The Twins

*

The bang of his head on the wall of the tree house woke Jacob, startled and a bit hazy. He had briefly fallen asleep in his chair while leaning back thinking about that fateful day. Quickly he put his momentum forward and put all four legs of his chair on the ground. He rubbed his eyes, sat up straight in his tree house and looked around, examining the contents of his safe haven, everything here something either he or his mother had found, bought on the cheap, made, or been given to by one of the few friends in their life. The chair that he sat on, an old chair that was given to him by his 5th grade teacher, who was quite fond of Jacob and wanted to contribute something when he was told about Jacob’s favorite place. The brown blanket used for a door, mom had found that in her box of linens, a favorite of hers as a child that she had used to warm herself so many years ago, now an entrance into her son’s sanctuary. A bookcase given to him by Mr. King, a late edition to the tree house, a shiny dark brown that held three shelves of books.

And then there was Jacob’s favorite of all. It was hung on the wall farthest away from the house, closet to the open field behind the tree house, a framed picture of a lone Indian on horseback standing on a hill facing the rolling plains. The warrior’s head was bowed, below him the vastness of a golden field, the horse’s dark hide blending with the brown warrior as one. His mother had frequently brought home books of the great Indian warriors and their plight, and along with the medieval fantasy he treasured, the reality of real life heroes such as these filled his mind. The craftsmanship in this particular painting was extraordinary, every detail was painstakingly realized in this artist’s eyes, and Jacob shared this same appreciation. To him Lancelot and a plains warrior such as this were one in the same.

Mom had found this treasure in a rummage sale, in a part of Silver Hawk called Owl Town. It had been given that particular name over the years because of all the owls that inhabited the area. It really was amazing how many a person would see flying through the neighborhood, perched on tree branches and the tops of houses, sometimes making their nests in some of the rundown and uninhabited homes, which in Owl Town were many.

The majority of people who lived in Owl Town were older people, the forgotten ones with little or no family left and existing day to day on social security and whatever odd jobs came about. There were never any kids running around in Owl Town, no bikes being ridden, no jump ropes twirled, no lemonade stands on the corner of sunny streets. It seems all the families had left decades ago and only the old timers talking in the local diners knew anything about when it actually was a living part of Silver Hawk.

Street lights were either dim or broken, and few people walked through the streets of the owls at night. Every other house was abandoned and the inhabited hovels usually had on only a few lights, a lonely soul sitting on his or her raggedy chair, reading a novel for the 10th time, or just half asleep, in a morbid haze thinking about their loved ones lost and how soon they would be joining them.

Owl Town was no picnic area, and that’s why the day Jacob suggested to his mom they drive down Arthur street to look for a rummage sale the first thing out her mouth was, “Are you kidding son, because it’s not funny.”

She knew about that section of town, everybody did. The story behind Owl Town was a local legend, a boogeyman story that was told to every little one that grew up in Silver Hawk. She was ten when the twins had disappeared, never to be seen or heard from again. It was in the papers for months, police sending out crews of men, searching the woods, the townsfolk pitching in with search parties and prayers to the almighty at night, hoping that their nightly sermons would be answered and the kids would be found, home safe and sound.

The kids that disappeared were twins boy and girl; Winston and Linda Small Bear. They came from a working class family that had been a new addition to the community, having lived in town only a year. They lived in a modest home, kept up their lawn, said hello to their neighbors every now and then, and were considered honest, decent people.

The Small Bears were a rarity in town as they were one of the few Indian families. Silver Hawk was located close to an Indian reservation and every so often a poor family from there would migrate the 30 or so miles to Silver Hawk to make a better life for themselves. Although not a city full of fortune 500 companies, town was like a paradise when compared to the many living under the poverty line on the reservation. Winston Small Bear, the father and his son’s namesake, had moved looking for a better life for his family, and had found it in the logging company that was a major employer of the numerous families in town. He knew someone who knew someone and through this bit of small talk and favors, he found himself a job and a small house in the heart of Arthur Street. It wasn’t a mansion, but it suited his family a lot better than the government housing they lived in back on Indian land.

Sure, his family had to put with the occasionally racist remark from the ignorant folk in town and his kids did have a few rough times at school. But over time they became well liked and respected, one of the few Indian families in Silver Hawk that was thriving and living the dream.

Cynthia Small Bear was a stay at home mothers who doted on family. She made sure her family had hot meals on the table every night, helped the kids with school work, and attended every one of their children’s extra-curricular activities. The family bond was strong with the Small Bears and life had been relatively good to them in their short time in Silver Hawk.

But one day, that fateful day so long ago, Arthur Street changed forever.

*

Jacob had lost himself looking at the Plains Indian, his mind taking him back to that day when they found the picture, but then taking a detour into the abyss of the story of the twins in Owl Town. A slight chill went down his back, and a few goose bumps popped up on his arms. He peeked out at the tree house window to look at the lair, checking to see if anyone had stirred in its depths.

There was nothing but the sun light beating down on the roof tiles and the birds singing one of their happy songs to no one in particular. He listened for a bit then went back to his chair, the thoughts of the twins taking root firmly in his mind. Summertime daydreaming was replaced by this tragic tale.

Mom had told him a year before the tree house was built. They had been sitting at home on a Saturday night typical for them; dad was carousing the local bar scene, spending money they didn’t have and who knows whether he would make it home or not. Mom had figured that much and scrounged some money together to get a pizza, pop, and a DVD for them to share.

Jacob remembered watching the movie, an animated comic flick with Batman and Superman as the star attractions. His mom always knew what to get him and she enjoyed the movie almost as much as he did. She had a real imagination and a child’s sense of whimsy and when they cuddled on the couch while watching the fictional crime fighters of the universe it was their best times. They ate their pizza, drank their soda, and found comfort in these times without the tyrant overseeing the village.

When the movie had ended, she went to the DVD player to take it out. Jacob, with a stomach full of cheese pizza and soda, went upstairs to use the bathroom. He left the door open and his mother smiled as she heard her boy relieve himself, the soft stream of urine hitting the toilet water a reminder of how much he was growing up, it wasn’t that long ago he was in diapers and on more than one occasion she caught a face full of baby boy spray. She chuckled as she thought back to that time, so long ago, yet seemingly yesterday.

“Make sure and wash your hands son,” she yelled up to him, the common motherly reminder. “I always do,” Jacob replied, and turned the water, quickly soaped up, rinsed his hands, and hurried downstairs.

Beth had pulled out monopoly, a favorite of theirs and laid out the board and pieces on the living room carpet. The TV was left on in the background, turned down, but just enough to hear a bit of what was going on.

Mom and son played for a good hour, the back and forth of the dice rolling on board, the moving of pieces, the buying of plastic houses and hotels. For being so young, Jacob already had a good mind for games and logic and he more than held his own. He was of course the horse, the closest thing to a knight on the board, and mom always chose a random piece. This particular night it was the top hat, for no particular reason other than it was that pieces turn.

The board quickly became populated with property and the action was hot in heavy before too long. They were intensely counting their money and waging personal wars in mind to come up with winning buys, when in the background Mom heard something on the news that grabbed her attention and turned all focus away from the game.

It was around 9:15 and the evening news was on. She hadn’t paid much attention to the background discussions and reporting of this war in that country, or whatever professional basketball team had advanced to the playoffs. It was all the same to her, bad news galore with a hint of feel good and weather for good measure. She normally never even watched the news, preferring to get her information via the internet or books.

But on this particular night, the cookie cutter blonde with the shoulder length do’ and perfectly pitched speech said something to make her drop the dice and take a glance at the blue eyes reporting.

It was the words Owl Town that grabbed her attention. Two words that used to dominate her dreams when she was a young girl of 10.

“……. 30 years ago, on June 1st, 1970, that the small town of Silver Hawk was rocked by the disappearance of two children, a set of twins, that shook the town to it’s core and created an aura of despair that to this day has still not been shaken from the neighborhood of Owl Town.”

The dramatic delivery of the anchor was of course not surprising, they all had that sense of flair in the media game and this gal was no different. But what was different was that this story directly related to Beth as a child. She was but 10 when this happened, born and raised and Silver Hawk and at the time it was her whole world and that was all she knew. Her family actually lived down the street from Owl Town; perhaps a mile or less, which at the time had no such name. It was just another neighborhood in town that families lived in. Barbecues and beers in the garage, just like any other street.

Beth went to school with the twins and had become close with Linda and Winston Small Bear. Linda was one of the few Indian girls in school, a quiet, pretty girl with light brown skin; pitch black straight hair, and the darkest eyes she had ever seen.

She was tall for her age, a bit awkward and self conscious of her height and some of the kids would pick on her for her brown skin and tall stature. “Hey, stilts, why don’t you go back the reservation where you belong,” was a coming cry heard in the hallways and playground when Linda first started school, and it was initially a rough go. Her brother Winston had it equally tough. He was rather short for his age, so you can imagine the cruel fun the school kids had with a brown set of twins with their striking looks and dimensions.

Winston had a fight or two on the playground, but he never backed down. Like his sister he had brown skin and dark hair, but had green colored eyes, a recessive gene probably passed down from a bit of French blood mixed in with his native gene pool.

He was stocky, well built and a quiet strength resonated in him and he held his own in any fight, no matter the numbers against him. Some of this playground brawls occurred because some of the white girls in school had taken a liking to short Winston with the pretty eyes and some of the fair topped youth in school didn’t appreciate that, not one bit.

One fight in particular Beth remembers at the point in her life when she became irrevocably linked with the Small Bear children, on an emotional level, as much as any 10 year old could be to another child. Winston had spoken up in class on the last day of school. The teacher at the time, Beth couldn’t remember her name, had decided to give the kids some fun math puzzles to fool with on their last day before summer. A smart boy with a mind for numbers, Winston had raised his hand on a few occasions during the teacher’s puzzles and showed a lot of talent while doing so.

The bully boys, as Beth liked to call them, sat in the back and plotted their attack against the Indian boy with the pretty green eyes. They bothered most everyone doing their school year, in particular the two Small Bear children. There were three of them, it had been so many years that Beth couldn’t even remember their names, but she remembered their faces. All blue eyes, all blond, one taller than the others, the leader, very handsome and stuck up, a local rich boy who knew how much his father was worth and was more than happy to tell everyone about it. The other two were shorter, less aggressive boys, lived the normal blue collar Silver Hawk life with their families, very non-descript, the kind who would usually gravitate to a guy like the leader.

It was sunny that day, summer break was looming, just two more hours and the kids in school were getting antsy to enjoy cool swims and root beer floats. The school bell went off and the kids shot out of their seats like bottle rockets. The teacher said a few things as they sprinted toward the door, the usual “Have a great summer kids,” and, “stay out of trouble,” but few if any of the children heard her.

They scrambled down the hallway and soon enough every classroom in the school was empty. Beth was one of the last ones out the door because she had forgotten a few things at her locker and had to run back for them. As she did this, she happened upon the bully boys, speaking in a dark corner of the hallway, plotting something, not sure what it was exactly, but Beth had walked stealthy enough to get close to hear the name Winston Small Bear in the conversation.

Beth stayed close to them for another 30 seconds then slowly made her way back down the stale green colored tile of the hallway floor, trying to move quickly, but not make a sound. She barely breathed as she walked, then jogged, than ran to the outside doors, hoping to catch Winston and Linda on their way home from school. She knew they sometimes walked the couple miles home, especially on sunny days such as this and she had walked home with them more than a few times.

Her spring dress blew back from the force of the wind as she sped to catch up with them before the bully boys started their bit of schoolboy treachery. Her hope was they weren’t that far ahead her long lithe legs chugging at a sprinters pace to find her friends.

She soon saw the outline of the twins in front of her, maybe 100 yards ahead down the street. The downtown traffic was scarce, and the few cars on the road paid little heed to three kids walking home from the schoolyard for the summer break. Beth quickened her pace as she passed the movie theater, a favorite destination of hers, especially on still summer days filled with boredom, but that bit of summertime bliss appeared in her mind for only a second, her full attention focused on the twins walking ahead of her.

After another 20 yards, she slowed down to a lazy jog, and let out a shout to Winston and Linda, “Hey guys, wait up!” Winston turned to the sound of her voice first, stopping and looking back to see whose voice that was. As he turned, a rock the size of a baseball streamed from the side of the road out of the dense trees, hitting Winston in the rib cage.

Winston let out a shout of pain, and he turned around in the direction of where he thought the rock came. Another rock came from the other side of the road, this time hitting Linda in the upper arm, a sharp rock which opened up a small cut on her skin. She too quickly spun in the direction of the rock throw, and as Beth watched this play out, she could see that the bully boys had the twins covered from either side. The street was surrounded by trees and bushes, and it was hard to pinpoint exactly where the artillery from the fair topped monsters was coming.

Beth ramped up her jog to a sprint and began to shout frantically at the twins to run from the boys. Her desperation spurred her motion and she covered the distance quickly and soon she was in the midst of a rock attack, evading as well as she could along with the twins. They tried to sprint up the road but the bullies kept pace along with them in the trees, bombarding them with rocks thrown from hands, and in the case of the leader, rocks shot from the band of a Wrist Rocket Sling Slot, an expensive little toy that every young boy wanted for the shooting of birds and rodents, but in this case the prey was two little Indians and a friendly white girl.

The amount of rocks thrown at them was catching up with their evasion tactics and more than a few of the rocks hit their target. Blood began to drip from the arms of all three and tears of anger flowed down the faces of the children. Winston finally caught a glimpse of one of the boys and shouted, “Come out and fight cowards!”

At the end of this cry, the barrage of rocks stopped as fast as if someone had hit a switch to turn of the power on a turbine, the insult of a brown boy against a trio of fair tops was too much for them to take. “Okay prairie nigger, you asked for it. Hope you and your dirty sister are ready to get what’s coming to you. And that goes for you too Beth, hanging out with these dark rats.

The words stung the air, the hate in them sending vibrations meant to weaken their foe and make easy the beating that was to ensue. But the vibrations didn’t do anything resembling the intentions of these would be victors of this twisted childhood ritual. No, the hate in these words fueled the three in a way that would shake the foundations of the fair topped three. The silence that preceded the storm was deafening and the only sounds heard in the background were the muted songs of jaybirds and the rustling of dried out leaves on a stifling spring afternoon.

The bully boys circled the trio like a pack of wolves ready to strike the sick and weakest of the herd. Arrogant grins of detest and spite masked the insecure façade that the boys at their core sadly possessed. The tall, misguided leader of this pack was the first to talk. “So you got what you want reservation rat, what you gonna do now?” he asked in a mocking tone, the other two snickering behind his words.

Beth, Winston, and Linda quickly put their backs to each other and began to turn in a circle, their eyes quickly darting from blue eye to blue eye, the hair on the base of their necks standing up straight and the goose bumps on their arms raised to small mountains. Who would strike first? Where would the first blow land? These were questions that invaded the conscience of all three and this sharpened their sense to a razor’s edge.

The tall, lanky leader deliberately began to load a rock into his wrist rocket. He had a small pouch tied to his belt, full of sharp rocks, some bigger, some small, but all fully capable of making children cry in pain. The other boys also had pouches, and their hands immediately went to their ammo packs as soon as they saw the leader do so. “A couple of dark rats, with a white one. You really thought you would go the rest of the year without a beating, that’s what you thought wasn’t it Winston??” The leader’s voice was one of malice and hate, a hate passed down from an ignorant family, a well known family in town, they owned a car dealership, an exterminator business, and a local hardware store, among other things. A boastful family that used their money to bully local businesses and anyone that got in their way. Not many people stood up to them in town, be them red, black, or yellow. They were bullies of local industry and their son was carrying on the tradition in the schoolyards.

Linda looked coolly at the boy, gauging his body language and the tone of his voice. Although he appeared cold and hard, she noticed a slight tremor when he spoke and his hands were shaking when he held the Wrist Rocket with the rock gripped tightly. She knew she had to buy just a bit of time for their trio of warriors and her mind, full of Sunday paper crosswords would be their quickest exit out of this jam.

“So that’s the best you got white boy, calling us rats? Come on, you have to do better than that. Your family owns an exterminator shop right? You would think playing Double Dutch with the cock roaches would have made you at least original.” She said it stoically, her eyes as dark as an eight-ball, a poker face if there ever was one. And that’s what made it hilarious. A slight grin went up the faces of both Beth and Winston and trying to stifle their laughter was an exercise in futility.

Both of them began to laugh, loud and uncontrollably. Linda, in all her stoicism, began to do the same, her ability to keep her cool a distant memory. The two toadies of the tall leader likewise had been stifling the need to release their funny bones as this played out in front of them, but they too had little restraint. The laughter from both boys came out in muted giggles, both putting their hands over their mouths to stop from laughing at the joke at the expense of their tyrannical leader. They knew later on this would be the end of them, but they didn’t care.

Tall and angry looked at this, in shock, not knowing what to do next. All the children, even his minions, were doubled over with laughter, their giggling drowning out any other wilderness or industrial sound that could possibly be flowing through his ears. His face turned red from anger and embarrassment and he just stood there, both hands at his side, the Wrist Rocket hanging limply from his right hand, the left hand dropping the stone to the ground. After a minute of this Winston looked up and began to get his bearings on the situation at hand.

He saw that the toadies were still in a fitful state of laughter and that the leader was in a muted shock, unable to move or register any type of angry decision. Like flipping a switch to turn on a living room light, he immediately stopped laughing. He quietly put a hand on the backs of both Beth and Linda and told them to calm down, and catch their breath, the game was still not won..

They did so quickly picking up quickly on Winston’s vibe and began to assess the fair topped trio. All were in sync, an almost telepathic connection at work in all their minds. They knew they had maybe a minute or two before toadies 1 and 2 caught themselves and were ready to take order from a shocked tall and angry. Winston quickly took the lead on this, his anger building up after a quick recess of laughter, a year full of anger built up to teach this white boy a lesson.

“Hey white boy, not much you can do now, looks like your roaches can’t even stand up straight and help; what, you can’t fight your battles without that toy in your hand? Fight like a man; pale face.”

Linda and Beth looked at Winston, than looked at the leader. Winston was reaching back deep for this one. Winston, like his sister was a reserved child, a brooding kid who thought a lot, said little, and backed down from no one. He rarely resorted to clichés and antagonistic words to get his point across, but this was different. This was one of those moments in time that ran deeper than the typical bully vs. good kid in the playground. Winston was coming back hard with the racial undertones of a forgotten time. His people were mostly gone, wiped out over the last hundred years. Life was still tough for his dark haired people, but they made do, and his dad and mom taught him to hold his head high and be proud. They took a lot of grief moving to this town and were now thriving and a well-respected member of the community. And this bigot, this offspring of a detestable time in history needed to be taught a lesson. He knew what to say to get his goat, now it was up to the pale face to make his move.

The toadies had stopped laughing; the energy in the air had transformed from a sky full of rainbows and little kid laughter, to the darkness of underwater abyss. They walked behind their leader, heads down, confused over the last four minutes of confrontation, not sure what to expect. Likewise Linda and Beth took a few steps to back their leader, not taking their eyes off tall and angry, bodies ready for the slightest quiver of aggression from across the dirt road. A dog walked across the road, it stopped a few feet away from the two tribes, sensing something about to explode. It turned its tale, whining that sad puppy whine, not wanting anything to do with what stood in front of the droopy eyes. Winston waited for his answer.

*

The silence stood strong, waiting to waver. The six children eyed each other thoughtfully, heads slightly turning back and forth, trying to get a read on their opponents, the slightest move of a hand, the lift of an eyebrow, the quiver of a lip.

The pale faced leader finally spoke up, needing to break the silence he knew, needing to stand up for himself and show he wasn’t a coward. “I’m no coward boy, and this pale face is going to kick your dirty, brown ass back to the reservation.” He said it with a cold intensity, an ugly smirk on his face, but it was it was a false intensity and everyone seemed to know it, even the toadies.

Winston didn’t bat an eyelash. He focused his eyes on the blue eyes across the way and readied himself for the fight. “Make your move…..boy.”

As soon as those words hit, the smirk disappeared, replaced by a face full of rage, gritting his teeth, the look of a mongoose stung by a snake and ready to make it’s own pounce. He dropped his weapon and leapt toward Winston, a primal scream of “Fuck You!!!!” accompanying him on his attack.

Winston anticipated this and casually stepped to his right, an instant before tall and angy would have grabbed him. Pale face tumbled on the road, a dusty trail left behind him as he fell and Winston got in his boxer stance, learned from his father, ready for the next move.

Toadies 1 and 2 for an instant looked like they were going to jump Winston from the back, but any thought of that was put on the backburner when Winston turned to them, “Get the hell outta here, this is between me and him.” They both looked at each other, not sure what to do. But the look in the eyes from Winston was enough to make them second guess any thoughts of violence they may have had. They gave a quick glance at Linda and Beth, both of them staring at the boys, just waiting for them to leap for their brother and friend. “Let’s go,” 1 said to 2, and the turned tail in a sprint. As they ran off, Winston picked up the Wrist Rocket and threw it at the backs of the boys, hitting the slower one in the back. The boy turned and picked it up, looked at it briefly, then tossed it into the woods, wanting no part of the reminder of their defeat.

Winston turned back to the leader whowas still on the ground, sitting up, looking at Winston, not sure what to do. The red anger in his eyes that had appeared before was no longer there. His eyes had widened in the span of a minute to show the face of a little boy, scared, beaten, hesitant of his next move. He wiped off his dirt strewn shirt with both hands and took his time standing up to face his opponents. He looked at the three kids in front of him, two girls and a boy, two brown and one white, standing there staring at him. He expected the worst of course. He expected to be jumped and soundly beaten by these three. He expected it because he for one would have done the same thing, that was the code of the bully. It is something he had done before in his life many times.

But that wasn’t all; he was expecting it because he deserved it. He knew he had done them wrong, especially the Indian kids. He had picked his spots over the school year to belittle and make life miserable for them. And the only reason why is because they were a different color and from a different place. That’s it, nothing else. In the depths of his narrow little mind he knew he had this coming, and he waited to see how they would finish this.

Beth looked at the boy and felt a sense of pity for him, and she hated herself for it. This boy who had tormented so many kids over the school year deserved this and she as much as anyone wanted to see him beat to a pulp. But she couldn’t help but see the weakness in his face and resolved herself to not witness the blood that would soon makeup his face.

“Winston, Linda, I’m done with this, you can do what you will, but I won’t be here to watch.” Beth said it with calm resolve and waited for a response from her friends. They both just looked at her, not saying a word and she stared back. Winston finally spoke up, “Its okay Beth, I’m coming with you, come on Linda.” Linda nodded her answer and all three turned around away from the boy and walked back up the road. The leader watched them as they walked down the road, weakness and defeat suffocating his heart.

*

As the trio walked from the boy, all heads looked down at the ground, watching a few feet in front of them, the dusty road their only point of reflection. Linda looked back at the boy, just for a moment, and when she did, she saw him staring at the backs of them, not moving. She turned her head back to the road and kept up with her steady pace home.

They walked most of the way in silence; nobody felt like talking much, they all were lost in their own thoughts, watching the road with absent eyes. Winston finally spoke up when they were near home. “Hey, I think I’m just going to walk for a bit, clear my head. You two can go ahead and walk home if you want, I will only be 10 minutes Linda; could you go ahead and tell mom and dad I’m taking a walk?” Linda looked at her brother and replied, “I will go with you brother, I feel like walking, you mind if I come along?”

He nodded his head in acceptance and Beth said to both of them, “If you guys feel like hanging out later, let me know.”

Linda appreciated the offer, “Yeah, that would be cool, Beth, see you in a few.” Winston smiled at Beth and they both turned and walked up Arthur Street. The sun was still high up in the sky, warming the neighborhood with its healthy rays, flowers in bloom on neighborhood lawns, dogs barking while chasing rabbits through the woods. A number of wind chimes clanked a song on the porch of more than one house along Arthur Street, a slight breeze lazily blowing through the town of Silver Hawk. Beth looked up at the sky, a few clouds here and there floating in the blue, making their way East. She stood there for awhile, seeing pictures of dragons and knights and superman up in the sky. Clouds were such an unappreciated part of life she thought, they could be anything you wanted them to be.

She painted a few more pictures in the sky then turned to look at her friends. They were a ways down the street now, brother and sister walking together, clearing their heads of what had happened only half an hour before. Beth really did care for those two, both so caring and loyal, decent kids who she gladly stood by when push came to shove. She was proud to have them in her life and smiled a bit while watching them.

She then turned and began to walk the opposite way on Arthur Street, only a few blocks from home, skipping a bit as she went. She was looking forward to this summer and was anxious to see her friends later on, drink some soda and talk about their brave stand against the bullies. Beth also had a bit of a crush on Winston, but of course she wouldn’t say anything, that would be weird and she was too young for that. Giggling as she skipped home; a warm feeling spread throughout her body. Summer was here, school was out and life was good.

To be a little girl during the summer, one of the best times of her young life; if she had only known that the hot summer would turn a winter’s black in a span of hours and she would never see her friends again.

*

Beth walked through the door and threw her backpack on the living room couch. She sunk into the soft cloth and let out a contented sigh, ecstatic that school was out and she was home with three months of summertime in front of her. Mom was in the back yard hanging up laundry to dry, the warm wind picking up a bit making the conditions ideal. Dad was at work at the shop, a man good with is hands; he and a few other buddies owned their own carpentry shop in town and made a decent living. Sometimes he wasn’t home until 7 or 8, depending on how busy things were, so a lot of her after school time was spent alone with mother.

She got up from the couch and headed toward the back door to talk to mom. “I’m home ma,” she yelled through the back door. “Hey sweetie, get yourself some cookies on the counter.”

“Thanks ma,” and then she remembered her offer to her friends to stop by later that night. “Mom, could Linda and Winston stop by later?.” Her mother enjoyed the children visiting their home and was relieved that her withdrawn daughter had made a connection with the well-behaved Small Bear Children. “Sure, make sure and save cookies for the kids.”

Beth stepped inside and popped open a bottle of coke and a chocolate chip cookie. Her mom made the best and the wonderful aroma still lingered in all its doughy charm throughout the house. She took her treats into her room and opened up a teen magazine, full of the latest in movie news and Hollywood dreamboats. As she read about her favorite stars, Beth laid back on her single bed, a dewy soft pillow with a flowered pillow case and a billowy pink comforter wrapping the bed. She became lost in the world of cinema and its stars and was engrossed in an article about the hottest movies coming out this summer.

Before long an hour had passed. After 20 minutes or so of reading Beth had fallen asleep. A half open bottle of coke stood on her night stand next to her bed, a few cookie crumbs scattered on her shirt and comforter. The magazine lay open on her chest, her heavy breathing moving it’s pictures of dreams up and down, up and down. The open window blew a summer breeze into her room and the pages of the magazine rolled lazily over her body, the breeze taking brief gazes at the pages Beth had just looked at only minutes ago. A few birds on branches in backyard trees chatted and a rabbit nibbled at some of the vegetation in Beth’s mom’s garden.

A knock on the door of Beth’s room woke her out of her slumber and she turned to look at the clock on her nightstand, it said 4:45. She rubbed her eyes and took the magazine off her chest. “Sweetie, you want to help with dinner?” her mom said through the dirty brown wooden door. “Sure, just give me a minute,” Beth replied and got to her feet to look in her bedroom mirror. She put her dark brown hair in a pony tail and changed into jeans. She was still young so makeup was pretty much a no no; but the wannabe movie star in her couldn’t help it and she put on a touch of lipstick, a stolen pink shade from her mother’s room on her lips. It was subtle, not a hot Marilyn Monroe pink, but enough to accentuate her godly gifts and she was pretty sure mom wouldn’t mind. She had shared a few secrets with her mother this year and had endured a bit of teasing at her mom’s hand about the handsome Winston. She wanted to look her best for her hopefully soon to be suitor, her first and the butterflies of anticipation flew wildly in her stomach.

Along with her jeans she put on a blue tank top. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and couldn’t help but admire what she saw. Young girls obviously matured quicker than their male counterparts and she could see subtle changes in her body and face. She enjoyed this, although with a bit of uncertainty and looked forward to her visit from her friends. Not only to draw the attention of her brown boy crush, but also Linda was probably her best friend in school and someone who she could confide in. It was so hard for young women in school, maybe more so then even boys, because of the meanness that existed in the female hallways of small town America. She was always a quiet girl and lacked confidence and finding Linda had brought her out of her shell and made her a more confident person. They talked about all those young girl things that perplexed the young mind and made sure to back each other up at any wrong turn. She was to be eleven soon and entering the 6th grade and was looking forward to this summer to spend and learn with both her best friend and her happen to be cute brother.

She ran a brush through her thick pony tail and almost ran to the kitchen to help mom with dinner. Mom was busy peeling potatoes at the kitchen table and had a couple pork chops sizzling on the rusty black pan that had been passed down from generation to generation. It was as heavy as an anchor and had cooked many meals in this home as well as others.

Her smile brightened even bigger and she looked at her mother with a look of love that only a daughter could attempt. “Mom you look so pretty today, what do you need me to help you with?” Her mother knew why that smile covered her face, the young Winston was to be here soon and she was obviously privy to her daughter’s interest. “Why don’t you get some plates ready, maybe the kids will want some food, I’m cooking a bit extra tonight and if the they haven’t eaten yet they might be hungry.” Beth nodded and went to the cabinets to set the table. Mom was always a quick chef and the potatoes wouldn’t take long once she put them into the boiling pot on the stove. Potatoes, pork chops, a can of corn, and some bread and butter; a pretty basic meal, but her mother had a way of making even the simplest meals in life taste like a feast fit for the Queen of England, or at least fit for the royalty that lingered in this castle. As the pork chops sizzled and popped on the stove, Beth went to the kitchen cabinets and proceeded to set the table, usually for three, but just in case she put two extra plates on the table.

There at been other instances where the Small Bear’s had paid a visit, sometimes around dinner time and they had shared a meal or two with the family. Happening before, it wasn’t a novel occurrence, but she knew this was special, her daughter, although young, was starting to blossom in ways that made a mom smile and a dad roll his eyes in dismay. She looked forward to the visit and was going to do her best to stay out of the way and let her daughter have her fun.

After finishing peeling the potatoes she put the batch in the boiling pot and checked on the pork chops. Turning them over with a spatula she seasoned them with some of her mom only knows spices and turned them over in the skillet. Looking over her shoulder at her daughter, she saw her humming, with a little skip to her step today. She turned to her food and put a can of corn in a pot to simmer.

“Mom you think maybe I could call now to invite them over?” Beth said hopefully, a question that her too observant mother had been waiting for. “Sure, go ahead and invite them, maybe I will put some cookies in the oven after dinner.”Beth smiled like the Cheshire Cat and ran to the phone sitting on the short bookcase in the living room. The brown bookcase was a beauty, made from a shiny healthy oak wood her father had constructed in the shop. It was a gift to both of his girls, knowing both of them loved to read and its three long shelves housed numerous fiction titles. Her mom was a lover of make believe and this trait was passed on to her inquisitive daughter. A book about dragons and their origins was next to the lime green phone on top of the bookcase. Beth had picked that one up at the local used book store and she had been perusing it the last few days, picking up all the fun facts about her favorite mystical animal she could. She had taken to drawing some pictures depicting knights of valor saving the fair princess from the dark serpent’s clutches and she had chosen tonight to show her new found interest to Linda and Winston. She thought they were pretty decent and was hoping a certain someone would be impressed by the dark pencil drawings with the color of red and black piercing the white construction paper.

She picked up the phone and dialed the number by memory, one she had dialed numerous times in the past. Putting her ear up to the phone, she nervously began to play with the pig tailed phone cord, twirling it around and around her forefinger, anxious as she waited for a voice to answer. After six rings the familiar voice of Winston’s mother answered the phone, but not the normal answer one would hear. “Winston, Linda, is that you?” she almost shouted over the phone. Beth not only heard but felt the anxiety and panic on the other end. Beth calmed herself from the initial startling she took from Mrs. Small Bear in a panic and replied, “Its Beth, Mrs. Small Bear from down the street, is something wrong? I was calling to invite Winston and Linda over for dinner.”

There was a slight pause on the other end than Mrs. Small Bear resumed talking. “I’m worried Beth, the twins aren’t yet back from school and I haven’t heard anything about where they might be. Did you see them after school? Were you with them at all?”

Beth quickly recounted the previous hour that her and the twins had been together; her frantically sprinting after them, then the fight with the bullies, the walk home, and watching them as they made their way down Arthur Street. She blurted it out in a barrage of words that one would think they couldn’t understand, but Mrs. Small Bear never interrupted once and let her finish the story.

Mrs. Small Bear than asked Beth if she could think of anywhere they could have gone. Maybe a park or they doubled back to walk downtown for a movie or shopping? Beth said that was completely possible but they both knew the twins were good kids who never did this type of thing. If ever late for school or expecting a change of plans, they were the kids who would call or let their parents know in advance.

There was a movie playing at the theater that they had all wanted to see, and maybe they took in a matinee, a bit of summertime early fun? She thought of this hopefully and threw the idea at Mrs. Small Bear. “You know we had been talking about watching a movie together, a new one coming out this weekend, maybe they went to see that at a matinee?”

“What was the name of the movie Beth; I will call the theater to check if they remember seeing them at the movie.” The concerned mother, a solidly, built women with straight black hair and the darkest eyes immediately emitted a more hopeful tone over the phone. Beth again could not only hear it in her voice, but feel it through her body, through the cord, a total weird sensation that she had never felt before. The hope was there in an almost physical strike to her body. But there was something else there, the dread and waiting of terrible things to happen made its way over the phone line and that along with the other played a game of hopscotch and jump rope with Beth’s stomach. Something was not right with this, why was Mrs. Small Bear in such a panic over her kids being a few hours late? It wasn’t unheard of for two kids such as the twins, and it only being a couple hours maybe they were on the way home now after losing track of time.

Beth, never a talkative kid and reserved almost to a fault, couldn’t help herself, and asked the question that her body was begging her to ask. “Mrs. Small Bear, I hope you don’t mind me for saying this but why are you so worried about them? It’s only been a few hours and I’m sure they will show up soon. I can tell over the phone you are scared, and it’s starting to scare me.” Beth’s mother over the last minute had stopped what she had been doing in the kitchen and her interest was now only on the conversation going on between her daughter and the mother down the street. “Sweetie, what’s going on?” she said from across the room.

Mrs. Small Bear’s silence was brief, but seconds seemed like eternity. “I don’t know Beth; I just feel something not right.”

An image flashed into Beth’s head: dark imagery, two children and a hooded figure holding their hands and walking away. She yelled for them, but heads didn’t turn, they just melted into the ashy distance, and she knew they were gone.

Next Chapter: The King