Chapter 8: The Chases

  Lester’s stomach woke before he did.  Standing barefoot on the hard kitchen tile in the light of the refrigerator, he ate leftover fried chicken and drank milk straight from the carton.  When he finished, he decided he was too awake to go back to sleep and quietly got dressed in the dark. 

  There was a chill in the air, and Lester’s breath puffed out in front of him, as he wheeled his bike into the driveway.  Summer was rapidly fading into memory as autumn took hold, and he zipped his sweatshirt, pulling the hood up against the cold. 

  “Good morning, Mac,” he said to the shaggy brown dog.  “You up early too?”

  Mac gave his familiar growl as clouds of steam escaped from between his bared teeth.

  Lester reached down to give the dog a pat on the head but stopped.  Something was wrong.  The hair on Mac’s back was ruffled and standing on end, and a line of foaming drool dangled from his chin.   

  “What is it, boy?”  Lester looked around, expecting to see the neighbors cat cutting through their yard on its way home from a night of hunting.  But there was nothing there.  “Are you okay?” 

  He was beginning to worry the dog might be hurt or sick when Mac gave a sharp bark and lunged.  Lester pulled away but too slow, and the dog’s foaming jaws clamped down on his hand.  Pain shot through his arm, and he cried out.  This seemed to surprise Mac as much as Lester, and the dog quickly let go.

  Stunned, Lester held his arm against his chest and examined his hand.  A semicircle of deep red indentations shown down one side.  The bite hadn’t broken the skin, but it hurt, and he was sure to have a nasty bruise. 

  “What is wrong with you,” said Lester angrily.

  Mac had been good-naturedly harassing him for the better part of a year, ever since he’d started his paper route.  The dog would wander down from the farm, give a growl or two, and Lester would pretend he was frightened by the vicious wild beast.  Satisfied he’d done his duty, Mac would then go home, and Lester would make his deliveries.  It had become their thing.  He’d never seen him act this way before.

  Lester was considering whether he should go to the trouble of getting an ice pack for his hand when Mac began barking loudly.

  “Quiet!  Stop it!  Bad dog!” hissed Lester, afraid the commotion would wake his parents.  He tried to shoo Mac away by waving his arms and stomping his feet, but the dog just crouched lower and showed more teeth.

  Lester’s swollen hand throbbed, and Mac’s barks became sharper and more frequent, intent on alerting the neighborhood to the danger lurking in their midst.  Risking another bite, Lester leaned down until he was level with the dog and spoke through gritted teeth of his own.

  “MAC — GO — HOME!”

  Both the boy and the dog froze.  The words that had left Lester’s mouth had been in a voice not his own.  This one was thick, low, and guttural.  It sounded like a slowed-down recording played through a bad speaker.  They stood in surprise, looking at one another.  Then the dog suddenly yelped as though hit and bolted off across the street, tail tucked between his legs.

  “Mac, I’m sorry!” Lester called after him.  “Come back!”

  But the dog was already out of sight.

  Cradling his wounded hand, Lester headed off too.  It was lucky he’d gotten an early start because the morning’s paper route took twice as long as normal.  He wasn’t used to using his other hand and had to chase down more than a few errant throws.

  As Lester pedaled past the forest, he kept an eye out for Mac.  Shafts of sunlight shone through the canopy, casting shadows that moved as the trees swayed in the breeze.  For a split second, he thought he saw a long dark coat weaving among the gnarled trunks.  His heart pounded, but then it was gone.  Breathing deep, he rode on.  While the dark wood was far from welcoming, there was no sign of the dog or the old woman.  

  The wide grooves the runaway truck had carved into the Ditch’s lawn had been raked flat and  covered in a scattering of loose hay.  This was meant to keep birds from eating the grass seed before it had a chance to grow.  A system that seemed thoroughly lost on the crows eagerly pecking through it for breakfast.  The battered mailbox was comically duct-taped onto its post, and the stone wall, except for a streak of blue paint, appeared none the worse for wear.

  Back in town, Lester coasted his bike to a stop in front of a cute white house with colorful trim.

  The Darling Place, named after its original owner, Daniel Darling, had stood proudly at the corner of Norris Road and Main Street since before the American Revolution.  For over two hundred years, it had been handed down from Darling to Darling until the most recent descendant had put it up for sale and moved out west.  Unfortunately, this had coincided with the construction of a new Town Office.  Despite Giles Hollow only having three employees, the building was surprisingly large and located directly behind The Darling Place.  Unsurprising to some, the contractor had been none other than Council Consulting, Inc.

  Lester stared up at the new modern-looking monstrosity with its tinted glass and gleaming steel.  It towered over the little cottage like a castle to a guard shack, and Lester guessed this was why it had sat unsold and empty for so long.  Therefore, he was intrigued when the address showed up as a new customer on his paper route.

   Lester walked up the front steps, a rubber-banded copy of the Giles Hollow Mosquito in hand, and was about to knock when the door swung open.  

  “I’ve got it, Mom!” a boy about Lester’s age yelled back into the house.  He had blue eyes and messy blonde hair, arranged in an I just got out of bed style, which Lester suspected required a lot of time in front of a mirror.  “Can I help you?” he asked Lester. 

  “Hi.  I’m Lester North.  I live in the house up the street, and I’m your paperboy.”  Lester stuck out his hand, but the blonde kid made no move to take it.

  “Is that so?” the boy said flatly.  He spoke with a slight accent that Lester couldn’t immediately place.  British maybe?  “Aren’t you meant to just toss it in the driveway?”

  “Oh, yeah.  That’s what I usually do, but I figured I’d introduce myself and —”

  “Excellent,” the boy said, as though the word were synonymous with boredom.  “Carry on then.”  And with that, he turned and closed the door in Lester’s face.

  Back on his bike, Lester looked up at the house.  All the shades were drawn, and there was no sign of movement from inside.  He made a mental note not to expect a tip from The Darling Place during the holidays.

  Coasting down the driveway, Lester gave a sudden start at the sight of a figure approaching.  Squinting against the glare of the rising sun, he could make out the silhouette of a woman with long hair, and — was that a black coat?  Panic flooded through him.  While he had no reason to fear the old woman from the woods, he was in no hurry to have another encounter with her either.

  Lester tried to slow his bike, but his feet felt sluggish and clumsy and missed the pedals.  The crunching gravel below his wheels grew louder as he picked up speed.  Realizing he was on a collision course with the figure, who now appeared to be waving at him, he thrust a foot to the ground.  The world jerked sideways, and for a brief moment, Lester was weightless as he sailed through the air.  Then he crashed back to earth, sharp stones digging into the palm of his already sore hand.

  “Oh, my!  Are you okay?” 

  There were sniffing sounds, and something warm and wet slid across Lester’s cheek.  Opening his eyes, he breathed a sigh of relief as Mae Chase’s smiling face came into focus.  She was wearing a t-shirt with a flying saucer floating above the words I Want to Believe and holding a leash attached to the miniature bulldog standing on Lester’s chest.

  “Sorry,” Mae said.  “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Lester sat up and set the dog on the ground, where it immediately started racing about with its tongue hanging out.

  “It’s okay,” he said.  “It’s my own fault, really.  I thought you were someone else.”  He brushed his hands on his pants and got to his feet.  “Anyway, what are you doing up so early?”

  “Giving Fox his morning walk,” said Mae.

  “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

  They both watched as Fox, grunting, dragged his butt across the grass.

  “And I didn’t think anyone read newspapers anymore,” Mae said, untangling the leash from around her legs and handing Lester his delivery bag.

  Lester picked up his bike and walked along with Mae as they followed the dog, who tugged his way down the street.  “Giles Hollow’s slow to change, I guess.”

  “Tell me about it,” Mae said, glancing down at her phone.  “You don’t even have high-speed internet here.  Though, this area does have a lot of EVP activity.  So I guess it kind of balances out.”

  “EVP?” asked Lester.

  “Electronic Voice Phenomenon.  Digital recordings of spirits,” said Mae.

  “You mean like, ghosts?”

  “Exactly.  Their voices can often be found hidden in the static of detuned radios or the audio tracks of old home movies.”  

  Had it been anyone else, Lester would have assumed they were pulling his leg.  But he’d known Mae long enough now to appreciate that she was sincere in her beliefs.  This much had been clear from their very first meeting.

  The bulk of comings and goings in Giles Hollow centered around the elementary school.  In addition to the twice-a-day flurry of students being dropped off and picked up, a stream of teachers arrived early and left late.  In the afternoons, various sporting events occupied upper and lower athletic fields, often going until a fading twilight made play impossible.  Students, faculty, and parents were kept busy as bees, with the school acting as their hive.  All this hustle and bustle came to an abrupt stop, however, with the start of summer vacation.  The town then went from sleepy hamlet to nearly deserted.

  During this time, partially due to a lack of alternatives, but mostly because Bernard wouldn’t be caught dead there, the library became Lester’s second home.  It was his very own fortress of solitude.  For three hot and muggy months, the lack of air-conditioning kept even the most ardent bookclub members away.  

  Lester relished having the place to himself.  He spent hours wandering the four floors of the old organ factory building, browsing endless shelves of books for interesting titles he hadn’t yet read.  This was what he was doing when he literally stumbled across a girl sitting on the floor, reading in a dark corner.  Lester had gotten to his feet, apologized, and politely introduced himself.  After that, it had been hard to get a word in edgewise.

  Within five minutes, Lester had learned that her name was Mae Chase, that her father’s job had forced her family to move from South Carolina to Giles Hollow, and that she was an only child.  Judging by the stack of books on the floor beside her, she also had a deep passion for all things paranormal.  An encyclopedia of vampires, a manual for ghost detection, and two volumes on alien abduction were just the ones Lester could make out.  She was also quick to smile and, though perhaps a bit odd, perfectly friendly.  He saw her in the library three more times that week, and before he knew it, Mae was tagging along with him everywhere.

  Amanda had been less than subtle in her feelings about the new arrangement.  Lester wasn’t sure why she disliked Mae but suspected it might have something to do with Mae’s penchant for talking.  When it was just Amanda and Lester, he was the quiet one, giving Amanda free rein over their conversations.  But Mae never seemed to run out of things to say.  She was endlessly going on about some fantastical theory or strange happening involving werewolves, secret government projects, or brain-eating bacteria.  The last one troubled Amanda most, as Lester had mentioned seeing something about that on the news, thus making it harder for her to dismiss it out of hand.

  Alternately, Amanda’s agitation might have stemmed from Mae’s non-stop questions.  She seemed fascinated with the most mundane aspects of Giles Hollow.  Who was who?  What was that building used for, and how long had things been this way?  Knowing she was new, they humored her.  But when she started asking questions about The Council, questions neither Amanda nor Lester could answer, Amanda had become quiet.  Lester suspected, like himself, for the first time in her life, she was getting a glimpse of how strange their families must look to outsiders.  Not that Mae acted like anything was out of the ordinary.  In fact, more than anyone else, she treated them like they were normal kids from town.  And while it didn’t make any sense, Amanda seemed to find this irritating as well.

  “Oh, Fox, not again,” Mae said, looking down at the little dog hopelessly tangled in his leash.  As she bent to free him, Lester noticed her posture stiffen at the sight of an oncoming car.  “Oh, brother.  Here we go,” Mae mumbled as the car slowed and stopped beside them. 

  The window rolled down, revealing a middle-aged couple.  The driver, a woman with short blonde hair and a round face, leaned across the man in the passenger seat.

  “Hi, sweetie,” she said in a thick southern accent.  “Who’s your friend?”

  When Mae didn’t immediately answer, Lester introduced himself.  “Hi, I’m Lester North.”

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  “Oh, Lester!” the woman squealed with delight.  “Mae’s father and I have heard so much about you.  It’s just lovely to finally meet you in person.”

  “Nice to meet you too, um — Mr. and Mrs. Chase?”

  “Maeko,” interrupted Mr. Chase.  “Your breakfast is on the table.  Your mother is driving me to another interview, but she’ll be back shortly.”  His southern drawl was even more pronounced than his wife’s.

  “Fine,” Mae said, keeping her attention on Fox.

  “Now, make sure you eat enough,” Mrs. Chase added.  “You know how you get when your blood sugar gets too low.”  Then, she turned her attention to Lester.  “As lost as last year’s Easter egg.”

  “Mom!” glared Mae.

  “Alright, alright, we’re going.  Have a good day.  And Lester, don’t you be such a stranger, darlin’.”

  The car pulled away, and they watched it until it was out of sight.  

  “So, those are your parents?” Lester asked once they were alone again.

  “That’s them,” sighed Mae.

  Lester paused, unsure of how to ask his next question or even if he should.  “But they’re not —”

  “Japanese?” said Mae.  “No, they’re not.”

  “Sorry,” said Lester.

  “You’re sorry they’re not Japanese?”

  “No.  I mean — I didn’t —” Lester sputtered.  Mae laughed, and Lester could feel himself blushing.  “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “It’s okay, really.  I forgot you hadn’t met them yet.  I’m used to most people being able to tell I’m adopted just by seeing us together.”

  They resumed walking, Lester pushing his bike and Fox stopping to mark each mailbox as they went.

  “I was born in Japan,” Mae continued, “but my birth parents died in an accident when I was little.  I don’t remember much, vague images and bits of language, mainly.”

  “Your adopted parents are from the south?” asked Lester.

  “Y’all figured that out all by yourself, did ya?” Mae said, in a perfect imitation of her mother.

  “But you don’t have an accent?”

  “Not really.  It comes out sometimes when I’m tired or upset.”

  They stopped to watch Fox sniff a bug on the pavement.  The dog crouched down and began circling the insect, threatening it with occasional yips, then quickly backing away.

  “Anyway,” Mae said.  “You get used to it.”

  “Used to what?” Lester asked.

  “Strangers knowing the deepest, most personal thing about your life before they’ve even met you.  They create a whole story in their heads, based solely on who your parents are.  And sometimes, no matter what you do, that’s how they’ll always see you.  I don’t know.  Maybe that’s hard to understand.”

  Lester thought of how many times he’d wished his last name hadn’t been North.  “No,” he said, watching Fox scoop the bug into his mouth and then immediately spit it out.  “It’s not hard at all.” 

  Arriving home, Lester once again felt absolutely famished and quickly devoured two breakfasts.  Mrs. North was delighted, insisting he must be going through a growth spurt.  However, Lester suspected his increased appetite might simply be a side effect of being able to eat in peace for a change.

  Bernard had been oddly subdued all week.  Each morning, he appeared in the kitchen, hair neatly combed, and quietly took his seat.  His usual array of sports jerseys was replaced by an endless stream of dress shirts and sweater vests.  The only interaction he had with Lester was a curt nod from across the table, as though they were two businessmen boarding the same train.  Weirder still, Bernard hadn’t once stolen anything off of Lester’s plate.

  For his part, Lester didn’t buy it.  It was as if Bernard were rehearsing for a role in a play, one in which he’d been cast as the mature older brother.  Gone were the taunts about Lester’s bookishness, as well as the endless stream of wedgies and choke-holds.  Even the family dinner conversation had taken a turn for the better.  Bernard no longer seemed compelled to regale them all with a play-by-play retelling of his latest athletic triumph.  It was a welcome respite, to be sure.  Still, Lester fully expected his brother’s speedy return to form once the novelty of his Drawing-In wore off.

  After breakfast, Lester headed to school.  Walking across the soccer field, he spotted Amanda.  She was smiling and talking with someone.  Lester watched as she absentmindedly tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear and giggled. 

  “There you are!” Amanda called, seeing him approach.  “Come meet my new friend.”

  For the second time that morning, Lester found himself standing face to face with the boy from The Darling Place.

  “This is Thomas,” Amanda said.  “He just moved here.” 

  “Actually, we’ve already met,” said Lester cooly.  He knew he shouldn’t judge someone based on a brief first encounter, but he couldn’t help feeling a growing animosity toward the new kid. 

  Perhaps the feeling was mutual because Thomas barely glanced in Lester’s direction.  “Ah, yes.  The paperboy.  Lucas, was it?”

  “Lester.”

  “Quite.”  Thomas’s attention quickly returned to Amanda.  “Well, I really should get going.  Things to do.  New school and all.  It was wonderful to meet you.  I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other.”

  “Absolutely,” Amanda said, her gaze lingering on Thomas as he walked away.  When she turned back to Lester, her face was flushed.  “What?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

  “Nothing,” said Lester.

  “Don’t nothing me.  I was simply being nice.”

  “Okay.”

  “Anyway, he’s new,” said Amanda.  “It’s called being polite.”  She sent a punch into Lester’s arm.

  “Ow!  What was that for?” Lester asked.

  “For thinking I’m swooning over some mop-top boy with an accent,” said Amanda.

  “So — you like his hair then?”

  Lester dodged another punch, and Amanda’s cheeks went even redder.

  “Speaking of hair,” she said, “what is up with Bernard?  When I stopped to get you this morning, he called me Ms. Poole.  Then suggested I run along and that you’d catch up.”  At Lester’s laugh, she added, “It’s not funny.  He looked as if he was going to pat me on the head.”

  “It’s not just you,” said Lester.  “He hasn’t put me in a headlock once this week.  I even saw him reading a book the other day.”

 “Well, tell him if he calls me Ms. Poole again, I’m going to kick him in the shin.  I mean, who does he think he is?  He’s barely a year older than me.  That ceremony went straight to his head.”

  “Yeah, I know,” said Lester.  He thought of the strange humming, the bright light, and the pale man with the cards.  Why cards?  Something familiar flickered through Lester’s thoughts, but when he tried to draw it nearer, it slipped back through the maze of his mind.

  “Where’s Mae this morning?” Amanda asked.  “Is she too busy chasing El Chalupa to come to school?” 

  “It’s El Chupacabra.  Also known as the Mexican goat sucker,” said Lester.

  “What did I say?”

  “You said Chalupa, which is a taco.” 

  “Whatever, nerd,” Amanda said, landing another punch on his shoulder.  “Come on.  We’re going to be late.”

  Amanda strode away, and Lester followed, rubbing his arm and thinking about how good a half dozen spicy tacos would taste right now.

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