I awake from my nap with sweat beading on my forehead and my heart beating louder than the mixtape playing in my room. I glance at the clock: 8:11 PM. It's time to get my necklace back.
I race into Ryan's room. "Let's go."
"Are you nuts?" Ryan doesn't even look up from his Nintendo Game Boy. "You saw that psycho with a chainsaw. He was about to chop us up!"
I roll my eyes. "He just tried to scare us away. We were trespassing."
"Listen to yourself. You want to go back out there? At night?"
"Because it'll be safer." I sit on the edge of Ryan's bed. "No one will see us."
"He might not see us, but what if he's got attack dogs or something? And what if we can't find the backpack? What if it's gone? Did you think about that?"
I did not consider the backpack (and Grandma's necklace) may not be where Ryan left it. After I fell off my bike and we spotted the rotting mansion through the trees, Ryan set down his backpack on the edge of the clearing and led the way through the tall grass. With a full moon lighting up the sky, we should be able to spot it.
"It's worth a try."
Ryan taps a button on his Game Boy and the black and white figures freeze on the screen and his face twists into a frown. "If we get caught by the hacking, toothless, old guy, it's your fault."
"He was toothless? Really?" Maybe I was too distracted by the chainsaw to notice. I guess I was "Don't worry. No one will be out there at night."
Fifteen minutes later, Ryan and I coast down the cart path on the ninth hole of the River View Golf Course in the hazy twilight. I spot the bend in the path up ahead. We are close to the opening in the trees, and the gravel road beyond, which leads into the shadowy woods. I slow to a stop and climb off my bike, impressed with my moves until the sole of my rubber-soled boot scraped against the metal chain as I search for the kickstand.
"Shh!" Ryan jumps off his bike in one silent, athletic movement. "Am I ready for the SWAT team, or what?"
He flips his Dallas Cowboys baseball cap backwards and spins around to show off his outfit–-a blue t-shirt turned inside out to hide the screen-printed logo and black Adidas soccer shorts that shimmer in the evening light. I pull my braided hair over my shoulder and retie the rolled, red bandana holding back my bangs. Dad's old, heather gray sweatshirt I trimmed into a tank top last summer with a pair of scissors hands off my shoulders. Black Lycra stretch pants hide the lily white flesh of my legs and chunky Doc Marten boots lace up past my ankles. Around my waist I wear a fanny pack stuffed with a miniature flashlight and Swiss army knife.
"I'm a cross between a female Rambo and Mr. T. The only things I'm missing are gold chains, a bandolier and machine gun," I joke.
"My sister, on a mission."
"'I pity the fool.'" I do my best impersonation of our childhood hero Mr. T.
"'Quit your jibber jabber.'" Ryan whispers in a raspy voice. "Let's go get that backpack."
"Remember, we stay together."
"As soon as we have the backpack, we run back to our bikes and go straight home." Ryan nods.
"Go straight home, yeah."
Ryan stops walking and grabs my arm. "You know, we don't have to do this. I'll just tell Mom the backpack wasn't in the lost-and-found at the pool."
I stare up at the full moon and grasp for my favorite necklace, feeling only the rise of my collarbone. Somewhere through the tunnel of trees, deep in the darkness, it calls out to me.
"No. We're doing this." I take the first step into the shadows.
The hum of cicadas and crickets drowns out the crunch of gravel under my heavy boots. Slivers of moonlight shined through openings in the thick canopy above and illuminated the path under our feet. Weaving in and out of the marbled light, we creep down the unpaved road.
Ryan is first to break the silence. "How much farther?"
"I don't know. It looks so much different out here at night."
I try to get my bearings, but it is so dark. The foliage above us is thicker now, blocking out the glow of the moon.
"Wait... I think I see the house." Ryan squeezes my hand and pulls me through a tangle of branches separating the road from the clearing around the decaying mansion.
I throw up my arm to shield my face and a thorn swipes my flesh. "Ouch!"
"Quiet," Ryan whispers. "Almost there."
I push blindly through the brush as it claws at my hair. Moonbeams filter through the foliage, becoming brighter and brighter, until an eerie image comes into view. Basking in the silver light of the full moon, stands the abandoned house. Long, foreboding shadows contrast against the ghostly structure's ethereal glow. Barely breathing, I pause and listen for any sounds of human life. A jet engine roars in the distance and blends into the whirr of insects all around.
So far, so good.
Ryan taps my shoulder and I nearly jump out of my skin. He points at me and signals to go right. Then, he gestures to himself and points to the left.
He wants to split up? I shake my head no.
Ryan nods yes.
I throw up my hands in surrender. He darts off to my left toward the edge of the clearing to search for the backpack. I take a cautious step to the right, toward the mansion. The sprouting weeds are alive with the sound of insects buzzing. I inhale the primal scent of damp earth and the mellow, green fragrance of the field and take it my surroundings. I make out bushes, spikes of grass and tangled weeds, but the smooth, rounded shape of a backpack is nowhere in sight.
"It's like finding a needle in a haystack." I tap my toe impatiently, wondering what to do next.
As the plumes of grass tickle my fingertips, I close my eyes. Calling upon my intuition, I wait for the backpack to show itself in my mind's eye. I imagine the old man finding it in the field and opening up the front pocket with his grubby hands. His weathered face softens into a smile. The chainsaw stunt seemed wildly entertaining to him, judging by his laughter. Maybe he got a kick out of scaring off nosy suburbanites? Knowing we would be back, my gut tells me the old man put the backpack in plain sight. Somewhere easy to spot. I dart to the mansion's front steps.
There in the shadows, at the foot of the grand front door, sits a rounded object.
I knew it!
I leap up the steps, grab the canvas backpack, unzip the front pocket and plunge my free hand inside. Although I dig around furiously, I still come up empty-handed. Again my fingers run over the seams inside the pocket. Nothing. I tear open the zipper and rummage through the main compartment. My fingertips detect the bulk of two cotton towels and nothing else.
No way.
I frown and dig around again. If Ryan could see me now, he'd surely say Mom's infamous look of disappointment is all over my face.
Where is Ryan?
I search the meadow for movement—for anything out of the ordinary. It's a sea of silver plumes of grass waltzing in a moonlit field. As I take my first step out of the shadows and into the light, a strange sound stops me in my tracks.
Hip-hop music.
White bursts of light dance through the foliage casting eerie shadows as a vehicle bounces down the gravel road. I crouch on my heels to stay hidden in the darkness of the enormous porch. As it passes youthful voices rang out into the night, singing along to the radio. The car slows where the trees thin out, its tires crunching loudly against the gravel as it comes to a stop. The car is a red Jeep Wrangler with the top off.
"When you've got to go, you've got to go." A teenage boy jumps out of the Jeep and onto the gravel.
"Hurry up. Everyone will be wondering where we are." The familiar voice of the redheaded lifeguard makes me cringe.
A stout, male figure appears out of the small thicket of woods between the dirt road and the meadow. He bounds up the gentle hill toward me and I cower down to stay hidden. My pulse is racing.
"Yo, here's that old house. It looks kind of spooky at night," he calls out to his friends.
"Hurry up, Peterson," another boy yells from the Jeep.
"Aight." He jogs through the open meadow, right up to the stone path leading to my hiding place and turns toward a patch of shrubs. I hear a zipper. Then he whistles the theme song to the TV game show "Jeopardy" as he relieves himself a few feet away.
I instinctively cover my eyes. Ugh, so gross! Ryan is probably laughing his ass off.
"All done!" The teenager charges through the clearing and past the headlights of the Jeep.
"X-Y-Z, bro."
"Huh?"
"Examine your zipper!" The girl's saccharine voice bounces off of the house's exterior wall and sends shivers down my spine. "Let's roll."
The tires spin on the gravel launching the Jeep forward and kicking up dust in the glow of the taillights. The music fades away into the night. Finally, Ryan emerges from the shadowy woods and runs toward the porch. I come out of hiding.
"Holy crap! Did you get any on you?" He's totally laughing at me.
"No, thank God. But, I recognized that car, Ryan. The girl driving it was the lifeguard from the pool, the red head, and she also tried out for the cheerleading squad with me."
"You're kidding."
"No, she drives— "
"She's on your cheerleading squad?" Ryan rises onto his tiptoes. "I will be at every single football game. In the front row!"
"Focus, Ryan," I snap and point at the dirt road. "What was she doing down here at nine o'clock at night?"
"What are we doing here at nine o'clock at night?"
The backpack. I almost forgot.
"Here's your backpack." I shove it at Ryan. "Empty."
"No, there's stuff in there." Ryan grabs it and reaches inside.
"Just our towels." I frown and put my hands on my hips. "I can't believe I went marching through the woods at night, trespassed on private property while practically getting peed on and, here we are, empty-handed."
"Don't forget you also contributed to the delinquency of a minor."
He was right. Mom and Dad would flip out if they knew where we are right now. I pat Ryan on the back. "Sorry. I shouldn't have pulled you into this. Can you imagine if we got caught? By the old guy? Or those kids?"
"But we didn't."
"And, I didn't find the necklace either."
"It's got to be in there, Rose. Check again at home, in the light." Ryan nods definitively.
"I will, but I have a bad feeling." My eyes fall to the indistinct blob of Ryan's backpack.
"Maybe it fell out before we left the pool? We can check there tomorrow. Don't worry." As if he turned to ice, Ryan freezes in his tracks. "Look!"
Just steps away from the path in a puddle of moonlight, stands a majestic stag. His jagged crown of antlers reaches up toward the starry sky. I can't believe he's standing so close to us as we invaded his woodland home, or what was left of it. When the animal's dark eyes meet mine, calm falls over me. I long to be like this beautiful beast, wild and free, bounding through the woods without school or schedules. In the woods, no one judges you harshly or points out your shortcomings. The stag is perfectly made and looks at me like I am too, just like Grandma Jo used to look at me.
When I lift my hand and take a cautious step forward, the stag darts across the fairway. "Oh, man. I scared him away. Come back, big guy."
Mysteriously, the deer stops and turns back to stare at us. His white tail twitches.
Ryan lets out an exasperated sigh. "Hey, Snow White, are you done communicating with the wildlife? I'm missing the X-Files for this."
"It is a rerun, you know." A powerful yawn stretches my mouth open wide.
"Well, we better go. I know how hard it is for senior citizens to stay up late," Ryan snorts a laugh.
"Ha, ha, very funny."
"Well, you are an old lady."
"Have you ever seen an old lady do this?" A challenging smile spreads across my face.
Ryan cocks his head to the side and stares at me. In one swift motion, I tear his Dallas Cowboys cap off his head and toss it Frisbee-style onto the golf course, jump on my bike, and pedal away into the night.
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Wow, are Rose and Ryan brave or stupid for sneaking out?
What do you think of the cheerleader and her friends being out there at night? Where could they be going?
Stay tuned for the first day of cheerleading practice... and please comment or vote if you are enjoying the story. Thank you!