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Authors: Amalie Jahn

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BOOK: The Clay Lion
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Having worn my sneakers instead of my boots, I
was rewarded with a much more pleasant walk to the store.  The warmth of
the sun was a familiar reminder of the beautiful day already lived, and I drank
it in, turning my face towards its rays as I strolled across the field.  I
made sure to arrive early so that I could be present as the children
arrived.  My plan was to encourage the kids to play something other than
kickball.  Perhaps something that did not even require a ball.

I had been sitting on the front steps of the
hardware store for less than ten minutes when the first of the children
arrived, three boys and two girls.  I recognized Melody Johnson right
away.  She was skipping hand in hand with another girl as the boys ran off
in front.  None of them had a ball and I took the opportunity to approach
them with the hopes of encouraging them to engage in another activity.

“Hi guys!” I called, waving as I moved toward the
group.

“Hi,” said one of the boys cautiously, as if
being approached by a wild animal. 

I had prepared for their distrust.  “I’m a
camp counselor over at Seneca Grove in the summer.  I saw you all headed
over here to play and thought that maybe you would like me to teach you some of
the games we play at camp.  It’s such a nice day and all…”

Not quite sure what to make of me, they looked
back and forth at one another.  My mind raced, searching for an idea that
would help me seal the deal.  “We play a game called ‘TV Freeze
Tag.’  Think you might be interested?”

The tallest boy’s eyes lit up and a smile spread
across his face.  “Yeah!” he exclaimed, “Teach us how!”

Once I had his approval, the other four eagerly
joined in.  As I finished explaining the rules, the rest of the original
crew showed up, including the boy with the kickball.  I was relieved when
he gladly laid it to the side to join the others. 

We spent the next hour running around the vacant
lot playing freeze tag.  Between the fresh air and exuberance of the
children, I felt more carefree than I had in ages.  Happily, the ball laid
forgotten under a pile of coats on the edge of the lawn, having never been
kicked at all, much less anywhere near the hardware store roof, the entire
afternoon. 

I was tagged, frozen in place, when I heard a car
pull up across the street and a voice call someone’s name.  Involuntarily,
I turned to see Charlie Johnson, right on time to pick up his sister, strolling
across the field toward Melody.  In that moment, he saw me and our eyes
locked.  He stopped for an instant, smiled at me and then turned to walk
in my direction.  Behind me, Melody touched my shoulder and unfroze me,
yelling “run” as she passed by.  I took off, continuing with the game, and
to my surprise, Charlie ran up alongside of me.

“What’re we playing?” he asked, throwing his coat
into the pile.

“TV freeze tag,” I responded, surprised that I
could find my voice at all between the running and close proximity of the boy
from my past.

“Who’s IT?” he called, turning in the opposite
direction.

“Jeremy,” I yelled back.

And so Charlie, the children and I played freeze
tag together until the sun sunk behind the horizon and the cool air settled
in.  One by one, kids grabbed their respective jackets and turned off
toward home, eventually leaving only Charlie, Melody, and me.

“Thanks for playing with us Brooke,” Melody said.

“It’s my pleasure,” I replied as I pulled on my
hoodie.  “I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun.”  And I
meant it.

We began walking toward Charlie’s car when he
asked, “Do you go to Grant High?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“I go to Hawk’s Ridge,” he said, not boastfully,
but in an attempt to make conversation.

“I know,” I said.  As soon as the words escaped
me, I realized my mistake.  I fumbled to recover.  “I think Melody
told me that’s where you all went.”  I looked to the beautiful little
girl, silently willing her to corroborate my story.

She looked blankly at me for a moment, and then,
as if my fairy godmother was whispering in her ear, she suddenly understood
what she needed to say.

“Oh, yeah, I told her,” she said.  “I’m
cold.  I’ll wait for you in the car.  Bye Brooke!”  She smiled
knowingly at me and raced off in the direction of Charlie’s waiting
vehicle.  I waved after her.

“It was really nice of you to play with the kids
today.  It’s been a long time since I’ve run around like that,” he
laughed, kicking at a small pile of slush on the ground.

“Me too,” I said.  I wished that I had
something more to say but my mind was blank.  Of all the things I had
prepared for, having a conversation with Charlie Johnson was not one of them.

“Some friends are having a bonfire out by the
lake tomorrow night.  You should come,” he said.  When I did not
respond he added, “I could pick you up.”

My stomach turned inside out and my heart was no
longer beating.  Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that the day
would end with an invitation for a date with Charlie.  My head was yelling
at my mouth to speak but my mouth was unresponsive.

“Brooke?” he said.

“Yes,” I replied.

“You don’t have to…”

“No. I meant yes.  Yes, I’d love to go.”

“You would?  Okay!” he exclaimed.  “But
I don’t know where you live.  I assume you don’t just hang out here at the
vacant lot!”

The tension was broken.  “No!  Although
I enjoy camping out, even this would be a stretch for me!  I live past
Parson’s Creek,” I said, “off Snowy Gap Road.”

“Here,” he said as he dug his phone from his
pocket. “Give me yours and we can just exchange info.”

I handed him my phone and took his.  I typed
in my full name, Brooke Wallace, my phone number, and my address.  In a
million years, I never would have dreamed that I would be exchanging
information with Charlie, and yet, here I was with his phone in my hand.

When I was finished, I handed the phone back to
him, and he mine.  There was an awkward pause before he broke the silence.

“Can I call you tomorrow to let you know what
time I’ll pick you up?” he asked.

“Of course.
  I can’t wait.”  The last part was out before I knew what I
was saying.

“Bye Brooke,” he said, smiling.  “See you
tomorrow.”

“Bye,” I replied.

And that was it.  Charlie ran over to his
car, climbed in the driver’s seat, and drove away, waving at me still standing
in the same spot like an idiot as he pulled off.

For the longest time I could not move.  I
was figuratively and literally frozen in place.  The enormity of what had
transpired over the course of the afternoon left me in a state of utter
disbelief.  The dreaded ball had remained firmly on the ground the entire
time.  Therefore, Mr. Cooper remained ignorant of his damaged roof, thus
ensuring there would be no need for Branson to clean the attic.  It
practically guaranteed that he would never be exposed to the asbestos. 
And, as if all the stars in the universe were aligning just for me, Charlie
Johnson was not only aware of my existence, but asked me to a party. 
Me.  Brooke Wallace.  The next thing I knew I was running. 
And skipping.
  And twirling around like the fool that I
was.

“BEST DAY EVER!” I hollered to everyone who could
hear me and no one at all.

By the time I arrived home, the rest of the
family was seated around the kitchen table scooping my mother’s homemade stew
into their bowls.  As I opened the back door, warmth and the aroma of
spicy chicken stock enveloped me.  I threw down my backpack, coat and keys
on the counter and then, having spent the afternoon running around like
a
eight year old, collapsed into
my seat at the table.  The members of my family stared openly at me. 
My father put down his spoon.  Branson raised an eyebrow.  Only my
mother spoke.

“There’s a boy, isn’t there?” she asked.

What?  How did she know?  “No.”  I
paused.  “Maybe,” I responded, unable to suppress the excitement in my voice.

“Who is it?” Branson immediately inquired, unable
to restrain himself in the slightest.

I hesitated.  I knew that my exuberance was
only in part because of Charlie.  He was only the icing on the cake. 
The real joy stemmed from my success in having saved Branson.  But of
course, that fact could not be disclosed.  I reasoned that it was only
fair to let my family share in the happiness that comes from knowing the ones
you love are in love.

“His name is Charlie Johnson.  I met his
little sister Melody this afternoon and when he came to pick her up, we hit it
off.  He invited me to a party tomorrow night.  He’s coming here to
pick me up,” I squealed, unable to repress my excitement any longer.

“Brooke’s got a boyfriend!  Brooke’s got a
boyfriend!” Branson teased, engaging himself in full-blown little brother mode.

Glaring at him from across the table, I
considered bringing up Jill Overstreet, but suppressed the urge, knowing the
drawings I saw of her were ill gotten.  I quickly softened, deciding that
having a little brother to tease me was something I was happy to put up with if
it meant I would have the opportunity to grow old with him.

I looked at the bowl of stew in front of me and
realized that I was starving.  Not only had I spent the afternoon running
around, but I had also forgotten my lunch in the morning’s rush.  I
quickly finished my first serving and without asking, helped myself to a second
and third bowl. 

After exchanging sideways glances with my mother
for several minutes, my father was the first to open the dialogue regarding my
impending date.

“So, this Charlie… where does he go to school?”
he asked.

“Hawk’s Ridge,” I responded.

“Oh, an ‘ivy leaguer,’” he teased.  “Just
what do you know about this kid?”

“He has a little sister named Melody, but I said
that.  He’s on the debate team and the swim team, and he’s a pretty fast
runner.  He drives a sensible midsize car and he seems super nice.”

“And the party?” he continued.

“Out at the lake.
 
A bonfire with some
friends.
 
Nothing one on one Dad.”
  I
rolled my eyes at him.

“Well good.  You don’t really know this boy
and until you do, let’s keep things casual, if you know what I mean.  And
I’m going to talk to this Charlie when he gets here tomorrow night or you
aren’t going,” my father said, eyebrows furrowed.

I rolled my eyes again. “Yes Daddy.”

I soaked up the last of my stew with a small
crust of bread and cleared my place, asking to be excused.

I sprinted up the stairs to call Sarah and share
the news about Charlie with her from the privacy of my own room.  After
relaying all the details of the afternoon, minus the ball success, Sarah agreed
to come over the following afternoon to help me decide what to wear to the
party.

As I lay in bed, I could not help but smile to
myself knowing what had been accomplished in a single afternoon.  My
entire life was going to be different when I returned to the present.  I
prayed silently that the government would never discover my
transgressions.  As a young girl, my trip would generate little
suspicion.  The government had millions of trips to monitor and I knew
that they used most of their resources tracking the trips of the wealthy and
powerful.  I was neither.  Still, I hoped that the changes I had made
would not negatively impact anyone else’s timeline, as it was never my intent
to do harm.

My last thoughts before drifting off to sleep
were of how Charlie’s timeline would be different now that I was in it, and how
Branson would never know the reality of preparing for his own death. 
Everything was right with the world.

 

 

 

 

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

 

 

 

 

The following day, Sarah arrived as planned to
help me decide what to wear to the party, but more importantly, to gab about my
impending date with someone other than
Paul McGregor
.  Sarah had gone out with several
boys during high school, but never anyone seriously.  She seemed almost as
giddy as I was over the prospect of Charlie and me getting together.

Charlie had called before lunch to confirm that
he would pick me up at six o’clock.  The conversation had been painfully
brief.  I found that I could not think of anything remotely interesting to
say, as my brain seemed unable to communicate with my mouth.  Luckily, he
was similarly tongue-tied but did at least manage to express excitement about
spending the evening together.

Although I had been a ball of nerves, somehow I
had managed to make it through the day.  I was zipping up the back of my
leather boot when Branson appeared in my bedroom to announce that Charlie was
pulling in the drive.

BOOK: The Clay Lion
6.7Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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