This idea was so foreign, but there it was; the way she looked, the clothes she wore, her little mannerisms—all these things had an odd power over him now. He found himself wanting to be with her more than he had ever wanted anything else. No exciting new video game was as magical as a moment spent with her, no celebrity or fictional character sounded as desirable to be around, and no good deed would ever seem as profound as simply making her laugh.
Those quick moments throughout their friendship in which he had ever noticed one of her more endearing features suddenly became memories that shone dazzlingly in his mind, crystal clear images of perfect beauty. He couldn’t think of anyone in the world who was prettier, and he found himself wishing desperately that he had a picture of her to look at.
But the big question, however, was… Did she like him back?
They had become very good friends at an incredible rate, but was that any indication of romance, or had they simply been especially compatible as buddies? Did she feel even the slightest spark between them, or was she only out to make a friend? Patrick didn’t know, but he figured it didn’t help to think about it too much (not that that actually stopped him from doing it). It was probably best to take things one day at a time, he thought.
*****
When Patrick stepped into class and spotted Rachel in the front row, he thought she was more beautiful than ever. She was wearing a dark blue dress and sandals, her hair held out of her face with a barrette. There were dozens of other loud teenagers chatting with each other and clambering for seats around him, but Rachel may as well have been the only other person in the room.
Patrick sat down next to her with a smile.
“Hey.”
“Hey! I had a lot of fun last night!” Her eyes seemed to sparkle as she spoke. “You’re family’s really cool!”
“Yeah, they’re pretty alright.”
The two of them smiled at each other for a moment before Mrs. Spotts walked in. He couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t all in his head, but Patrick felt something different after last night. The same way things had felt different after the evening he spent at her house, only even more so. Whether this was true or not, it sure felt magical.
*****
Mr. Vincent still hadn’t returned to class, but that didn’t seem to matter much anymore. His place at the desk had been taken by a perfectly ordinary and acceptable woman named Mrs. Barr. After class Rachel expressed her continuing hope that their usual teacher of world history would return soon, and Patrick shrugged it off with a half-hearted “Yeah.”
Just before lunch the principal called another school assembly. Every student in the high school shuffled into the big echoing gym and sat at the bleachers on the right side of the room in no particular arrangement. The buzz in the place was very loud, and through the excited chatter rumors flew like stray arrows. Patrick and Rachel secured two coveted spots at the very top of the bleachers and leaned against the back wall as they waited for the assembly to begin.
Patrick’s old high school (as well as every high school he had ever seen on TV) had had a genuine auditorium with a stage and rows of theater seats. Hillward High however was forced to use its gym for much more than just basketball games, and when Mr. Matlock was ready to deliver his message he was forced to simply stand in the middle of the court and shout up at the gathered students without even the help of a microphone. Patrick was sure they must have some sort of sound system, but maybe the assembly was too short-notice to set it up.
“Alright, everybody,” the principal shouted over the din. Mr. Matlock appeared to be in his late fifties, sixty at the most. Patrick had heard rumors that the man’s tidy grey hair was in fact a toupee, but it certainly didn’t look like it from where he was sitting. Like a couple of teachers Patrick had known over the years, Mr. Matlock appeared to be a very friendly man who was nevertheless branded by many students as being something of a jerk. Patrick had always found that the people making these sorts of accusations were usually just troublemakers who didn’t like being disciplined. This had been the case pretty much one hundred percent of the time, so Patrick decided to go with his gut instinct and assume that the grey-haired man standing in front of the bleachers indeed did not pick on certain students because he “just hated them”.
Mr. Matlock wiped his hands on his slacks. His light brown suit looked far too hot for the weather. When the auditorium was mostly quiet, he began.
“Now, as all of you know, there have been several reported incidents over the last few weeks wherein a member of the community was attacked by what they can now confirm to be a wolf. As you also know, there may be coyotes up in the hills, but there are no forests anywhere near here that house wild wolves. So the animal control officials have concluded that for an animal to wander so far astray from its home, it must be in some way sick. Rabies was the first theory, naturally, but surprisingly enough it has been all but ruled out. It seems that one man who was attacked, for some reason or another, refused to receive treatment. I can’t say I know why, but I’ve heard rumors that he was an... eccentric man… But whatever the case, they kept him in quarantine for several days and he never contracted the disease. Also, officials assure me that were it rabies, the animal would have certainly died of it by now. At this point they have no idea what it might be, but at the very least it doesn’t seem to be infectious.”
Patrick tried his very hardest to ignore Mr. Matlock, but it was hard to ignore someone when their voice bounced off of every surface and practically made your head vibrate with the sound.
“One thing they are sure about however, is that there is definitely something wrong with this wolf.” He poked his anxious hands into his pockets and looked very seriously at the school. “No one has been killed, but five people so far have been injured, in most cases rather seriously. The fifth attack came to our attention earlier this morning. We just want to be very clear in communicating the danger here. It is extremely important that you never under any circumstances even step outside of your house at night. And though it has never shown itself during the daytime, we advise you never to walk alone or stray from the road. Hopefully we’ll catch it soon and put this whole thing to an end, but until then you can assuredly avoid harm by being careful.” He pulled one hand out of his pocket and gestured to the faculty seated in metal folding chairs behind him. “Now Regina is going to give you some further information on safety and first aid.”
The woman with the southern accent from the front office stood up, and for the next ten minutes wreaked havoc on Patrick’s ears.
*****
If the general mood of the student body was any indication of how seriously they took the information they had just received, it would have taken a wolf bursting through the gym’s double doors and mauling Mr. Matlock on the spot for any of it to get through. They happily strolled to their lockers to get their lunches, still buzzing with excitement as though they had in fact come from one of the many yoyo demonstrations that Patrick had witnessed throughout his school career.
“It’s getting kind of scary, isn’t it?” Rachel asked as they walked across the quad to the hall. Unlike the majority of the other students, there was genuine worry on her face. “Five people now. It could be anywhere…”
Patrick didn’t want to think about it anymore, but knew that Rachel needed assurance. He came up with the best thing he could.
“All the people who have been attacked have all gone out alone at night. So as long as we’re careful, there’s pretty much no way we can get hurt.” He smiled at her.
She looked back at him, and after a moment she was smiling too.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right…”
*****
Wednesday was a minimum day, and school let out at the gloriously early time of one thirty. They crossed the lawn and began to walk down the road, but Patrick turned around when he noticed that Rachel had stopped.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said.
“It’s so early in the day, we should go for a walk before it gets dark!”
The butterflies took flight.
“Uh, yeah! Where?”
“I’ve got a place I like to go. I’ll show you.”
Every moment Patrick spent with Rachel they were surrounded by people, save for the walks home, and even then they were merely between two places and only for about five minutes. But now she wanted to walk somewhere else entirely.
Alone.
“Totally!” Patrick said with a voice that he hoped wasn’t as shaky as it had sounded in his own ears.
Rachel turned and walked up the street in the opposite direction, and Patrick followed. The road led to the heart of town, and the houses soon gave way to businesses. After only about ten minutes of walking they started to come upon cross streets and the cars began to multiply. Up ahead Patrick could see the grocery store and the pizza place.
“Do you think we should have told our parents we’d be gone?” Patrick asked as he tried to imagine why Rachel would prefer to walk through the noisiest part of town.
“We won’t be long,” she said, looking at the ground ahead of her. “It’s not far, either.”
When they reached the small grocery store, Rachel led him behind it. He thought that they were simply walking into the back parking lot, but soon saw that there was a dirt road here, for the most part hidden by the building. The road led up a steep, grassy slope and to the left, and soon there were trees on either side of them. Patrick thought she might be leading them somewhere into the woods, but when he listened he could still hear cars faintly on all sides. The road was shady, and at the end was a decrepit old building with a playground in the front.
There were no cars parked here, and all the windows of the small building had been boarded up. The playground equipment was clearly designed for very young children: There was a swing set that was very low to the ground and seated two, much like the one in Rachel’s yard; a metal merry-go-round (the kind of which Patrick had assumed had been removed from every playground years ago); a sandbox that was now more of a dirt-and-rock (and-most-likely-cat-poop) box; and two grotesque, unidentifiable animals with saddles on their backs placed atop large metal coils. Patrick could see the movement of cars down the hill through the trees, but the spot was secluded and undeniably peaceful.
“This place is awesome!” he said as they stepped over the small wooden divider that in an age long past may have actually contained the woodchips that now littered the entire area.
“Yeah, this is one of my favorite places to go when I want some time to myself. No one comes here much, not even kids. I guess their parents don’t really want them wandering up here alone, especially these days.”
“Why is this here?” Patrick looked in disgust at the crudely-painted smile of one of the saddled animals. It was orange, and he thought it might be a cat.
“I think this used to be a daycare, then it closed and for a while it was just an office or something. But it’s been condemned for ages now, and I guess nobody cares to come and fix the place up.”
Rachel sat down on one of the swings and Patrick sat on the other. For several long moments they said nothing, only looking around at the playground equipment and the tall trees above them, swinging gently. It was quiet and still, but Patrick’s heart was beating as though he had just run a mile. Not a soul was around to see or hear them.
“Um, hey,” Rachel said suddenly, her cheeks turning red. “I, um… I made something for you.” She lifted her bag onto her lap and opened it. She reached inside and gingerly pulled out a long piece of green fabric. She held it out to him.
He grabbed it and held it up loosely, revealing the entire shape.
It was a scarf. It was dark green, with black Celtic designs in bands on the ends.
“I know it’s still pretty warm out, but I guess I finished it a lot faster than I thought I would, and it gets pretty cold here during the winter.”
Patrick admired the scarf closely, hardly knowing what to say.
“This is so awesome,” he said, running his fingers over the black designs. “I didn’t know you were into this stuff.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty easy. Do you like it?”
Patrick looked at her.
“It’s amazing.”
The soft light brought out her most striking features, making her look positively angelic. Her small hands gripped the swing’s chains adorably as if she were a little girl again. And she was smiling that perfect smile that he had come to treasure so much.
His mouth opened before he even knew what he was going to say.
“Hey Rachel…” he said, and the words floated from his mouth as if he were in a dream.
She looked at him for a second, then turned her eyes back to the playground and the trees.
“Yeah?” she said with a voice so small that she almost did seem to belong on that tiny swing.
“I’ve had lot of fun with you the last few weeks.”
Rachel didn’t say anything for several moments—only looked at the rest of the playground, then the woodchips, then her feet.
“Yeah. Me too.” She wasn’t looking at him. But she was smiling so softly. She couldn’t seem to relax her mouth. Patrick realized that he couldn’t either.
“I’m really glad that…” Patrick reached for the right words and couldn’t find them, “that you’re here.”
Rachel looked at him and drew her lips into a big sincere smile that reminded him of that first day of school, when they first looked into each others’ eyes.
“Me too.” Her voice was hardly audible.
She turned her head once more to the ground, and Patrick did the same, his arms and legs tingling, his head feeling exceptionally light. He stared at a single point in front of him, though his vision was a blur. He squeezed the chains, feeling like he might tumble from his seat at any moment.
His insides jumped when he felt fingers, warm and soft, sliding into his loose fist. He loosened his grip on the swing and the fingers glided across his palm and wrapped gently around his hand. Her hand felt impossibly small, and he clasped it as delicately as though he were holding a butterfly.
Neither of them said a word. Just how long they spent at that playground was lost to Patrick.
Chapter 18
Patrick lay in bed for hours. No matter how long he waited, it seemed that sleep wouldn’t come; his mind was far too bright with something that was exciting and strange and impossibly special. The memory of Rachel’s hand in his own sent his stomach fluttering every time it flashed across his mind, and the image of her perfect smile made him wish he never had to sleep again.
It was odd feeling something with such intensity when it was also so new. He had never been able to imagine holding so much admiration for just one person; yet here he was, lying in bed until the late hours of the night, doing nothing but thinking about a girl he had just met. They still didn’t know that much about each other, yet he felt as though he would spend every second of the day in her presence if he could. The time they had even been in the same town could be checked off on a single page of the calendar with many boxes to spare, yet he wanted nothing more than to make her happy. She was someone whom he now felt the duty to protect, both from unhappiness and danger.
And it was this way that Patrick’s mind returned to the woods. He felt like he had been retreating deep into a cave over the last several days, running further and further from the demons that hunted him. But just as he thought he had reached the deepest part of the cave, it opened onto the other side of the mountain, and he faced the monsters in the shadows once again.
He was tired of bouncing back and forth between cowering from fear and mightily triumphing over it. He was afraid, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t facing his fears because he had done it once before and was convinced he could do it again. He wasn’t doing it to prove himself or assert his strength and independence. He wasn’t doing it beca
use he had seen “Lord of the Rings” too many times and was harboring the delusion that the good guys always won in the end. He was simply doing it because he had to. He hadn’t been brave before; he had been foolish. Now he knew what it was like to be beaten, and he could honestly say that he would endure it as many times as was necessary. It might even lead to his own death… But in the same way he had to walk into his house a soiled and bloody mess and face his parents on that awful night, he had to go back into those woods until he found answers. Because he doubted that the monster that prowled the streets even as he lay in his bed would be satisfied with bloodying legs for much longer. If there was even a chance that he could save someone’s life, it was worth dying, wasn’t it? As far as he was concerned, it wasn’t even his choice anymore.
He had to do it for the town.
He had to do it for Rachel.
*****
Patrick awoke to full alertness precisely five minutes before his alarm was to go off. He hadn’t been very far from sleep, yet he didn’t feel groggy in the slightest. And from the moment he opened his eyes, he knew that today would be a very special day.
When he sat down beside Rachel she still couldn’t seem to look at him. She smiled briefly and looked away, but the smile didn’t wane. In the stark florescent light he could see that her cheeks were a little red.
“Hey,” he said in his normal fashion, though his insides certainly were certainly feeling anything but normal.
“Hello, Patrick.” She used his name. And she said “hello” instead of “hey”. Objectively, two very simple words. So why did they seem so profound to him?
She finally looked at him, and they locked eyes for a few moments, smiling. He didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t care.
Patrick couldn’t be one hundred percent certain, but he was pretty sure that in this new and very different town he had stumbled into a relationship.
As usual the two of them were together for every possible moment that day, though this time Patrick’s body was always tingling with unmatched and unbridled joy—almost like an actual physical lightness in his chest. Being with Rachel was like winning the lottery, or stumbling upon some massive treasure. It was the joy you would feel after discovering you had superpowers—the absolute wonder at such a miracle and the sense of adventure that would well up inside you. (He was coming to know that feeling very well, it seemed.)