Mayhem (9 page)

“What are my choices?”

There's silence. Well, Charon doesn't speak and neither do I. The water continues to ripple, echoing through the cavernous space.

“Dark and light.”

Then that's an easy one. I open my mouth to speak and Charon raises one of his arms. “Look first,” he says.

The voluminous sleeve of his robe becomes like a screen of sorts and in it I see a town, specifically buildings on a small street, then trees and a railroad track. The track is still active, as a train moves by steadily cranking its horn as it passes. It looks like a sunny day and on the hills just up from the passing train are two boys playing. One is taller, broader than the other with a mop of unruly curls. The other is slimmer with lighter hair.

The two young boys play, tossing a football back and forth between each other. Above, the sky is a bright blue, and underneath their feet the grass a lush green. It seems like a picture out of the past, as their clothes look different. The jeans they wear are fitted, wrapped tightly around their ankles. The shoes are high-top sneakers—what we now call Chucks—and their shirts are tight and bright white. The slimmer one's hair is slicked down on the sides, while it looks like the other one tried the same style but his hair had another idea.

Then the scene changes as quickly as I take my next breath. The blue sky turns a dark, sickening gray, huge clouds forming right above the spot where the two boys played. Beneath them the once plush grass is swallowed, leaving behind a floor of gray ash. One of the boys, the slim one with the slicked-back hair, jumps from one foot to the other as if the ash is hot and singeing his feet. But the other one stands perfectly still. He doesn't look particularly surprised at the change of scenery even though his partner is clearly alarmed. I could see how his eyes widened, blue-gray eyes that remind me of…Pop Pop.

The taller boy stands with his feet slightly spread, his fists clenching at his sides. His wild curly hair blows in the wind
and his face looks about as angry as the sky above him. He opens his mouth and yells something because the veins in his neck bulge as he does. Lightning splits the clouds like electrical currents, hitting the ground and causing it to open. Through the cracks in the ground something even more familiar appears, the slinky smoke silhouettes we'd seen after the tornado in my yard.

There are about ten of them, all moving to form a circle around the thin light-haired boy. The other boy opens his mouth and yells again. It looks as if the entire world shakes then, the clouds, the ground, the light-haired boy who falls onto his knees. The silhouettes move in closer to the boy on his knees, then freeze. For seconds they're perfectly still. The other boy lifts his arms, makes some sort of motion and says more words. The silhouettes look as if they're now at attention, forming a single line and moving toward the boy with the lifted hands, the one I now realize has power over them.

Like the closing of a door Charon's arm falls back to his side. The vision is gone.

Me, I'm shaking like a thief caught red-handed. Was that my grandfather? And if so, the other boy had to be his brother, William. The one with the same power as me.

“What was that?” My voice comes out sounding like a girl's, so I clear my throat and shift from one foot to the other.

“It's the past, but it can be again.”

I'm shaking my head because his words just don't make sense. “Was that my great-uncle? Was that William Kramer?”

The hooded head nods. “He was the Vortex.”

“Was? What's a Vortex?”

“A Vortex possesses both light and dark powers, Styx's moon and sun energy combined with the dark power I've harnessed
over time. A Vortex is very powerful. The former could not handle it. Now it is your turn. You must claim your destiny.”

This isn't right. It doesn't make sense. And then again, it does. “Where am I?”

“You are at the portal of the Underworld.”

“But I live on Earth, in Lincoln, Connecticut. There's no Underworld there.” It sounds crazy and maybe even naive after all I've seen and been through in the last few months, but hey, I'm trying to hold on to some semblance of reality.

“You are wrong. Our world was here before your Earth. We are the Beginning and now, your Earth and your friends may be the End.”

The Beginning and the End? It probably made sense, but not to me and not right now. “So what do you want with me? Why are you and that bird following me around?”

“The dark and the light combine in you.”

“And?”

“And I am here to help you make the right choice.”

Okay, let me just get this straight, I'm in the Underworld. Charon the no-face man is wearing a dark robe with a hood pulled over his head like a reaper, the raven led me here… “Let me guess, you want me to choose the dark.”

He nods his head. “Your destiny is not with the others. Their power is nothing compared to yours.”

“They're my friends,” I say, but the argument sounds weak even to my own ears.

“When the time comes friends will not matter.”

“I don't understand, why do you want me to leave them? What's in this for you?”

He took a step closer and the limited air flowing through the alcove seems to be sucked out with the motion. I can barely
breathe now, my hands going to my neck as I open my mouth trying to suck in hot air. Charon's arms spread wide, his robe looking like the opening of the raven's wings. His head lifts, but still there's no face, just darkness.

“Styx interfered, she attempted to alter my destiny. You are the balance.”

“I'm just a kid,” I say through coughs that don't help the breathing process at all.

“You possess what she is powerless to control. I know that you feel it. The power runs through you, it excites you. And you now desire more. I desire the same. There will be nothing to stop us in the End.”

“What's the End and when is it coming?” Anxious now and just a little dizzy from lack of oxygen, I wonder if I'm really meant to be dark? Is the world really coming to an end? There are prophecies that predict this, Armageddons and apocalypses. Many people on Earth are preoccupied with the End. I, on the other hand, never thought about it for a second. Until now.

Charon's arms lower and air seeps into my lungs so fast I lean over gasping and spitting.

“It is near. The one who talks to the dead has already been told to be fearful of the End. The others have their own signs. None are like you.”

“I didn't receive a sign.”

“You are here,” he says simply, like that should prove everything. And actually, I think it kind of does.

Then Charon is backing up, going toward that eerie-looking water again.

I take a step toward him, unwilling to let him leave just yet. It's crazy wanting to stay in the Underworld long, but I have
my reasons. “Wait. I have more questions. I need to know what to do. I don't want to choose the dark.”

Charon is now holding a long stick and I can just barely make out the outline of a boat on the surface of the water. He plants the stick into the water and pushes away from the damp floor.

“It has already chosen you,” he says before disappearing.

Pride—a reasonable or justifiable self-respect
Merriam Webster's Dictionary

“You're
not really as mean as you want people to believe,” Krystal says on Saturday afternoon as we sit in the grassy spot beneath a huge tree.

We went to see a movie, some chick flick, that had Krystal just about crying at the happy ending. Me, I took advantage of the fact that she was in such a romantic mood and finally put my arm around her in a public place. She laid her head on my shoulder and I warmed all over. Don't ask me what happened in the movie or where the five-dollar popcorn I bought went. All I know is having Krystal cuddled against me was the best thing that's ever happened to me.

After the movie we decided to skip the crowds at the mall and came here to Lincoln Park instead. It's nice here, in the center of the town where I grew up. I never really take the time to walk through this park, drinking in the scenery and all that. I just know it's here and that everything else was built around it. But today Krystal and I walk past statues of generals and fallen-soldier memorials that represent native Lin colners who'd fought for our country. We stand for long, quiet minutes staring at the statue of what looks like a big balloon and
arrow-pointed rings wrapped around it. The plaque reads “The End,” and I think for a minute of what Charon said to me. But beside me, Krystal's smile and gentle urging that we find a quiet place to sit erase the thought.

“I don't try to act mean,” I say in response to her statement. Grabbing a handful of grass, I open my fingers and watch as the strands fall back to the ground. This occupies my hands because I don't want Krystal to think I'm a horny goof always wanting to grope her. I can't help it though, she always looks so good, so soft. She's got the perfect body, the perfect face. I'm so whipped when it comes to her.

“Well, you try to act like you don't care. But I think you really do.”

We sit with our backs to the huge tree, our legs stretched out. One side of my body is completely touching one side of hers.

I shrug. “I care about stuff. And then there's stuff I don't care about.”

“I know you care about your family and your grades at school.”

She's right on both counts. Getting suspended might really mess with my GPA. Especially since teachers aren't allowed to give you makeup work for missing school due to suspension. That means lots of extra-credit assignments might be required this semester. And my family, of course I care about them. All of them, even the ones no longer here.

“We're pretty close,” I say. “My family, I mean. Me, Dad and Pop Pop, we're all each other's got.”

“Yeah, I figured that. What happened to your mom?” she asks.

I think for a minute. What should I tell her? I could make something up, but why? The fact is she's gone.

“She left when I was six. I don't really know why. Dad doesn't talk about it much.” And neither do I, until now. It doesn't feel that bad, really. Talking about my mom being gone. For a long time I've been afraid to speak the words out loud. Not sure why, maybe because Dad never wants to talk about her. Pop Pop just gets this look on his face whenever she's mentioned, but he never goes into any detail. Today, I get to talk about her and not feel bad. Or at least not feel so bad.

“I still miss her,” I add.

“My dad left, too,” she offers. “I mean, he's still around, in California to be exact. With his girlfriend/baby mama, my old nanny.”

“Jeez, that's so messed up.”

“Tell me about it. They want me to come out for Christmas, but I've already turned them down. No way do I want to be a part of that new family.”

“But you still love him, right?”

She sighs. “Yeah, I do. He's just changed so much and done some pretty stupid things. I guess I can just love him from a distance.”

“At least you know where he is,” I say, wondering again where Mom went when she left us.

“He knows where I am, too, but that doesn't make him want to see me any more frequently.”

“You're still lucky. If you want to call him just to say hi, you can. If you do decide you want to see him, not necessarily his baby mama and child, you can.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, I can. You miss your mom a lot, huh?”

“I guess I miss what could have been. You know, she could have been one of those stay-at-home moms who make sure there's a snack waiting for you when you get home from school. Who ruffles your hair while you're doing homework at the kitchen table. Or she could have been the working mother who still kept the household running smoothly and didn't take any mess when it came to grades.” I sigh because my chest is feeling really tight now. “I just miss what I didn't have.”

Krystal reaches over and takes my hand then. “But what you've had is good, too. Your grandfather loves you so much. And your dad does, too, that's why he works so hard.”

“He looks at me like I'm the plague sometimes. Like he's so afraid of the power I've got in me that he doesn't know what to do. I'm surprised he didn't leave, too.” Again I'm admitting things to her I've never said to anyone before. But with Krystal I feel like I can.

“Maybe he's afraid. My mom would totally freak if she knew about my abilities.”

“You don't think she knows?” I ask. “I mean, if Casietta was Sasha's Guardian and Pop Pop's mine, who's yours?”

She hunches her shoulders. The wind blows and strands of her hair fly into her face. With her free hand she tucks them behind her ear. “Guess I don't have one.”

“That doesn't seem right. I mean this Guardian thing, how can they protect us if we're the ones who have the power?”

“I've thought about that, too. I've also been thinking a lot about Sasha's dad and Franklin's dad. Where are they and what are they doing? You think they're together coming up with a way to come back and get us?”

“I don't know. It's kind of weird that both of them just up
and left. And where's Casietta? Does Sasha talk about this with you at all?”

She shakes her head. “She hasn't heard from Casietta and she's worried about her. Her mother doesn't talk about any of it. Sasha says she's like on another planet altogether, still going to her meetings and living life like there's nothing to worry about.”

“Strange, huh?”

“Ya think?” she says, then laughs. “I don't know how Sasha makes it living there.”

“She's got Twan now, I think that helps her a lot.”

“I guess so. I think he's good for her. Gives her a good balance, you know.”

“I guess.”

“I'm good for you,” she says, nudging me in the ribs with her elbow. “Wanna know how?”

“How?” I ask, lifting a hand to tuck her wayward hair behind her ear again.

“Because I can get you to relax, to not worry about all the things you don't have and to focus on the things you do.”

She's absolutely right about that. Right now I'm concentrating on the pretty girl sitting next to me—the one with the infectious laugh and gorgeous smile, the sexy eyes and sweet-smelling hair. I'm not even thinking about the darker things in my life, because she's right here, with me.

I lean in and kiss her.

“You're so right,” I whisper against her lips. “You're really good for me.”

She smiles, bringing her arms up to wrap around my neck. “We're good for each other,” she says.

Then words aren't necessary. The noises around us, onlook
ers, bystanders, other beings, none of that matters. Our lips are touching, our kiss going from sweet exploration to deep longing in a matter of seconds. Right here, right now, that's all that matters, that's all I can feel.

 

The first school day of October I enter the building with Krystal by my side. This is now our morning ritual—sit together on the bus, holding hands; walk into the building, holding hands; go to our lockers. I walk Krystal to her first class, then go to mine. We aren't near each other again until lunch, but now she sits on my side of the table, leaving Lindsey and Sasha on their side. Twan comes over joining us most days. I'm starting to feel like me and Twan can be friends, outside the circle of the girls, I mean.

I know he has his crew but they seem okay, too, and none of them give me grief like Mateo and Pace and the other jocks. The last few weeks have been quiet, thankfully. I haven't heard the voice since the night in the black hole, or in the halls of the Underworld as he'd told me. I still can't believe that I, Jake Elias Kramer, walked in the infamous Underworld and I'm still alive to tell about it. Although that's the last thing I plan to do.

The girls would totally freak if I told them, and Twan, while I think he's cool, he's not a Mystyx. I could kiss goodbye any ground I'd gained with him and his crew the minute I start talking about demons and betrayed goddesses. Still, I can't help but think about it, the choice I mean. The choice that he says I have to make. Light or dark.

I have them both inside me, and I need to decide what to do about it.

“We should go.” Krystal nudges me, bringing my mind
back to the current conversation. But I have no clue what the current conversation is.

“Go where?” I ask, then down the rest of my warm chocolate milk. Hopefully she'll just think I'm so into my lunch of flat chicken tenders and greasy fries instead of obsessed with the demon living inside me.

“The Harvest Hangout,” she says, giving me that look that says she might be getting irritated.

I know things like that about her now, like when she's tired she rubs her eyes like a baby. And when she's happy there's this little light that dances in her eyes. I even know when she's seeing a spirit or listening to one now. Her eyes get a little cloudy, her body still as if she's opening up all channels to the dead. It's a little weird when you think about it, though.

“You serious?” Twan says.

He did the smart thing today, bought snacks instead of braving these cardboard things they call chicken. He's finishing his bag of plain chips and reaching for the bottled water Sasha convinced him to get instead of the Pepsi he really wanted.

“You really want to go to something Alyssa and her band of idiots are planning?” he asks Sasha.

She's putting on lip gloss. I've seen her do that a lot lately. I mean, I've always noticed that Sasha's a pretty girl and she wears a little makeup here and there. Guess I just never thought of how that makeup got there. Anyway, she looks just as bothered by Twan's questions as Krystal is by mine.

“It's ridiculous for us to act as snotty as she does,” Lindsey adds.

Lindsey never acts like being the fifth wheel bothers her. She doesn't have a boyfriend, so when we're paired up I always feel a little sorry for her. Not too long ago I felt sorry
for myself for that same reason, so I can relate to how being on the outside looking in might feel. But she doesn't seem to mind. She's still wearing those dark clothes and avoiding eye contact as much as possible, but it looks like her gloomy mood might be getting better.

“That's right. Just because she thinks she can treat us like outcasts in our own town doesn't mean she can. We don't have to feed into her negativity,” Sasha says, putting the tube of gloss back into her purse, which looks big enough to hold the contents of her entire dresser.

“Really, I mean, Alyssa absolutely hates my guts. What better way to get back at her then to go to her little get-together? Besides, the school's really the one sponsoring it. Alyssa and Jamie are just spearheading the promotion. Everybody's invited.”

“Invited to what? A hayride?” I ask and Twan laughs.

“Yeah, we are not cowboys,” he adds and lifts his fisted hand. I chuckle, tapping his knuckles with my own.

The girls are not amused.

“It's a hayride and corn maze. They're having grills out and selling candy apples and hot cider. It'll be fun,” Krystal says.

Twan is shaking his head. “I don't celebrate Halloween,” he says.

Sasha asks, “Why?”

“It's a devil worshipper's day. I don't believe in celebrating an evil day,” he says quickly.

All of us freeze. I mean, literally, each of us just stops and stares at him. Twan doesn't know about us, at least Sasha assures us that he doesn't. But just the mention of the devil or an evil day coming from him puts us on alert.

“It's what you make it,” Sasha says. “If you worship the
devil then that's what you'll think of the holiday. But since I don't, I enjoy all of the harvest activities.”

“Sasha's right,” Krystal chimes in. “Besides, what else is there to do in this town? This is the first event I've wanted to attend since I've been here.”

She had a point there. Lincoln isn't known for doing much by way of entertainment. It's one of those small contemporary towns that move at the pace of a southern community instead. Generally on Halloween, the day of this year's Harvest Hangout, kids just put on whatever old masks they had from last year and went from house to house doing silly things like throwing toilet paper or bags of eggs. The younger ones did the trick-or-treat thing filling bags of candy from generous neighbors, and everybody else kind of just went on about their business. I guess adding an event to the day sort of makes it a little more festive.

“Let's just go. We're never going to win this battle,” I whisper to Twan.

From a distance that she shouldn't have been able to hear what I said Lindsey nods. “He's right. You're never going to win.”

Twan stares at her like he's trying to figure her out. I know it's because she's telepathic. Twan probably just thinks she's crazy or nosy. Either way the conversation shifts to what the girls are wearing to the event now. Twan and me, we just go back to eating and nodding affirmatively whenever the girls ask us something.