The Slender Man (2 page)

“At least we got plenty of time to do it,” she says.

“Yeah, and if I get an A on this my grades will go up, so my
mother will stop breathing down my neck,” I say. “

So, what subject? The Civil War?” she asks. I shake my head.

“No, Ms. Alder will probably see a dozen of those and get so
bored she drops our grades for it. How about something Asian?” I ask. She
thinks about that for a second.

“I haven't had Chinese food in a while,” she mumbles. From
there we continue to sidetrack until it gets late. Not really late for a
Saturday, but because of the whole trip tomorrow we won't get to sleep in like
normal. So we drop at about ten, with her sleeping on a mat in the floor. I
sleep peacefully.

I brush my teeth. Shana is changing into some of my workout
clothes since she didn't bring any of hers. It took us a while to find some in
the cluttered mess around my floor, and I had to face-palm myself when I found
a full work-out outfit in the closet where they belong. We found a matching
Nike vinyl jacket and pants for her to wear. I’m wearing my white and gray
hoody and navy blue running shorts. I spit the water into the sink and then
rinse my mouth out. I floss too. I know it's something usually done at night,
but I always forget and end up flossing in the morning. When I get back into my
room, Shana has already brushed her teeth and is putting on some of my
sneakers, while the day clothes she brought are placed neatly on my bed so she
can find them easily when we get back.

“Alyssa, hurry up!” Adam groans from outside the open door.
I hold my palm out at him without even looking. I'm still grumpy from getting
up at six rather than noon on a Saturday, so I'm not in any mood to be nagged.
Although to be fair, Shana and I did cost him ten minutes while looking for
clothes, so he's been waiting for a while. I make sure to grab my keychain,
water bottle, and phone and then stuff them into my jacket pocket. It's not a
very good phone. You have to flip it open, and it still has a dial pad, not
like one of the smartphones, but I broke three cellphones in the past year so
finally my parents got me the most durable one they could find. My keychain is
pretty empty. It just has my house key and Mace.

After Shana and I are both ready, I inspect Adam. I can see
the ties to his swimming trunks hanging from his jeans. He’s also wearing
flip-flops, a T-Shirt, and a green jacket, but I notice something missing.

“How is Mr. Mario gonna know who you are?” I ask. He thinks
for a second before realizing my point.

“Oh yeah,” he exclaims, sticking a hand underneath his
jacket and pulling out his nametag. “It needs to be visible,” I say.

“Where's Denise?” Shana asks. Adam points downstairs and I
look to see Denise, fully ready to go, lying against the door half asleep. Glad
I'm not the only one still tired. At least my jog will wake me up.

“Do you have your permission slips?” Shana asks. I
completely skipped out on that, but luckily Adam is on top of the situation and
pulls out a clumsily folded paper with the necessary signatures.

“Alright, let's go,” I say, and lead Adam downstairs. Shana
rouses Denise, who picks up her backpack and opens the door. As we head outside
I fix my hair into a ponytail and take the lead. Luckily we're just on time as
I can see the bus pulling up to the stop down the street. Adam and Denise run
to the stop, thinking they're gonna miss it, but the driver just pulls up to
our driveway.

The bus door opens and I can see Mario Douglas, who everyone
calls “Mr. Mario,” the kindergarten and elementary school driver that I see
every morning as I drop Adam off, with a half awake smile on his face. Mr.
Mario is about thirty or so and has a well-trimmed beard. It looks like he has
a receding hairline but he covers it with his driver's cap, so you can't really
tell. He looks really mean every time I see him. He looks even grumpier now
that he's working on a Saturday and his smile doesn't fool me, but Adam says
he's really nice and that he brings a bucket of candy for all of the children
to take from every Friday afternoon. So maybe the only reason I think he seems
mean is because he's not a morning person.

Adam, already out of breath, steps into the bus panting and
hands Mr. Mario the permission slip, followed by Denise who didn't run quite as
far as Adam did. Mr. Mario looks at me and gives me a wink and a nod before
closing the door and driving off.

“That's... creepy,” Shana says from behind me when the bus
is far down the road.

“What is?” I ask.

“He winked at you. He doesn't even know you,” she says.

“Well maybe he's just being nice,” I shrug, but even I have
my suspicions, though so far he hasn't tried anything so I give him the benefit
of the doubt.

“Come on,” I say, beckoning Shana to follow me as I take
off. I always leave the neighborhood in a slow jog before hitting the tree
line. Once we are at the stop sign that marks the three-way intersection before
the woods, I stop and do twenty jumping-jacks, and a quick stretch. I don't
bother stretching my arms, but I do stretch my legs and hips, and I even throw
in some ankle rotations. The woodland path I run on every week isn't
necessarily treacherous, but I have tripped a few times on a tree root or sudden
slope, so I don't want to twist my ankle by accident.

When we are ready, I run down the street and into the
forest, with Shana close behind. I go straight in for about a quarter-mile
before I reach a tall tree. The tree isn't at all different from the others,
but I recognize it well because it marks my first turn. Around the left of the
tree is a slight incline. It seems like a longer stretch than it really is, but
that's because my legs always burn going uphill. Once we reach the next flat
stretch I make another right and head along a seemingly straight path with the
occasional turn that ends up forming a subtle semi-circle at the end, and the
end of that circle is my mental mile-and-a-half marker.

“Oh Alyssa!” pants Shana. I turn to see Shana catch up to my
side.

“I left my phone at your house... did you bring yours?” she
asks.

“Yeah,” I answer without even needing to check.

“Okay good,” she says. Shana is a little paranoid about
trips through the woods or even leaving her house alone, so being without a
phone makes her feel even more insecure. We continue along the woodland path
that I've traversed at least a hundred times by now.

We reach the halfway point, a small clearing in the woods
that leads to an actual paved trail, shaped at a right angle. If we go left on
the trail we end up in the school district, a place we don't want to so much as
think about until Monday, and the right way leads to a small park. This point
means it's time to turn around, because the loop will end up being over three miles.
We stop and catch our breath. Shana hunches over from weariness. She does
exercise, but she's not so used to running.

“Did you bring any water?” she asks. I pull out the
transparent blue water bottle I brought, down half of it, and then hand the rest
to Shana, who finishes it off.

While she's drinking I open my phone to look at the time.
It's eight after seven in the morning.

“When did Mr. Mario reach our bus stop?” I ask.

“Uh ten till?” she says.

“So then eighteen minutes, give or take. Not so bad,” I say.

“Don't you have an actual timer on that thing?” she asks. I
shake my head glumly. I run in place, shaking my arms for a few seconds before
Shana follows suit. We are about to return the way we came when my phone rings.
I answer it. It's my mom and she's speaking so hastily that  I can barely hear
her.

“Where are you? Why aren’t you home!?” she asks, almost
frantic.

“We're out jogging, Mom. What's wrong?” I ask, worried.

“You need to come back now!” she shouts.

“What's wrong?” I repeat, getting frustrated.

“There was an accident. Your father and I can't wait for
you. We're going to the hospital in Andrews,” she says.

“An accident? With what, the bus?” I ask. “Yes your brother,
come home now.” “Wait, Mom!” I shout, but she has already hung up.

“What's wrong?” Shana asks.

“There was an accident with my brother. They say they’re
going to the hospital,” I say.

“Oh my god! Is Denise okay?” she asks.

“I don't know she didn’t say, but we have to go,” I say,
taking off. I run back, with Shana right behind me, adrenaline pushing me
forward. My memory guides me through, but my mind is going off in all sorts of
directions.
Did the bus crash? How badly is he hurt? What if he's dying?
What if he's dead now?
I keep thinking to myself. My eyes get watery and my
heart races at those thoughts. It seems like much more than eighteen minutes to
make the return to my house, but my lack of breath and numbing legs tell me it
was much less.

“Alyssa!” I hear. I turn and see Shana way back, just
emerging from the woods.  She catches up and we run inside. As soon as I'm
inside, I hear her phone going off.  Shana rushes upstairs past me to answer
it. I walk upstairs and wait a few minutes while Shana talks to her mother.
She's speaking too quietly for me to hear what she's saying. After the phone
call, Shana comes and speaks to me.

“What happened?” I ask.

“The bus went off the road, and crashed into the Valley
River” she says, looking at the floor.

“How bad is it?” I ask. She shakes her head.

“They said that some of the kids were killed, and others are
hurt, and have been rushed to the hospital,” she continues.

I grab her hands and stare into her face.

“Who? Who did they take to the hospital?” I asked fiercely. I'm
not just worried for her, but for Adam as well. My parents didn't say whether
or not he was okay, just that they were going to the hospital. She looks up at
me.

“I don't know, they haven't released names,” she answers.

“Well then there's still hope. Denise and Adam could be at
the hospital,” I say, trying to reassure both her and myself. She looks at me
and shakes her head.

“But Denise can't swim,” she says softly, and leans forward
onto me. I hold her to my chest while she cries. Adam can't swim well either
though. We've been to lakes before but he’s always been heavily supervised. He
wouldn't be able to swim out of a bus. Then again, most parts of the Valley
River you can walk through, but if it ran into the deeper section. Or if the
bus were on its side letting it fill with water…

My heart sinks at the thought, but before I give up, my
phone rings again.

“Are you home yet?” Mom asks. “Yeah, yeah. What about Adam?”
I ask.

“Adam's at the hospital,” she says. “Is he okay?” I ask,
relieved.

“No, we don't know if he'll make it, but you need to come
down here,” she says. Shana can hear the conversation too.

“And... Denise?” she asks. “Who is that? Shana?” Mom asks.

“Yes is Denise at the hospital too?” I ask for her.

“We don't know. Her parents haven't arrived yet, and they
only told us when we got here that Adam arrived. He's in surgery,” she says.

“Surgery? I thought it fell in the water,” I say. “The water
isn’t too deep, so most of the damage was from the crash. Some kids did drown
but others were still alive,” she explains.

“You need to come. Your brother needs you,” Mom continues.

“How do I get there?” I ask. Andrews must be almost twenty
minutes away, by car.

“Sheriff Fraser says he's sending someone to pick you two
up. Just wait at home,” she says.

“Okay Mom,” I say, trying to convince myself that Adam will
be okay.

“Love you,” she says, before hanging up. I put the phone
down and release Shana. She lies back against the wall and slumps into a
sitting position on the floor, almost unblinking. “Shana, she might be okay.
Chances are they were sitting next to each other, and if Adam is still alive
then Denise should-”

“Just stop,” she interrupts. “I don't want to think about
it,” she says, her voice melding into a sob. She's hyperventilating and
squeezing her eyes shut now, trying to hold back tears. It's clear she isn't
convinced that her sister made it, and now she's trying to force the thought
out of her head.

“Let's hope for a miracle,” I say, more to her than myself.

I go into my room and look at how disheveled I look already.
My skin is normally pretty tan from being outside a lot, but the color is
drained from my face and I’m a ghostly pale white right now. I can even see
residue from my sweat mixing with tears around my eyes

“That cop needs to hurry,” I say to myself. The tension is
eating away at me and the helplessness, the fact that there's nothing I can do
until I get to the hospital gives me a headache.
Maybe I should try Shana's
method?
I think. I look around the room, trying to find something to keep
my mind on other than the fate of my brother, and find Shana’s street clothes
lying on my bed.
I should change out of these sweaty clothes,
I think. I
fumble around my drawers picking up a blue T-shirt, not even bothering to look
and see what image is on it, and some jeans. It would be ideal to shower off
before getting into clean clothes, but I don't think I have that kind of time,
which is a good thing. After changing (tossing my exercise clothes onto the
floor), I take my hair out of the ponytail, and try brushing it. My movements
are jittery, making it more difficult than it should be to simply smooth my
hair out. I hear a knock on the door which makes me jump. I hurry, grab my
shoes and purse, and rush downstairs. Shana is already at the door speaking to
the officer there.

“Ms. Redwood?” asks the man grimly when he sees me come
down.

“Yes?” I say, approaching him. He's young for a cop, and
also pretty scrawny. He has short dirty blonde hair, and his eyes are covered
by shades. He’s got some cuts on his face, so it looks like he shaved in a
hurry today. He sticks his hand out.

“I'm Deputy Yew, call me Terrence. I'm here to take you to
your family,” he introduces. I shake his hand and nod, not sure what to say but

“Thank you.”

“Follow me ladies,” he says, and Shana and I get into the
back of his police cruiser. I put my shoes on during the ride and slowly tie
the laces. I almost don’t have the energy to rise back up, until Shana reaches
for my hand and I sit back up, letting her rest her head on me. Deputy Yew
doesn't speak much during the ride, but I can tell he's speeding, rushing us to
the hospital, so it must be that he's focusing on the road. I look over at
Shana, staring absentmindedly at the back of the front seat, and can tell she's
still taking the news worse than I am.