The Lost Boys (9 page)

I turned to Tristan. He crossed his arms defensively over his chest. “You knew this was going to happen?” I asked him in surprise.

“I-I– No! That’s what I wanted to talk to you about before, when we … woke up. I heard this wild tale, from that friend I told you about, you know, the one with crazy stories about old magic? He told me that it could be possible, you know, to have a second chance to live. There was a song, or a poem, or something. I don’t quite remember it how it went. It said it could happen, a true second chance in life, if there’s a living soul able to truly see you. And when you did, Joey, when you saw me, and talked to me, I thought it could be possible … to live again. I was only seventeen when I … I died. And I’ve been trapped in the cemetery every since. The song talked about that special place in the cemetery. That’s all. I didn’t know about the binding spell, or any tax! I swear! If I’d thought it could harm you in any way, I would never …” He trailed off, unable to continue.

“And now that you have your wish, boy, what are you going to do with it?” Miss Violet inquired firmly.

Be careful what you wish for
… My mom used to say that when I was little. Tristan had wished to live. Now he had to deal with his wish becoming true.

“I … I don’t know. I’ll figure something out!” he snapped, fear crossing his eyes.

“The sickness you two experienced last night, it’s not going to stop, you know that, boy? It’s a side-effect from the spell she cast; a price you have to pay for the magic bond you’ve created. I spent the whole night researching this. It’s a cycle sort of thing. It’ll happen again and again. And you two will need to stay together when it happens. What are you going to do about it? Is living again worth compromising the girl’s wellbeing? Or is it worth having her shackled to you?” she asked him again, her voice firm and unwavering.

“No! I didn’t know this would happen! I don’t know what I’m going to do, okay? I just … don’t know. I never meant to harm her! Joey, you have to believe me!” he said, looking desperately at me and then turning angrily to Miss Violet. “Why do you hate me so much, old woman?”

“I don’t, but your place isn’t here, son. You know that,” she answered plainly.

“No, I don’t know that! Who’s to say my place is in that cemetery for all eternity and not here? Why have I been trapped there for all these years if not for this? I don’t want to disappear or just cease to exist! Everybody else has a second chance, why can’t I? Who are you to say I don’t deserve it?” he shouted, his eyes filling with tears and uncertainty.

“Okay. Calm down now.” My mom stood up from her seat. “I have heard enough. Tristan, you have done nothing wrong, and I’m sure you meant no harm when you asked Joey to the cemetery yesterday. I’ve always thought everybody deserves a second chance, in life or in death. So we have to make the best of your second chance now. Since I’m going to presume for the moment that you have no family left who can take care of you, you’re staying with us, and that’s settled. We’ll go through this together and I’ll make sure you and Joey are safe and sound,” she said, smiling kindly at him. “We’ll figure something out about your history. We can say you’re Joey’s cousin, or something like that. And that you’re staying with us from now on. Now, you two leave Miss Violet and me alone for a minute. I need to talk in private with her.”

I glanced at Tristan. He was hunching down by my side, angrily wiping at the corner of his eyes. He nodded politely to my mom, his lips pursed and a deep frown etched on his face as he stood up and walked towards the front door without so much as a glance at Miss Violet.

“I-I … I’ll just go talk to him, calm him down,” I said, standing up too. “Thank you, Miss Violet, for coming here and explaining all these things to us. We’d be pretty lost if it weren’t for you. He … he didn’t mean to shout at you. He’s just really, really scared. But I can see in his eyes that he truly cares about me. He never meant to harm me. He has a good heart. I’ll go check on him now.” And I ran outside after him.

Tristan was leaning on the small brick wall in front of the house, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the ground with a clouded expression. I stood next to him, my hands behind my back. I had never seen him so upset before. Apparently, being alive brought out a whole set of strong emotions from him.

I also noticed he was avoiding looking at me now. That was just great! He was never going to look at me again, now that he knew what I could really see.

“Joey …” he began. “If it’s really true, about what you can do … with your eye-reading there … do you believe in me when I say I never meant you any harm? That you’re really important to me, and I’d never do anything bad to you? You can see that I’m not lying, right?” He lifted his head and looked me in the eyes.

I didn’t need to look at his eyes to know the answer, though.

“It’s not like I can do it all the time,” I mumbled, shuffling my feet. I needed him to believe this lie now, or he would never be with me without his guard up again. I could never say to him that seeing his emotions through his eyes came as naturally to me as breathing. And I couldn’t make it stop. It was like asking me to stop seeing with my eyes open.

“I have to concentrate really hard, and sometimes I can’t even read anything at all. Maybe if I practice a lot, like Miss Violet said, but it’s not that easy. It’s like a short-circuit; it comes and goes,” I said, lying some more.

“Can you try it now? I need you to see that I really mean what I said. That I’d never hurt you,” he pleaded.

“Tristan. I know that. I believe you,” I said, holding his face between my hands. “Everything will be all right, okay? We can do this together!”

The front door opened and Miss Violet walked in. I let go of Tristan quickly and stood by his side. He went back to sulking with his arms crossed again when he saw Miss Violet approaching us. She stopped right in front of him.

“Tristan, dear, I’m sorry if I was too hard on you in there. I needed to know what your true intentions were, and people tend to slip up when they are angry. So I tried poking you a couple of times to get your true feelings out. Not everybody has Joey’s keen eyesight, right?” she said softly. “I had to use my own ways to see it, and reassure myself that the girl wasn’t in any harm. Now I know that, I’m going to do my best to help both of you. If you ever need me, my door will be always open,” she said, extending her hand to him.

He softened his scowl and uncrossed his arms, eyeing her with caution. Then he held her hand and shook it softly. “I’m sorry for my bad manners, ma’am. I didn’t mean to shout. I hope you’ll forgive me, it was disrespectful of me,” he apologized.

She beamed at him, happy that peace was restored. “Oh, by the way, Rose asked me to tell you there’s some dishes with your name on it in her sink!” She chuckled lightly.

“Oh, gosh! I completely forgot about that! Excuse me, please, I have to go!” he said darting into the house.

Miss Violet turned to me. “Joe, dear. I talked to Rose, to your mom, and she’ll keep me posted on any developments in your situation. If you need me, you know where to find me – next door,” she said, hugging me.

“Thanks, Miss Violet. Will do.”

“And remember to stick together, then you two will be fine,” she said, and paused before adding, apprehensively, “But not too much together, you know. Just the necessary togetherness, to guarantee that the spell cycle won’t break. With the way that boy’s looking at you, you’ll have to beware of too much closeness.”

I blushed all shades of pink then. “That’s all right, Miss Violet. I can take care of myself,” I said, waving her goodbye as she shuffled down the steps and back to her house. I was glad she hadn’t caught the way
I
was looking at that boy, or I would be the one in trouble right now!

I shook my head in amusement and went back into the house. There was so much to discuss and resolve. And I was due to go to school on Monday. What was I going to do now?

Chapter Nine

Tales from the Past

Thank God for my mom! She was The Man!
A Man with a Plan
. Well, a Mom with a Plan. But you know what I mean.

By the time we woke up next morning, she already had a whole scheme figured out. She was going to ask her boss at her new law firm for help. He had helped with my application to Sagan Boarding School and he was really influential in the town. He could easily arrange another spot for Tristan at Sagan too! Since money was no longer such an issue for us, all we needed to worry about was the paperwork and how to justify Tristan’s sudden presence in our lives. She was going to tell her boss some bogus story about Tristan being her step-son and my half-brother, abandoned by his natural mother, and appeal to his good heart to see if he could pull some strings to help us now.

I hoped the plan would work. Especially as it involved Tristan going to school. With me. Because of our special magic bond, wherever I was going to be from now on, Tristan needed to be close nearby. WITH ME! Wasn’t that absolutely amazing?

I couldn’t believe my luck! It was the best news ever! I wished I could pack him up in my suitcase and just go already! As a consequence of my mom’s brilliant scheming, I also got let off my first week at school. She said I could stay home and help with the arrangements for Tristan’s admission. There was a lot of paperwork to fill in, since Tristan, legally speaking, was dead. That was a hard one to explain.

I also needed to help Tris adjust to his new life. It was a brave new world for him. Lots of new modern things happening all around. I laughed so much when he saw the microwave working for the first time! That was so hilarious! His eyes looked like two big saucers. It was like having my own private
Back to the Future
boy. Only backwards because he was from the past and was now stuck in the future.

Tristan slept on the couch again on his first night at his now official home, but this time he slept alone. We weren’t feeling sick so we decided (and by we, I mean Mom decided) that I should go back to my room, where I belonged, and he should stay down there, on the living-room couch. Suddenly her matchmaking skills were no longer apparent. What a coincidence they went away when I needed them most!

On Monday after work, Mom started to move her stuff out of the home office so it could be used as Tristan’s new bedroom, where he could have a door and more privacy. He tried to protest, but my mother didn’t pay him any attention, replying simply that he was being officially adopted and should have his own room in the house. His bed would be arranged soon.

She’d also started researching Tristan’s past during her lunch hour, and had found the archive of the local paper at the library – and Tristan’s obituary from 1950. It said he was survived by his mother, but her obituary appeared in a later column, my mom discovered. Tristan was really sad when he saw the second newspaper clipping, and from then on my mom tried to be more subtle when she told us the information she was gathering.

One day I went to check on Tristan after mom had gone to work, and I caught him sneaking out the front door. “Going out?” I asked from the top of the stairs.

He flinched in surprise. “Oh, hey, Joey. I was just going out for … for a little walk,” he said, looking down, avoiding direct eye contact. Which meant he was lying; he always averted his eyes when he was lying, for fear I might catch him out.

“Really. Just for a ‘little’ walk, you say?” I asked sarcastically, knowing full well he was doing something else he didn’t want to tell.

He hunched his shoulders and sighed in defeat. “All right, you caught me. Would you walk with me? I need to take care of something really important,” he said, extending his arm politely for me to take it. I joined him and we walked in silence along the sidewalk, while he pointedly avoided elaborating on his plans or even saying where we were headed.

“Just so you know, I’m not a fan of mysteries. I’m starting to notice you have quite a lot of those going on with you all the time,” I muttered quietly at his side.

He looked sharply at me, but continued walking down the block. “I wasn’t lying! I AM going for a walk,” he said, annoyed. “I just thought it wasn’t necessary for you to know what I was going to do, and it will only take a minute. Plus, I knew you’d make fun of me!”

“Tristan, when have I ever made fun of you?” I said in a hurt voice.

“Well, let’s see, just today about two times already, when you were trying to explain about computers. And the other day when you showed me the machine that heats food with waves of … stuff,” he said, upset.

Okay. Maybe he was a little touchy about my laughing at his modern ignorance. I should be more tactful from now on. “Fair enough. I’m really sorry I made fun of you. I promise I won’t do it again. What’s going on? Where are we going?”

“We’re going to the graveyard,” he said crossing the street. The front gates already loomed a few feet away from us.

“Are you serious? I thought it’d be the last place you’d want to go now.”

“There’s something I need to get from there.”

“What do you need to get from a graveyard?” I asked, genuinely curious now. This oughta be good.

“Your gift. I left your Christmas gift in there. I need to get it back,” he said, still upset. “I know you’ll think it’s silly, but it’s mine and I want it back!”

Oh. My photograph. He wanted to get my photo back. That was … the sweetest thing. I was really sorry I’d laughed at him now. I was such an idiot! “It’s not … silly, Tris,” I mumbled. “It means a lot to me that you don’t want to leave my gift behind.”

He seemed to relax after realizing I wasn’t making fun of him, and led me back to the tomb were we usually met in the cemetery.

“There’s something I need to show you too, Joey,” he said as we approached the mossy tomb. He wiped some snow off the stone front so I could finally see the inscription.

I widened my eyes and approached cautiously, a smidgen of fear lacing my steps. This was sort of scary, but I was too curious not to look at it.

“I know you have a lot of questions,” he murmured, watching me intently. “Maybe this answers some of them …”