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The Strange House - Part 3
🕑 Added 2024-02-29 05:48:56 +0000 UTC*
By the stairs, between the kitchen facing the street and where I hid, a figure stood hidden in the shadows. It was hard to tell decisively as the form was shrouded in darkness, making any shape seem ominous to begin with, but what gave it away as someone rather than something, was the fact that I saw its glittering eyes staring right at me. And those eyes stared right into my soul as all color left my face, and as a gripping feeling enveloped me from the inside. It was faint, hard to gauge, but it was there. And paralyzed where I sat, I stared right back. I had been scared before, but nothing ever made me as frightened as when I sat behind the dusty old sofa while being watched by this creature here in the dark. Alone with a dark silhouette piercing into me with its gaze.
By how it stood, it seemed like it was on its way somewhere, but had stopped dead in its tracks as it saw me. Did it hope I didn’t notice? Was it scared like me? Or just startled? What was it even? Was it even human? It looked to be taller than me by the height of its eyes.
“Hey, you boys need to fuck off,” I heard a rough voice outside bark at who I presumed was Zach and Jeremy out back. My eyes darted toward the window for a split second, but as I turned back, the figure was gone. Had it ever been there in the first place?
“Whatever, old man,” I heard Zach say, but with a small peek I saw the two boys walk away from the house, probably towards the party again. Safe. For now.
As I came out from my hiding spot I once again looked toward the stairs, but nothing was there now either. Curious. I stood between the TV room and the kitchen and tried to peek up the stairs, only to see more darkness. But I didn’t dare to make any sort of attempt to walk upstairs. No fucking way.
The back door suddenly swung open and Pete came stumbling inside. I guess I had been hiding behind where he slept, judging from the blanket and the pillow discarded on the sofa. Pete immediately looked at me, but didn’t really look surprised nor did he say anything about me being here. He just came walking over, studying me a bit as he slumped down on the sofa.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” he said, taking his eyes off of me to take off his big jacket.
“I know, sorry. I’ll get out,” I said, moving toward the front door, passing the stairs on my way.
And as I got closer, I saw a hat stand and a long coat just hanging where the figure had been. My own fear had played a trick on me. I was relieved, to say the least. I also noticed that there was also a door under the stairs, probably leading down to a cellar. Cool air from the basement could explain the movements in the curtains, in addition to the broken windows and ragged walls.
“How come you live in here?” I asked out of nowhere.
“I like it here, and somebody gotta take care of the cat,” he replied, looking over at me with those kind green eyes. He looked so much like the sage old wise man, though a bit rougher. It didn’t feel great that life had found him with ill will.
“You know the people who own it?” I asked. When he eyed me suspiciously I quickly added, “I mean, just curious. It’s been here for so long and has always looked like it’s a brisk wind away from falling down.”
“You’re right. It can come down any minute. It’s not safe here, so you should get out,” Pete insisted. It wasn’t meant as a threat, nor as an excuse to get me out of here and leave him alone, but oddly enough as a warning.
“What about you?” I asked.
“What about me?” he asked back.
“Pete!” I heard Dad from outside. Pete sighed heavily.
“Dutiful man, your Paps,” he chuckled, his voice as rough and rusty as the wrought iron fence out back. “Good man. You’re very much like him. You may not see me a whole lot, but as the town’s local hobo, I see a lot.”
“How come you’ve ended like this?” I asked. The old man didn’t seem offended. He just shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t fit in anywhere else,” he said, easy as can be.
“Pete. It’s not safe in there!” Dad called.
“We better get out and talk to your dad,” Pete said. I nodded, giving him a hand out of the sofa.
Pete shoved the heavy front door open, letting me out first. I saw the slight surprise on Dad’s face.
“Logan?” he asked, looking at his watch. “You’re home early. What you doing in there?”
“Erh, I figured I’d take a shortcut through the house on my way home,” I said. Bullshit excuse. No one ever went into that house. For any reason. I knew at least a dozen footballs and baseballs had been left in there. Even brand new ones.
Dad eyed me suspiciously, but let it slide. I guess he was glad I was home, and even earlier than he’d expected. Pete gave me a friendly double tap on the shoulder, and let me go on my way as the two men remained and chatted for a bit.
*
The day after was like most Saturdays. I had long since read Lord of the Rings, so I spent my first hour awake rewatching the last part of Stardust, one of my favorite movies. Soon the smell of corn cakes and bacon grease filled my nostrils, and I figured it was time to head on down to join breakfast. Did I mention Mom was the best cook to ever walk this earth? Well, she is. My grandmother was southern on my mom’s side, and my grandpa was Italian, so the cuisine at home was quite tasty. To make it better, my dad had both French and Irish in him. Lot of tasty recipes have been passed down through generations.
“How’s our little hedonist?” Mom asked, as I joined, just in time for a plate of delicious breakfast being put in front of me.
“Hedonist?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if I qualified for that. Mom just gave me a gentle stroke on the cheek, and went her merry way to do some chopping at the kitchen counter.
“Your dad is out driving around today,” Mom explained, before going on and on about the latest art show she had visited last night. I didn’t pay much attention, until she finally seemed to meet the end of her tale. “I honestly might travel up there and see for myself,” she concluded eventually.
“Up where?” I asked.
“I meant down there. New Orleans,” Mom said, correcting herself. “So what are you up to today?”
“Mom, should I start exercising?” I asked suddenly.
“Darling, sweetie,” she said sympathetically. “You don’t need permission if you want to work out a bit. In my world, one should always at least make an effort to improve one's health. But what made you think you should?”
“I don’t know… maybe if I was stronger I wouldn’t…” I trailed off. Mom turned her head to think.
“You know what? Why not?” she said. “It can’t hurt.”
So that evening, after dinner, I went for a walk. I kinda half hoped to run into Pete again, as I didn’t dare go inside the strange house to look for him. Hat stand or not, that house creeped me out more than enough. I couldn’t understand how he stayed there. But alas, as I went past the old house, he was nowhere to be seen. He was just a curious guy. It was honestly sad if it was so that homelessness fitted him better than being part of society.
So I just walked along the road until I figured I had walked long enough, turned and started walking back again. It was brisk, yet nice. A walk in the last winter month was certainly refreshing. But again, no Pete. Oh well. And no mysterious curtain movement either. Maybe he was out and about. Nothing at all seemed out of the ordinary as I returned from my walk.
“How was the exercise?” Mom asked.
“Refreshing,” I replied, joining her to watch some TV.
Hours later, I woke up in my room. I had been PVPing in World of Warcraft, but I guess I had fallen asleep while the queues took forever. ‘Well, if I’m gonna sleep, I might as well do it in bed,’ I thought. I hoisted myself out of my worn down gaming chair and my gaze went to the window.
Something was looking back at me.
Right there, sitting on the roof over the garage, something was looking at me. The same eyes as in the old house, but now I could see the silhouette clearer, cascaded by the moonlight and the streetlight alike. Yet it was impossible to discern anything other than the fact that something, or someone, sat outside my window staring at me. For how long had they sat there?
I slowly, very slowly, moved my hand toward my baseball bat next to the door, but as I did, my forearm brushed against the lightswitch. And as the light lit, the figure was gone.
‘I’m going crazy,’ I concluded, as I left the lights on.
I turned to my computer and saw I had been kicked out of the queue. Looking over at the other monitor, however, I saw that someone had sent me a message request on Discord. Curious. No one ever did. I had had a few good pairings in Arena, and I was part of a few nerdy servers… And some nsfw servers, but let's not talk about that. But I was hardly the most active.
I checked the message. It simply read: “hello :)” from eddie345. Some guy, I figured. I scanned my brain for my last teammates in the last few different games I had played. Erh, I was too tired for this anyway. I shot the guy a “yo” and went to my bed.
I was still freaked out about what had happened outside my window. Maybe it was a night terror? I had heard of those, but never experienced one. It did seem kinda absurd and really obscure, so maybe that was the logical explanation. Yes. It was.
Yet, I crawled under my thick duvet for safety. I know it was silly, like when I was a kid, it always felt so much safer under the warmth of a thick duvet. So with my eyes fixed on the window, eventually, and surprisingly, I found sleep.
The next day, I climbed out onto the roof to check if I had imagined stuff. Surely, if a person had been there, there would be some marks or prints or something. But no, there was nothing. It was wet from some of the snow melting away, but there were no prints that I could discern. Not that I was some forensic expert or anything.
“What you doing there, buddy?” Dad called from below. I saw he was under the hood of Mom’s car. Probably filling antifreeze, as Mom had a habit of using LOTS.
“I’m not sure. I thought I saw some animal up here last night,” I said, looking around a bit.
“Yeah? They’re gone now, then,” he said, ducking down to shut the lid of the coolant reservoir. “Mom said you wanted to work out.”
“I kinda do. I even went for a walk last night,” I said, sitting down on the top of the roof. “Dad, what’s the deal with Pete? You think he’s a nice guy?”
Dad froze for a moment, but regained his composure quickly and stood back up. He didn’t look at me, as he seemed to be thinking.
“I don’t really know,” Dad answered, as if he was just thinking out loud more than answering my question. “He’s a good guy and all, that much is clear, but I have no idea why he insists on squatting in that old house. Few years ago he had held down a job actually,” Dad said, slamming the hood, then leaned on the driver side door and looked up at me. “But I don’t know. Nine to five don’t fit everyone. And I think he likes to drink a tad bit too much to keep a job steady. Especially at his age.”
I nodded. I certainly could be sympathetic to that. Outcasts of society. Why were they outcast? Because they didn’t fit with the current cast. Hell, most of the time, I didn’t fit myself. All of the time, honestly. But I sure hoped I’d cope better than to become homeless. Though, that being said, Pete didn’t seem to mind his current situation. People are creatures of habit, I guess.
“Well, I’m heading inside,” Dad said, letting me stew on the roof.
*
So one of the things of living in a nice enough neighborhood that lasted back to at least the 60s was that there were a lot of old people, with Mrs. Browning being the oldest. In fact, the only reason why we moved here was because my grandparents on my dads side moved to an old folks home before they later passed away. A house like this, in a town like this, was way beyond what my parents could afford to buy, but they made it work on a monthly basis at least. But as there were only old people living here meant that it was nice and quiet, and it made it easy for me to earn a few points, and a few bucks here and there, by shoveling driveways, helping the old folks with their groceries, yard work, and so on.
It was never something I had a habit of doing before, but I made it one regardless. I think chipping away at my morales by shoplifting to appease my bullies, and my crush Anna, made me work twice as hard with the few things that could make me feel better. Like helping people who need it.
“And when you’re done with the gutter, you can take the dead squirrels out back and throw them into the woods. I don’t want no rats around here,” old Mr. Marsh said from below. I was on a ladder, gloves and garbage bag in hand, cleaning the aforementioned gutters. “I don’t know why those god damn cats keep dumping those dead things in my yard. Barney can’t go out there with all those things around.”
Barney was Marsh’s giant English Mastiff. I had walked it a few times, as Marsh was too old, but more often my Dad took him, as the big teddy bear was way too big for me.
“They’re just showing off,” I said, as I started to descend the ladder. Mr. Marsh, an old African-American who had fought in the Jungle, seemed undeterred by my sentiment.
“Yeah well, I’m putting out rat poison regardless,” he said, taking over the handheld shovel. “You can put that in the compost out back. And then, the squirrels. It’s getting dark outside, so just finish up and get on get. I’m heading inside, so here ya go,” the old man said, handing me two ten dollar bills, before slowly making his way up the steps to his house. “Have a nice night. And thank you. Those gutters haven't been that clean in years.”
“No problemo,” I said, making my way around the house.
As I dumped the contents of the garbage bag into the compost, my eyes trailed toward the woods. The same one that the cool kids liked to party in. I guess they were out there now. Not me though, not for anything. Not even Anna. Last time was horrific enough, start to end. I moved my gaze down the yard and past the neighbors, seeing the old iron fence of the old strange house. A shudder went through me as I looked at it.
‘Let’s get these dead squirrels, then get home,’ I concluded, not wanting to linger around too much.
It was only a ‘handful’. Three, to be exact. But they reeked. Oh god how the scent of their old blood stung in my nose. Luckily, I had my gloves on. I grabbed one by the tail and a sickening crunching sound came from the dead poor thing as I lifted it. Frozen and it’s bone brittle, I tossed it into the woods as instructed. It felt kinda fucked up to just discard them like this, but they were dead anyway, so I tried not to torture myself over it.
I took the second one and tossed it as well. The third one, however, was the oldest, and most rotten one. My glove caught some blood as I grabbed it, and when I tossed it the body flung into the woods, but the tail and parts of its fur and pelt remained in my hand. I almost threw up as I tossed it away, heaving as I hurried out to the front of the house, eager to get away from the dead squirrels, and eventually back home.
“You alright there?” someone unfamiliar asked. I drew in the fresh air of non-decaying dead squirrels and looked up.
A few steps away stood a tall woman with striking green-hazel eyes staring and smiling at me, with glittering white teeth, dimples in her cheeks, and long, sandy blonde wavy hair lightly blowing in the wind which only added to her immediate grace.
Who was this? This woman, who smiled warmly at me in sympathy and friendliness, but also as if she was looking into my soul, seemed to have popped out of nowhere. And the way she smiled, it was not only a stare of study, of sympathy, it was more than that. A hidden playfulness, I think. If I was more experienced with girls, perhaps I would be able to read that curious smile and those beautiful eyes better.
And she was tall, taller than me certainly, and so effortlessly elegant. And with those greenish brownish hazel eyes that I quickly was drawn to… So gorgeous looking, and how she smiled made her seem so comforting. And to make her outlook even more sunny, a contrast to it being a winter evening, she had cute freckles on her nose and cheekbones.
Even as she was so tall and so fair, with long legs and smiling eyes, her clothes emanate a certain class as well. A long, beige coat, looking thick and warm, a scarf around her delicate neck, and her long legs clothed in thick woolen stockings.
“Is that blood on your gloves?” she asked, ignoring the very obvious fact that I had been gawking at her.
“O-oh. It is. Squirrels. Old Marsh had some squirrels I had to th-throw away,” I muttered, barely able to speak in the presence of this woman.
The tall woman took a step closer towards me, standing just three feet away from me, to look past me and into the garden out back, as if she expected to see tons of dead squirrels back there. I could almost smell her as she leaned closer, and I could even at this distance feel her presence grow nearer. I couldn’t help but feel myself filled with a small sensation of… terror? Intrigue? I couldn’t pinpoint it.
“Looks like you did a great job, young man,” she said, moving her eyes down towards me. Though it was cold outside, I didn’t see any dampness from her breath as she spoke.
“I guess,” I said.
“You’re a bit shy, aren’t you?” she asked. It could’ve been condescending, and I felt a small sting, but it sounded more as an observation of my character.
“Erh, I’m just tired. And a bit cold,” I excused. Though, I was shy. I always have been. Yet, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I’d need a crowbar.
“Are you always this nice to your neighbors?” she asked.
“They pay me,” I excused, knowing full well I more often than not snuck the bills back into their wallets.
“Of course they do,” she said knowingly, showing me her glittering teeth as she smiled again.
“Who are you?” I blurted out, unable to satiate my curiosity. “S-sorry, I’ve j-just never seen you around before.”
“Eiddwen. But it’s odd and old, so you could call me Faith. It’s Welsh and it means Faith, so either or works,” she said, before adding in a small mischievous whisper, “I don’t want to sound like some old woman.”
“Faith,” I muttered. The name filled me with a foreign warmth.
“That’s correct,” she smiled.
Her eyes then trailed to the car next to us. Mine did too. I saw my own reflection, but by the time I moved my eyes to see hers, I saw none. My eyes darted to where she stood, and she wasn’t there. I looked around, down the street, across, and even threw a glance between the houses. Nowhere to be seen. I shrugged my shoulders. It was cold outside, and while she was dressed for the occasion, she probably wasn’t dressed in the warmest fashion.
If she was even real. Maybe I was going crazy, and she was just a figment of my imagination.
“Faith,” I muttered, feeling her name rest in my mouth as I stood there under the street light, wondering what just had happened. “Faith,” I whispered, letting the name fill me with a weird sense of warmth. She seemed real enough to me.
*
A few days later, I found myself wandering the mall with a shopping list in my hand. A few things for Mom, Dad, and some of the old folks who never got out anyway. I had finished my homework early at the school library (funny how it becomes easier when you actually put in effort), and headed out on my errands.
In particular, Browning wanted some old lady perfume, and some new beddings as moths had eaten through some of her old ones. And Marsh needed new pots for his plants now that spring was almost upon us and some tools from the hardware store. Mom and Dad needed some stuff for some people they had over the upcoming weekend. I was too ambitious when I thought I would be able to get it all in one go, and then just walk home. But as I picked up one thing after the other, I started to realize my shoulders would be fried by the time I had gotten anywhere. ‘Should’ve listened to Dad, and done more than one trip. Oh well.’ I thought to myself.
Eventually, as I took a small break before heading home, I found myself peering into a window. Window shopping they call it. I was never one for materialistic stuff, but as I watched the different watches, I guess I could see some appeal to them. Jeremy had one, but that was way too flashy. The one Dad had was all manly and stuff. And those I looked at now, seemed pretty manly too. I looked at my wrist and thought for a second how ridiculous something like that would look at me.
Like many other times, I wished I was bigger. Not only so I could defend myself, perhaps be better at sports, better at girls, but also so one of those big hunky watches would fit me. A small part of me knew it wasn’t even about the watch. Perhaps it was my desire to be… manlier. But the torment over the years never let me grow one way or the other.
Oh well.
“What the fuck you looking at there?” an unpleasant yet familiar voice said.
Zach and Jeremy, who would’ve thought. I grabbed the bags and started walking, not wanting to linger around with those two assholes, as it was only a matter of time before they set out to humiliate me. Not something I wanted in my free time. Least of all in such a crowded area.
“You shopping for old lady perfume? You wanna play dress up or something, you little bitch?” Jeremy said, as they pursued me.
I sped up, but soon I felt one of my bags slip from my grip. One finger, then two, were pried away by the cutting plastic and the weight in my hands, and soon the floor before me was filled with the wares I had picked up. The sudden shift of momentum also sent me on my ass, a whimper escaping me as I slipped and fell. All over the place. Causing a ruckus for everyone to see. No doubt I was getting my jacket and pants all dirty from the wet floor, and probably my face too.
Jeremy and Zach laughed their asses off, and some snickers could be heard from some onlookers. The pathetic little kid, laughing stock for the mall.
I heard the steps on the mall tiles as the two bullies approached me. Jeremy’s brand new Jordans were before my eyes, Zach just behind.
“UGH!” I grunted as Jeremy shoved the tips of his foot right into my ribs, no doubt bruising it.
“Sorry, misstepped,” Jeremy grunted, sounding so satisfied with having hurt me.
Then I felt some hands on my collar as he hoisted me up, tearing my shirt in the process, but as the back of my head reached a foot off the ground he shoved me back down, pretending to apologize for his clumsiness, while banging my head hard.
Why didn’t anyone intervene? I was literally getting my ass beat in public and no one did anything. I saw people hurry away, instead. Jeremy grabbed me by the hair and turned me, his smug smirk filling my vision. It gave him so much pleasure beating me up.
“See?” he said, moving my head so I could see his dirtied shoe. “That’s your fucking fault. You’re gonna clean it off with your fucking tongue, alright?”
“You boys better leave the young man alone,” I heard a stern voice call from the unknown.
“Look at that one,” Zach muttered. I looked up. Eiddwen, or Faith, stood looking at us, ice cold in her stare, fists planted at her sides. She looked at them as if they were small kids who’d got caught stealing candy.
“Ey, the poor little shithead fell over. Just try’na help here,” Jeremy said, brushing his head back, biting his lips as he looked Faith over. “Shit, you’re hot–”
“Hey, you better pick that shit up!” one of the mall cops said, marching over with a vein pumping in his neck. “You two did this?” he asked Zach and Jeremy.
“Fuck no,” they laughed and started to walk away.
“This your brother?” the mall cop asked Faith.
“Sure. I’m his older sister,” she replied easily, unfazed by any of this.
“Well, I’m back in five minutes, and this shit better be gone,” the mall cop told me, storming off to make sure the two shitheads didn’t do anything stupid.
I awkwardly rolled onto my knees and grabbed the first item. How did I always end up in situations like this? What did I ever do? I couldn’t wait until college when I didn’t have to see them as much. I mean, I never got a break to at least discover what life could be without those two, so that would be great. If it wasn’t for Faith, who knows what would’ve happened before the mall cop came?
“Need a hand?” Faith asked kindly.
Before I could answer, she got one of my bags and started to stuff items in them. I looked at her perplexed, as this elegant lady who looked to be in her twenties, who had no business talking to someone like me, walked around and picked up flower pots and other stuff up from the dirty mall floor. Her leather gloves looked like they were covered in dried salt and mud in moments, and it didn’t feel great that it was my fault that her fine clothing got tarnished like that.
I took another bag, and silently started to collect items as well. Soon the weight returned to the ludicrous, but to my surprise, Faith seemed undeterred, even when my tired arms could barely get the bag off the floor.
“If you want, we can stuff this in my car and I’ll drive you home?” she asked, prying the remaining bags I had out of my hands. As she moved closer to retrieve said bags, I caught a whiff of her perfume. Ever as elegant as the rest of her. An intoxicating smell, to say the least. It wasn’t on purpose, but I couldn’t help but relish her scent.
“I can carry–”
“Nonsense. You’ve been carrying these all day, your shoulders are probably toast,” she said. Though the unsaid reason was that my ribs hurt like a bastard and my lips had cracked. She threw both injuries a glance, but decided to not say anything.
Instead, she just waited with my bags in her hands. She wasn’t overly muscular in any bulky sort of way, though she seemed very fit, but the weight of the bags had no effect on her it seemed. Man, maybe I was more tired than I realized.
“So want a lift home?” she asked again.
“If… if it’s not too much trouble,” I said, not wanting to decline her polite offer. And besides, it would be a long walk home with all that stuff. “Thank you for helping me, by the way.”
“My pleasure. And of course not. I live not too far from you anyway,” Faith said. Faith then looked past me and to the store I had been looking at. “You like watches?”
“Not really. I just… I don’t know, some of them are cool, I guess,” I said.
Faith nodded, then tossed her head for us to get moving. So I followed her. It surely was a weird site. The boy hurrying after the elegant woman. Me in my second-hand Walmart clothes, her in her elegant expensive coat, walking on heels and looking almost like an angel as she marched confidently through the mall toward the parking lot. What I wouldn’t give to have some of that… swagger.
And in the parking lot, she walked right past one family car after the other, passing one SUV for another station wagon. Until she slowed down next to… it couldn’t be… the car that flicked its lights as she neared it looked so expensive. Who goes shopping in a sports car? I had no clue which brand, but even I could see that it was one of luxury.
Faith promptly marched over to it, popped the trunk, and threw the bags in as easy as can be. When she saw that I had stopped, I couldn’t believe she drove around in this.
“Come on. I promise I don’t bite,” she said with a wide smile. “Not much, anyhow.”
I gulped heavily and blushed, but walked around to the passenger side and jumped in. The leather in the seat was red and black, and so comfortable. I felt like I was lessening the value of this vehicle just by sitting in it. But it didn’t seem to bother Faith as she swung her long stocking clad legs in. The motor roared angrily as she turned the ignition, and rumbled fiercely as she started to drive us out of there.
I couldn’t help but stare in awe and shock. At her, at the car. Who was she? Why was she here? Why had I never seen her before? And why was she so kind? And to me? So many questions. Curiosity is a virtue and a curse, and in the end it cursed me as I couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Where did you get a car like this? I don’t even know what it’s called,” I blurted out.
“I bought it at a store that sells cars,” she said simply. “It’s just some Nissan. Anyhow. I saw how those guys treated you. You need to stand up for yourself more. People will walk all over you for the rest of your life you don’t.”
I turned away in humiliation, feeling shame and guilt well up in me. It was bad enough knowing it, but a pretty woman telling me why my life sucked didn’t help. Why? Why indeed. There wasn’t much I could do about it. And why did she have to bring it up? Didn’t she see it for what it was?
“I don’t know. I’m not as strong and big as they are, I guess,” I muttered, looking out the window. I could feel her eyes on me, but I had no way of knowing what she thought. “Not everyone can be as confident.”
“It’s okay,” she said in a kind voice, moving her hand over to quickly squeeze one of mine. Even her leather gloves seemed more expensive than anything I wore. Yet her touching me made some of my worries melt away. “I won’t pry.”
We drove a bit in silence, and as she let me stew, more questions welled up in me, eager to be spilled onto her. And there was no stopping it.
“How come you drive a car like this? I mean, if you drive a car like this, why are you even shopping at a mall?” I asked.
“There’s a Game Preserve there, and I am so utterly bored,” she explained, only answering part of my questions.
“You mean… you went to buy a board game?” I asked, perplexed.
“I’m not sure if that is prejudicial against me or just sexist towards women in general,” she said with a small snicker, as if me offending her amused her.
“No. I love board games. What did you get?” I asked, eager to know.
“I didn’t get anything. I saw you stumble around on the floor and went to help,” she explained.
“Oh…” I mumbled. “So why not order on Amazon?”
“They don’t deliver to my address,” she replied, annoyed.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” I said, not wanting to be an irritation for her after she had helped me out.
“No, I was more annoyed with Amazon,” she chuckled. Her laughter was like pure music. So careless and heartfelt. Even if it was just a small chuckle, it sounded like a summer melody.
“How come you’re so nice?” I blurted out.
“Am I nice?” she asked in a teasing way. I think.
“Yeah. Everyone usually treats me like shit, except my parents, they are great, but this is the second time you’ve approached me…” I said. ‘… and talked to me like a person,’ was the unfinished part of that sentence.
Faith just shrugged her shoulders. “So what board games do you recommend? I have to admit, I’m a total noob, as you kids say,” she went on. “You look like you know your way around those things.”
“‘You kids?’ You’re older than me, but not that much older,” I challenged. When she just stiffly looked ahead, I knew I had stepped in it. Socially awkward, malnourished in ways of talking to the opposite… anyone, really. “Well. Munchkins can be fun. Carcassonne, if you like medieval castle building and unnecessary complicated point systems. Personally, I prefer Fantasy related games, but I hardly ever play them. There used to be a club, but it more or less shut down when the old AV club shut down.”
“My my,” Faith said.
“Yeah. Though, if you wanna solo game, I guess there are some too. But the people at Game Preserve tend to know their stuff,” I said. “I could teach you, if you–” I stopped.
Eagerness of someone to play with overcame my sense of social distance. She was a woman, a very pretty one, in her mid twenties. Loaded with money and class by the looks of it. She’d have no interest in playing board games with some nerdy senior in high school.
“Erh, while I think it would be a cozy evening, I have to politely decline,” she said with sympathy. It actually almost sounded like she wanted to, but felt forced to decline. Damn, she could really sound convincing. I knew she was just being polite. It was okay, I got it.
“I understand,” I said, trying to mask my own shame of presuming at all she would. The rejection didn’t quell my burning cheeks either.
“Do they still have that old chess club? At the school, I mean,” she asked. I eyed some hope.
“No. They closed it way before I got here. You play chess?” I replied. I wasn’t a grandmaster or anything, but I knew the rules and stuff.
“I didn’t back then, but in later years I’ve been known to murder some pawns,” Faith replied with a small smile. “What’s your favorite opening?”
“Woah, you’re already way ahead of me,” I said.
“Maybe one day you will catch up,” she smiled. “Here we are.”
I was about to open the door when I suddenly felt her grab my arm by the elbow. Her grip was surprisingly strong and even if I tried, I doubted I’d get free from it. I turned to her and saw her look deep into my eyes. Sunny and smiling. Smiling in a most encouraging way.
“You’re better than those boys,” she said encouragingly as she held my eyes. I couldn’t even waver. My heart thudded against my chest. “You just need confidence. In yourself, not the character you think you want to be.”
And then she let me go. I remained seated for a bit as I looked over at her. She raised an eyebrow as she seemingly could read me so easily.
“Yeah?” she asked.
“Can you teach me?” I asked.
“What?” she asked, feigning ignorance, twirling a bit of hair in her fingers.
“To be more… confident… like you?” I asked. It was weird asking a girl for this. She looked me over once and smiled one of her delightful smiles.
“Sure. In the meantime, learn to accept yourself more. You don’t have to be ashamed of being a nerd.”
“Is it that obvious?” I asked, feeling a bit ashamed indeed.
“No, don’t do that,” she said sternly. “Tell you what. Next time anyone asks what you’re up to, tell them your latest nerdy adventure and how much you enjoyed it. Who knows, maybe they’ll roll their eyes, or perhaps they’ll be interested in why you’re so interested.”
Comments
Sigma
What a great chapter! I have a feeling some of us readers are identifying a little with our young man. Nerdy. Board games. Fantasy games. Bullies. Confidence. But also identify with our new adult heroine in helping the little guy. Really looking forward to see how all this develops.
DrBombellows
I am digging this.
