The sun eased behind the mountains dragging the warmth with it. Jo changed into jeans and slipped on a sweat jacket. She hated doing it, but she gave up her flip flops for shoes. Everyone, except Galen, put on warmer clothes to have dinner at the fire ring by the pond.
Jo was giddy to be near Mike at sunset, to see his eyes in the orchid glow of twilight. She was depending on the moon to cast its spell of romance and reveal her as the woman of his dreams. She stepped out on the deck and met a dark lavender sky. Stars were beginning to glitter the heavens. Strokes of bright raspberry colored the horizon. She carried hotdog buns, ketchup, mustard, and paper plates to the fire ring and sat in the grass beside it, basking in the violet hues.
Mike was squatting by the circle of stones working to get the flames going. Jo’s eyes crawled their way over his strong legs, to his waist, up to his shoulders, to his face. “Can I help?” She asked him.
He grinned and his pale blue-green eyes looked into hers. “I think I got it, Jo, but thanks.”
The depth of his gaze took her breath away. “Sure,” she managed to say.
He turned his attention to his task. Jo leaned back on her hands and gazed up at the yellow half-moon rising in the dark blue east.
All through dinner she kept glancing at Mike. He was sitting next to Ben on a log. She loved his easy manner, his smile, his hair swinging like flaxen threads beside his cheeks. She wanted to get up and sit on the other side of him, but the longer she hesitated to do it, the more daunting a task it became. The stress of it finally made her give up. Coward.
Dove and Lary were sitting in the grass on the other side of the fire ring. Dove’s blue eyes glistened in the orange light. When she raised them to meet Lary’s, there was no mistaking her feelings for him, and when they smiled at each other, there was no doubt of the affection between them. Stealing looks at Mike, Jo wondered what she would have to do to make him look at her like that. “Bring it,” she said under her breath.
Drew was standing, roasting a hot dog on a stick. April sat in the grass near Jo.
“Let me tell you a ghost story,” Drew said, as he gulped down the last of the hot dog and tossed the stick into the fire. “It’s a folk tale—that may or may not be true.” He spoke in a slow, menacing tone.
“Oh…uh, no…I hate scary stories,” Jo protested, shaking her head. She smacked her hands together to brush the dirt off them. “I hate scary movies, scary books, or anything… that’s…going…to… scare…” Her words slowed and her voice faded away, as her eyes hopped face to blank face and she perceived disappointment in several sets of eyes.
Galen made a grunting noise. He was leaning against a pine tree away from the fire. His bored expression annoyed her, more than usual. She didn’t want to admit she might be a little put out about the tea incident—and maybe the incident in front of the cabin—and all the other incidences.
“Galen,” she called out to him, “do you have a story you’d like to tell us?”
Dove threw her a warning look across the flames. Jo ignored her.
He stepped away from the tree and into the reach of the fire’s light. “I don’t know any stories,” he said, looking down at the fire, stuffing his hands half-way into his front pockets. His eyelids were partially down and the long, black lashes were shiny with firelight.
“Just tell us about your life,” Jo said. “That’s a good mystery.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, every syllable wrapped in smugness. She snapped her lips shut, but it was too late.
Galen’s head came up and his metallic eyes flashed.
Dove eyes went wide. Lary was stone-faced, staring at the fire. April’s mouth was agape. The group’s disapproval hung thick in the air. Mike’s lips formed a quick, charitable grin. He poked a stick at the burning wood.
“That was a rude, Jo,” April whispered.
Jo emitted a mousy, “Just trying to get to know him,” excuse to the group.
“Let’s make s’mores,” Dove suggested cheerfully, and began doling out the graham crackers. The others jumped at the opportunity to change the subject and bust up the awkward silence.
While her friends flew into the activity of making the treats, Jo sat in a puddle of embarrassment. Her eyes drifted cautiously over to Galen. He was standing with his thumbs hooked in his front pockets, staring at her. Wisps of hair hung down his forehead. His sterling eyes looked right into hers. She turned her attention back to the fire, but he remained there, in the corner of her eye, unmoving. It seemed he was going to stand there all night and stare at her. Tension wound her chest into a tight ball until she couldn’t take it anymore. She jumped to her feet, walking quickly to where he stood. He seemed surprised and flipped the hair from his face.
“Galen,” Jo spoke nervously, her gaze darting around his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“Yes you did.” He stared imperiously at her.
Stunned by his reply, her mouth dropped open. She searched his taciturn face for a hint of humor, but there wasn’t any. Her friends were busy squishing marshmallows between graham crackers. No one was witnessing his rude display.
“Wondering what to say?” A smirk crawled across his lips.
Jo seethed. Her mouth clamped shut.
“You’ll think of it later.” He walked by her. “Hey, Drew, Jo and I talked about it, and we’d really like to hear your ghost story.”
Jo spun around. She was about to stab him with her angry eyes, but Mike was looking at her. She immediately dropped her snarl. She walked back to the fire ring and sat down in the cold grass next to Dove. Galen’s feet passed by as he headed to his spot under the pine tree. She was quick to look away from him before he turned around. She wanted to tell Dove about this new affront, but her friend was lost in Lary’s eyes. It was no use. She sighed.
Drew started his supernatural tale in a baleful tone, with a background of crackling firewood. The sky above was navy blue, showered with starlight.
As he spoke, Jo tried to think about something else. Through the scattered pine trees, the pond lay like a black hole in the ground, waiting for someone to get too near its edge—that’s when a slimy hand would reach out of the water and grab them! (she imagined). She took a deep breath. The fire hissed and the grey smoke rose like a specter escaping the flames. Her eyes followed it upwards where it disappeared into the dark blueness.
Footsteps crunched. A purple blur. A body landed beside the fire. Jo grabbed Dove’s hand and they clambered to their feet, screaming. Ben fell backwards over the log. The girls shrieked, and Drew hollered, running down the side of the pond.
Laughter. A familiar cackle blistered Jo’s ears.
Red!
Chapter 7