her mission…

     After a few minutes of getting the right tags she hit on some images. Most of them were of smiling couples or groups of friends. But there, shining in the background was the real imagery she had wanted to see.

     This guy was certainly no Henri Cartier-Bresson, but he had talent. Of course, Neveah would consider herself lucky to be considered as talented as this photographer. He at least could get a showing at an art gallery. That was more than she could say for the hundreds of photos stored on SD cards in her desk drawer.

     Click, click, click.

     She had looked at about a hundred photos when suddenly a face leapt off the computer screen at her. She felt an instant stab of shock. Then immediately, denial. It can’t be!

     There on the screen was the face of her father.

     With another woman.

 

Ash

     School was a total loss the next day. Ash couldn’t think about trigonometry or physics, not when he was too busy worrying about passing high school. What would he do if he failed? It was an unbearable thought, but the very one he couldn’t shake.

     “Earth to Ash.” It was Gilly, waving a hand in front of Ash’s face.

     “Huh?” Ash answered dumbly. “What?”

     “Are you going to eat your toast, space cadet?” Gilly asked, indicating the food untouched on his lunch tray.

     “Whatever, dude. Take it.”

     “Did you just call me ‘dude’?” Gilly laughed at him. He stuffed the toast into his mouth. “What planet are you on today?”

     Ash shook his head and changed the subject. He wasn’t ready to talk to Gilly about this. Gilly was a good guy, his friend, but he would not understand. Even worse, he might start asking questions that Ash just couldn’t answer. 

     ➹➹➹

      Ash left when school was over and went straight to the little house. Hanging drywall wasn’t his favorite job, but drywall meant the insulation was done, at least. He’d seen on a TV show that most professional crews used a pneumatic nail gun to nail up the heavy sheets of drywall. It meant infinitely less effort and time to finish the job. Ash had asked Abby for one, but she’d just laughed at him. So here he was, muscling in screws with a handheld drill, praying the battery would last longer than the work.

     Drill, drill.

     Another handful of screws. His hands were chalky from the drywall. He felt sweat on his neck and down his back.

     Gilly had asked him to come over this weekend, to hang out and play video games. Normal teenage guy stuff, Ash assumed. He’d told him that he had too much homework. It was true, Ash did have homework. But he also had a house to finish. He was hoping to finish the drywall before the weekend, so that he could spend Saturday and Sunday painting and installing the bathroom tub and shower surround. Manual labor, endless manual labor. And when he eventually finished this house, Abby would just get another for him to work on.

      Ash felt the frustration rising up in him. He squashed it down. He could play video games another time. He’d find time.

     The drill slipped in his grip. His hand banged against the wall. A sudden flash of red appeared where his knuckles had grazed the head of the screw.

     With a roar, he threw the drill across the room. It slammed against the studs of the opposite wall and thudded to the ground.

      “Why do I have to do all of this work anyway!” He yelled, “It’s not fair!”

     “Dear brother,” said a voice from behind him. “Haven’t you heard the old saying? Life’s not fair.”

      Ash went from hot with frustration to cold. He turned to see Elliot appear out of the unfinished kitchen. Why hadn’t he heard him come in? 

     “What are you doing here, Elliot?” Ash asked, his voice flat. Ash hadn’t meant for Elliot to see his outburst, and he was determined to not give him the satisfaction of seeing anymore.

     “Can’t I come just to chat with my lovely sibling?” Elliot’s grin was back in place.

     He paced the room, looking over the unfinished walls, and paused at the thrown drill on

the floor. “The work getting on top of you these days?”

     “Come off it, Elliot. I’m having a rough day,” Ash said, retrieving the drill with intent to continue his work. Generally, Elliot left if he was ignored enough.

     “If it’s so bad, why do you stay?” Elliot asked. He sounded sincere, but Ash wasn’t fooled.

     “You know full well why I stay. I’ve got no place to go. And no money to get there, for that matter.” Ash was irritated. He pocketed more screws and started lining up another sheet of drywall.

     “So it’s the money, eh?” Elliot said. He intentionally leaned against the wall, right in Ash’s way. It forced Ash to stop what he was doing and face Elliot. “What if you had money? Would you leave then?”

     Ash paused. It was dangerous to confide in Elliot, even in the best of times. However, it was no secret to anyone that he wanted to leave. 

     “Probably, yes.” Then he nudged Elliot out of the way.

     “Then here. You can have this.” Elliot casually pulled a handful of money out of his pocket and handed it to Ash. He was shocked to realize that Elliot was holding hundred-dollar bills crumpled as if they were worth no more than old gum wrappers.

     “Elliot. What are you doing?” Ash pulled his eyes from the money to look at his step-brother’s face. “Why would you give this to me?”

     Elliot shrugged, noncommittally. “What’s it to me, anyway? Mother will give me more money. You know that.” Then he looked at Ash sideways, a smile at the edge of his lips. “Besides, maybe I want to do something nice for my dear brother.”

     ➹➹➹

     Ash had never held so much money in his life. After Elliot had slipped away (there was no other way to describe Elliot’s movements, he didn’t just walk like a normal person) Ash had counted the money with shaking hands. Fifteen hundred dollars. It wasn’t enough to live off of for long, Ash wasn’t stupid. But it was enough to get him the hell out of here.

     At his shed, he had thrown his few belongings in a duffel bag, and tore out of the place as if it were a house on fire. He slowed down long enough to say goodbye to his parents. He truly regretted leaving them, but it wasn’t as if they could come along. 

     His old truck protested as he went flying out of the driveway and down the highway. Free, I’m free. It was all he could think. Once he crossed the county line, he’d decide where to stop for the night. Then he could figure out his next move. Ash had learned from previous attempts to run away that there were schools that would let him finish his high school diploma or GED in night school, while he worked during the day. It would be the opposite of what he did now, and he wasn’t intimidated by the workload.

     But how far could he get on fifteen hundred dollars? The farther away the better. He just had to be out of Abby’s reach until he turned eighteen. Just a few months. Bouncing on the seat of his old truck, he felt like the very air was supercharged. He just had to survive for a few months and then no one could touch him. He could do it.

     The county’s end was up ahead. As he was driving, he realized he’d never been outside of the county, never made it past this little road marker up ahead. In all of the little adventures he’d gone on with his dad, they had never really left home. He wondered if they had left the county while his mother was still alive. Surely, they did.

     Ash noticed a rabbit hunched on the side of the road. He slowed, in case it decided to bolt in front of the truck. Instead, it seemed content to perch underneath the sign marking the end of the county. Ash was distracted by the rabbit; he wasn’t sure what happened next.

     Wham!

     Suddenly, Ash wasn’t in his truck anymore. Looking around, he was on his backside in the grass. Looking up, his truck was parked next to the road. It looked as if he had pulled over, gotten out of the truck, and laid down in the grass.

     What the…? Ash thought.

     He stood and brushed the grass off of his pants. The rabbit was still there, a mere few feet away, eating clover and watching him. Ash stepped up to the truck, climbed inside. The keys were still in the ignition. In fact, the truck was still running. Ash never left the engine idling like that.

     He put on his seatbelt and shifted into gear. The county line was a few feet in front of him. Checking his mirrors, no one was coming from either direction. He was alone. Well, except for the rabbit.

     A moment later and Ash was sitting in the grass again.

      “What the hell is going on?” Ash said, aloud this time. The rabbit’s nose twitched, but otherwise he was met with silence.

      A second time, Ash stood up from the grass and brushed himself off. He walked a little quicker back to his truck. It was in the same condition: keys in the ignition, engine running, parked on the side of the road.

     “I’ve lost it. I’ve actually lost my mind,” Ash said to himself, looking around again. Not a soul to be seen.

     He reached in, turned off the truck and pocketed the keys.

     It couldn’t be. Ash was deeply shaken. Of course he’d heard the rumors that everyone else had. Children aren’t great at keeping secrets, so he’d been confronted with the idea of being cursed in elementary school. But curses aren’t real.

     Slowly, Ash stepped forward, his hand outstretched. The end of the county was a few feet in front of him. A foot. Inches.        Ash stopped, his hand lingering.

      Ash pushed his hand forward, and felt the edge of the county. It was as if the county line was edged in a clear membrane, a bubble. His hand bounced back from it, physically rebuffed.

      No. No, it can’t be. Ash pleaded, internally. He felt sick. He felt lied to. He felt trapped.

     Ash balled up his fist and punched the barrier.

     This time, when Ash awoke in the grass, he wasn’t shocked. He was disappointed.

     “I’m trapped. I really am trapped.” His voice sounded lost, even to himself.

     A familiar figure appeared out of the trees nearby. A feline form, deepest black.

     “Oh, Ash. I’m so sorry.”