Pasquinelli/Rise 465

Jonathan Kenneth was still fuming. He’d driven for nearly six hours and he couldn’t calm himself down. The fights with his dad had intensified over the last few months, especially as the move-out day drew nearer.

“Jon, I’m glad you were accepted, but still.”

“Still what?” said Jon.

“Couldn’t you just take a few classes at a community college? They’d be just as good.”

“And then simply transfer out in two years and we’ll have the same fights later?”

“We’d cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Dad, this is just going to put off the inevitable.”

“-For another two years.”

“I’m tired of this same conversation,” Jon said, trying to keep his voice level. “This is about you not wanting me to leave L.A. and stay here to work at the shop.”

“We could use the extra help,” his father muttered.

“You’ve been saying that since I was old enough to walk,” Jon said. He still remembered all those afternoons spent in the garage, helping his father as best he could - bringing this tool or that one, holding this part steady, fetching and measuring various liquids Jon new by color and odor.

For the past year, he and his father bantered back and forth about his upcoming move. Sometimes it was just a simple “you know you’re going to miss home-cooked meals.” But Jon would always retort, “I’ll just make them at the dorm like I make them all here.” The ones that really dug into him were the ones about his mother.

“When will you see Mom? She’ll miss you, you know.”

Jon didn’t know how to respond to that, other than a thought that it was more likely that his mother didn’t even recognize him anymore. Felicia Kenneth, Jon’s mother, had early onset Parkinson’s disease, and at a mere forty-eight years old, was in full-time skilled nursing care. She was the main reason money was so tight at the Kenneths - much of the income from the auto shop went into keeping Felicia in a better than average facility. Jon couldn’t think of a better way for the money to be spent.

Felicia had her ‘good’ days and ‘bad’ days, as the nurses told Jon. ‘Good’ days were ones where she recognized where she was, and more importantly, who Jon was, though she seemed to think he was somewhere in his early teens, rather than a recent high school graduate.

His graduation was one of her ‘bad’ days. She couldn’t make it to the ceremony that day to see him walk down the aisle to Pomp and Circumstance. Steven Kenneth couldn’t get her to remember who he was, and risking taking her out of a professional’s care was probably not a good idea. It also seemed that, as of late, Felicia had more bad days than good.

Jon’s best high school friend, Daniel, knew not to ask about Mrs. Kenneth unless Jon brought her up first. This was of course, learned from years and years of experience. Daniel Terrosy and Jonathan Kenneth had met each other under rather strange circumstances. Both Felicia Kenneth and Judy Terrosy were vociferous on their parent-teacher association at the Mid Valley Regional High School. They soon figured out that, rather than fight one another, they would be more effective fighting together.

“It’s the Terrible Two at it again,” Jon overheard the school office secretary say as she riffled through some papers. Jon was dropping off the attendance sheet when she saw him. “Oh! Hello, Jonathan. I was just – I meant to –”

Jon smiled at the secretary. “No need to explain, she’s my own mom, after all.”

School legislation, problem students, movies shown in class, staff in-services, even an increase in “hot lunch” prices - nothing was too big or small for Felicia and Judy. Whenever one didn’t make president, the other was vice president. They truly were a force to be reckoned with. It wasn’t until Jon’s sophomore year that the Kenneth’s noticed something was very wrong. Felicia first noticed the problem at her florist. Jon remembered the conversation that night quite well.

“Funny thing today, at the shop,” she began, trying to keep her voice light, “a customer was asking for change, and for the life of me, I couldn’t remember how to just...open the register. The customer thought I was pulling his leg or something. He stormed out, very annoyed.” Felicia stopped making eye contact. Both Steven and Jon knew this meant Felicia wanted reassurance.

“Sure it’s nothing, honey,” Steven said quietly. He went back to the meatloaf.

“Yeah Mom, nothing.” Jon truly believed that at the time, and it wasn’t until later that he had reason to turn that conversation over in his mind.

Her brief lapses were only the beginning. Soon she started to forget things like the laundry in the dryer, her way home from the shop, people she had just encountered a few minutes prior. She gave up her position on the PTA because she couldn’t remember meetings.

During the summer between Jon’s junior and senior year of high school, the disease had progressed so rapidly doctors weren’t sure what to do. Dates escaped her, names, people, and even familiar places. It was beginning to look like amnesia, at least Jon thought. Doctor’s said amnesia would not have been as prolonged or so gradual, but Jon had his reservations. It was right around that time that Jon attempted to take over the household duties. Steven of course took on working more hours to compensate for the loss of Felicia’s income, meanwhile Jon did all he could to make sure some semblance of order remained in the house. He took over cooking and most cleaning, but between school, schoolwork and track running, the house quickly became a haven of unopened or discarded mail, piles of laundry waiting to be washed or folded, and a series of empty pizza and Chinese take-out boxes.

But Jon’s senior year trudged on, and it was in mid April when something very strange happened to him. It would be the first of many.

During a typical weekday walk home from school, Jon saw a spectacle as he approached the steps to his house at the cul-de-sac end of Valleyglen Drive. There seemed to be a sea of birds standing on the house lot. They were everywhere - on the driveway, on the roof, even some in the neighbor’s yard. Jon had walked home from school hundreds of times since they only lived half a mile away, but he’d never seen anything quite like this before. And even stranger than the gaggle of birds was the various species that stood abreast of one another - swallows, pigeons, seagulls, crows - even an enormous red-tailed hawk - all staring at him. Jon ran his hand through his eye-length black hair, and knew he was either losing his mind or dreaming because all the bird’s heads followed him as he reached the front door. He fumbled with his house keys for a second, half-expecting them to rush and peck him to death.

They didn’t attack. But they didn’t leave, either. Even after Jon closed the door behind him, they were still visible through the living room window, sitting there placidly, staring back at him through the glass. Jon rushed back to the front door and jerked it open, hoping the noise would frighten them off. Indeed, Jon must have had terrible luck that day, because some of them hopped closer to the door. None flew away.

Jon paused for a second. “Go on!” he hissed at them. “I don’t know what’s going on, but shoo. I’m sure you’ve got someplace better to be.”

And with a sound of thunder as if the sky threw a lightning bolt out, the birds took to the skies all at once, and within five seconds Jon could see no flying creature in sight.

Jon shook his head a little and went back inside. He thought the incident extremely odd, but didn’t think of it again after that. By the next morning, he’d completely forgotten it.

“You want to study what again?” said Daniel over a ham sandwich.

“Forestry,” said Jon simply.

Daniel just kept looking quizzically at him.

“You know, trees?”

“Yeah, I know what it means. I’m just surprised is all. What’ll your dad say?”

“Haven’t told him yet. Cuz it means I’ll be going up north.”

“To that ...Humboldt place?”

“Right. State University.”

“I guess that’s cool.” There was a hint of sadness in Daniel’s voice - he knew this meant Jon wouldn’t be going with him to the local valley college; indeed, he wouldn’t even be in the same part of the state any longer.

“Thanks.” Jon knew Daniel was going to be a bit lonely - they’d been best friends since before he could remember. But the moment was rather awkward. Jon wasn’t terribly good at expressing emotions, especially toward his respected peer. Jon compromised by making a very firm promise that he’d be back for certain on every major holiday and keep in contact via email and instant messenger as much as possible. That seemed to cheer Daniel up, and they steered the conversation back to the new courses they’d chosen for the spring semester.

In his old 1989 Ford Thunderbird eleven months later, Jon wasn’t even thinking about remaining as connected as he could to his old life. He was speeding north, toward his new life at Humboldt State University. In fact, at the moment, he felt like his entire old life could fall away and that would just be fine with him. He’d of course miss his close friends like Daniel, and he’d miss his mother, and even though he wouldn’t admit it to himself just yet, he’d even miss his dad and the odorous auto shop.

The choice to go to Humboldt University was ultimately his own, and while it was true that he could have found an equally fulfilling education somewhere closer to his father’s house, Jon thought it might be best to try something new and different. His mother taught him that when he was younger.

“Honey, why don’t you give it a try?” she said one cool autumn morning.

“I don’t want to,” Jon said over his bowl of Lucky Charms. He was nine years old when this conversation took place, but because it was such a turning point in his life, he always remembered it.

“But you like running,” Felicia said softly and ruffled his hair.

“They’ll make fun of me. They’ll beat me up.”

“Sweetie, if you can run faster than anyone else, how will they ever catch you?”

Jon looked up at Felicia.

“Try outs are today, Johnnie, after school. I’ll come by and watch you, if you want.”

Jon nodded his head and continued eating his cereal. He was looking hard into the now pink milk.

“Listen sweetie, if you try out and like it, I promise I’ll buy you ice cream every week for the rest of the year. That’s three whole months.”

Jon smiled at Felicia.

“That’s that then.”

And there he was, windows rolled down, music turned up... just another few hours remained until he reached his destination, which oddly, was not a school dorm on campus. He found a cross between a dorm and a halfway house off campus to live in. It was only slightly more expensive than the school dorms, but the real draw was the actual house. It was an old beautiful manor only three blocks from the university.

“My house is named Oak Tree Manor,” said Eleanor Jouler during one of his phone conversations with the woman. Jon would later note a distinct lack of oak trees in the area.

“The legend goes that the house was built in 1925 by a group of three people, but that’s just urban legend. There’s no way three people could build an entire house in a few months. Preposterous!” Jon agreed, silently. “It was refitted in the 1950s, and then again in 2002, so we’ve got all the major upgrades. My late husband and I bought the place in 1977, and lived there until he passed in 1989, from a heart attack, rest his soul.”

Jon mumbled a “sorry to hear that.” Eleanor Jouler seemed to take no notice.

“I’ve lived there ever since, and turned the place into a dorm in the mid nineties. Got pretty lonely rattling around here all by myself, and I couldn’t bear to leave it.”

“There is one thing you should know before agreeing to live in my house, Mr. Kenneth,” Mrs. Jouler said. “One of the main draws and repellants of this manor is the living situation. I do not tolerate misbehavior.”

Jon knew this to be true, having read somewhere that she was known to lock students out of the house if they return too late without a key, and also cut power to dorms if their music was played too loudly.

“The manor draws students who are serious about their studies and hope for some peace and quiet during classes.”

“Yes, I remember from the website, you explicitly mentioned that,” Jon said. He figured the trade-off was very much worth it to be in a quiet environment with a few more rules, and in return a private bedroom in an immaculately kept house with cooked meals on weeknights.

“Splendid. There are only seven of you here, and that includes myself. And of course, I have a maid that comes once a week to help with cleaning,” she went on, over the receiver.

As the old light blue Thunderbird rattled its way up the highway, passing Eureka in a matter of minutes, Jon’s annoyance with his father had completely evaporated, and his thoughts were back to the Manor, to a new school, to a different life. In a way, it seemed absolutely terrifying, but in another, wonderfully exciting. Jon’s focus was more on the latter.

He wondered if he’d ever feel at home in a dorm (even if it was an actual house); he wondered if he’d ever make as good of friends as he had in Los Angeles; he wondered how he’d adjust to life on his own; and most of all, he wondered if he’d flounder or flourish at college - he had heard stories from his teachers back home about the various trials and tribulations college proposed.

Before he knew it, Eureka zipped by his windshield and side windows, and he was traveling along the stretch of highway in between Eureka and Arcata, with green fields on one side, and ocean on the other. It was right about that time when Jon could see the rolling hills of Arcata, that his worries seemed to wash away with the ebbing waves, small as they were.

Jon pulled out his map as he neared the exit. The directions were slightly more complicated than Jon had hoped, but he had a detailed street map and was fairly certain he could find it. Apparently the manor was off on a mountain street called Turning Leaf Court. The map showed the manor at being less than a mile from the university, but as Jon turned up and up the streets, it became clear that this route would hardly be walk-able on a daily basis, even for Jon who was in track for years.

As Jon made his last turn up the curving, tree-lined street, he saw the mansion at the very end of the cul-de-sac. Pictures clearly did no justice. At the top of the hill, the manor towered over the other smaller houses on either side and looked like a very stately parent next to several smaller children.

“Welcome to Oak Tree Manor, Mr. Kenneth,” said Mrs. Jouler in person as the two of them stood in the foyer.

“It’s good to be here...here...I think,” said Jon rather awkwardly. He wasn’t quite sure yet if it indeed was good to be there. “And please Mrs. Jouler, call me Jon. Mister Kenneth is...well, my dad.”

“Of course dear,” she did not offer the same first-name recognition. Nor did Jon expect her to. Eleanor Jouler was a woman in her mid sixties with short white hair and a stony disposition. But there was also warmth there too – alongside the authority she exuded. The outside of the manor also had beautiful landscaping, so Mrs. Jouler was either adept at gardening or paid someone a fair amount of money to keep the place looking immaculate.

“I also wanted to thank you for letting me come early - it’s been a bit difficult at home, and I thought coming early might make the transition more - ”

“Oh no worries at all, dear. Your father told me what happened to your mother. Such a shame...”

This often happened to Jon nowadays - someone would express sadness or pity for his mother, and Jon was at a loss how to respond. In his mind, there was no doubt that somehow she was going to recover. He didn’t know how, he just knew it to be so.

Mrs. Jouler must have sensed Jon’s discomfort, because she quickly end effortlessly shifted gears. “I’m sorry to say you might be rather bored here before your classes start. There’s only one other young lady here early. And….” Mrs. Jouler pursed her lips slightly, “well, yes, one other young lady.”

“Really?” asked Jon, his mood improving now that there was at least one other person beside just himself living at the manor for the next three weeks. At the very least he could have someone to pass a few cordial words with. And who knows...maybe she was even pretty. “What’s her name?”

“Ray...Ray -- something,” replied Mrs. Jouler. She looked as if the very name made her choleric. “I’ll show you to your room,” she added quickly and started up the massive staircase. The first floor of the house was done in parquet flooring that led from the foyer all the way to the back of the house. As Jon ascended the stairs, he noticed two ornately carved wooden hawks flanking the banisters with their wings stretched up to the ceiling. For a moment, it looked as if one of the birds was looking back at him.

A turn to the right led Jon down a hall and past several doors, most with large numbers on them. Jon decided not to press the ‘Ray-Ray’ matter further after Mrs. Jouler gave him his room key and asked if there was anything else she could do for him. He figured it was probably best not to upset someone like Mrs. Jouler right from the onset.

Mrs. Jouler disappeared around the hall, and Jon unlocked his bedroom door. His room was a perfect ten by ten foot square, with mirrored sliding doors along one wall that concealed a closet. The furniture in the room was sparse, but it served its purpose efficiently -- a twin bed along one length of wall, and a desk opposite the bed with a bureau next to the bed. The walls were cream colored and one was painted a very pale green, and the space smelled lightly of musk.

Jon wondered how on earth he would get any work done with the vice out his window -- the sprawling lawn of the Oak Tree Manor’s grounds, and just beyond a short stone wall was the Humboldt National Forest which was enormous and stretched out like a sea of various shades of the deepest green. It hadn’t dawned on Jon until just now as he was looking out the window how very far Los Angeles was. There was nothing like this in the city, and Jon felt his pulse skip a beat as he realized that he’d be immersed in a direct manifestation of nature quite literally at his fingertips. Especially, was he looking forward to exploring the forest beyond the grounds.

Jon retrieved his several large suitcases from the Thunderbird and hauled them upstairs which took a good twenty minutes. After unpacking them and putting clothes where they needed to go, Jon decided to tour the house since all he saw of it so far was pictures from the Internet and the foyer and staircase. Plus it would be getting dark soon, and he wanted to see things as they were in the daylight, and Jon knew once the sun set his exhaustion would start creeping over him like the gathering shadows.

The entire second floor was comprised of two wings -- men and women. In the middle of the women’s hall were two large, walnut double doors that Jon figured to be Mrs. Jouler’s master, or rather mistress, bedroom. At the end of the men’s hall, a set of winding stairs led to the computer room -- four terminals for the residents in a tower Mrs. Jouler could find no other use for. On the bottom floor was the formal dining room, the solarium (which Jon figured was a beautiful place to just sit and read, or possibly homework once that obstacle presented itself).

Though the solarium was a very serene and quite lovely, no room in the house was nearly as visually stunning as the enormous library. Jon walked in and was immediately struck by the room’s beauty. The bookshelves were packed with volumes and tomes that looked as old as the house, but even they were not as interesting as the stacks themselves. They were covered from top to bottom in wood floral carvings into the solid walnut. Some were high relief, others low, but all impressive.

Jon would have examined them all much more closely, but after thirteen hours of almost nonstop driving coupled with moving and unpacking, he was exhausted. He dragged himself back upstairs to his room, threw himself face-first on the bed and was instantly asleep.

When Jon woke up, it was past nine o’clock and nearly completely dark outside. He felt extremely groggy for having been asleep for so long, and berated himself for sleeping for so long only to wake up feeling more tired.

“Just had to stay here for three hours. Couldn’t have had a thirty minute power nap....”

But he also knew the only way to shake it off was activity. So without another annoyed thought, he slid off the bed, threw a sweatshirt on, grabbed his wallet and stumbled his way into the hallway. In his half-asleep state, there was a moment in the hallway where Jon stopped dead. He felt a kind of interior warmth in his chest. At first he thought it might be a heart attack, but he was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to stand up much longer if it was. Plus the warmth felt good. He wasn’t even sure it was something measurable; it was like an emotion was transformed into a physical reaction. And for a second, he could have sworn that he heard someone whisper his name. But the sensation passed, Jon shook his head, and went down the stairs. Mrs. Jouler was also striding into the room.

“Sorry Jon dear, but you know I serve supper promptly at six o’clock. I tried knocking on your door but I got no response,” Mrs. Jouler said as Jon was coming down the stairs.

“No problem Mrs. Jouler, I just fell asleep.”

Jon went out the front door without another word passing between them, and Jon had the idea of jogging into town to find something there. In that respect, Jon was in fairly good shape. He’d been in track for years and got into the habit of running, hiking, or swimming when he could.

As it turned out, Jon couldn’t jog down the street into town if he wanted to -- it was far too steep and curvy; he could have broken an ankle. He was already out of breath just from walking down to the bottom of the hill. He found it so strange that he saw not one car pass him the whole fifteen minutes it took to get to the bottom.

Just as he reached a street lamp in the main road, a bird somewhere screeched overhead. Jon looked up but couldn’t see much of anything besides trees and darkness from the night sky. The deep purple seemed to be empty despite the noise.

To his luck, Jon found a deli a few minutes later and bought himself a sandwich. At first he was looking intently around the eating area of the deli...until he noticed that everyone was staring more intently back at him. Clearly he was the outsider in town, and they were apparently not used to seeing strangers during semester breaks. Jon ate quickly and decided to double back before heading back up to the house -- he wanted to see what the main part of town was like.

Most shops were closed at this hour, so any chance of perusing the local shops was certainly gone, not that Jon was much of a shopper, but he knew a good way to get acquainted with residents of an area was to see what they buy.

Jon brought his arms closer to his sides -- it was getting colder. After spotting a Starbucks down the street, Jon thought a good idea would be getting a coffee before heading up that hill. But just as he was about to push the glass door open into the coffee bean-ranked shop, a storefront across the street caught his eye -- a used (or pre-owned) bookstore called Scribbles.

On a whim, Jon crossed the street and went inside the old store. The place certainly smelled like old books -- a dusty musk met his nose, but it was in no way offensive or irritating. The stacks of books were tall and narrow, and the cheap metal shelves were a far cry from Oak Tree’s delicately carved ones, and the stacks were tall and narrow, so the rather small size of the store made the walkways look extremely tall. The low lighting also gave the entire store a rather dingy and gray tinge. It was much like a vault with books. Jon strode down the center aisle, and he could barely make out any of the titles on the worn, faded (and in some cases, peeling) spines. He pulled a few off the shelves and looked at some of the titles that he couldn’t read on the spines. A New Reasoning for the New World, Destiny and Reason, and Logic and the Unexplained were some of the titles in the section Jon was in. Figuring it was probably the philosophy section, Jon cut to one of the narrow back aisles after replacing the books.

There was one title that caught his eye only because the lettering on the spine was golden and glinted at him like twinkling stars. That particular book had deep red binding and was titled Myths of the Ages, which Jon could read from the shimmering spine very clearly, despite the obvious old age of the book. Intrigued, Jon pulled the dusty book from its shelf, and its two neighboring books didn’t move and the empty slot where it sat remained intact.

While thumbing through the pages, he got a paper cut on his index finger. He gave his hand a little shake, and the book fell open in his other hand. A beautiful color illustration caught his eye -- it was a curved creature, flying in the air with extremely long tail feathers that spiraled all the way to the creature’s head. It’s beak, feathers and the long tail confirmed that it was indeed a bird. Beneath the bird read: PHOENIX.

This mythical creature has its origins in Arabic folklore. Apparently immortal, the bird cycles through its life every thousand years. Phoenixes are remarkable creatures insofar as their defiance of natural laws of mortality and time. They are said to live for a period of time, then become consumed in their own flames, burn to death, and from their ashes, a fledgling phoenix will rise from the ashes to take flight once more. The closest fauna species possibly related to the phoenix would be the modern-day red-tailed hawk, whose tail, while in flight, has been said to look like it is aflame when sunlight catches it at angle. There have been no recorded phoenix sightings in history as of yet.

Jon checked the publishing date of the book -- 1919 -- and scoffed. Certainly someone throughout history would have mentioned a giant bird flying through the air with its tail on fire, Jon thought. But another thought flashed in Jon’s mind right after the image he conjured of the phoenix. The two carved birds flanking the banister at Oak Tree Manor forced their way into his mind. Distantly, Jon thought he could hear another bird screeching in the distance, but the possible noise was replaced with one much closer. A door to the bookstore’s back room opened and shut, and Jon saw a pair of legs walking toward him through the gaps in the bookshelves. Jon deftly replaced the book just as the shop keep strode down the aisle.

“Anything I can help you with, sir?” The man had a voice that sounded like he had a very long night -- it was scratchy and rather high, but still very friendly. He had grayed hair tied back in a ponytail and a comfortable-looking flannel shirt on.

“Oh...no, thank you,” said Jon.

The shop keep glanced at Myths of the Ages. “An excellent selection. I found it to be rather...useful.”

Jon wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t really ask Jon a question -- he just made a cryptic statement. So Jon settled for something safe. “Have you read all the books in here?” Jon jerked his head at the various stacks.

“Most, yes,” said Dan (Jon finally saw his nametag). “But more interesting than the actual books, I think, are the stories of how they made their way into my store, you see.”

“Ah,” said Jon, not seeing at all.

“Harrowing tales of adventure and valor. That is how they found their way into my store. Such stories.”

Now Jon was starting to think Dan might be a bit off his rocker. It looked for a moment as if Dan was about to go into another tirade or story, so Jon cut him off before he could continue. “I should probably get going -- it’s already dark and I’ll need to find my back to -- home.”

“Yes, yes, surely, of course.”

Jon nodded and thanked Dan for helping him (though he felt more chilled and unnerved than helped, but nonetheless a thank you was in order).

Just as Jon was pushing the door open, Dan spoke to him from behind. “Sir, are you sure you saw nothing in here that interested you? No books?”

Jon turned and saw Dan surveying him intently. His former wacky tone had vanished and his voice was lower.

“I -- don’t think so, no.”

“Very well. If you’re sure.”

Jon nearly tripped trying to get out of the store. A bell chimed as the windowed door swung shut, and the cool outside night air chilled him even more.

It appeared the Starbucks across the street was closing as well, so Jon figured he should probably get back to the Manor.

The walk back up the streets was not quite as pleasant as the walk down. It was slower and more difficult walking up winding steep roads than walking down -- especially in almost pitch black.

Fortunately for Jon, he remembered a barn-shaped mailbox at a fork in the road; otherwise he would have completely lost his way. But eventually he found Hill Drive, and saw the dark roofline of Oak Tree Manor with several of its tall white-lit windows pimpled on the facade.

Panting excessively, Jon reached the wooden double front doors of the house (luckily the door had not been dead-bolted yet). Apparently in Jon’s good fortune, Mrs. Jouler was not as strict with her ten o’clock curfew before the semester started. After unlocking the handle, Jon scooted in the opening and only taken one step in with the door entirely shut when he heard three sharp knocks on the other side.

“Hey! Hey! Let me in!” The voice both whispered and yelled at the same time.

Jon turned around a little startled, and knew immediately that it must be the Ray-Ray woman Mrs. Jouler had mentioned earlier. He swung the door open wide.

A woman, not older than Jon himself, came bursting in. Jon could hardly see her in the dark, but he could smell some lovely perfume after she walked past him. He stood holding the door open.

“Thanks. I forgot my key and I couldn’t let that old bat know I’m more ‘irresponsible’ than she thinks.” Her voice was raspy and clipped. “I guess you’re the guy staying here early too.”

“I--”

“Sleepy little town, but I guess it’s alright. Nice eyes you got. Wish I had blue eyes. Oh damn, it’s nearly eleven thirty.” (She checked her phone and for a brief second was illuminated by a pale blue light.) “I gotta go email some friends.” And without so much as a “bye,” she tore up the staircase and left Jon there, wide-eyed and still holding the door open.

Jon went upstairs and to the right toward his room. At the end of the boy’s hall, there was a pulsing light playing across the long carpet and hardwood floor coming from the computer room in the tower.

He slinked onto his bed, too tired to really think about the girl much (he still didn’t know her name beyond ‘Ray-ray’). His eyes snapped open when he heard a hearty, and almost malicious-sounding laugh from an upper floor. Jon groaned and got up to close his window. He heard it again and wished she would go to sleep. But, after he got the window shut, he couldn’t hear the noise anymore and fell asleep immediately.